Trigger warning - blood

The show is tonight. In just four hours.

Remington didn't sleep at all last night. He had Emerson lying beside him and he still couldn't sleep. His brain was on overdrive, running through everything that could possibly go wrong tonight. If he wasn't already scared, he is now.

They have practiced like crazy and everything has gone smoothly. Remington's voice is just as beautiful as always, but he just doesn't feel prepared. It might be because of the repeating nightmares, or maybe the fact that his wound is still tender. Whatever the reason may be, Remington isn't ready. He should have talked about it with Emerson or Sebastian, but he wasn't up to letting them down.

Fans have been going crazy. They're all so excited about the show. It's got to be perfect. Everything has to be perfect.

They arrive at the venue and soundcheck goes well. It's easy when there's no one watching, when there's no pressure, no expectations.

Fans are queuing up more than an hour before the show. It makes Remington feel nervous. He pushes that feeling down, tries to drown it. He knows he shouldn't be ignoring the feeling of dread bubbling in him. But he does.

There's no opening band. They didn't have time to book anyone. Soon the doors are opened and everyone fills up the venue, waiting excitedly for the boys.

Remington sits in the dressing room tapping his foot. He feels sick. It's going to be fine. It's all gong to be fine.

Right?

He smudges colour over his eyes and spikes up his hair, trying to hide his anxiety. It has to be perfect.

The lights go down. Everyone except Remington go out on stage. The room erupts into screams. He can't do this.

He jumps up and down. His stomach hurts. The intro to Don't Feel Quite Right begins.

He can't do this.

Emerson glances at him. He forces a smile.

Remington runs out onto stage before he has a chance to turn and run the other way. He starts singing.

Fans scream, shout, sing with him. He can do this.

He eases into it. By the third song it is like he was never injured, like he was never in hospital, like he was never stabbed.

Does he jump into the crowd? Does he climb up the rafters?

The singer leaps about. He can feel his stomach hurting. It probably shouldn't be hurting.

The pain starts to become unbearable by the last song. He just has to get through two more minutes.

Remington climbs up the side of the stage. He wraps his legs around the beam and leans over backwards.

Agony.

The boy supresses a scream and climbs down. He can definitely feel a warm liquid running down his stomach.

Shit.

The show comes to an end and he runs straight off stage and into the bathroom. He locks the door and hastily unbuttons his red suit, letting it fall from his arms and hang around his waist.

He grinds his teeth in pain as his shaking hands touch the wound.

The open wound.

Blood is trickling down his skin in sticky streams. He tears tissue from the roll and holds it to the wound, this reminding him way too much of that hotel. He wishes he had his phone with him, but he left it in the dressing room.

Remington sits heavily on the toilet seat and tries to work out what the hell to do. He doesn't know how long he sits there, spacing out, until there is a knock on the door. "Remington, you in there?" It's Sebastian's voice.

The boy reaches the lock and turns it, his hand quickly returning to the red tissues. "Help," he begs, blinking back painful tears.

Sebastian gasps. "Shit," he remarks, shocked, "fuck, we gotta get you to hospital." He helps his brother to his feet and puts an arm around his waist, guiding him out of the venue and into his car. "What happened?" He asks, handing the injured man a scarf to try and stop the bleeding.

It isn't as severe as when he was actually stabbed, but it's still agonising and sudden. Remington groans. "Think it reopened when I hung upside down. Must've pulled the stitches apart or something." Considering what is going on, the singer is surprisingly calm. Maybe because he feels safe and protected with Sebastian, not like when he was in that hotel.

The guitarist drives as fast as he can within the limit. "Are you alright? You're not going to pass out?"

Remington shakes his head. "No, I-I think I'm okay. How far to the hospital?" His head is spinning.

"Ten minutes," Sebastian answers, glancing at the younger man, "is it still bleeding?"

With his hands pressing the fabric against his stomach, Remington answers. "Don't know," he mumbles, "feels like it is." His eyes are weary. "Fuck, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have begged you to book a show. This is my fault." He feels guilty. He doesn't want to be a burden.

The older shakes his head. "No, Remington, it's not. You didn't ask to be stabbed. Don't blame yourself."

It goes quiet. Sebastian keeps glancing at his brother to make sure he's still conscious. He probably should have called an ambulance. When they get to the big white building Remington waits for Sebastian to open the door and leans on him as they walk inside.

He's limping badly, every step sending sharp pains through his stomach. The receptionist gets them a wheelchair and Remington falls into it.

They are made to wait for hours before the boy is taken in to have his wound stitched up again. While they wait, Sebastian calls Emerson and explains what has happened. The youngest brother soon arrives at the hospital and they wait together.

Once Remington has been safely stitched up and tucked into a hospital bed, he tells his brothers that he had been dreading the show and losing sleep over it. They hug him and reassure him that it's okay, that they understand, that they're in this together.

Hi! Thankyou so much for the suggestions. Feel free to send more if you like - I want to make you feel included because this story would be nothing without you guys! I love you, Aliyssaa Xx