Trigger warning.

Remington Leith: We're still very much married and very much in love! No need for all these rumours about a divorce. @andyblack and I are together for life :)

Sebastian Danzig: Together in more ways than one, amiright ;)
- User 1: @sebastiandanzig OMG
-- Remington Leith: @sebastiandanzig We all know you're just jealous ;)

Andy is lying in bed until after midday. It's unusual for him to be in bed so late, but unlike any other day, Andy's sick. It's been a long time coming, really. The stress and the late nights when Remington hasn't been sleeping well. It's caught up to him and made him cold and tired and grateful for every little bit of warm comfort Remington brings him. Whether it be hot cups of tea, a clean blanket, or simply a kiss on the head and an 'I love you.'

"This sucks," The man complains, voice soft, too tired to bother talking above a murmer.

Remington, who's currently sitting on the edge of the bed and blowing on a cup of tea so it won't burn Andy's mouth, hums. "I know, darling, I know. Hopefully it's just a twenty four hour thing." He continues blowing on the hot drink.

"Hopefully," Andy mumbles, "don't you have stuff to do today? I thought you had a photoshoot or something."

The younger shrugs. "Yeah, it's in two hours. I don't wanna go."

"Why not?"

Remington carefully hands the drink to his husband. "'cause you're sick and I don't wanna leave you, and also it means I have to see Emerson, so..."

"I'm sure you two can work things out, honey." Andy sips the tea.

"I know, I just...nevermind."

"No. You just what?"

"I just feel like there's something he isn't telling me, y'know? I don't know. I'm probably just being paranoid anyway."

Andy lets Remington take the tea back and put it down on the bedside table. "Ask him about it, then, sweetheart."

Remington sighs.

"You can't tell anyone," Emerson pleads, looking across at his fiance. "I know I fucked up. I know it was wrong and I...I'm the reason she hurt him, but-but he cheated and I couldn't not tell her."

"I'm having trouble coming to terms with why you told her to make him pay for it. Why the fuck would you say that about your own brother?"

The drummer doesn't know what to say. "If I could go back to that day I would never say it, Shy, but I did and I can't change that back. So please, just...help me."

The photoshoot is rigid and awkward and Sebastian has to keep pulling the singer towards him and reminding him that it's okay, that he's doing great. Remington listens to what he's saying and nods but none of it really processes in his mind. All he can see when he looks at their drummer is a backstabbing bully who couldn't handle with the fact that his brother has issues.

"Stop tensing," Sebastian whispers into his ear, nearly an hour into the shoot. "Relax, bub. It's okay."

Remington can't, though. He feels a tension between himself and Emerson that he's sure he hasn't felt before. Like something has changed. But he nods like he's supposed to and tries to focus on the camera infront of them and not the liar beside him. Because Emerson did lie. Remington knows it. He doesn't know what Emerson lied about but he knows he has lied. And not just about that stupid band. Something worse. Remington saw it in the way Shy looked at him as she hugged him goodbye. The way Emerson hasn't made eye contact with him once this whole afternoon. He has lied and Remington will find out what he has lied about.

"Remington," Sebastian whispers, and the boy jumps. "You're still tensing."

"Oh," he whispers back, because he already knew. "Sorry."

"Do you need a minute outside?"

Remington nods. He waits for Sebastian to say they need to take a break and then follows the man out, sitting against the wall by the front entrance of the building and exhaling like he was unable to breathe in there. "Something's wrong," he says in a hushed voice. "With Emerson. He's lying about something and I need to know what it is."

"You don't know that."

"Yes I do. I know it for sure, Sebby. Don't tell me I'm wrong. I'll scream."

"How do you know?"

"I just," he sighs, looks down. "I do. I know it."

Sebastian takes his hand and holds it because he knows it makes Remington feel better sometimes. "Okay. Then I'll help you find it out, okay?"

"Thank you. I wanna go home now."

"We're only here for another hour, bub."

Remington shakes his head. "He's making me feel unsafe. I wanna go home."

"Whay'd you feel unsafe? Has he done something?"

"He punched Andy and I'm scared he's gonna punch me because he just-he seems cold today and that's what Holly was like and it-I don't feel safe and I wanna go home and make Andy a cup of tea 'cause he's not well." Remington doesn't mean to sound so weak all of a sudden. Sometimes it just happens. "'nd I think 'm gonna have a panic attack if I stay here. I just-I don't feel right.

The guitarist doesn't have to even look at the younger to see he's not in a good mindset today and realises that getting him to stay another hour will only hurt him. "I'll take you home," he says gently, "I'll tell them you aren't feeling well. Is there anything of yours inside?"

Remington tells his brother that his jacket is on the back of a chair by the door in the photography studio, and after Sebastian has returned with it, but not before explaining why he's taking Remington home, the two get in his car and the journey is quiet. Remington feels better without Emerson being near and that makes him wonder.

Why does it feel like he's as scared of Emerson as he is of Holly?

At home, Remington fills the kettle and then goes up to see his husband, who's sitting up in bed with a book. "Feeling any better?" He asks.

"Not really. I thought the photoshoot was until four? It's only just gone three."

"Yeah, but I didn't feel safe so Sebby drove me home. It's fine. Do you want some more tea?"

Andy closes the book. "No, but I would kill for cuddles."

Remington smiles and sits on the bed beside Andy. "Have you been here the whole day?"

"Yep."

"Have you eaten?"

Andy raises an eyebrow. "Look at you worrying about me eating. How the tables have turned."

The boy whines. "Sorry for being a concerned husband."

"No, I haven't eaten."

"Do you want something?"

"Maybe something small. You okay? You seem shaky."

Remington pushes hair from Andy's forehead. "What did Emerson say to you when he punched you?"

The man sighs. He'd rather not think about it. "Loads of bullshit. Why?"

"Yeah, but what bullshit? It's just-he must've said something bad for you to punch him back.'cause you're so not violent."

"He said that I could be anyone and that you're using me, Remington, and it scared me so I punched him. He said at least if you were dead then I wouldn't be so depressed, so I punched him."

Remington realises that he's not the only one that Emerson is getting to, and that makes him more determined to find out whatever it is that the drummer isn't saying. "It's not true. About you being anyone. It's not. You're Andy and Andy is the only one I want, okay? Don't believe his shit." He encourages Andy's head onto his shoulder.

"I know. Hearing it just hurt, I guess." The man closes his eyes and yawns. "Please, let's not talk about it."

"Let me run you a bath, then."

"That sounds heavenly," Andy practically purs, feeling for his husband's hand. "Why did you come home so early, though, princess?"

Remington sighs. "I told you. I didn't feel safe."

"And the award for the vaguest explanation goes to..."

The boy whines. "Shut up. I just-I don't know. Emerson was freaking me out."

"Why? Did he do something?"

"No, nothing. He just-Andy, it doesn't matter. I don't wanna talk about it. I'm running you a bath," he says, and gets off the bed, leaving Andy to wonder what Emerson could have possibly done to make Remington so unhappy around him. The question is; who will find out first?