Trigger warning

The knock on the door startles Andy, who scrambles to hide any evidence of what he is doing and standing up off the living room floor. He opens the door to Emerson, breathes out in relief at it only being Emerson, and steps aside to let the drummer in.

"Hi Andy," the younger greets, "how're you doing?"

Andy shrugs, holds his arm over the hoodie sleeve. "I'm fine," he answers, lying through his teeth. "How's Remington?"

"Being a mean bitch. Sebastian's trying to talk to him. You sure you're okay?"

The man, again, nods. What's the point in admitting what he's done? "I'm fine," he repeats, "I mean...my husband hates me, but that's-that's fine."

"Andy," Emerson begins, "I know you're lying. Your arm okay?"

"It's fine, Emerson. Why're you here?"

"I came to check you were okay. Sebastian said he found you crying the other day, so..."

Andy sighs. Emerson is right. Sebastian did find him crying. Sobbing, actually. "He hates me, doesn't he?"

The younger shakes his head straight away. "Remington? No. He adores you. You know how he gets sometimes. He's just having a moment."

"Yes, I know how he gets. But he's never like this. He's acting like he doesn't give a shit about anyone and that isn't like him at all." He winces.

Emerson frowns, noticing Andy's discomfort. "Let Sebastian talk to him, okay? He has a strange way with getting things out of Remington. Big brother skills or something. I don't know. It'll be okay. Can I help you with your arm?"

"It might not be okay," Andy mumbles, looking down at his arm. "Alright, fine."

The two go upstairs and into the bathroom, and Andy sits on the toilet seat and lets Emerson look at his arm. The artist finds is strange how similar Andy is to Remington when he's like this; in need of looking after. He knows that's why the lovers understand eachother so well, how they get on and are so safe together. Because even though Andy, on the surface, seems tough and unbreakable, he's like Remington just beneath. Emerson thinks it's beautiful.

"You don't have to do this," Andy says, awkward and exposed. "I'll be fine on my own."

Emerson shakes his head as he carefully wipes the slashes on the man's arm, cutting through the tattoos. It breaks the younger's heart that one of the deeper cuts goes right through Remington's name on the inside of his wrist. That must have been intentional. "Don't be silly. You do everything for my brother. The least I can is return the favour when you need it."

Andy laughs momentarily and quietly. "You make me sound like I never need it."

"That's how you come across, you know?"

"Really?"

Emerson hums. "Yep. You seem like this really calm, dependable guy who would never have issues, y'know? I mean you are dependable and calm, but..."

"D'you think that's why no one thought I'd ever try and kill myself? Because I was wondering about that and from where I am it kinda feels like no one pays enough attention to me and that's why." He flinches when Emerson dabs antiseptic cream onto the wounds and the drummer apologises quickly.

"I think you just have a very calm, collected manner, y'know? You're very good at hiding things, I guess."

Andy sighs and doesn't say anything. He just watches the young man bandage his arm and thinks about his husband, no doubt sitting on the hospital bed and complaining to Sebastian about how he doesn't need to be there even though everyone knows that he does need to be there.

In fact, that's not what Remington is doing. No, the boy is sitting on the hospital bed in the room on his own since Sebastian left to take a phone call. He doesn't like being on his own in the room, even though he kept telling his brother to leave. It makes him feel lonely and helpless and like he could die and no one would even know. That's one of his worst fears; dying alone. But in the end, doesn't everyone die alone?

Sebastian is talking to Abigail. His attempts to get Remington to tell him what was wrong didn't exactly work, and so he's hoping that Abigail will be able to get through to him. "I know there's something really wrong," he tells her, "but everytime I talk to him he starts getting mad so it's kinda pointless."

"Do you want me to come in and see if I can talk to him about it? I know he tends to feel more comfortable with telling me certain things."

"Please. As soon as you can. He's really upsetting Andy and he's already having a hard time as it is."

"I'm free tomorrow, okay? Try not to leave Remington on his own."

Sebastian pushes coins into the vending machine. "Thank you. You're a life saver."

"No worries. I'm glad you called. I'll always help Remington out."

"See you tomorrow, Abigail. Thanks so much." He presses down the buttons for a bottle of coca cola and waits for the machine to release the drink into the tray at the bottom.

The guitarist goes back into the room with his brother, sitting down and opening the bottle in his hand. Remington looks up at him as though he's a robot. "I don't need you to be here," he says, repeating what he's said four or five times today already.

Sebastian shakes his head. "Like you've said. Read a book or somehing."

"I don't want to read a book, sorry. I want you to go." He crosses his arms stubornly. "I said go. Are you fucking dumb?"

"Apparently so."

"Fuck off."

"Just tell me what's wrong and I'll go."

Remington huffs.

"You're just making this difficult, bub."

"You're the difficult one, mate." He looks the other way angrily. "Was it Andy on the phone complaining that I made him cry?"

"Why are you giving him such a hard time? He's done nothing wrong."

"He was born," Remington says under his breath, "and I'm not giving him a hard time. He's giving me a hard time, actually."

"Oh? How's he doing that?"

"I already said! He was born. That's how."

"How nice. Aren't you being the sweetest?"

"Fuck off! I don't have to be nice to you."

"Or anyone," Sebastian mumbles, raising his hands when Remington glares daggers at him.

The boy looks unimpressed and angry and very bored. "Shut your fucking mouth," he demands, "I'm not in the fucking mood for this crap."

"I'm sorry, but where the hell is my brother? 'cause he would never act like this."

"Well maybe he got tired of being the innocent little bitch all the time."

Sebastian shakes his head. "Maybe he's just scared, hmm?"

Remington laughs.