"We're on in five," Sebastian says, coming up beside Remington, who's jumping up and down, trying to calm his nerves.

The singer nods. "Okay," he answers, wanting to ask his brother for a hug before they go one but feeling like such a baby. He's been on stage countless times before.

The guitarist rubs his shoulder. "You can do this," he says encouragingly.

Remington can hear the audience's excited chatter. "What if I can't?" He asks quietly, not keen on anyone overhearing.

"Don't think like that. You are going to be fine. But please don't jump into the crowd, you know that will not end well." Sebastian doesn't want to sound like he's telling his brother what to do, but he knows damn well that if Remington gets caught in the crowd he'll end up in tears or worse.

With a hum, the younger casts his eyes out onto the stage. "I won't," he says, even though part of him really wants to.

Sebastian makes the boy look at him. "Remington, I mean it," he says firmly, not very convinced by his response. Remington can get very stubborn when it comes to performing.

"I know," Remington says, looking at his brother, "I won't."

The lights go down. The crowd goes quiet, waiting in anticipation for their favourite people to come out onto stage. It's been so long since they've played live. "Good luck, everyone," Andrew says, and pats everyone on the backs. Remington jumps away at the contact and composes himself, feeling stupid for getting scared by that.

Emerson walks out, waving, and sits at his drums, and soon everyone except for the front man are on stage, and the intro for Don't Feel Quite Right begins.

Remington runs out, grabs the microphone, and sings. He feels good. His nerves melt away as the song nears the end. He grins at the adoring fans screaming the words at him. It's like Holly never existed at all, like he was never stabbed. Like nothing ever happened.

The show goes on, everyone in the venue engulfed in the music and mesmerized by the singer's incredible stage presence.

You'll Be Fine reaches the bridge and, before Sebastian has a chance to grab his arm and keep him from jumping down, Remington is off the stage and by the barriers. His brothers exchange worried looks, and Sebastian also jumps off the stage with his guitar, reaching the singer and talking into his ear. "Don't," he says strictly, "Remington, don't."

Remington listens to his brother. He's right. It is a bad idea. He climbs back onto stage and Emerson breathes out a sigh of relief.

After the show is over, they gulp down water and get ready to meet the fans outside by the bus. "Are you sure you want to?" Emerson asks, "you don't have to."

"I want to," Remington confirms, "I'll be fine, Em." He tries to make himself sound convincing, though knows it won't fool his brother.

Emerson doesn't have it in him to argue. "Okay," he says, "be careful."

They stand outside the bus and a long que of people soon builds up. Remington messes with the bottom of his shirt and watches as the first person in line is hugged by Emerson and then Sebastian. He opens his arms hesitantly when they get to him, and has to hold his breath as the stranger wraps their arms around him. The boy looks at Sebastian as the older man mouths the words you're okay.

He can barely look at the phone camera as the photo is being taken because Alexis is the one taking it.

Remington struggles through six more hugs and photographs before he can't handle it anymore. He prods Sebastian in the arm. "I can't do it," he whispers.

"It's okay, bud, go and calm down in the bus. " He rubs the singer's shoulder and watches as he disappears into the vehicle, sighing and turning round to hug the next fan.

Remington changes into comfortable clothes and lies in his bunk, wishing he could go back to before all of this happened. He feels so unbelievably guilty for letting everyone down like this, and he doesn't doubt that it'll be like this every night for the rest of the tour.

The boy drifts off into his head and is pulled back into reality when the door opens. He sits up and pulls back the curtain, but promptly closes it as soon as Alexis comes into view. His phone is buzzing with notification of being tagged in posts and he doesn't look at any of them, knowing people will be wondering why he left so early.

He feels dazed and homesick and confused.

He doesn't want to be here, on this bus. He wants to be at home. And he doesn't know how to get over the fact that he is terrified of the fucking photographer.   

"You okay?" Emerson asks, poling his head into the little bunk. 

Remington shakes his head. "I can't even hug fans anymore," he whispers, as though hes only just realising how much that fact hurts. "Oh god!" He sobs.

The drummer frowns. He wishes that his brother hadn't gone out to meet the fans. He knew it wasn't going to go well. "Oh Rem, it's okay," he says quietly, "it's alright." 

"I hate this, Em," he mumbles, moving aside so Emerson can sit with him. Emerson takes his hand and  rubs his palm to soothe him. "The crying and the nightmares and the shaking, Em,  I hate it all!" 

Emerson sighs and pulls the covers out from under them. "I know it sometimes feels like you're in this on your own, but you're not. You'll never be alone." His voice is soft and gentle. "Do you want me to sleep here tonight?" 

Remington lies down. "Please," he whispers, and rests his head on his brother's chest. 

"Sleep well." 

"You know I won't."