Trigger warning, also kinda smut warning?? There's talk of sex and stuff at the end

Tour begins in less than a month and, despite their best efforts, more than half of their fans are still brutally attacking Remington for being a whore and a slut. Andy still has his phone. He hasn't mentioned how Emerson has tried to call him more than he can count at this point. Telling Remington that information will only make him feel worse. Occasionally, when Remington isn't around, Andy looks through the recent things that are being said about him, wondering if it will ever stop and why the hell Emerson thinks any of this is okay for him to be doing.

Today, Remington is at Sebastian's house rehearsing, and Andy has a session with Sloane. He sits opposite the woman and crosses his legs as she talks.

"Hi, Andy. How're you doing?" She asks, and Andy shrugs.

"Been better, honestly," he answers, "but things could be worse, so..." He leans back and unzips his jacket, which he thinks might be Remington's, though they share so many clothes he couldn't be sure.

The woman hums. She knows he's going to carry on and explain, and so stays quiet.

"Remington's brother, he convinced all of Remington's fans that he cheated on me. Now everyone is calling him a whore and a slut and I don't know what to do about it." The man sighs. "He's so upset about it and I'm trying to fix it so that their tour in a month goes well and I feel like I'm not helping. Like-he needs it to stop because he can't handle it and it's making him so depressed, but I don't know how the fuck I'm supposed to make it all stop and I just feel kinda-I don't know-useless?"

"You should never feel that you are completely responsible for him, Andy. I know you love him and you want him to be alright, but at the same time, you're not his parent and you're not with him just to look after him. You're with him because you love him and he makes you happy."

"I know, but... How could I not feel responsible? I mean-he's such a fragile person and he trusts me more than I thought I could ever be trusted, so it'd feel so wrong for me to just watch it happen."

"It's okay to be there for him. But at the same time, it seems like you frequently push your needs aside for him, and that's not a good habit to get into."

Andy looks down at his hands. "I know that. Remington keeps saying it, too. I just-I find it hard to put myself first."

Sloane nods in understanding. "That's something we'll work on, okay? For now, I want you to focus on taking some time every week to take a break and relax. Go out for a meal, watch a movie, do something that takes your mind off everything you've got going on. It'll really help you to reduce the stress you feel a lot of the time."

The man nods slowly. "I just-I don't know how I'm supposed to think about myself when there are more important things going on with Remington."

"They're not more important, Andy. You are just as important as him."

"Well it doesn't feel like that," Andy practically whispers.

Remington isn't home when Andy gets back, and so he sits on the bed with a book he's been meaning to read for a while. He doesn't realise how long it's been until he looks up and Remington is leaning against the doorframe with a stupid grin.

"You creeped in," Andy says, putting the book down.

"Not really. I've been here for five minutes. You were really into that book."

"You have not been there five minutes."

Remington hums. "I have. It's cute; you all engrossed in a dead tree with smudges on."

The older raises (gonna ignore how I wrote 'raisens'and didn't notice for like two proof reads) an eyebrow, amused, and glad to see Remington is a better mood than he was in when he left this morning. "You're weird, you know that?"

The boy just grins again. "So," he begins, "guess what happened."

"What happened?"

Remington flops down onto the bed. "I-" he bursts into laughter, cutting himself off.

"You..."

Remington tries to compose himself to tell the apparently hilarious story. "So when I got to Sebastian's this morning," he starts, holding back laughter.

"When you got to Sebastian's this morning..."

"The door was unlocked so I let myself in, and-oh hell-I can't say it!"

"Are you high?"

Remington snorts a laugh. "Imagine! So I let myself in and Sebastian wasn't in the basement so I went looking for him, and-" again, he bursts into laughter.

"Sweetheart, you're making this so much more difficult for yourself."

"I walked in on him and Faye!"

"Of course you did. Why is that something only you would manage?"

"It was so awkward, you should'a seen their fucking faces! And I mean their fucking faces."

Andy scunches up his face. "You're disgusting. I don't need that image in my head."

"They were-like-sweaty and-"

"Nope. Shush. Not listening."

Remington laughs loudly. "You're the one who made me cum while Sebastian was on the phone, so..."

"I wasn't the one moaning as loud as I fucking could."

"That wasn't my fault," Remington protests, shuffling up so he's between Andy's legs. "Anyway, that wasn't as bad as seeing Sebastian pounding-"

"Stop," Andy complains, touching the choker Remington is wearing today. Red with small studs.

"So anyway...I saw tits."

The man really tries not to laugh, but he can't stop himself.

"They're so weird."

"If you don't stop I'm gonna bite," Andy threatens, through laughs.

Remington strains his neck to look behind at his lover, just grinning again.

"Are you done?"

"Probably not."

Andy rolls his eyes playfully. "Fantastic." Hands on Remington's waist, he turns the singer around so they're facing one another, stroking an eyelash from the younger's cheek. "What's your number?" He asks softly.

Remington finds Andy's hand with his, plays with his fingers aimlessly. "Something around twenty two. You? And don't lie. If it's high, tell me."

"Nineteen or twenty," is Andy's honest answer, "maybe twenty five after what you just told me. You're a dirty fucker."

"I think you'll find that Sebastian is actually the one doing all the dirty fucking."

"Oh my God."

"He was proper going for it."

Andy fakes a gag.

"Like-over the kitchen counter. Who fucks over the kitchen counter?"

"Do you wanna maybe think back to a few days ago. We most definitely did that."

Remington shrugs. "That's different."

"How?"

"'cause you don't have tits," he says through giggles, Andy snorting.

"That is true," the man agrees.

Remington nods, and then after a moment, says, "I'm pretty sure she had a nipple piercing."

Andy snorts again. He hasn't laughed like this for a while. It's nice.

"And-like-so many hickies."

"Why did you look?"

The boy kisses Andy quickly. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Not look," Andy says, "obviously. Please shush now."

"You should get a nipple piercing."

"Are you sure you aren't high."

"Traumatized," Remington concludes, kissing Andy again. "But serously, he was really going at it."