Black Waves Part 2

Hangovers and Heart Attacks

Remington wakes up around noon, groaning in pain. Nausea is hitting him harder than ever. How much did I fucking drink last night? He grabs his stomach and slowly gets out of bed, going to the adjoined bathroom. Everything becomes much more intense and the dizziness returns. He stumbles to the toilet, heaving and throwing up heavily. His head is pounding and he is sweating. God I hate hangovers.

He lays on the floor and whimpers, accepting the dizziness. The floor feels ice cold and soothing. Fuuuuck I wish I can take it all back. I can't be like this when Andy comes home. The burning sensation in his stomach and throat return, making him sit up quickly and vomiting again. He doesn't stop until he's dry heaving, his stomach cramping each time. He forces himself to stand up and brush his teeth, then goes back to his bed. He opens it and looks at Andy's message, barely able to chuckle. He doesn't remember sending him flowers but the page is still pulled up on his phone so he had to of. .

Remington smiles, Andy should be home in about 13 hours. He knows he won't be able to sleep tonight until he gets home. Emerson knocks and comes in slowly, his hair wild and looking like utter shit. 

"I was just making sure you weren't dead or shit." 

Remington barely chuckles. "I feel like death."

"Me too. Get your ass up and get some coffee with me."

Emerson drags his legs off the bed and Remington yelps, sitting up quickly and standing up.

"White flag white flag I'm up!"

They both stumble into the kitchen, meeting Sebastian who equally looks like shit. 

"Mornin'" Emerson grunts.

"Afternoon," Sebastian corrects him, taking a sip of his coffee. 

Remington pours himself a cup, adding milk and sugar. It tastes fucking heavenly.

"How much did I drink," Sebastian groans, rubbing his forehead.

"A fucking lot," Emerson laughs. "Remington I'm surprised you found a bed you were so sloshed."

"Enough to not remember sending Andy a picture of me in my boxers and sending him a bouquet of flowers, having the florist write a dirty message on the fucking card."

"Dear lord Jesus," Sebastian whispers. "No more alcohol for you."

"After tonight, never again." He rests his head on the table and whimpers in pain. The back of his neck is radiating pain.

"Wimps," Emerson mutters against his cup.

"Did his bus at least get fixed?" The oldest asks, trying to remember what happened.

"Yup. He will be here probably around 4 in the morning." Remington stands up and refills his cup of coffee. The dizziness almost drowns him again, making him fall back and grab the counter.

"Hey, you okay there Rem?" Sebastian looks up worriedly.

"I'm fine, hangovers suck." He chuckles nervously.

"Have you checked your sugar lately?"

Remington shakes his head, taking another sip of coffee. 

"Fuck Rem when I feel okay to drive we are doing that first thing." 

He nods, zoning out into the warm cup of coffee.

Emerson and Sebastian check the music video and comments on Twitter and Instagram. They reply and like some of them, talking about what to do next for the album. They want to shoot Anxiety next and have it be full of fire. Remington tries to focus on them but his heart feels like it is beating out of his chest, sweat dripping down his face.

"Is it really hot in here or is it just me?"

"Um, just you bud. It's 65 in here." Emerson says. "Try rinsing your face with cold water. That hangover got you good huh."

"Y...yeah. Must have," he stutters quietly, walking to the sink and splashing his face. He feels slightly better so he goes back to his cup of coffee, leaning back on the counter.

"But yeah let's do it in an isolated place and give it Mad Max vibes. Have people in motorbikes doing shit and weird masks. Remington you should wear leather and be all sweaty and your gorgeous self." Sebastian orchestrates, his hands showing so much expression.

He nods, not understanding what he said but heard his name.

"Throw out some more ideas and I might be on board. I like the gothic chaotic vibes in it." Emerson says, rubbing his temple.

"Rem can be like tied to something and have it drag him, making him look exhausted. Like capture his look now but have him in leather and shirtless." 

Emerson chuckles at Sebastian, googling Mad Max pictures. 

Oh fuck.

Remington drops his mug on the floor, glass and coffee splattering everywhere. He grabs his chest, eyes wide and looking at Sebastian.

"Help," he falls to his knees, cutting them on glass but still grabbing his chest in pain. Sebastian and Emerson run to him, holding him up and removing him from the mess.

"Rem, what's wrong, is it your chest?" Sebastian asks, feeling his brother's pulse.

Remington puts more pressure on his chest and barely cries out, dizziness and the sound of his heart pounding is blocking everything out.

 "Emerson call 911 I think he's having a heart attack." Sebastian says worriedly, holding Remington to his chest.

Remington stares at them in fear, every breath hurting him more and he feels like he is suffocating. Help, please help.