The Bastards

Something is Wrong

Remington was leaning over the sink. Blood dripping down onto the white porcelain from his nose. "This is so fucking stupid" Remington hadn't been in a fight, hadn't accidentally hit himself in the face... no- he had woken up like this.

It was the nightmare that had originally woken him, not the blood. A nightmare of being trapped in a dark room with no way out as Emerson's high terrified screams echoed in his ears. He woke panting, sweating and gripping the bedsheets, blood slowly streaming from his nose. He would be a little more disturbed if it wasn't for the fact that this wasn't the first time- the nose bleeds had been happening almost nightly for the past two weeks.

Remington was honestly surprised he hadn't bled out by this point. He was also truthfully more concerned about his dream then his nose bleeds- why was he vivid dreaming about Emerson screaming for him? Why couldn't he help? Why was he locked in a room? Why did it feel so real?

"Fuck- stop fucking bleeding you prick!" He cursed at himself probably a little to loud as he pinched his nose.

"Rem?" Emerson's soft sleepy voice called, and not a second later his younger brother appeared in the bathroom doorway. He sighed, looking tired and weary. "I thought you said it stopped"

Remington pouted. "Hey! Don't say it like it's my fault, I don't know why it keeps happening!"

Emerson grabbed a cloth off the sink and wet in under the tap, cleaning the blood off Remington's neck and face before coaxing his brother into tipping his head back "I'm not saying it is dumbass, I'm just pointing out that it's not healthy and you should see a doctor about it"

Remington tensed like a bow pulled tight and he grabbed the wrist of the hand his younger brother had pressed to his face as he tried to stop the bleeding. "No" Remington told em firmly, "I don't want to do that, it's fine... it's just a weird, freak thing... I'm not dying or anything"

"You better not be" Emerson didn't fight him about the Doctor situation and Remington was grateful, he could tell that his brother wasn't impressed with his answer though from how he pursed his lips.

The older sibling wasn't sure when his fear of medical practitioners started but he was almost certain he hadn't always been this scared of them. He had eventually told Emerson about his new found phobia after his brother mentioned he was going for a check up because of migraines and Remington had gone into a panic attack.

Emerson had whispered reassurances to Remington while the panicked young man whimpered and shook on their kitchen floor, terrified. Once he had calmed down, he was exhausted and deflated, curled up in Emerson's bed, head resting on the artists chest. In a shaky tone he told Emerson that if he must go to the doctor he should but he must promise to take Sebastian with him.

Emerson had promised.

"Hey- are you good?"

Remington hadn't realised he had zoned out until Emerson spoke again- no matter where he was, no matter how bad it got, Emerson's voice could always bring him back. 

Always.

He looked to himself and Emerson's reflections in the dirty mirror- his brother in his oversized pyjamas and tired eyes was watching him carefully. The image was a little laughable in retrospect, they both looked ridiculous with bed hair and smudged makeup that they didn't bother taking off. Emerson's light artist fingers touched rem's jaw as he spoke again, slightly louder this time "Remington?"

Remington shook his head a bit as he realised he still hadn't replied. To his relief his nose had stopped bleeding by this point and he gave em a small smile "Yeah I'm good, sorry I just zoned out there for a minute..." Emerson didn't look overly convinced that rem was in fact okay. Emerson was more perceptive then most 18 year old guys out there and a lot smarter too, so Remington wasn't that shocked when the younger didn't believe him.