Trigger warning :))
If you're mad at Emerson already this isn't gonna help

At two am, Andy wakes to Remington fast asleep, splayed over him, wearing just boxers and his usual rings and bracelets. Andy smiles sleepily and shuts the laptop that's still open in the bed, since they fell asleep while a movie was playing.

He covers them both up with a blanket used to make the fort above them, and Remington exhales in his sleep. Andy settles back down and soon goes back to sleep, satisfied with how the day ended.

The next morning, it's Remington who wakes first, and goes to have a shower. He, as usual, can't stop himself from looking in the mirror, and frowns at the still-visible scar on his stomach, now surrounded with smaller scars he's given himself over the past years.

He stands under the water for a while, thinking. He is so relieved that Emerson is okay, but he can't help but to doubt that the arguing will just stop because of it. It seems they can't be together without arguing about something. When he steps out and realises there are no towels on the heated rail, he rolls his eyes at himself for forgetting to check before. "Andy!" He calls, and hears a response from the bedroom. "I need a towel!"

Andy laughs and Remington smiles to himself. "That's too bad," Andy replies.

"Andy!" Remington whines, opening the door, and grins when his lover approaches him with a towel.

The man hands him the white towel. "Here you are, pretty. I'm making waffles, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks." He kisses Andy and wraps the towel around himself. "Love you."

Andy ruffles his wet hair and goes down to make breakfast, and Remington dries and gets dressed in a Black Veil Brides shirt and black tracksuit bottoms, brushing his hair and ascending the stairs. In the kitchen, Andy is mixing up the waffle batter in a bowl, and sends Remington a smile.

The boy pulls out a chair and watches his husband. "I wanna go to the beach," he says, more like a thought out loud

"I'm sure we can do that."

Remington smiles. "Today?"

Pouring the mixture into the waffle maker, Andy shrugs. "Sure, why not. A road trip to the beach sounds fun."

"I'm gonna ask Em and Sebby to come, and maybe Shy might, too."

Andy doesn't protests against inviting a few people. It's good for Remington to be socialising. He tends to mostly avoid groups, even if they're small. "Sounds good."

They eat breakfast together and after, Remington texts both his brothers, knowing that Emerson will be surprised at him inviting him anywhere after avoiding him for days. Sebastian agrees, and half an hour later, so does Emerson, saying Shy will come with him.

And two hours later, the five of them are sitting on the beach, with two picnic mats and a big bottle of lemonade. Remington is wearing a long sleeve shirt, despite the sun being out, because he isn't comfortable with people seeing the scars he's given himself. He might never be okay with that. Him and Emerson haven't said a word to each other yet, though Emerson is trying to work out what to say in his head.

There's a family fairly close to where they're sitting, with two little girls playing in the sand, and Remington watches them longingly. He wants a family like that. He wants a child. He looks away when he hears his name, and sees his little brother trying to get his attention. "Come for a walk with me?" The drummer asks.

Remington nods. He stands up and sends Andy a smile, and Emerson gets up, too. They walk side by side down to the sea front, and it's only when they're right by the water when Remington talks. "Andy told me the cancer's gone," he says.

"Yep, it's gone," Emerson confirms. The water washes over his feet. "Look, Remington, I am so sorry for what I said the other day. I really didn't mean it."

The boy looks at the sea, the way the sun glistens on every wave. "It really hurt," he says, seeing no point in pretending that it didn't.

Emerson nods. "I know. I'm really fucking sorry. I was just scared, you know what that's like."

Remington knows what he's trying to say, but it doesn't really make sense to him. "Yes, I know what it's like to be scared. I've been scared since Holly started hurting me. But, Em, I've never used that as an excuse to argue with anyone. I've never fought with anyone the way you've been fighting with me. Don't blame in on being scared. That hurts, too."

They're walking slowly, and Emerson watches someone ahead of them with a dog. "Don't make this about yourself," he says accusingly, "you always do that."

"You made it about me."

Emerson sighs. "I used you as an example so you could understand."

The singer laughs bitterly. "You used me." He looks at Emerson. "That's what you did, Emerson. You used me to pretend like it's completely fucking fine to be fighting with your brother every time you're in the same room as him. You used me because you can't just admit that all this arguing is your fault. You can never admit to anything being your fault."

"That's not fair," Emerson protests, "you're putting words in my mouth."

Shaking his head and rolling his eyes, Remington averts his face back to the sea. "No I'm not. I'm telling the truth, which is apparently too much for you to handle."

"You're telling the truth, are you? Well let me tell you the truth, too, then. You hide away at home because you can't bear the fact that you're literally the reason that our band is going to shit."

Remington kicks the sand as he walks. "That's not fucking true!"

The younger laughs. "Yes it fucking is!"

"No, it's not! The band is going to shit, Emerson, because you keep insulting me and making it impossible for me to fucking get better! Don't blame it on me!"

"Well then you don't blame it on me, either." His voice is sharp, defensive.

Remington kicks a stone. "It's not my fault that you can't just leave me alone. You always find something to fight about."

"You always give me something to fight about," Emerson retorts, "and just because Holly shouted at you doesn't give you the right to act scared every time anyone shouts at you."

"Yes it does, actually. Get your fucking facts right."

"My facts are right!"

The boy can feel his temper rising. "No they're fucking not! You're hardly ever right about me anymore! You think you know me, but the reality is, you have no fucking clue! If you did, then you'd know that the whole time you've been accusing me of not eating, I have been, and that the only person upsetting me is you, Emerson, not Andy! I mean, come on. How dare you fucking insult him like you did the other day in hospital? What the fuck? Do you know how sad that made me? No! Of course you don't, because you don't know anything!"

"Hey! Calm down! How can you get mad at other people shouting at you when you shout all the time." He purposely shoves Remington sideways, and the boy shoves back, annoyed.

"Don't tell me to fucking calm down!"

Emerson shoves into Remington again, who clenches his jaw and pushes back. "I can tell you whatever I wanna tell you."

"Stop fucking pushing me!"

"No!" Again, Emerson shoves the boy. "Make me."

Remington pushes him back with both hands. "Fucking stop it!"

"No!" He goes to do it again, but Remington dodges, running around the other side of him, so the sea soaks into his shoes.

"Oh my God, Emerson, stop it!" People nearby look at the two of them, confused and amused at the sight of two grown men fighting like teenagers.

Emerson shoves him back further, so the water is up past his ankles. "You're such a fucking drama queen!"

Remington kicks water at him. "Says the one pushing his brother into the sea," he mumbles spitefully.

"Don't fucking act all innocent! You started this!"

"No I didn't! You fucking did that all on your own!" He's shoved again, hard enough that he stumbles back and nearly loses balance. "If you wanna drown me, you might as well get it over with." Remington means it as a joke, obviously, but Emerson pushes him with enough force that he falls backwards, and forces his head under for three or four seconds. Remington is straight away transported back to the bathtub, when his head went under as he was stabbed, and screams.

Still sitting on the picnic mats, Sebastian glances across the beach, and swears under his breath when he spots his brothers. "Andy, I have a strong feeling Remington is gonna need you," he says, pointing to the two of them.

Andy stands up when he sees them, and him and Sebastian run towards the scene, where Remington is now kneeling in the water and shaking, and Emerson is looking at him, as if only just realising that pushing him under water was not a great thing to do. Andy reaches the boy, and helps him out of the water, and Sebastian glares at Emerson angrily.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He asks. "He was stabbed in a fucking bathtub, and you think it's a good idea to push him underwater? Are you a fucking idiot?"

"Sebastian, I'm-"

"You know what, I don't care. I thought that being cleared of cancer would stop all of this bullshit, but obviously not. Stay the fuck away from Remington." The man turns on his heel and walks away.

Remington is shivering and wet and Andy guides him towards the car, where he keeps a blanket. "What do you wanna do, sweetheart? Do you wanna go home?"

The boy sits on the edge of the boot when Andy opens it and wipes his eyes. "Don't know," he murmurs, "cold."

Andy shakes out the blanket. "I know, baby boy. Can you take your shirt off so the blanket won't get so wet? I'll make sure no one's looking." Once Remington has nodded, Andy stands in front of him and uses the blanket as a wall, and Remington pulls the wet shirt over his head, dropping it in the boot beside him as Andy wraps the blanket around his shoulders.

"He really scared me," the boy mumbles.

"I'm sorry he did that, baby. Let me warm you up." Andy hugs Remington, who stays sitting down, and rests his chin on the younger's head.

Remington wraps his legs around the man's waist and sighs. "I don't like the beach anymore," he whispers, still shivering. He really thought Emerson would be nice this time. He thought wrong.