There's a very brief mention of self harm and eating disorder stuff but it's literally two sentences so idk if it needs a trigger warning

Remington Leith, Sebastian Danzig, Emerson Barrett, and Andy Black all shared:
Palaye Royale: We are incredibly sad and sorry to formally announce that Emerson Barrett will no longer be associated with the band. The reasons behind this are personal to us as brothers and we feel it is unfair for us to explain. We are deeply saddened by this decision, though all felt it is a necessary thing to do. Please be patient while we sort out a new drummer. We love you all x

Remington doesn't talk. He can't. It all happened so fast. The argument last night, the punch to his jaw, the halucination, the awful awful truth. One moment it was okay and the next...

It was two weeks ago when Remington started feeling like Emerson was lying about something. The day after the photoshoot, him and Andy were in town, chatting, happy that Andy's sickness had pretty much cleared up over night. "I wonder how Kacey is," the younger had said, swinging his hand in Andy's in between them.

"I hope she's okay," Andy responded, bringing Remington's hand to his lips and placing a kiss to his knuckles.

"Me too."

"You okay?"

Remington shruged, smiled. "Mostly. You? What's your number?"

Andy smiled, too. "Something around a thirteen."

"That's good. Me too."

They were quiet for a few minutes, walking slowly, and then Remington spoke up again.

"It's funny," he had said, "how feelings work, y'know? Sometimes you feel something and you're like what the fuck is this?"

"That's what I think everytime I look at you," Andy teased, and Remington whined. "I know what you mean, yeah. It's like sometimes your brain doesn't know what's going on."

"I'm glad we're on the same page."

The man hummed. "Why'd you bring that up?"

"Just 'cause."

"I see."

"You see what?"

Andy shook his head. "Oh nothing. Just you being your usual self."

"Is that a good thing?"

"'course it is, princess. It's the best."

The boy was content. He liked days like this. Just him and Andy. Calm, quiet, in love. But good things can't possibly last forever. "You're the best," he had responded, leaning up and kissing Andy's cheek, and making a soft noise when Andy pulled him in for a proper kiss.

"I know I am. I'm made of fairy dust, remember?"

"Damn right you are. Hey, guess what?"

"What's that, kitten?"

Remington grinned and it made Andy's heart feel so full he swore it could burst.

"Are you gonna tell me, or just stare at me like a weirdo for five minutes?"

"I haven't made myself sick for a month!"

Andy smiled. "I'm so proud of you! You're doing so good!"

"So are you," Remington said cheerfully, "you haven't hurt yourself for two weeks!"

"You've been keeping track?"

The boy nodded. "'course I have, darling. And I'm very much proud of you."

"You're too sweet."

When they got back home after the hour's outing, the two played card games in the living room and found it way too funny when Andy made a bad joke. Andy started laughing at how much Remington was laughing and then they couldn't stop finding humourous things to laugh about. It was one of those moments where they were laughing so hard they couldn't breathe properly and it was priceless.

In the evening, after boring themselves of every card game they could remember, the lovers, in onesies Andy had bought that day Remington had the radio interview, went live on Andy's Instagram.

"We're drunk and we haven't even had a drink," Remington had said, after they kept bursting into fits of laughter and confusing the viewers.

"We've had a lot of coffee," Andy pointed out, playing absently with the zip on Remington's zebra onesie.

"Andy kept putting sugar in mine so i think I'm having a sugar rush."

"You are a sugar rush."

Remington grinned. "We should answer some questions or something. What's it like to live together? Annoying as fuck, someone help me escape."

Andy shook his head. "You're such a bitch."

"I know. But seriously, living together? It's like...wow, I've somehow found someone who isn't irritated by every little thing I do."

"Oh, I so am irritated by every little thing you do."

"Fuck off. See what I have to deal with?"

"He's acting all cool for you guys but I can assure you ninety nine percent of the time he's jumping on me begging for cuddles. Don't let this pretty exterior fool you."

"Yeah, and ninety nine percent of the time, Andy is being a bitch."

"Charming."

Remington stood up and yawned, stretching at the same time. "I nearly died," he said lightly, "didn't I, Andy?"

The man looked up at him. "Yep. It was pretty funny. You should'a seen him earlier! He was getting a glass of orange juice because I think his blood is actually orange juice or something, and-like-proper decked it on the kitchen floor. The glass smashed everywhere and Remington just sat on the floor pouting up at me."

"I nearly died," Remington repeated, and for some reason, he couldn't stop seeing the hotel bathroom as he said it. He did nearly die. If only he knew how his little bother was the cause of all that pain and suffering.

That night the men lay in bed, one of the lights on, and talked quietly about nothing. They were calm and happy and they were safe there; in eachother's arms, in eacother's hearts.

They were safe.