Remington lies in bed the morning after meeting Alexis and stares at the ceiling. He hates how scared she made him. He hates himself for getting so scared of such a ridiculous thing.

Sebastian knocks on the door and comes in, sitting on the bed with a mug. "I made you some tea," he says quietly, and the younger sits up.

The boy takes the warm mug in his hands. "Thanks," he whispers, "for everything."

With a soft smile, Sebastian asks, "how are you feeling about Alexis?"

Remington sighs. "Not good," he admits, "she really fucking scared me." He sips the hot drink.

"You need to talk to Abigail about this," Sebastian says, "but we can't get anyone else, Rem, because she turned down for jobs for us."

The news makes the boy frown. He was hoping that hiring someone else would have been a possibility. "I'm sorry, Sebastian. I feel like such a baby." Remington is blaming himself, of course he is. How could he not? It's so stupid to be scared of someone he's never fucking met before in his life.

Sebastian shakes his head, not liking how his brother blames himself for everything. "Don't you dare apologise about this. You are doing so well with dealing with everything that's going on and I am so so proud of you."

"Can you come with me while I shower?" The boy changes the subject. He doesn't want to talk about Holly or Alexis or himself.

With a nod, Sebastian stands up. "Sure."

Showering is as unpleasant as ever. Sebastian talks to him to try and distract him and Remington keeps his eyes on his brother the whole time. Once he's done, he steps out and into a towel held by the guitarist, and thanks his brother before going to get changed.

Remington reads a book for a while in his room, finding that reading is a good way to detach his mind from reality for a bit. He gets a message from Andy, asking if he wants to meet him in town, so the singer tells Sebastian where he is going and leaves the house.

The two meet in the coffee shop and sit at a table by the window. Andy talks first. "What's your photographer like?"

The boy sighs. "Not great," he begins, "she looks like Holly." He feels stupid every time he says that. It's such a silly reason to be scared of someone.

Andy's heart drops at the news. He can't bare he thought of Remington being put through that. "I'm sorry," he says, not really knowing what to say.

"That's what everyone keeps saying," the younger murmurs, "but why are you saying sorry? It's not your fault that I'm a fucking baby."

The blue eyed man frowns. "You're not a baby, Remington.

Later, at home, Remington sits on the couch and thinks about Alexis. Does she really look like Holly? If she die then surely Sebastian would have seen before hiring her, right?

What if he's just so overly paranoid that he's tricking himself into seeing Holly even though she's totally different?

Maybe he's just scared of every female he doesn't know well.

Oh god, he thinks, what if I see Holly in every girl at every show?

The boy doesn't like that thought. He couldn't live with himself if his own sweet fans terrified him to the pint of being sick. He'd feel so guilty, so terrible.

Why can't he just forget about her?

He doesn't hear Sebastian come in, and is pulled back into reality when the guitarist says his name. "What?" He says, still thinking about Alexis and Holly. He's never not thinking about Holly.

"We're going out for food in a bit, do you wanna come?" Sebastian understands the struggles Remington has with public places. The boy can get so scared by someone just brushing past him in the street.

It happened the other day, when the brothers were walking into town after therapy for lunch. A stranger had just bumped into Remington by accident, and the singer had stopped dead in his tracks, bringing his hands up to shield his face. It took Emerson and Sebastian more than ten minutes to calm him down and assure him that no one was going to hurt him.

"Yeah, I'll come," he answers, "who else is going?"

Sebastian sits next to Remington. "Emerson, Daniel, Andrew, Shy, Larisa, and me."

The boy is satisfied with the list. He trusts all of those people. Enough that he isn't sick at the sight of them, anyway. "'kay."

Remington changes into some smarter clothes and does his hair. He doesn't bother with makeup, figuring that he'll probably end up crying it off at some point. Something always makes him cry.

Him, Sebastian, and Larisa all walk down to the restaurant together, Remington sticking close to his brother for safety.

When they arrive, they're shown to a table where everyone else is already sat. Emerson has kept a chair empty next to him for his best friend, aware that Remington will feel better if he is able to whisper to Emerson or hold his hand. He just feels better near the drummer.

The singer sends him a grateful smile and pulls out the chair, sitting down and picking up a menu. Even though it's warm inside, he keeps his jacket on, feeling safer being zipped up and protected.

"Hey Remington," Daniel greets. Him and Andrew haven't seen much at all of Remington since the whole hotel incident. They haven't been of anything about it, not really. All they know is that he was stabbed.

Remington smiles. "Hi," he says. He doesn't really know what else to say.

A waiter comes and orders drinks. They decide to share three bottles of wine between them. Remington reads the menu and settles on a pizza.

He unintentionally zones out of the conversation, still thinking about whether Alexis really does look like Holly or not.

"Rem," Emerson says quietly, "what do you want?"

The boy looks up, seeing the waiter again, and orders, avoiding eye contact with the unfamiliar man. The waiter takes his menu.

Twenty minutes later, the meals arrive and everyone eats eagerly. Well, all except Remington. He isn't really very hungry. He takes small bites and can only manage three pieces of the pizza. He should be hungry, he knows he should, because he's not been eating much in the past few weeks, but he isn't.

Remington knows he's losing weight unintentionally. It's not like he needs to. Jeans that used to fit him comfortably now sit loosely on his hips, falling down if he doesn't use suspenders.

"You okay?" Emerson asks quietly.

The singer shrugs. "Just a bit confused," he admits, "I'll be fine."