Fix Me (Alternative ending)

Chapter 73

Trigger warning: Mentions of suicide, self harm, eating disorders

The men aren't sure what to do. They're quiet after Andy's speech, if it should be called such a thing. Andy doesn't regret what he said, but rather the way he said it. All angry and scared and out of control.

He looks away from Remington, draws his fingers back and forth across the kitchen counter, the surface smooth. "That's all I get, is it?" He asks finally, only now turning and looking at the younger, who's still leant against the side. "Silence? That's what it's come to? You wont even say one fucking word to me anymore?"

Remington plays with his fingers.

"Fuck, Remington," whispers the man, at a loss as for what to say. When he doesn't get a response, he shakes his head and turns around, walking away, leaving Remington alone in the kitchen.

The boy feels weak. He slides down the cupboard, puts his head in his hands. How did it get so out of hand? God, all this just because he hasn't been speaking to Abigail. Remington isn't sure where Andy went, if he's still in the house or if he left. He gets up, checks the living room. "Andy," he begins, when he sees the man sitting, hunched over, no doubt with a developing headache.

"Don't," Andy says, not lifting his head.

"I-"

"Don't," repeats Andy.

Remington looks down, wipes at his eyes. "I'm sorry."

The man looks up now, red eyed. "Save your breath. You've made yourself very clear." He shakes his head.

The silence makes Remington uneasy. "I love you," he tries.

"Just don't. I can't do this." He stands up. "I'm leaving. Have this." He pulls the ring from his finger, makes Remington take it. "You said you wanna call it quits?"

Remington tries to talk but he can't. The ring feels so heavy.

Andy begins for the door. "Then I quit, Remington, how's that? Does that feel good to hear?" He ascends the stairs, aware Remington is behind him but not turning to look at him.

The boy doesn't know what to do other than stand and watch as his husband pulls a suitcase from under the bed and fills it with clothes, making sure to grab all his hoodies. He watches for ten minutes, wants to protest, to tell him he was wrong, but his voice doesn't want to work and he doesn't notice when he breaks skin by scratching.

From the top of the stairs, he watches Andy drag the suitcase down, put a pair of shoes on, pick up two more pairs, open the front door, pick up the handle of the suitcase again, and leave. He sits on the top step once the door has closed and cries.

Andy drives to a hotel, books into a room, lies on the bed without crying because he can't seem to.

Remington is alarmed when someone he doesn't recognise opens the door. The man looks him up and down before speaking. "Can I help?" He asks.

"I-uh," he looks at his feet. "No, sorry." He turns away, walks down the drive.

"Remington?" Says Abigail, appearing in the doorway.

The boy looks at her.

"It's alright, come in. D'you need a talk?"

Remington nods, fingerprints of blood up and down his arms.

Abigail steps aside, waits for him to come in before closing the door. "Let me get something for that," she says gently, gesturing to his arms, "can I get you some water?" She hesitates, takes in his familiarly broken aura. "Have we had something to eat today?"

The boy doesn't answer, but just follows her into her office.

While he's sitting down, she retrieves the box of beaded bracelets, opening it and leaving it on the table before leaving the room.

Remington waits for her to return, sitting anxiously and silently.

When she gets back, Abigail is carrying a tray with a large glass of water and ice, a bowl of cereal, some medical wipes and a roll of bandages. She puts it on the table carefully, picks up the wipes. "Is it okay if I touch?" She asks.

Remington nods, lets Abigail take his wrist and carefully wipe the blood off.

"D'you think you can tell me what's happened?"

"Sorry for not-for not coming."

Abigail pulls a clean wipe from the packet. "We can talk about that later, okay? You do your best to tell me what's going on."

Remington watches her cleaning his arm. "I fucked up so bad."

"Why's that?"

"Andy, he..."

"It's okay, deep breath. What did Andy do?"

The boy whimpers. "I said-I-he's gonna..."

"Gonna what?"

Remington pulls his arm free and sobs into his hands.

"Gonna kill himself?"

The boy nods.

"Okay, take a nice breath for me. Do you know where he is?"

"No, he-he left."

"Okay. Let's take another breath." She discards the wipes in the bin. "I'm gonna call him, alright?"

Remington nods.

Abigail picks up her phone, dials for Andy. She holds the device to her ear, and to her slight surprise, he answers. "Hey there, Andy," the woman greets, and then, "Remington's worried about you. How are you doing?"

Remington scratches at his wrist again, until Abigail uses her free hand to pulls his hand away, holding it as Andy talks to her.

"He's not said much," she tells Andy, and he talks again. "I think you two need to talk this out."

The boy wipes his eyes.

"How's your mental state, Andy? This sounds like it's happened because you're both not doing so good." She rubs Remington's knuckles. "No no, don't apologise. It's alright. We'll sort this out, I promise. Remington is scared you might be thinking of killing yourself." There's a pause, when Andy talks again, and then Abigail says, "you are. Okay. And where are you now? Is there anyone there with you? There isn't, alright. Talk me through what your plans are for tonight."

Remington reaches for the water.

"Am I right in assuming you have those right now? Okay. When are you planning on doing that? Would you have done it already if I hadn't called? Hey, no, don't say that. He's right here, yeah. Do you wanna talk to him? Sure," she says, and is handing the phone to Remington, who puts the glass down and takes the mobile.

"Andy?" He asks shakily.