A very slight trigger warning but there's no mention of anything really bad.

Remington finds his phone without telling Andy while the man is making dinner. It was in Andy's jacket pocket, safetly zipped up.

The boy sits with it in the living room and waits for it to turn on, knowing he shouldn't be doing this but wanting to know what people are saying ahout him now. As soon as the device wakes up, it buzzes for more than a minute with notifications, Remington watching it with a raised eyebrow until it stops. The first thing he opens is Instagram, where he ges straight to his tagged photos and looks at the most recent.

Exposetheslutt: Who bought tickets to a show just to shout rude words at Remington? Meeeee, I did!

He should have expected this. Remington hates that he's already about to cry. He rubs his eyes.

RLSlutconfessions: No. 75: Imagine still associating yourself with R*mington hahahaha

Mychemicalwhore: Andy really be clown tho

Positiveroyaleee: Lmao Sebastian saw my dm yesterday telling him to ditch #hungrywhore.

Remington clicks off his tagged posts to look at comments under his last post. It's a mirror selfie he took in one of Andy's shirts. The comments are awful. People calling him disgusting, telling him to 'eat a sandwhich', and insulting Andy for being with him.

The singer tears up. He checks his messages and sees eight texts from Emerson.

Please answer me.
I'm sorry.
It was supposed to be a joke.
Remington, please, you can't ignore me forever.
You're being such a baby. It's not a big deal.
Come on, this is stupid! Just answer me!
Remington for god's sake, stop acting like such a baby.
We all know you cheated. Stop lying to your own husband.

Remington blocks Emerson's number. He doesn't bother replying to any of the messages, and instead, goes back to instagram, jumping when the phone is taken from his hands and snapping his head around to look at Andy, guilty.

The man shakes his head and raises an eyebrow. "And what might you be doing?" He asks while finding settings to change the password.

The younger turns his head back around. "Nothing," he mumbles.

"So you weren't looking at Instagram?"

"Yes, but-"

"Sweetheart, you know that won't help."

Remington looks at Andy with a stubborn expression. "I just wanted to know what they were saying," he tries to explain, "it's not very nice."

Andy hums. "I know it's not very nice. That's why you weren't looking, remember?"

The boy doesn't respond. He stands up and steps past Andy.

"Dinner's ready," the man says, grabbing his husband's hand.

"Great." He looks down at their hands and then up at Andy. "I didn't think it would still be that bad."

Andy, sighing, strokes the boy's cheek bone softly. "You can't keep thinking about it, kitten."

Remington huffs. "Try telling that to my brain," he says dryly, pouting when Andy holds his face in both his hands. "Stop looking at me," he complains.

"But you're pretty," Andy sings, and kisses the singer. "Right, dinner. C'mon." He ushers the boy into the kitchen, handing him a bowl of tomato sauce and pasta.

"I don't wanna go on tour," Remington says, sitting down with the pasta and taking the fork Andy hands him.

"It'll be okay."

"No it won't."

The older shakes his head and joins Remington at the table. "Worrying is doing you no good," he says, "I know you, kitten, and I understand how important it is for tour to be as good as it can be-"

"I know you know me," Remington cuts in.

"Shh, let me finish. I know how important it is for tour to be as good as it can be, because it makes you stressed as it is and you need it all to go smoothly, so sitting here and thinking about all the possible things that could happen is not ever going to help. Things are rough with your fans and with Emerson, I know, but that doesn't mean that you can't still go on tour and play awesome shows and enjoy your job. Because music is all you've ever wanted to do and now you're doing it, and you shouldn't let anything get in the way of that."

Remington stabs at the pasta thoughtfully. "Is that what you do?"

"I certainly try. I wanted to do music since I was a teenager and I've had things go wrong, and I'm still here, doing music."

"Can I tell you something I've never said out loud before?"

Andy nods. He knows that when Remington asks if he can tell him something, it's because he's been worrying about who to tell and what to say for a while. "'course you can."

There's hesitation before the boy talks again. He isn't sure how Andy will respond. He doesn't even know what to think of it himself. "I don't wanna be in a band anymore." It's said quickly because he's scared of how Andy will react. It seems like the last thing he would ever say.

If Andy is surprised, he doesn't communicate that surprise at all. "Okay. Why's that? Do you wanna talk about it?"

"I just don't enjoy it anymore. I love-I love writing songs and I love singing but I don't like being in a band, not anymor. 'cause it feels like the worst part of my life all happened around the band and everytime I think of Palaye I think of what happened, and I hate that. I just..." he sighs. "I think I'd be happier if I was a solo artist, instead. Like how you did your Andy Black project. I wanna do that, y'know? Find my own musicians and not feel tied down to the same songs that I wrote when I was stuck with Holly. New songs, a new stage setup, a new sound. I think I need to do that for myself."

"You've really been thinking about this alot, huh?"

"I kept wanting to tell someone but I never knew how, and everytime I tried to tell Sebastian I just-I felt so bad because I know he loves Palaye, and I tried to tell Abi but I didn't know how to bring it up. So I thought...I thought telling you would be the best thing to do because you always make me feel safe."

"It absolutely was the best thing to do and I'm so glad you said something. The last thing any of us want is for you to have something on your mind that's making you overwhelmed and not telling anyone at all."

Remington looks at the food in the bowl. "I thought you might think I'm a baby."

"No, sweetheart, never. I mean-you are my baby, but you're not a baby."

The boy smiles. "So it's not-it's not cowardly to back out of the band?"

Andy shakes his head. "Of course it's not. You feel it's something you need to do and, if that's how you feel, then it's the right thing to do. I'm by your side, no matter what you chose to do, okay?"

"You're too perfect."

"You're too perfect. Eat your pasta."

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you, too, sweetheart."

Andy Black: Never take for granted the trust someone has for you. You never know how much they could be needing you and the moment you take it for granted, the moment they close up and stop telling you things.