Trigger warnings: Mentions of eating disorder/weight, abuse, depression, anxiety, panic attack

While Remington slept, Andy stayed with him, holding his hand until the younger turned onto his side and pulled it away. Andy then took out his phone and occupied himself with pointless scrolling, looking up from the screen when the door opened. He expected the sound to wake Remington, but it didn't. 

"Ah, he's asleep," said the nurse who had come in. "Are you planning to stay until he wakes, Mr Biersack?" 

Andy nodded. 

"Alright. That's good. He shouldn't be alone for the time being, not with the state he's in." 

He knew she was referring to the cuts on his arm and he wanted to tell her that it wasn't self harm, it was abuse, but now wasn't time time. 

"When he does wake, would you mind letting him know his brothers are planning on seeing him later?" 

Andy nodded again. 

"Do you know how long he's been under eating for?" 

He shook his head. 

"Okay. If anything seems to be wrong, give us a buzz on the red button there, otherwise someone will be in every so often to check over his vitals." 

It was the closing of the door that woke Remington. He blinked his heavy eyes until they remained open, and looked at Andy, who smiled. "How're you feeling?" Asked the man. 

Remington carefully sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Guilty." 

"Guilty?" 

He gestured at the tube taped to his face and Andy hummed in understanding. "Guilty," he said again, and ran his fingers over his bandaged arm. 

"Your brothers are coming later," Andy told him, and didn't know what to think of the dismissive shrug Remington gave in response.  

When his brothers did turn up, they were with their girlfriends, both of which Andy vaguely recognised. Shy and Emerson had been together while he was dating Remington, though he never spent much time with her. The only contact he'd had with Sebastian's girlfriend was earlier that day, when she answered the door. 

Remington watched them come in without speaking, but the presence of so many people in the small room was not pleasant. He expected to see Holly follow them in. 

"What's he doing here?" Sebastian said sharply, giving Andy a rude look. 

"Shut up," Emerson whisper-yelled. "He's allowed to be here." 

"Bullshit," Sebastian snapped. "No one wants him here." 

I do, Remington wanted to say, but stayed quiet. 

Andy shook his head but stood up. He sent Remington an apologetic glance as he went, and Remington wanted to tell Andy not to leave him. Beside the bed, Sebastian sat in the man's vacant chair, and said, "So how come he knew before we did?" 

"This isn't about you," Emerson tried. 

"He hasn't seen Andy for years, Emerson, and suddenly the guy knows everything about him? I'm not gonna sit back and let that continue." 

"Do you know how much of a dick you're being right now?" 

Sebastian took Remington's hand without asking, and Remington froze, tensed. He wasn't expecting the contact, and it wasn't gentle the same way it was when Andy held his hand. It felt possessive, one-sided. "Why didn't you just tell me?" The guitarist asked. 

Remington couldn't speak. 

"It's not a fucking secret that you've been losing weight for months, so come on, what is it? Why would you tell Andy but not me?" 

"For God's sake, Sebastian, stop being such a dick." 

"I'm not being a dick. If anything, he's the one being the dick, Emerson, for keeping this from us and expecting us to be fine with it." 

Remington wanted to pull his hand away, but was scared of what might happen if he did. 

"Both of you, quit it," Larisa demanded, and though she was trying to diffuse the situation, to calm them all down, the voice of a woman did quite the opposite for Remington. He had no control over the situation that he had caused, and he hated it. It was one of the worst feelings in the world, knowing he was to blame and yet being able to do nothing about it. 

"I mean, what does he have that I don't, other than his fucking blue eyes? Is that why you'd tell him but not me? Because of his fucking eyes?" 

"The fuck do his eyes have to do with this?" Emerson asked. 

"Have you not noticed he has a thing for blue eyes?" 

"No, I haven't noticed. If you mean that Andy has nice eyes, then yes, he does, but that has nothing to do with the reason Remington would tell him about this and not you." 

"Then why the fuck would he not tell me?" 

"How should I know? I'm not a fucking mind reader, am I? Maybe if you asked him nicely, then he'd give you an answer." 

"Please, he couldn't give me an answer if it was written on my fucking forehead." His hand was tightening on Remington's. 

"Guys!" Larisa tried again. "For God's sake, why are you arguing? Your brother needs you to be fucking nice to him for once!" 

"Our brother needs to be fucking honest for once, that's what he needs!" Shouted Sebastian, grip tightening further, to the point that Remington was anticipating a snap in his fingers. 

"Stop fucking yelling," Emerson said.

"Stop telling me what to do like you're my fucking father!" 

"Seriously, just calm down." 

"You calm down, you antisocial cunt." 

"Sebastian," Larisa scolded. "The doctor told you to be gentle, remember?" 

"Oh, fuck the doctor. What's the doctor know about my brother, huh? Nothing. Fuck the fucking doctor!" His grip was becoming unbearable, and Remington's eyes were involuntarily watering. He wanted Andy back, wanted his gentle touch, his soft voice. He didn't want these people. 

"Jealousy is not a good look," Emerson said under his breath. 

"I will smash your fucking face in!" 

Remington could just about handle yelling, he could just about handle the death grip on his hand, but threats...

He could not handle threats. 

In a terrified flurry, he yanked his hand away and slid off the bed, sat on the floor beside the frame that his tube was connected to. He covered his face with his hands and whispered repeatedly, "It's okay," while rocking back and forth. The words slurred together and became less audible as the panic progressed. 

Sebastian and Emerson begun shouting at each other over who's fault it was.