Trigger Warning: Mentions of depression, abuse, PTSD, self-harm, eating disorder/weight 

"Oh, great," Andy said when he answered the door to Sebastian. "And what can I do for you today, sir?" He mocked. 

"We need Remington." 

"Who's 'we'?" 

"We," Sebastian said impatiently. "You know. His band. The one he has a duty in. Even you must understand that." 

Andy folded his arms. "Like I keep saying, he's taking time to deal with everything that's happened. He can't be expected to fall back into his 'normal' life so soon after her arrest. Even you must understand that."

Andy was challenging him. The guitarist could tell, and he didn't like it. Didn't appreciate the way the man felt he had the upper hand just because he'd been the one to go to the police. Anyone could have gone to the police. "You don't own him," he said dryly. "He's not yours to control." 

"Not yours, either," Andy reminded him, and unlike when he'd said it to Remington regarding who's 'fault' it was, there was bitterness in his voice. "How many times are you going to show up here before you get the message?" 

"How many times do I have to say he's my brother before you get the message?" 

"Being his brother means literally nothing." 

"Says the man who just wants to get into his pants." 

Andy shook his head, nearly laughing. "Really," he said. "That's what you think my motives are, is it? Alright then, fine. If that's what you think. I've been balls deep in your brother every night, because that's totally something he'd be okay with considering the physical abuse he's undergone for two years." 

"Don't play smart with me." 

"You think I'm playing? I'm sorry, Sebastian, but if I wasn't working my arse off to look after 'your brother,' who the fuck would be, huh? Not you, I can say that much. Not anyone, as far as I can tell, and as far as he can tell. You think this is all unicorns and rainbows for me? You think I lie in bed grinning?" 

"Yes!" 

"You used to be like a father to him," Andy said. "Now you're part of the problem." 

"Don't you dare-" 

"Just get out of my sight, for God's sake."

"You're not part of this family." 

"Not by blood, sure." He shrugged. "But look around you. Who's the one acting like fucking family, Sebastian? Who's the one taking time out of their busy life to make sure 'your brother'  isn't gonna fucking kill himself or starve himself or something? Who, because it sure as hell ain't you." 

"Oh, but it is you, I suppose," Sebastian spat. 

"Your selfishness is exhausting." 

"Selfishness!" 

"What would you call it?" 

Ignoring the question because he had no answer, the guitarist shoved past Andy with force, saying, "He's my brother," and making quick work of the stairs. 

Andy chased after him but didn't shout. He didn't want to startle the singer in his spare room, but it seemed it was too late for that, because Sebastian had barged through the door unannounced and caught Remington in a startled, unprepared state. 

"You have a job to do," he claimed, slamming the door so it narrowly missed Andy, who opened it and stood against it, working out what to do. "You can't just sit here all day acting like the world's ending. You have songs to record." 

Remington, who had been reading one of Andy's books to keep his mind of the fact that he wasn't allowed the dinner he had eaten, used the book to shield his face. It was the first thing Holly went for; striking his cheek with a cold slap, but never hard enough to leave distinguishable marks, and even if it were to bruise, he wore makeup every day anyway, covered it all up. He couldn't be accused of having red eyes because of crying, not if he wore red eye shadow every time he left the house. It had become his signature look - my girlfriend hits me but you don't see it. 

Even though Andy was in the room, Remington didn't see him, too focused on the towering shape of the man who was supposed to be his brother, who was scaring him into a hallucination of someone who was behind bars. He backed up against the wall the bed was touching, made himself as small as he could, hoped it would him invisible, would make her leave him alone until he would be forced out of hiding by his terrible hunger. Hunger not for food, but for attention. For her you're so beautiful like this comments, watching him drag a blade deep in his arm. He couldn't go without it. It was all he had. 

Andy couldn't stand by and do nothing. He grabbed Sebastian by the shoulders and yanked him back, kicked at his ankles, shoved him with a series of thuds out of the room, followed him out. Sebastian got up off the floor where he had fallen, shook his head, and descended the stairs. More effort was required for getting Remington where he was supposed to be than he cared to give. He'd try again another time. It'd have to work eventually.

Andy didn't return to the bedroom. Instead, he quietly closed the door and made sure Sebastian left. Once he had, he locked the front door and sat in the kitchen with a drink for the best part of an hour. He didn't want to scare Remington for a second time, knew he had to wait until he'd had time to calm down, to remind himself he was safe, that she was still gone. 

She was only gone in physicality.  

Remington sat tense against the wall for some time after the house fell silent, slowly lowering his arms and releasing the book because his fingers ached with the grip he had on it. He listened for any sign of movement. Footsteps coming up the stairs, breathing outside the door, clattering of pans and plates, the preparation of food he'd never be given. He heard none of it. 

This house wasn't dangerous. It was his mind that was capable of causing him harm now.

She was only gone in physicality.