A smile is on Remington's face as he is temporarily reunited with his brothers. He is enveloped in their arms and breathes them in. "How are you?" Emerson asks, noticing how his best friend does seem to be looking happier.

"Not too bad," the boy says honestly. "I know I hated it here, but they are helping me, Em, I feel alright." Remington still wants to go home, of course he does, but he's been accepting the help that  he's being offered, and even talked in group therapy yesterday.

Both of his brothers smile at this news. They have been so worried about him. "It's so good to see you smile," Sebastian says, "I needed to see you smile, pumpkin." His voice is raw. He's not had a very good week or so.

Actually, it's been horrible.

Him and Larisa broke up. It was mutual. She could see that he wasn't in love with her anymore. They agreed to go their separate ways. Sebastian knows it was the right thing. It wasn't fair to keep dragging Larisa along. But he misses her. They loved eachother. They really did.

Seeing his brother smile again is such a relief, because at least Remington is okay. And if Remington is okay, then he'll be okay, too.

Remington frowns. "What's wrong?" He asks, sensing sadness in the older's tone.

"Me and Larisa are over," the guitarist says quietly, and the singer's face falls. He always thought they'd be together forever.

"I'm so sorry, Sebby," Remington says sincerely.

The man shakes his head and smiles. "It's okay, it had to happen. We don't love eachother anymore." He ruffles the younger's hair. "These things happen."

It gets Remington thinking. Do these things happen? Will it happen with him and Andy? Will he wake up one day and realise that he doesn't love the man anymore? Surely not. He could never not love Andy. "Do they?" His voice wavers at the thought of losing Andy.

"If you're worried about you and Andy, precious, don't be. He adores you. He comes around every few days and has lunch with me and Em."

Remington perks up at this. "Really?" He stands up and stretches, yawning, and flopping down in the beanbag.

Both his brothers nod. "Yep," Emerson replies, "what have you been up to?"

"Well," Remington begins, "I've written a shit tone of lyrics, drawn a load of shit pictures, and slept, basically." He's cheerful, as he has been more recently. It turns out that it isn't as terrible in the hospital as he originally thought.

"You're sleeping well?" Sebastian asks.

The boy nods. "They give me pills," he says.

The three brothers are happy talking for an hour, just catching up with each other, but then Emerson and Sebastian have to go home, and both hug Remington one more time before saying goodbye until next week. Remington is fairly happy after the visit, though still wishes he could just go home.

His new roommate is odd. But who is he to judge? It's not like anyone in this place is particularly normal. Remington sometimes looks at everyone around him and feels better about himself. Some people are here with way worse than PTSD, depression and anxiety. He shares his room with a guy around his age called Johnathon. Remington isn't keen on Johnathon.

Last night, the singer woke in tears from a nasty nightmare, tired and confused and desperate from a hug from Sebastian, Of course, Johnathon was woken by his scream, and sent him dirty looks as a doctor came to see what was wrong. Remington explained slowly about the dream and they helped him to calm down and go back to sleep. The next morning, Johnathon was just looking at him, staring, until Remington shouted at him to stop.

He's had more than enough of being looked at rudely by people he doesn't know. Well, people he wish he didn't know. Mostly just one person, really.

Johnathon makes a lot of noise. Not the sort of noise Remington likes. He kicks things sometimes, and even though the singer has asked him not to because it scares him, he hasn't stopped. Remington wonders if that's part of why he's here. He hasn't asked. He doesn't want to know.

Today at dinner, Remington is sitting alone, as usual, when a chair opposite him is pulled out and Johnathon sits in it, clattering about with his food and his cutlery. The don't have metal cutlery here, for obvious reasons.

Remington is put off his bland meal by the man opposite. He puts his fork down. "Why are you sitting here?"

Johnathon looks up, mouth full of potato. "Why not?" He taunts, voice harsh.

"I don't want you to sit there," the young man says honestly, not feeling comfortable with the unfamiliar person there. It doesn't help that Johnathon is bigger than him, either.

The guy scoffs. "Fuck off," he says loudly, gaining the attention of a doctor nearby, who keeps an eye on the table, knowing that Remington doesn't like sitting with people at dinner time. Or ever.

"Please go," the boy tries, sitting on his hands to hide the shaking. Why is this scaring him?

He shovels more food into his mouth. "No. I have a right to sit here, idiot." It's that word that really makes Remington unsettled. God, he's heard that word so many times that now he only every hears her voice saying it.

Remington takes a deep breath to keep calm. "I need you to go," he says desperately, ready to get up and run away. "I will scream."

"No," Johnathon says again, "make me."

"Make me," Holly used to say if Remington ever asked her to stop. Of course, she never did.

And Remington would only manage to say, "I'm sorry, Holly," in response.

"Who the hell is Holly?" The boy's heart stops. Not again with a fucking flashback. He didn't even realise he said anything that time. Remington goes quiet. He shuffles in his seat and pushes the tray of food away. "Who's Holly?" Johnathon asks again, accidentally dropping his fork on the floor. He bends down to pick it up, and when he sits up again, it's Holly, not Johnathon.

Remington screams and scrambles to his feet, banging the table with his leg in the process. His mind automatically registers the pain as Holly kicking him. He feels hands on him and struggles against them, begging over and over for her not to hurt him.

The boy is taken into his room and he only starts calming down and coming back into the real world when he hears the voice of his new therapist, Dr Johnson. "Deep breaths," he hears the man say softly, and focusses on inhaling and exhaling slowly. "You're safe."

Remington is quivering. He shakes his head. "I need Sebby," he begs, rubbing his eyes, "and a different roommate."

"What's wrong with Johnathon?"

The boy looks away. "He scared me."

Dr Johnson sits on the empty bed. "What did he do?"

Remington feels stupid about it, but explains anyway.

He needs a hug from Sebastian.