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

Sitting so close to Remington in bed, bodies touching, Andy couldn't pull his gaze from the artist, couldn't look back at the laptop screen. He was starkly aware of the arm Remington had around him, found himself leaning into it. 

The thought of Holden jumped into his mind: what would the man have done in a situation like this? Andy considered it, decided Holden would have allowed him the comfort for only a few minutes before shifting, digging his fingers into his ribs and and then shoving him away. Andy held his attention on Remington's hand as if in anticipation for the shift which didn't come. 

Remington frowned, said quietly, "You okay?" 

Andy stared at him. He wanted to cry but he didn't know the reason why. He blinked and nodded. His hands were resting on the laptop keyboard and he thought about the time he had closed the car door on his fingers and all Holden said in response was, 'come on, we don't have all day.' 

Then he thought about the night outside the restaurant when he was going to stab himself with the steak knife and what Remington, who was almost a stranger back then, had said - 'you deserve so much better than to kill yourself because of a guy who dedicates his time to hurting you.' 

Even now, in the silence, he could still hear it, could still feel the tears that had risen each time Remington said something like that, each time Remington said anything. 

In a rush of overwhelming, consuming adoration, Andy lifted his hand from the keyboard, held his palm to Remington's cheek, and kissed him. It all happened to quickly that he didn't give himself time to back out, and abruptly enough that Remington made a soft sound of mild surprise, bringing his hand to the back of Andy's head. 

Pulling away, eyes wide, Andy couldn't speak. What if he had overstepped, he panicked.

But Remington was smiling that sweet smile and speaking in that warm voice. "Okay?" He asked. 

Andy nodded statically. He couldn't quite believe he had just done that. "Sorry," he uttered. 

"No. No, no, no." 

Momentarily, Andy looked down, but was so desperate to know exactly what it was that Remington was thinking that he couldn't keep his eyes from the younger's face for more than a few seconds. He said nothing, but dropped his hand. 

Remington caught it and held it in his own. "I didn't expect that, is all," he explained. "I wanted it, of course I did. But I didn't expect it. You know, because of Holden and everything. I'm glad you did it." 

Andy paid attention to how his hand felt in Remington's. "You...you did?" He asked slowly, quietly. 

"Of course. But I was never going to bring it up, in case it might make you uncomfortable."

"Oh," Andy whispered, dropping his eyes again. "Thank you. That's-that's so thoughtful. You're so thoughtful." He paused, then added, "I haven't really felt - uh - felt like this in a long time. I thought I did, with Holden. I thought I loved him, I mean. But how...how can anyone really love someone like that?" He caught Remington's gaze. "Just-thank you. For making me see all this." 

"Oh, darling, you don't need to thank me." Moving, Remington took his laptop from Andy's lap, closed it, leaned it against his bedside table. "We should go to sleep," he suggested. "You wanna stay here?" 

"If that's okay?" 

"Absolutely." Remington shuffled down, repositioning the pillow beneath his head. "Make yourself comfy," he said, then, "Isn't this new blanket I got the softest fuckin' thing ever?" 

Andy chuckled and the sound made Remington smile, and it grew when the man's response was, "The softest fuckin' thing I know is you." 

Humming, Remington turned onto his side, facing Andy, who was watching him. The lamp by the bed was still on and the room was cast under a warm orange glow. "Smooth. That was very smooth." He hesitated, then stroked his knuckles across Andy's cheekbone. 

"I've got nine years of smooth lines in me." 

Remington laughed. "I can't wait to hear them all." 

Closing his eyes, Andy just hummed. He was visibly smiling as Remington continued to stoke his cheekbone. 

* * * 

In the morning, they finished choosing which makeup brushes to buy, and then Andy made the decision to finally talk to his band about his absence, asking them to meet him in a restaurant that evening and assuring them it would be on him. They all agreed readily, and for the hours leading up to it, Andy was unable to settle. 

He told Remington, who reminded him that whatever reaction they had, none of what had happened was his fault, and hugged him before he left. 

Andy was the first to arrive, sitting at the table he'd had reserved, tapping his foot and checking his phone for any last minute cancellations. Jake was the first to show up, and as he sat down, he said simply, "Hey, man. Good to see you." 

One by one, the others pulled out seats and greeted Andy, and they partook in a sparse discussion about CC's new marriage until they had all ordered. Then all attention fell on Andy, and he had the sudden urge to push his chair back and flee the building. 

"I'm sorry, first of all," he started. "For disappearing off the face of the earth and ignoring you all for so long. I had no right." He thought of Holden again, though of the words get it together, boy. He looked at his napkin and said, "You all know Holden, right?" 

"The man you've been with for, like, ten years, yeah, of course," CC answered, the others nodding in agreement. 

Andy kept his eyes down. "Right. Course. Uh, okay. There's not really an easy way to, uh, to say this. Uh, so, he's been arrested." 

Silence, then Jinxx said, "Shit, what for?" 

Get it together, boy. Andy could almost hear it. He closed his eyes for a moment, thought instead of Remington and of what he would be saying. None of it was your fault. You've done nothing wrong. You deserve so much better.

Letting himself take in the sight of his four band mates, his four brothers, he replied, "For trying to kill me."