Trigger Warning: Mentions of PTSD, anxiety, physical/emotional abuse , depression

Remington was minutes away from leaving his apartment for the hospital when his brother burst through the door, and unhappily, he asked, "What is it, Sebastian? I'm going to the hospital." 

"Why are you always at the hospital?" 

"Visiting Andy, you know that. Stop being stupid. Move." Pushing past the elder, Remington picked up his shoes. 

Sebastian leant against the closed front door. "Is he the one you thought was being abused?" 

"I didn't think he was being abused, he was being abused. That's why he's in hospital, genius. His ex tried to kill him." 

"You never said that." 

"Yes. I did." 

"Are you, like, mad at me, or something? You've been snappy for weeks." 

Remington pulled his laces tight like they had personally offended him. "Nope," he answered blandly. "Now if you'd excuse me, I'm leaving. So get out my flat, thanks." 

"You know, you'd be able to afford an actual house if you got a better job." 

"You have tattoos, Sebastian." 

"Yeah, and?" 

"So you're saying it's not a good job, being a tattoo artist? You gonna say that to the artist who next tattoos you? I'm sure that'll inspire them to do a really good job." Leaving the hallway, he picked up a container of muffins from the kitchen counter, grabbing his coat on the way out of the door. 

Sebastian sighed and followed his brother out of the apartment. "All I'm saying is do you want to live here forever?" 

"It's great for you that you're engaged to a rich hairdresser slash influencer, but some of us actually have to work to make money. Don't tell me you think you'd be living in your posh fucking house without Larisa's income." Remington locked the door, shoved his keys into his pocket, and begun for the stairs. "I like my job, Sebastian. If you have an issue with me enjoying my work, then that sounds like a you problem, and it has nothing to do with me." 

"All I'm saying-" 

"Literally, I don't care." Remington was strides ahead now, checking his phone as he almost ran down the stairs and towards his car. He sent Andy a text letting him know he'd be there soon, hissed when Sebastian snatched his phone from his hand and started scrolling through the conversation. 

"Aww, he loves you," the elder mused with a mocking smile. "You've know him, what, a month? Sounds like true love to me. I mean, my God, are you really that desperate that you'd get a guy like that?" 

Wrestling his phone back, Remington pushed his brother away and glared at him as he stumbled down two steps before re-gaining balance. He held the device close to his chest. "What the hell do you mean by that?" He asked loudly. 

They reached the bottom of the stairs and Remington violently threw open the door, marching out and towards the carpark. Sebastian ran to catch up to him, said, "He's clearly not in the right state of mind to love anyone." 

"You calling a man you've never met crazy? Oh, wait, sorry. You have met him. Yeah, you remember that? Breaking into my flat in the middle of the night, drunk as hell? You scared him shitless! That's why I'm mad at you, Sebastian. After I told you he was being abused, you did that! So why don't you go to fucking rehab and realise that you have problems instead of having a go at me for looking out for someone who's nearly been fucking murdered by his own boyfriend? Stop following me." He yanked open his car door. Before Sebastian had the chance to retort, he was on the main road towards the hospital. 

During the short drive, Remington made himself take deep breaths to calm down, didn't want to see Andy with his anger for his brother still fresh. It wasn't the first time Sebastian had insulted his life choices, and while he had learnt to expect it for the most part, sometimes he didn't know quite how he was supposed to be okay with it, no matter how common it was. 

When he went into Andy's room, the man was sitting cross-legged on the bed with a comic in his hands, lifted his head to meet Remington. A smile grew on his face and Remington couldn't help but smile back. 

"It's good to see you," he said, catching the door before it slammed. "What'cha reading?" 

Andy lifted the book so the cover was easy to see. 

Remington hummed. "So, I made white chocolate and raspberry muffins, I hope you like them. I'll leave them here. Help yourself. I made so much, you should see how many are still in my kitchen." He put the box on the side and sat down. 

Closing the comic, Andy moved towards the side of the bed nearest Remington. Since sleeping on his chest, he had become rather needy for more physical affection, though didn't like the process of asking for it, envied those who were able to initiate it without such anxieties. "Thank you," he said in response to the muffins. 

"Maybe once you're discharged, we can do some baking together." 

The suggestion made Andy's insides flutter. He felt like he was in school all over again, like the popular kid was flirting with him. "Yes," he agreed. Having ditched the cross-legged position, he was now sitting with his legs over the side of the bed. 

Remington noticed how much more active he seemed and smiled at the thought. After witnessing him at his absolute worst - begging for pills to overdose on and stumbling past his shop sloshed full with alcohol at 2pm - it was a wonderful thing to see him begin to return to the man he was before Holden had stolen it all away. "How are your new tattoos?" He asked. "They all healed okay? Let me know if you want any touching up, I can for sure find time for you at the studio." 

"Oh," Andy said, mildly surprised by the change of topic. "They're, uh, they're good. I think. I haven't-I don't really, uh..." Voice lowering to a mumble, "I don't look at myself." 

"That's okay." 

"Sorry." 

"I understand, it's nothing to apologise for. I'm sorry, I didn't want to make you uncomfortable." 

Andy quickly shook his head. "You didn't." 

"I'm glad." 

"Can I...uh...can you..." 

"You want a hug?" Remington guessed, waiting for Andy to nod before going on. "Absolutely. I'll come sit with you on the bed, is that okay?" 

They settled into an embrace similar to that of the other day, this time without Andy going to sleep. "Thank you," he said quietly. 

Remington stroked his hair, savoured the embrace as he had been needing one himself. "Thank you," he replied. "I know it must be so hard for you to trust me. So thank you for giving me the chance to fall in love with you." 

At that, Andy turned his head to look up at Remington, smiling. 

"You're so pretty, you know that?" 

"I...uh, thank you." He kept gazing up at the artist, blush heavy on his cheeks, but he didn't care to hide it. It felt like the first time in years that colour had been brought onto his face that wasn't the purple of a bruise or the red of a cut.