Fix Me (Alternative ending)

Chapter 82

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

"So," begins Marcus, looking at Remington. "D'you still take diet pills?"

Remington raises an eyebrow. "Where'd you get the idea I did at all?"

"Your Instagram."

"Oh, right. No, not anymore. Kinda a no no if I wanna recover."

"But do you want to?"

"What is this? Twenty questions?"

Marcus shrugs. "Just interested."

"So how come you never tell me shit about you, then? What if I'm interested?"

"What do you wanna know?"

Remington shakes his head, amused. "You're odd, you know that? I don't know whether to like you or be afraid of you." He sits down in his usual spot, waiting for everyone else to arrive for the group therapy session.

"Why would you be afraid of me?"

"Long story."

After the therapy session, Remington texts Andy that he's stopping at the shop on the way home, has a short conversation with Marcus, and leaves. He returns home to a pile of cushions and blankets dumped in the living room, Andy lying on them with a book.

"Afternoon," the man greets, "care to join me?"

Remington, without taking his shoes off, lies on the cushions beside his husband. "What exactly are we doing?" He asks, smiling when the man turns around and begins untying his laces.

"Being cute? I dunno."

"Why did you put all this here?"

"Because I washed them."

The boy pushes his face into Andy's leg. "Can you wash me?"

"What if I started licking you like a cat?"

"I wouldn't complain."

Andy hums.

"Are you okay today?" Remington asks, letting the older pull his shoes off.

"I am, what about you?"

"I am too."

The man smiles, turns back around, careful not to kick Remington. "Good."

"Yep."

"How was therapy?" Andy asks, stroking hair from his husband's forehead before kissing it.

Remington scrunches his face up. "Fine. Some guy keeps tryna' be my friend or somethin'."

"Well if I just met you, I'd wanna be your friend, too."

"I just got friend-zoned by my husband," the boy says, smiling, turning his head when Andy tries to kiss him. "Friends don't get kisses," he tells the man, "sorry."

Andy chuckles. "Friends don't ask friends to wash them."

"Yeah, but-"

"Shh,"Andy whispers, grabs his face, and kisses him. "We can pretend we're just friends if that's, like, a weird kink you're into. I wouldn't be surprised."

Remington whines loudly. "A kink where I wanna fuck all my friends?"

"Mhm."

"Ew."

"So you don't wanna fuck me?"

"I'm so confused."

"Me too."

The boy giggles. "D'you have any weird kinks?"

Andy raises an eyebrow.

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

"This was supposed to be cute and now you're asking me about kinks."

"You started it."

"And you're twelve, apparently."

"Well then you're a pedo. That's gross. You should be ashamed of yourself."

Andy kisses him again.

"You just kissed a twelve year old."

"Babe, not to be disgusting, but twelve year old boys don't tend to have dicks like yours."

Remington laughs. "Thanks?"

"Anytime."

"Did you hear? Emerson and Shy split."

"They did? Why?"

"Dunno. Sebastian told me."

Andy frowns. "Huh, that's not good. They've been together forever."

"I know. I hope he's okay."

"Me too."

"Even though he is a dick." The boy yawns. "Maybe he's coming for you."

Andy rolls his eyes. "That was a weird time."

"Can't believe he actually said he loved you."

"What can I do? It seems everyone just loves me."

"Aright, don't get cocky."

"But that's my job."

"Being cocky?"

"Yep."

"Oh."

Andy hums and Remington gets off the cushions to go to the bathroom. Andy finds him half an hour later, sitting on the bed with his old notebook.

"You know I used to have panic attacks every day?" The boy says, reading through things he wrote years ago. "'Today's been awful. Emerson kept shouting at me. Had a panic attack and never told anyone. Hope Andy won't be disappointed when he finds out I cut myself again.' Jesus, I was real pathetic"

The man sits beside him. "Don't say that, no you weren't." He rubs his shoulder. "And I wasn't disappointed, by the way."

"The next day is worse. 'Had another fight with Emerson and shouted at Andy. Hate everything. Been looking for something sharp for ten minutes, Andy hid everything. Fuck him.'"

"Is that when you and Emerson were going through that really rough patch?"

"Think so. Wait, listen to this. 'Nearly slit my throat but Andy got home early.' Then I put a fucking sad face. Jesus."

"Good thing I got home early," Andy says, "I don't remember that."

"I think I heard you come in and put the knife back before you saw."

"Oh, right."

"Then I probably shouted at you for something or other. Who knows. I'm gonna burn this."

"What, why?"

"Because it's full of self harm-y things and bad thoughts."

"Why're you even reading it now?"

Remington shrugs.

"You're not, like, triggering yourself or anything?"

"Don't think so. We'll find out later, I guess."

"Mm, I guess so. Lunch time, come on."

"Is it soup?"

"No, why?"

The boy puts the book down and gets up. "So bored of soup. God, who knew there were so many different flavours?"

Andy rolls his eyes.

"And, like, who even invented it?"

"Mr Soup? How would I know?"

"I'm gonna send him a real angry letter."

"You're strange. Come on."

"Not strange, just right."

"Sure you are. Is this you trying to avoid eating? 'cause if it is, it won't work."

"No."

Andy hums. "Whatever you say."