Fix Me (Alternative ending)

Chapter 102

Trigger warning: Mentions of eating disorders, substance abuse, self harm

Cute chapter ur welcome

The day he gets back from tour, Andy checks himself into the psych ward without going home first. He called while he was on the road, told them he's addicted to heroin and self harming. It took a surprising amount of admin, but he got a room for three months and he couldn't be more relieved.

He drags his suitcase through the double doors, tired, and waits for the receptionist to greet him.

"Evening," she says, "Andy Biersack?"

"That's me."

"It's good to see you, Andy. I'm Lydia. Now...it says here you're saying for three months, correct?"

The man nods.

"Alrighty. We've put you in a room with another patient, please let your therapist know if you two have any problems."

"Okay."

"Someone should be here soon to show you to your room. While you're waiting, can I have a look through your things?"

"Oh yeah, sure."

"You're suffering with drug addiction and self harm, correct?"

Andy nods.

"Okay. For your safety, I'm going to take anything you have that you may use to inflict harm on yourself." She comes out from behind the desk and, with disposable gloves on, unzips his suitcase. "Normally we'd offer a quick tour once everything's sorted, but we'll do that tomorrow as all our patients are currently settling in for bed and I'm sure you're ready for sleep, too."

"I'm exhausted," Andy tells her.

She finds a razor and puts it in a Ziploc bag. "You'll be monitored pretty closely for your first few days, since you'll be going through withdrawal and we need to make sure that's all going smoothly. You have the option of weekly group therapy sessions with patients who are dealing with similar, though they aren't compulsory unless your personal therapist says otherwise. We understand they don't work for everyone." She pulls the strings out of his hoodies. "Breakfast is from eight until ten every morning and any medications you need will be proved for you then by your doctor. Lunch is from twelve thirty until two and dinner is from six thirty until eight. If, while you're suffering withdrawal, you feel happier staying in bed, that's okay, we will make sure you're still brought food and such. Some patients are here with severe eating disorders so don't be alarmed if you see them eating either earlier or later. We like to make sure everyone is as comfortable as they can be, as this is a place for recovering and not for being punished."

"Okay."

"Your therapist will fill you in on all the details tomorrow. Here's Dr Hopkins, he'll show you to your room. I'll bring your things once I've checked everything."

Andy looks at the doctor who's joined them. He yawns, follows the man through a door and down a corridor which he's been down when he was visiting Remington last time he was here.

"Your roommate is being treated for anorexia," Dr Hopkins tells him, stopping by a door. "He's very quiet and reserved. Let us know if you have any issues, but I imagine he'll mostly keep to himself."

"Okay."

"If you could be quiet, that'd be great. He's currently asleep. Your bed's ready, there's a toilet and a sink through the door opposite his bed, and a bucket by your bed since you may vomit due to the withdrawal effects. We'll catch up with you tomorrow."

Andy nods, yawns again.

Dr Hopkins opens the door to a dark, though not pitch black, room. There's enough light coming in from both the hallway and the bathroom light which is on to see a tall and slim body in the bed against the wall. Andy thinks he looks weirdly like Remington. Even the way he's sleeping seems too similar, with a pillow hugged to his chest like Andy knows he does when he's alone in bed.

"Sleep well," the doctor says quietly, and Andy steps into the room as the door is closed. He sits on his bed, unties his laces, and lifts his head when the door is opened and Lydia leaves his things just inside.

Andy changes into a tee shirt and shorts to sleep in, lifting the covers and settling into the pillow, calm for the first time in a while because he's finally not having to deal with everything by himself.

He wakes feeling foul and ill and pulls the covers over his head when the blind is opened, groaning.

"Andy?" An unexpected voice asks, somewhat shakily.

"No fuckin' way," Andy mumbles, lifting the covers to check he's hearing correctly. "Well fuck me, is it good to see you."

Remington grins at him. "The hell are you doin' here?"

"Oh, y'know," he mutters, covering his face again. "Getting help."

"That makes two of us."

"A fitting reunion, don't you think?" He coughs. "God, fuckin' drugs."

"I do believe I told you to stop," Remington says, rather cheekily. "But I'm very glad you're not dead."

Andy hums. "I thought you looked like someone I knew last night. You were doin' that thing with the pillow."

"What thing? I don't do a thing."

"It's like you've forgotten how well I know you, kitty."

"Are you coming to breakfast?" The boy asks.

"I honestly think I might die if I move."

Remington retrieves Harley from his bed. He kneels beside Andy, lifts the edge of the covers and presses the soft toy to the man's chest. "Please don't die," he whispers, kissing Andy, who smiles. "Missed you."

"Missed you too, sweetie. You're very sweet." He strokes Harley. "Go have breakfast."

"Hug first?"

Andy motions for him to come closer, returning the embrace weakly and murmuring into his neck. "You look pretty," is what he says, because he knows Remington isn't one to compliment himself and when he gets none, he starts to believe there's a real reason behind it. And, of course, because he is pretty.

"Love you," Remington mumbles back, before getting up off his knees as Andy says he loves him more. He smiles and leaves for breakfast.

Andy turns over in bed, with Harley hugged to him, and goes back to sleep.