If this is dramatic it's because I'm listening to The Phantom Of The Opera

Trigger Warning: Mentions of self-harm, depression, anxiety

* * * 

Andy sat in the restaurant for ten minutes before Remington showed up, and upon the younger's arrival, he sat up straight and said nothing as he took the seat opposite and opened the menu. There was an uneasiness to their atmosphere that Andy didn't like it at all. 

"So," Remington spoke first, not lifting his eyes from the menu. "Let me guess. You're sorry and you didn't mean what you said." 

"Yes." 

"Then why did you say it?" 

Andy sighed. "I don't know. I've been stressed." 

"And that gives you the right to insult me?" 

"No, that's not-you know that's not what I mean. Remington, come on. You know how I get when I'm stressed." 

"So that's just gonna be your excuse for everything now? Just because you have issues doesn't mean you can be excused of everything horrible you do, Andy. That's not how it works." 

"I know. I know. That's not what I'm saying. Look. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being rude and for taking my own problems out on you. You don't deserve it and I hate myself for it. I'm sorry, okay?" 

Remington looked at him now, frowned. "You have issues, Andy." 

"I never said I don't." 

"No, I mean, you have issues with how you treat people." 

"I...what? What does that mean? Issues with how I treat people? What does that-" 

Cutting him off, Remington explained, "You come across as this super nice, kind person who would do anything for anybody, like, you saved my life and literally got the law changed to protect me, but then it's like...when you aren't in the right modd, you aren't that nice anymore. I don't know." 

"What are you talking about?" 

"You're nice for the media and you're nice to me and my brothers when it's in aid of keeping me in your house as your husband, but as soon as it doesn't matter, or you're a little sad or stressed or whatever, you flip." 

"I flip? Are you about to accuse me of abusing you? Because with all due respect, what the hell? I'd never do anything to hurt you, you should know that by now." 

"Yes. I know. I'm not saying that's not true. What I'm saying is that sometimes, you're very rude, and you expect me and everyone else to be fine with it because you're Andy Biersack and you're a genius and you're rich blah blah." 

"None of this makes any sense." 

Remington closed the menu and a waitress approached to take their order. After she was gone, the two were quiet, glancing at eachother awkwardly. 

"Please just explain what you mean," Andy said. "What, you think I'm actually a horrible person and you think everything nice I do is an act?" 

"No," Remington answered quickly. "No. God. This is such a mess. I'm not good a saying how I feel. When I was seventeen I told my friends I didn't like how they bullied other kids and they laughed and called me a girl, which was wrong on so many levels. Is that trauma? Anyway, sorry. Side rant."  He paused, shook his head. "I don't think you're a horrible person. I think you're a really, really nice person who is sometimes unable to separate what's in your head from what's real." 

Scoffing, Andy raised his eyebrows. "Great, so I'm a fourteen-year-old's tumblr profile now." 

"Will you stop being so snarky?" 

"Snarky? Me? When am I ever snarky?" 

Remington gave him a really look. 

"Fine. Fine, I'm listening. Please go on." 

"I think you try so hard to constantly be the person everybody thinks you are that you forget there's more to you. Andy, you're not just a fashion designer. You have to stop acting like that title owns you. It's like-it's like you can't function unless everything in your job is going perfectly fine. You know, you got stressed about that one thing with Harley and the fabrics, and all I was trying to do was suggest you get some rest because I care about you, and you flipped and got all up in my face and made it out like I was the one who had been pissing you off all day. Do you not see where I'm coming from?" 

"No, I see it," Andy said quietly. "I do. I see it all the time. For years. But I've never..." Shaking his head, he slouched in his chair. 

"You've never what?" 

The elder sighed. "I've never had anybody to come home to after a bad day. You know, I'm just, I'm used to having a shitty day, going home to an empty house, maybe having a panic attack if I'm extra lucky, and going to sleep in a bed on my own. I'm not used to the prospect of having someone at home to talk to, and when I get worked up, like with Harley, instead of trying to talk it out or just move on from it, like you were trying to encourage, I saw you as a threat and so I treated you like one." After speaking, he put his head in his hands and his elbows on the table and groaned, a surge of nausea shuddering through him. 

"What's wrong?" Remington asked. 

"Nothing. Listen." Lifting his head, he went on. "I'm sorry for what I said to you, I had no right." 

"Thank you." 

"But baby, you know you can't expect me to be more than I am. You've seen me bite myself, for Christ's sake, you can't expect me to be, like, your dream man. I'm not perfect. I'm no one's dream man." 

"Dreams are never perfect, anyway," Remington reminded him with a soft smile. "You ever had a dream where something weird didn't happen?" 

"Good point." 

"I guess I'm just asking you to talk before you lash out. Andy, you know I love you, and I care about you, and if you're stressing out over anything, I don't want to add to it. But I also don't want to act like you're okay if you're not. Seriously, you can tell me what you want me to do so that you'll feel better, even if it's for me to leave you alone, and I'll do it, no sweat. But you just have to talk, okay?" 

Andy nodded, then smiled. "Okay. Fair. Thank you for being so you. I love you. You're my dream." 

"You told me the other night you dreamed about being tracked down and stabbed and stung to death by a swarm of glow in the dark wasps with mini swords. I hope I'm not that dream." 

Now, Andy chuckled. "No, you'd be a swarm of butterflies, if anything." 

"Thanks?" 

"Mm. Welcome. What did I order? I blanked." 

"Uh, soup. I think." 

Andy groaned and put his head on the table. "I don't want soup," he complained dramatically.