Class is cancelled this morning so sitting in a coffee shop writing this. Today's a good day :)

Trigger Waring: Alcohol, blood, physical/emotional abuse 

Andy knew now that he shouldn't have spoken. 

His band mates were upset with him. Even those who were trying to play off their irritation - Lonny and Jinxx - were clearly unhappy. 

"I don't want to do the blood-spitting thing," was what he had told them. It had taken courage for him even to open his mouth, never mind speak, and it hadn't been worth it. Because now, not only did they have a reason to treat him with hostility, they also had insisted the video wouldn't work without it. 

"Why not?" Jake had asked sharply when he gave no explanation. "It's part of the story, man. Come on." 

Andy couldn't give the reasoning because he knew it was stupid and irrational, so he let them mutter and shake their heads and come to the conclusion that they would keep it in, they would do it, and he would just have to suck it up. 

By the time they left the studio, it was already gone ten pm, and on the edge of tears, Andy drove to a downtown bar and filled himself with alcohol until he had forgotten - at least, almost forgotten - the day's events. 

In the bar, he was approached by more than one person over the span of an hour, both men and women, expressing their thoughts on his appearance, that he was 'so fucking sexy.' He didn't want to hear it, didn't enjoy the types of compliments that spewed from lust-driven mouths. It didn't help that the only times Holden had seemed to compliment him was in a similar way, and now that he had experienced otherwise - Remington really was full of genuine, heart warming, comments - Andy didn't care for what they had to say. 

But he couldn't tell them that. So he engaged in drunken conversation until they grew bored or saw someone else they decided they wanted attention from instead. 

"Andy?" 

Turning around sharply - who was it? Why did they know his name? He prayed to God it wasn't a fan of his band - he found the source of the voice. It took him a few moments to register that the man before him, holding a drink, was Remington's older brother. 

"Hey, man," Sebastian said, only slightly tipsy. "Remington here with you?" 

Andy didn't know what the right answer was, so he just shook his head. 

"Oh, I thought...well, never mind. You here with anyone? Night out?" 

The questions made Andy feel dizzy but he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the alcohol. He had lost track of how many glasses he'd consumed, but knew it was a number he wouldn't be proud of come the morning. 

Sebastian swallowed the last of his drink. "Where is Remington?" He asked. 

Andy blinked. "Home," he replied, trying hard not to sound as hammered as he felt. 

"Hmm." 

What that meant, the singer had no idea. He had barely spent five minutes in Sebastian's company before, and meeting him in a bar during one of his self-destructive spirals wasn't something he had ever thought would happen. He thought about making an excuse to get away from him but couldn't focus on a train of thought long enough to come up with a decent plan. 

"You okay, man?" Asked Sebastian. "I thought Remington said you didn't drink?" He was frowning, Andy realised. "I mean, that's what he told me. You know, 'cause he's sober now, or something. But he's always changing his mind about shit, so I could be wrong." 

There was no way out of the conversation now, Andy knew. Even if he could come up with a plausible reason to leave, he could hardly see straight, never mind walk without tripping over something. 

Sebastian was prodding at his phone, and said while he was looking at the screen, "You wanna come sit with me and my mates for a bit?" 

Andy just nodded because there was no way he could say no, and he followed Sebastian towards a table unsteadily, keeping his head down as he was introduced to three people he'd never met before. They were all talking about something and he couldn't focus properly, so he sat quietly, wishing he had never been noticed, wishing he was sitting alone at the other end of the bar knocking back shots, though a part of him was grateful. He knew even in his state that he'd had more than enough to drink already. 

He kept zoning out, remembering small pieces of things that Holden had said to him, had done to him, and was alarmed when beside him a voice he immediately recognised said, "Hey, what do you say to pizza?" 

Andy turned to look at Remington, who was looking right back at him. 

"I'm starving," the tattoo artist went on. "Come with me?" 

Andy continued to stare. 

"Thanks, Seb," Remington said, sending his brother a quick smile. "See you." 

Nodding in response, Sebastian watched Andy stand and stumble, watched Remington steady him by his shoulders and lead him towards the exit. 

Outside, Remington stopped walking. "Sorry for creeping up on you like that," he apologised. "Sebastian texted." 

"Oh," Andy mumbled. Now he felt stupid. Of course that was what Sebastian had been doing on his phone. 

"Are you okay?" 

"I'm - I'm sorry." 

"No, it's alright. I just wanna make sure you're okay, that's all. Pizza?" 

Andy nodded, stumbled again. "Sorry," he said when Remington caught him, disappointed when the younger took his hands away once he was stable. 

"We'll talk about it tomorrow, okay? Once you're sober and we've been to bed. Can you walk okay?" He got a blank stare in response. "Andy?" 

Without speaking, Andy linked his arm with Remington's, and after a moment, said, "Yeah" 

They walked quietly down the street, ducking into the first pizza takeaway that they came across, and Remington ordered, knew Andy would rather throw himself in front of a car than converse with a stranger, specially in his drunken state. 

While they waited, sitting at an empty metal table, he said, "I hope you're not mad that I showed up." 

Andy blinked and shook his head. "No. I'm - it's good. Thanks." 

"Oh, good." 

"I'm sorry." 

"I know, but it's okay. I think that's ours." He stood, said, "Wait here, I'll get it," and headed for the counter. Andy put his head on the table and tried not to cry.