"Yes Emerson!" the two oldest Kropps stood opposite their youngest brother, the one-sided distaste that Remington held for Sebastian set aside as the pair stood on the same side against Emerson who was arguing with them about his attendance to a therapist.

Emerson had been released from the hospital three days after he woke, and as expected tension was suffocating once they were all back in the cramped bus. "I'm not-" the words were halted before they could form the defiant sentence threatening to leave the 21-year-olds lips.

"I swear to God Emerson! Yes, you are going to therapy, If it the only thing I can do for you. I don't want to be the bad guy, but I will if I have to because I know you don't want to die. You told me! Remember? When you woke me up that night with blood dripping from your wrists to the floor, it's still there you know, we- I mean I can't get the stain out of the carpet." Sebastian's arm was stretched out to the left, pointing in the direction of his bunk.

Remington looked at his older brother as the new information sunk into his brain. Information that Sebastian had kept from him. His eyes flitted to the patch of red on the floor beside Sebastian's bunk, he had assumed it was wine, which wasn't that big of an assumption considering Sebastian's love for alcohol. Looking at it now though, he realised it was too dark to be wine.

"That patch of red outside my bunk is the only reminder that you should need when it comes to remembering that you don't want to die!" Emerson opened his mouth to add something, but Sebastian continued, the dam in his brain broke as the words poured out of his mouth like a fast-paced rapid ready to claim it's next victim.

"If you carry on Emerson, you will die." On the last word of the statement, Sebastian's voice broke, and it was then that all of the brothers found out just how fucked up the situation was. They were talking about one of them dying and arguing like it was about who ate the last piece of cake in the fridge. Shame and pride had no place for them in this conversation, and soon as the reality of what their future could hold hit Sebastian hard, and the tears began to slowly leave his eyes.

"And then where does that leave us.huh? What do you think your death will do to us? To mom? To the fans that use us as their foothold onto life?" The questions were shot at Emerson at such a fast pace, that if there was any intention of him answering, Sebastian's next question would interrupt. However, anyone who was unfortunate enough to listen in on the conversation would be able to tell that Sebastian didn't want answers; he wanted his brother alive.

His pointer finger was aimed at Emerson, and in the small confined space, it was barely an inch away from making contact with the man. "You don't get to be selfish with your life, you're not the only one who gets hit with the repercussions of your death. Sure, you'll be free of the temporary pain that Maisie has caused you, but then what happens, you will miss out on the happiness that follows the hardship."

Emerson remained silent and still, he wanted to despise his brother for the things he was saying, wanted to correct all of the horrible lies flying from his mouth, but there were none. " I hate to break it to you, but the only thing holding you back from having happiness is yourself. You're scared of moving on, so you hold onto the pain because you're terrified of the unknown" No. this wasn't true. This wasn't Emerson's fear, he knew his fear. His fear was being fixed and admitting he was broken. Not the future. His mind was reeling, and struggling for something to say.

This was something new- Emerson not being able to say something- as Emerson was always the one with something to say, whether it was about some new philosophical idea or a new world view. Yet, even in this time, he didn't have to say anything, because Sebastian continued, "So yes, you are going to therapy, and you are going to live"

Words seemed futile in the tense bus, and any hope for Emerson to win the argument was non-existent. Any attempts would be fruitless. To be honest, Sebastian didn't want Emerson to respond. He was done with the constant back and forth. Sebastian was rightfully upset; it wasn't just sadness that overruled his senses. It was anger.

He wasn't angry at Emerson. Well, he was, but not as much as he was angry at the world. His heart ached and his eyes stung, threatening to release more tears, as he was left in his mind thinking about how cruel life and reality had been to their family. The world had ruined his brother, he remembered the innocent child they grew up with.

He would always sit in the kitchen baking with their mother, telling her about his day at school or a new picture he had drawn. He walked around the school hallways with a smile, when someone pushed him down he would always get back up and continue down the hall. They were always trying to bait him, their mission was to make the poor kid snap. He never did though, always stood up and walked away.

When he got into philosophy the world became harsher, but Emerson began to change. His mind had opened and he realized he didn't have to pretend to be happy. The concepts floated down the river of his mind out of his mouth whenever he saw fit, he got kicked out of class too many times to count. Then he realised that he would always be silenced for speaking his mind, and he became a social recluse. He would come home and go straight to his room, he stopped baking with their mom. He was 14.

He stopped talking to everyone, except Remington. He had always been Emerson's favourite and not even their mother could contend for that place. Though Remington also entered a dark time, and then they were both gone. They moved their stuff into one room and they lived in the small space together, revelling in the world's horror. When Remington left the room, Sebastian and their mother rejoiced because they thought that they had them both back, but Emerson stayed.

Then the alcohol bottles in the refrigerator would go missing, and Emerson left his room and came back with girls if he came back. He was trying to fight the thoughts with alcohol and sex. He was 16.

*

Naturally, Sebastian and Remington's distaste had fizzled out, they didn't stay hating each other because they couldn't, they were brothers. Also, it helped that the tour had ended. They were no longer in a cramped bus and their own separate homes, Emerson, however, was living with Remington as a- as they called it- 'safety precaution'. Yet despite this, Remington gave his brother enough space so that he didn't feel caged, and would often leave him in the living area to draw or read.

It was subtle. Emerson knew that Remington was still keeping an eye on him yet he wasn't as confrontational as Sebastian would have been. However, one of the less subtle precautions Remington had taken, was removing the doors on all upstairs rooms. The sheets of wood resided in Remington's garage until Emerson could earn the sliver of privacy back. It didn't bother him though, doors made secrets. Secrets ruined people.

The doors reminded him of a dark time from his teenage years when the reality of society hit him and he experienced the censoring of freedom. Back then, when he first got into philosophy he believed his freedom was his words and his ability to express himself through relaying his thoughts and beliefs to others. However, when he was repeatedly censored he used his art to express himself. After being sent out of class around 15 times he stopped trying. He locked himself in his room and isolated himself from the world and the desire to censor the freedom of thought. They wanted robots who would comply.

He wouldn't.

The situation wasn't exactly favoured by Remington's girlfriend Maia, who didn't want to act like a babysitter for a grown man. She didn't know what had happened throughout the tour and just believed he was incapable of caring for himself. This caused arguments between the couple, which ultimately led to her moving out whilst Emerson was there.

What Emerson didn't know, that Remington refused to tell him because it would weigh on his conscience, was that a week after Maia moved out, they broke up. Remington knew it would destroy Emerson, Em would blame himself, but it wasn't his fault. Maia had been selfish, she shouldn't need to know the inner workings of his brother's mind to understand that his brother needed him. Also, she had said horrible things about Emerson when he went over to talk to her about it.

*

The nights were always worse for Emerson, he would be sat in silence not being able to do anything besides think. He found himself thinking more about the memories of his childhood, more often than not it was the ones that he had to relive when he was in the coma.

Tonight's thoughts were particularly malicious, he had spent the day tormenting himself by looking at pictures of Maisie. The pictures from when they were together and from when they broke up helped answer a question that had tortured him from the very beginning: When did she start cheating and stop loving him?

From the pictures, he could see a change in her smile just before their first anniversary, around august. Her smile became less pure and happy and slowly became distant and forced, but at the same time, her eyes held a smugness that she had successfully managed to keep this secret. As the pictures went on she looked less and less in love with him and more bored. Back then he didn't notice this change, but looking back from a place of pain and heartbreak made it all he could see.

Although seeing her face over and over in the pictures and remembering the days that lead to the pictures burned his mind and he found himself wishing to create the soothing lines on his arms that had become his method of therapy. Remington would never forgive Emerson, nor would he forgive himself if Emerson hurt himself whilst he was living with him. He lay there in silence wishing for the thoughts to go away and for her face to stop appearing behind his eyelids whenever he shut his eyes. He knew when he was looking at the pictures that he would regret it later, but he didn't care then.

He hadn't had a nightmare in so long, it had just been memories from the coma or the words from the fights and arguments that were always happening around him recently, so when he did have a nightmare it hit him differently, especially as it was a new nightmare altogether.

It was lucky that Remington had woken up in the early hours of the morning craving Nutella, or else he wouldn't have seen his brother shaking and crying in his sleep. He had seen Emerson having a nightmare before but now that he knew about what was going on in his mind, waking him seemed scarier than it had, and the last time he had done this, he'd had someone else to help.

He slowly stepped to his brother's side, careful not to make too much noise. Upon close inspection, he could see the sweat running down the sides of his brother's face and the shaking was now more clear that it was Emerson shaking his head no. His mind must have been torturing him. He gently sat down on the bed and tried to wake his brother in the nicest way possible.

Once Emerson was awake he curled into his brother and just cried, the position was uncomfortable so Remington adjusted himself so he lay next to his brother, with his head in the crook of his neck as he cradled his sobbing brother in his arms. Soon the sobs subsided and gentle snores and steady breathing pursued. It was at this moment Remington remembered his Nutella, he would just have to have extra tomorrow when they woke up.

Emerson slept soundly into the following day, Remington however, had woken around nine in the morning and found himself unable to move as his brother held him tight. He couldn't help making an internal remark about drumming paying up for his brother.

***

This is the shortest chapter in this book with about 2140 words, it's wild, anyway I've had this written for like 9 months but then it was only like 1300 words and I revised it in like December to 2000 and I wanted it to be about 3000 words like the others are but I wasn't motivated so I figured I'd post this to see if the feedback would give me any

Okay so it's been nearly a year, I've mostly lost motivation to write this book, well not just this one, almost all books, I started a new one and didn't make it past the prologue. I'm going to try and complete this book whilst England is in lockdown. I'm just going to give a small life update from the last update considering I went from 3 chapters a month to nothing for like 10/11 months, here's the thing, ever since I got a job I've not been able to do much (I quit that but went back once I realised it wasn't doing anything to help with A-Levels and writing), and like then I've had A-level and university application shit, but since A-Levels have been cancelled and like I've been accepted into the university of my choice hopefully I can write more.

Anyway, on a positive note I went to see Palaye in Manchester in February, whilst I didn't have a fun time in the crowd I really enjoyed the show, the crowd issues weren't Palaye's fault it was just overcrowded and there was a drunk woman strangling young girls at one point, and I had 2 claustrophobia induced panic attack I had very lovely people who I'd met in the line there with me so I'm very thankful for that. I met them all again and was able to get my tattoo written by Remington and have a conversation about my rabbit with Emerson (My rabbit's name is shy, he saw my back picture and was like "was that a bunny?" so we had that conversation) The venue staff were lovely as well when I had to be dragged out of the crowd, they helped me with that and put me in the merch line close to the front. I'm glad I was able to see them before the whole world went to shit and I feel sorry for everyone whose concerts were cancelled but we can all understand that palaye are going to be 100x better and put on a magnificent show when they come to you.