The picture Remington put on instagram broke my fucking heart man.

Trigger warning

Andy sits with a cup of coffee opposite Lonny, sighing before talking. "I don't know what to do," he says, "because I love Kacey, but I love Remington more, and I just know that having a child to look after is not going to be good for him."

"What would happen to her if you didn't adopt her?"

"We'd have to hope that someone else would adopt her. I'm not prepared for this. It's all be thrown at me, Lon. But I just-a child is the last thing we need right now. I don't wanna let Kace down but I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"You need to talk to Remington about it."

Andy sighs. "I know, but it'll upset him and I don't wanna do that." He picks up the coffee. "He comes home tomorrow and there's a court hearing for Kacey the next day and we need to work out what we're gonna do before then, and everytime I go to see him I try to tell him, but I just can't."

Lonny nods, watches Andy sip the drink. "Whatever you do has to be right for both of you, Andy, not just right for Remington."

The man pushes a stressed hand through his hair. "I know."

"If you don't want to adobt Kacey, then you need to tell him."

"God, it's so hard. Everytime I visit he asks about her and I can't do that to him."

"You're married," Lonny says, "and that works both ways. I know you want to always be there for him and to do what makes him happy, but you can't sacrifice what makes you happy all the time. It's not healthy."

Even though he knows Lonny is right, Andy just isn't prepared to hurt Remington. "Whatever I do one of us is gonna end up unhappy with it."

"You need to be positive about it. At the end of the day, you have eachother, and you can get through anything. But you can't keep dismissing your wants for Remington."

"I'm so confused," Andy complains, pushing his hands into his eyes.

"Talk to him. You need to. It's not fair on you to handle all this on your own. You're married. That means you deal with things together." He sighs. "You're always there for him, and he should be there for you when you need him, too."

The man holds the warm mug in his hands and looks down at the liquid. "God, there couldn't be a worse fucking time for all this shit. Sebastian and Emerson are being fucking idiots, I honestly think Remington is gonna attempt suicide once he's out of hospital, and now I've got an actual child to be responsible for. It puts enough strain on me as it is just taking care of Remington when he's really depressed. I can't have a child, too. That's just...too much." The coffee is hot as he swallows it, almost too hot. "I don't get stressed. You know that. I just don't. But now I feel so fucking overwhelmed by all of this."

Lonny does know that. He's seen how calm Andy is when everyone else is freaking out. Seeing him like this is worrying. "Andy. Listen. Tell him. What you just said to me. Tell him that. He needs to know. He loves you and he won't want you feeling like this. You have to talk to him."

"You're right," Andy says, running a hand through his hair again. "I know you're right."

The bassist feels for his friend. He knows how deeply Andy cares for Remington, how he would do anything for the boy. "I know it seems like a difficult thing to do, but it's the right thing. You two need to support eachother, and you shouldn't be afraid o admitting when you need support, Andy. He loves you."

"I know."

Remington folds his clothes into his bag and carefully pulls the things off the wall, collecting all the blu-tac and sticking it to the desk. Finally, he's going home. Just one more night of sleeping here, and then he can sleep in his own bed in his own home. But he's scared, too, of himself. Of what will happen when he's not being monitored twenty four seven. He won't admit it to anyone here because then they won't let him go home, but he's still suicidal. Is that bad?

He leaves out clothes to wear tomorrow and sits on the bed, looking at the now blank walls with a heavy, conflicted sigh. The more he thinks about it, the more he realises that he doesn't have the mental capacity for being a parent. He loves Kacey, he really does, but being responsible for her is such a huge commitment, and he isn't sure he can take that on. But he can't let Kacey down. He can't let Andy down either. Admitting that he can't look after a child is like admitting that he can't look after himself. It's pathetic. He should just suck it up, get on with it.

At dinner tonight he pushes the food around with the plastic fork, unsatisfied with what's on the plate. He thinks about how he lashed out in group therapy again today. He shouted and kicked the chair over because someone was looking at him rudely. And because he keeps seeing the stalker, splattered in his own blood. The blood that Remington drew from him. Lying in his own death. The death that Remington gave to him. He sometimes wonders that if he wasn't menatally unstable, would he have been locked up with all the other murderers?

A doctor reminds him that he can't leave until he's eaten and he glares at them and angrily stabs a piece of chicken, putting it in his mouth and chewing obidiently. He misses Andy's food.

After dinner Remington sits in his room reading a book he doesn't even like until he's too tired to focus his eyes on the inky words, and curls up under the covers, a pillow held against his chest, and sleeps.

But at three sixteen in the morning, he wakes. He isn't really sure why. He just feels wrong. Not physically wrong. Mentally wrong. Like he's been wired up wrong. Like someone's cut through a wire and it's broken. Like him. Broken.

There are footsteps down the hall. Crying. Someone's had a nightmare, no doubt. He hears a door close. It goes quiet again. It's dark in here. Darker than he's happy with. He realises the usual light he keeps on by the door isn't on. It was when he went to sleep.

Once Remington is focussed on the darkness, he begins to see things. Movements and shapes. It's disorientating. Like the room is moving around him. Like the walls are liquid. They'll drown him, envelope him in their concrete terror until he suffocates, screaming silently, and is gone forever.

Maybe it's just because he took all the pictures down.

Maybe not.

He closes his eyes, tries to forget about it. But it feels like the matress beneath him is sinking, taking him down under the floor boards and into hell. Or is he already there? It's hard to tell.

He can't remember anything, not really. His name? He knows it begins with an R. Where is he? Not a clue. A prison cell, it feels like. Or an enclosed room at the bottom of the ocean. Friends? None. Family? No one he can trust. Oh, wait. There is someone. The name seems to be gone from his mind. A brother, maybe. No. He doesn't have any of those. Girlfriend? That's it! His girlfriend! She's so good to him. What was her name? Hayley? Hannah? Olivia?

No. He remembers.

Holly. That's her name. She's an angel. He knows that. He doesn't know anything else.

An angel.

Wait. That doesn't sound right. No. She's not an angel. What's the opposite? Demon? Devil? 

His sleeping mind is infested with her. Yes, he is sleeping. Because he's somewhere else now. The dark room has gone. Now it's blue. Gray, maybe. And cold. The sea. He's in the sea and he's drowning.

She's watching him from the shore as he falls into the abyss of water and mystical creatures.

It's beautiful down here. And calm. Peaceful. He can't hear anything down here. The colours are magnificent. All blues and greens and sparkling whites and silvers. The deeper he sinks the darker it becomes. Blues turn to blacks. Greens turn to grays. Silvers turn to dust.

There's no air to breathe down here. No way out. It's not beautiful anymore. The colours have gone. Is this what it's like to be alone, to not have anyone?

But he does have someone. He knows he does. He fucking knows it. Who? Who is it? Someone who says they'll always be there. Someone who is always there. Remington knows someone like that exists. He can almost see their face in his mind. Their eyes. Bright eyes. Blue. They're definitely blue. And their hands. Careful and soothing. There's a ring on their fourth finger. Remington recognises it. Where from?

He looks down at his hand. The same ring is on his finger.

Married. That's it! They're married! His husband. That's who he's thinking about. His beautiful husband. Andy.

His name is Andy.

The water; it's evaporating. Remington can breathe again. And he knows why. Because of Andy.

Because of his husband.

The only one who's truly here.