Try {Emerson Barrett}

3

DEDICATED TO ProbUnstableTBH who helped me build the rest of the plot and fix holes in my plan. Y'all should actually go read her books tbh, she has one about Emerson which is kinda sort of finished, and one about Remington which is ongoing but still worth the read.

***

Remington didn't move for the rest of the day, he was too busy at the bathroom door waiting for Emerson to come out. His bones were stinging, and his cheeks were still red from crying. He didn't know why he was crying. Maybe it was the thought of his brother hurting less than a foot away from him on the other side of the door and there was nothing he could do about it because his brother wasn't ready to open up to him yet.

Sunlight turned to darkness, highlighting the passage of time that had taken place since Emerson had first gone into the bathroom. His heart ached to care for his brother who was still sat on the other side of the door.

Emerson wasn't asleep, but he wasn't consciously awake. He was just staring at one point on the opposite wall, his eyes glazed over as a result of his constant staring and not enough blinking. The lack of food was getting to him and it was slowly coming to become all that he was thinking about. He was tempted to just leave the bathroom without cleaning up, but he knew Remington was on the other side of the door and would see the blood which was dried on the floor, and the cuts that were scattered all over his exposed body.

His clothes sat in a pile at the corner of the room, reminding him of how fucked up his life was. Others might have seen the pile of clothes as a sign of his messiness, had they not known the reason for him taking his clothes off was for his destructive nature to isolate himself further from the person he once was.

He heard Remington softly singing you'll be fine on the other side of the door, voice cracking in parts which contrasted against the message of the song. Thoughts raced through his mind, assaulting his mentality more. His personal issues were now affecting his family which stung more than the evil thoughts he was bombarded with on a daily basis. His stomach rumbled, once again bringing attention to the fact that it was nearing the evening and he hadn't eaten since last night, he might have been depressed, but he was still hungry.

Slowly he stood and assessed the damage, not only to his body but to the bathroom. The blood was now a red stain on the floor, and his arms had dry blood all over them. It was also an added challenge to clean up without Remington noticing, however after a few moments of silence in his brain, he was able to form a sure plan to do it as fast as possible.

He dug through the trash can and pulled out the rag he had disposed of yesterday and put it in the sink full of moderately warm water to soak and clean. Digging through the cupboards under the sink, he found his next weapon of choice against the discovery of his habits. He sparingly poured the disinfectant onto the blood stain making sure the largest area of blood was sufficiently covered, but not using too much to avoid the strong pungent smell reaching Remington's nose for a while.

Climbing into the shower, his thoughts cleared again, only this time, the noxious thoughts stayed away. He had had his moment. It was time for him to heal the break in Remington's heart and attempt to appease him for a while longer until he could come up with a feasible excuse that would diffuse the ticking time bomb that was the question Emerson feared hearing.

Scrubbing gently on his already sensitive skin was barely getting him anywhere, but the organ had already faced enough damage in one day. It didn't take that long to remove the dried blood in the end, but the passage of time in the bubble of shame- which had inundated him in the small confined space that was the shower- seemed slower than real time.