Trigger warning kind of

The first thing mentioned when Remington steps into Sebastian's house for rehearsal is the bruise on his cheekbone, and he sighs.

"Andy has a stalker and he found me and punched me," Remington says casually. It terrifies him but he's too worried about tour to think about it at the moment.

"A stalker?"

The boy hums at Sebastian's question. "Yep."

Emerson clears his throat. "I'm sorry, but how are you so chill about a stalker?"

Following his brothers down into the basement, Remington shrugs. "Two stalkers, actually."

"Remington, I really don't think you should be dismissing the issue like this."

"I'm not dismissing it! I'm fucking freaking out! But I'm also fucking freaking the fuck out because of tour so I don't even have time to think about stalkers, okay?" He violently throws down his jacket onto a chair. "If you can just avoid talking to me for the entire rehearsal, that would be greatly appreciated." He's using that voice that he used when he's about to snap and scream, and Emerson and Sebastian know it's better to just do what he wants.

They play right through the set list without anything going wrong, and make a few changes to the order of the songs when Sebastian suggests that they swap two around. Emerson mentions putting Lonely on the set list, and Remington argues against it straight away. He knows that he'll break into tears if they play that song. It was hard enough in the studio when they were recording it.

After rehearsal, Remington walks home with his hands in his pockets and his hood up, and kicks the door when he realises he forgot his key and Andy is out.

"Stupid fucking brain," he mutters, sitting on the front step and pulling his phone from his pocket.

Forgot my key. Will u be home soon??

He sends the message and opens Instagram while he's waiting.

#helpforremi

In the hash tag, he finds an account called remissafeplace, and laughs at their bio.

Here for Remington to be his safe place where he can talk to me and get help.

Andy texts back, saying he'll be home in half an hour, and Remington goes back onto the Instagram account.

The first post was made only four days ago. It's a picture taken from their last tour, during the last show they played before he collapsed.

The caption makes Remington cringe.

Remis safe place: Remington I love you please DM me I will help you to feel better I know you've been abused I wish you'd open up about it it's not good to keep things inside. You need someone to talk to.

The boy scoffs at the ignorance, and at how badly it's written. The fact that some random fan thinks he'll talk to them about it makes him sick.

Remis safe place: I know you've seen my account Remington I keep tagging you please reply to my DM I am here to make you feel better.

"Oh lord," Remington says to himself, and scrolls to the next post.

Remington I know it's hard to open up about it but you need to I wanna help tell me about what she did to you and I can help I promise.

"Fucking hell," he whispers, and turns the phone off. It's scary how people think they have a right to know about his personal life when they only know what he tells them. The fact that the account is called Remis safe place makes him laugh. He has a safe place that is actually safe and that he trusts. Abigail.

Not some dodgy Instagram page run by someone who doesn't know what commas are.

He sits on the front step until Andy is parking the car in the drive and grins at the man as he gets out the car. "I'm an idiot," he says.

Andy chuckles. "How was rehearsal?" He unlocks the door and lets Remington in first.

"I didn't start crying so I feel like that's good."

"How's your face? It isn't hurting too much?" It's natural for Andy to be worried, and he knows how anxious Remington gets if he's in pain.

Remington blushes at how his husband is checking up on him, and shrugs. "It kinda aches and it hurts to smile, so it's good I don't do that alot." He yawns. "Have you seen Remi's safe place on Instagram?"

Shaking his head, Andy takes the younger's phone when it's handed to him. "Remington please DM me I wanna help you feel better. What am I reading? Who is this?"

"I literally don't know. I kinda wanna like one of their posts just to fuck with them, though."

Andy looks back at the phone. "No need. I just did by accident. Here.  Spaghetti okay?"

Remington takes his phone back. "Yeah, fine. I'm having a shower. It's really fucking sweaty in Sebastian's dodgy basemant. He probably has sex in there."

"Thankyou for that lovely image. You look very pretty in that shirt."

"It's new. I got it right before that stalker guy punched me."

Andy hums and smooths out a crease. "Keep your eye out for him, okay? Call the police if you see him. I don't want you getting hurt again."

The boy playfully slaps Andy's hand away. "Bold of you to assume I'm ever leaving the house on my own again." He touches his bruise and winces. "I need some more painkillers."

"Let me get them for you. Go and shower."

"Why are you so boring today?" Remington whines, "you didn't even give me a hug yet." He pouts.

With a smile, Andy pulls the boy into his chest. "You know by now, sweetheart, that if you want a hug, you get a hug, okay?"

Remington exhales on content. "I know. Your hoodie is very soft. I want it."

"You're adorable, you know that?"

"Shut your beautiful mouth."

After the hug, Remington goes up for a shower, thanking Andy when he comes in with two painkillers and leaves them on the side. He washes his hair and wraps a towel around his waist, and takes the pills with water before going down, still in the towel.

Andy is making a sauce for the spaghetti, and turns to look at Remington. "Nice shower?" He asks, turning back to the pan.

The singer pulls out a chair and sits down. "Would've been nicer with you," he replies.