Trigger warning - Mentions of self harm. This is a much easier read than last chapter x

The kitchen is a mess and Andy is too. He calls Remington a thousand times but the boy doesn't answer once, and it leaves Andy in pieces. With Remington's ring in his hand, Andy picks himself up off the floor, dialling Sebastian at the same time. He's sure that's where Remington will have run away too.

"Andy, hi," the guitarist answers, unaware of the traumatic experience his brother has got himself into.

"Remington's not there, is he?" Andy asks, holding a hand over his arm.

"No, I haven't heard from him today. Why? Did something happen?"

"We had a fight. He threw his wedding ring at me and stormed out. I've called him but he's not picking up. I don't know where he went."

"Oh, that's not good. How long has he been gone?"

Andy paces while talking. "Nearly six hours I think."

"Shit. I'll try calling him, okay? I'll ring you right back after."

Andy waits for Sebastian to call him back, touching the slashes on his arm to pass the time, picking up the phone in a flurry when it rings. "Anything?"

Sebastian sighs. "Nope. Voicemail."

"Oh God."

"Try and stay calm. We'll find him. Where else would he have gone?"

"I don't know. He doesn't like going anywhere on his own."

"We can try Emerson, I suppose." They do try Emerson. The drummer is just as oblivious to the situation. Andy calls Abigail, too, who has also heard nothing.

"What if he's in trouble? Andy frets, still pacing. "Fuck!"

"We'll find him," Sebastian repeats, "can you track his credit card? He might have caught a taxi somewhere."

Andy hangs up to call the bank, answering when an unknown number calls.

"Andy Biersack?" A woman's voice asks.

"Speaking."

A moment of quiet, and then, "this is River Street Hospital. I'm calling about Remington Leith-Biersack."

Andy stands still.

"Guests at the Greenwood Hotel called for an ambulance forty five minutes ago. Remington suffered a heart attack there."

"Oh my God," is all Andy can manage.

"He's showing signs of severe malnourishment and stress, which is most likely why he had a heart attack. If you're able to come in, please do as soon as you can."

"Okay."

Sebastian is just as shocked when he hears the news from Andy, saying he'll come and pick Andy and Emerson up and they'll drive to the hospital together. Before setting off from Andy's, Sebastian helps him with his arm, wrapping it up and the driving down to Emerson's place for the drummer, who gets in the car quietly because none of them know what to say.

The hospital, just like any other, is white and big and clean. Andy tells the receptionist who he is, who he's there for, and is told so sit and wait for a doctor to come and explain everything. The three of them sit, agitated, for twenty minutes, until a doctor in white and pale blue approaches them. "Family of Remington Leith-Biersack?" He asks, and they nod. "Okay. I've examined Remington's condition and, as well as malnourishment and stress, he's also undergone second-degree burns which we think were caused by him pouring boiling water over himself, because of the broken mug in the hotel bathroom. Whether this was intentional or not, we aren't sure." He checks the clipboard. "Currently, he's in a medical-induced sleep. His immune system is weak and I'm very worried that he'll undergo another heart attack, maybe even worse, if he doesn't alter the way he's treating himself."

Andy and Sebastian share glances. "What's gonna happen?" The singer asks, "is he gonna be okay?"

"I can't answer that for certain at the moment. As of now, he's stable and, providing he follows a strict recovery plan, he should improve. It's all down to how he responds to treatment and recovery."

"Can we see him?"

"Just one of you at a time, okay? He should wake up soon. If you wanna sit in there while he's asleep, I can show you to his room."

"You go," Sebastian tells Andy, "we'll wait here."

The man stands up. He follows the doctor down to the corridor and into a room, where Remington is lying under pale blue sheets, the fabric folded neatly just below his shoulders, feeding tube taped to his pale face and a heart monitor in his arm, the machine beeping by the bed. Andy sits in the blue chair and looks at the boy, feeling like he might be sick at the thought of his poor sweetheart having a heart attack in a lonely hotel room in the same hotel where he was stabbed. Remington must've been so scared.

The doctor checks one of the machines, writes something down. He looks up from the clipboard when Remington moves, rubbing his eyes and whimpering. "Hello, Remington. How're we feeling?"

"Like death," the boy mumbles flatly.

"You suffered a heart attack, Remington. Do you remember anything that happened prior to that?"

Andy leans forwards as Remington answers. "I kept hallucinating my ex and I-well I tipped hot water on myself. It's all blurry. Wait, a heart attack? I thought it was a bad panic attack."

"You gave yourself second-degree burns. Can you remember why you were at the hotel?"

Remington rubs his eyes. "I don't know," he admits, tearing up. "An argument or something. Second-degree burns?"

The doctor nods. "We've treated them and wrapped them up and they should heal just fine. How's your chest feeling?"

"Everything just aches."

"Andy's here to see you, okay? Your brothers are in the waiting room."

Nodding, Remington looks past the doctor at Andy, seeing him for the first time since he ran away. Andy smiles warmly, full of sympathy. "Hi, sweetheart," he says gently.

"I'm sorry."

Andy shakes his head. He hates the Remington feels he has to say that. "You don't need to apologise, honey, not about this. I'm so glad you're alright."

Remington touches the tube on his face, mumbling, "I don't want us to be over," as the doctor leaves.

"I know, baby, me neither. We're not over."

The boy plays with his fingers, not liking the absence of the ring on his fourth finger. "It was so scary," he cries, "Andy, it was so scary!"

Andy reaches for his husband's hand, holding it in his own. "Oh kitty, I know. I can't imagine the fear you must've felt. It's okay now. You're safe."

"I thought I was gonna die! I don't wanna die!" He grips Andy's hand and shifts in the bed, trying to find a comfortable position. "Why'd I have a heart attack?"

The older sighs, not wanting to be the one to bring it up. "You stopped eating again," he says, "didn't you?"

Remington looks down.

"Sweetie, why didn't you tell me it got bad again? I would've helped you."

"I'm sorry." The young singer is ashamed. It wasn't supposed to get this bad. "Why didn't you just go to America?"

Andy finds the ring he put in his pocket, sliding it back onto Remington's finger. "I'm not gonna go to America, kitten. I couldn't leave you." His voice is soft. He kisses the younger's hand. "We don't need to talk about all that now, okay? You've been to hell and back today. Let's just focus on making you feel better."

Looking at the ring on his finger, satisfied that it's back in it's rightful place, Remington nods. He pats the bed beside him, moving up so Andy can sit beside him and settling his head in the man's lap. This scare means he'll have to follow some sort of recovery plan, and that thought brings him so many emotions that he can't think about it for long. He can't have another heart attack. He couldn't handle that. Not physically or mentally. He has to get better. God knows he does.