Trigger warning?

After much persuasion, Andy finally gives in and agrees with Sebastian, saying he'll come to the hopsital and talk to Remington, who, right now, is sitting on the bed with Andy's ring between his fingers. He keeps telling himself that if he never lets go of the ring then Andy will never truly be gone. Is Andy gone?

He's told he has to have a shower today and that makes him tear up. The only way he feels comfortable showering is when Andy is there to talk to him and distract him. "You can't make me," he complains to Emerson, who's been here since Sebastian left to make sure Andy was okay.

"You'll feel better after," Emerson tries, knowing it's not going to work because all the boy wants is for Andy to come back.

"Yeah, after I die," Remingtn retorts, bored and trying too hard to not think about Andy that now all he thinks about is Andy. Ironic, really.

The younger shakes his head, wonders if his brother really thinks he'll feel better if he dies. "Showering is good for you," he says, rather timidly, and sighs when Remington laughs dryly.

"I'm fucking done," Remington says, "with all this fucking failure. I keep thinking things are finally getting better and then boom! I go and ruin at all with my stupid stupid fucking brain. What even is the point anymore?"

"There's always a reason to live."

"Andy was that reason, Em, and now he's gone, so..."

The drummer frowns. "Surely there's more to live for than just one person, though."

Remington seems uninterested in the conversation. "He isn't just one person, Em. He's my entire fucking life. How do you not see that? I want to live when I'm with him and when he's gone, I wanna die. Simple as."

"You're such a pesimist."

"Well what the hell am I supposed to be? How can I be optimistic when I'm stuck in hospital with a fucking feeding tube and my husband doesn't want me? You can't tell me that you wouldn't be feeling just as bad as me right now."

"I just mean that you make everything so much worse for yourself."

"Aren't you supportive? You can shut up now."

Emerson looks back at the magazine in his lap.

Stopping the car in town on the way to hospital, Sebastian decides they'll get something or breakfast before going to see Remington, and waits for Andy to get out the car. "Gimme your hand," he gently demands, and Andy raises an eyebrow as he closes the door.

"What? Why?"

"Because," Sebastian begins, locking the car. "I'd rather you didn't step into the road and considering what you've been saying about killing yourself, I'm not taking any chances. Hand."

Andy finds himself smiling briefly. "Fine, here. Where are we goin'?"

"Just a cafe."

The man hums, walking beside Sebastian with their hands holding between them. "Are you not worried people will think you're gay with me?"

Sebastian shrugs. "Why would I worry about that?"

"I don't know, but some people are weird about anyone thinking they're gay when they're not."

"Those people are called homophobes, mate. I don't give a crap what people think I am. Who cares?"

"You're a good person." They stop and wait to cross the road. "All of you are. I sometimes wonder if-well-Remington has enough shit going on and what if I make it worse?"

Sebastian releases Andy's hand to take his shoulders. "You gotta stop thinking so low of yourself. You are the best person for him. You're the one who's keeping him alive, you know that, right?"

"That's not-"

"When you comitted and we didn't know if you would wake up, Remington said over and over that if you were dead then he'd have to be dead, too. He wanted us to know because he was warning us, telling us that he will kill himself if you are dead. Because he lives for you."

Andy looks down.

"Trust me. He needs you. Don't ever let yourself believe that he'd be better off without you. No one would."

"I actually love you right now," Andy announces, smiling. "You've got such a fuckin' way with words."

"I love you, too. Come here, let's hug this out of you."

The two sit in a cafe at a table by the window and order coffee and croissants, and talk about things that don't matter just to occupy Andy so he doesn't start overthinking again.

After breakfast, they drive the rest of the way to hospital, where Remington is now reluctantly braving the shower. He's trying to put it off as much as he can by complaining and saying he doesn't know how to turn it on even though he does know. He waits for the water to heat up before undressing and then starts saying how he can't take the gown off because the tube is in the way, and so Emerson has to basically do it for him. And then Remington makes a fuss because the shampoo is the wrong kind even though he has never before cared what kind of shampoo he uses, and by the time he's finally and angrily stepped under the water, Andy and Sebastian have arrived.

They're holding hands all the way to the room and, when Emerson opens the door, they finally let go. "Hey," the youngest greets, "he's just gone in the shower. You should'a seen him complaining, he was like a fuckin' six year old. It's too hot, it's too cold, it's the wrong shampoo, it's too slippy, I don't like the water pressure. I swear to God, he is driving me crazy."

Sebastian, amused, rolls his eyes. "Such a drama queen. You wanna go home? I'll stay with him now."

"Thanks! See you later. Bye Andy." He spends half a minute collecting his things before leaving, and Sebastian motions for Andy to sit down.

"It's gonna be okay," he assures, rubbing the man's arm.

Andy doesn't respond. He just sighs, looks down at his hands in his lap, and then up at the bed Remington has been sleeing in, at the untidy covers and the pillow that's down one edge of the bed. He realises Remington has been using it to rest his head on when he sleeps because that's how he always sleeps at home, though there his head is on Andy's chest and not on a pillow.

"Emerson!" They hear from the small bathroom, and Sebastian stands up, approcahing the closed door.

"It's me, bub, it's Sebastian. What's wrong?"

"Just...come in," Remington calls, and Sebastian opens the door, stepping in and closing it behind him.

"You okay?" He asks, looking over the boy for any obvious signs of being hurt.

The younger shakes his head.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"He's gone," Remington whispers. "I dropped the ring and now he's gone."

"Who's gone, bub?"

"Andy. The ring-his ring-went down here." He points to the drain. "And now he's gone." He looks up at Sebastian with big brown eyes. "Sebby, he's gone."

Sebastian reaches for the towel. "He's not gone, buttercup. I promise. Have you washed your hair?"

Remington looks at his brother, unconvinced, and nods.

"Okay. Come 'ere. Let's get you dry." He opens his arms with the towel in both hands and the boy steps out of the shower.

"He's gone," he repeats, as Sebastian is wrapping the towel around his small frame.

"Shh."

"He's gone."

The older opens the door, on hand on Remington's shoulder, and gently pushes the boy out of the room. He watches how Remington halts and how his eyes are fixated on one place, one person, and he smiles.

Because Andy isn't gone.