Remington is allowed to listen to music again, and gladly takes the shitty mp3 player they give him, downloading songs by his favourite bands, and also a few Palaye Royale songs for when he's missing home. He sits in his room with headphones on listening and writing in the notebook.

He has less than a month until he can go home now. They already had to say goodbye to Freya, who left yesterday. In a strange way, it's sad to see people go. Remington had made friends with her and now he's never going to see her again. That sucks.

Today, a few doctors are taking a group of patients out to an art gallery, just to get them out of the hospital for a few hours. Remington was excited when he was told he could go, because lots of people aren't allowed to. It means he's stable. Or at least stable enough for this day out.

Him and Johnathon sit next to eachother in the minibus and chat, and Remington finds himself thinking about how grateful he is for the man. Sure; they argue. But who doesn't? And at the end of the day, Remington can always trust his roommate to be there when he needs him. Even if they've been in a fight, when Remington needs him, he's there.

Just like yesterday. They'd just watched Freya go and Remington was in a weird mood. He envied the fact that she could go home, and for some reason, kept hearing the bathwater running in the hotel in the back of his mind. He still isn't sure why he could hear it, but it was unsettling.

Previously that day, Remington and Johnathon had had an argument about the same as usual, and ended in the two of them sending eachother the evils.

But then Remington had been spooked by the noise in his head and was rocking back and forth on his bed to try and make it go away, and Johnathon was there. He talked to him, told him he was safe, and he was brought back into reality.

They arrive at the gallery and everyone keenly gets out of the vehicle. They're told to stick together in small groups.

Remington and Johnathon walk around for a while, and the singer is so happy to be looking at art again. He misses that. Misses seeing his brother's art all over the house, misses seeing Emerson drawing all the time. It was a part of his life and now it's not and it's strange.

"He'd love that," he says, admiring a large painting of Paris. "Wow, that's beautiful."

Johnathon nods in agreement. "You really love your brothers, don't you?"

"I love them more than anything else." He reads the little information given about the painting. "I wouldn't be alive without them, man." His voice is light, soft, happy. Truthful.

The older man sits on the bench in the middle of the room. "Who's your favourite brother?" He asks, knowing it's a cheeky question.

Remington sits beside him ."You can't ask that," he complains. "I don't know, it really depends on what I'm basing it on. I mean-Emerson is my best friend and we have so much in common. He is so philosophical and intelligent and I love just having late night conversations with him about life and death and love and whetever. But Sebastian, he's my safety net, if that makes sense. He takes such good care of me and Em and he will sacrifice literally everything for us if he has to. Back when I was having these terrible flashbacks, before I was sent to hospital, he would sit with me every night and hug me and he never complained. Not once." He looks thoughtfully at the artwork. "So I guess what I'm saying is that both of them are my favourite, just in different ways. If you had asked me three months ago, I would have said Sebastian, but now, probably Emerson."

Johnathon is quiet. He hasn't really realised how much the singer needs his brothers. He feels terrible for shouting at him about it. "So Emerson is your friend and Sebastian is your emotional support?" He's trying to make sense of this, to understand why the two men are so important to him.

"I don't know, kind of. Em is the one I go to if I need to talk, and Sebby is the one I can always rely on being there when I'm having a nervous breakdown, if that makes sense. Emerson gets more effected by seeing me breakdown than Sebastian, just because he's a more emotional person, like me. We both rely on Sebastian to help us with things like that." The two wonder into the next room. "It's hard to explain, I just need them. Both of them."

The man looks at a little porcelain statue. "How about Andy?"

Remington smiles at the man's name. "God, that's even more complicated. I absolutely love Andy and I know that he will always come to me if I ask, but I don't tend to rely on him for more personal things, if that makes sense. It's hard to trust him, or anyone, after what Holly did."

"I'll have him," Johnathon says suddenly, and Remington turns around and looks at him.

"I'm sorry?"

Johnathon shrugs. "I'll have him. You clearly don't appreciate him. He deserves someone who appreciates him."

Remington's eyes widen at the hash words. Oh no, he thinks, here we go again. "Are you saying I don't deserve him?"

"Basically, yeah," the man says flatly. "I just mean that you don't trust him and you don't let him love you and he deserves someone better."

"Someone better? What the hell does that mean?" Remington is talking loudly now, but doesn't seem to be able to control it. Johnathon has hit a nerve.

Gazing at a drawing, Johnathon talks. "Someone who doesn't take him for granted. You think that just because you're famous and in a band that he'll never leave."

That's so untrue Remington's almost laughs. He is so terrified of Andy leaving. Everyday he wonders if it'll be the day the man leaves. It'll happen one day. Like Sebastian said; these things happen. "If you think I take him for fucking granted you've got another thing coming," he responds lowly, his temper rising. "You know nothing about our relationship and suddenly you think I don't deserve him?" I do deserve him, Remington thinks, right?

"Because you don't!" The man steps closer to Remington, causing Remington to step back.

"You're scaring me," the boy mumbles, ashamed of saying it out loud, but he remembers what Jonathon said. If I'm scaring you, tell me.

He seems so much bigger than normal. "Oh fuck off!" He shouts, "I don't fucking care!"

Remington jumps at the loud voice and keeps telling himself over and over that it isn't Holly, that he's safe, that no one's going to hurt him. "Stop," he tries, "please." He's shaking, and grips his hands together tightly to try and stop it. "Please stop," he begs again, hating how much this reminds him of when he used to beg Holly to stop. He thought he'd stopped begging.

A member of staff from the gallery is aware of something going on, and approaches the two men. "Is everything okay?" She asks. Remington hears the woman's voice and stumbles back, only hearing Holly. "Sir?"

"Don't hurt me," he stutters, wrapping his arms around himself.

Johnathon seems to snap out of whatever was going on, and realises what he's done. "Remington?"

The boy shakes his head violently. "Please don't," he sobs.

"Remington, hey, you're safe," the man says, not sure what to do.

"No," the singer keeps repeating, eyes wide and teary.

"What's going on?" The woman asks, confused and concerned.

Johnathon steps back to give Remington some room. "I need to get someone," he says in a rush, and practically runs down out of the room to find a doctor or something.

Remington is left with the lady, shivering and crying in the corner of the room. He needs Sebastian.

The man returns with a member of staff from the hospital. "I scared him," he admits.

The doctor is able to get Remington to stand up and guides the quivering boy out of the building for some fresh air.

Remington sits on the grass outside the gallery and takes deep breaths, not looking at Johnathon who stands a few feet away from him.

He hates Johnathon. The man promised he'd never shout at him.

He hates him.