Fix Me (Alternative ending)

Chapter 109

Trigger warnings: Mentions of self harm, suicide, homophobia + slurs, vv brief mention of anorexia

When Andy gets home in the early evening, Remington has already gone to bed. "You okay?" He asks, after eating dinner and showering. Remington hums. "Sure? It's pretty early."

"Just sleepy," Remington mumbles.

"Have you had some dinner?"

"Mhm."

"Promise?"

"I had the soup from yesterday."

"Good."

Remington turns over. "How come you look like that?"

"Like what?" Andy asks, playing with his hair.

"Like you're about to cry."

The man sighs. "Well..." He takes Remington's hand and kisses it. "The guys in America, they're planning to come for a week. Y'know, so we can catch up and shit. They called earlier. They've booked rooms in the hotel just down the street."

Remington frowns. "Do you wanna see them? Because it doesn't sound or look like you do."

"I don't know."

"Did they ask you if you were okay with it?"

Andy sighs again. "Why would they?"

"Uh, because they should care. Obviously. I'd ask. If I was them, I'd ask."

"It's not a big deal."

Remington looks at him like he's stupid. "Yeah, like I'm gonna believe that. There is a literal tear in your eye." He pokes Andy's cheek. "You don't have to see them if you don't want, Andy. It's not your duty to do anything for them. And they are the ones who fucked you over."

"They didn't fuck me over."

"No? So you were totally cool with them moving to America even though I'd just had a heart attack, you were fucking about to kill yourself, and they knew this?"

"Remington-"

"I'm just saying. Why would you wanna see them if they made you fucking suicidal?"

"They didn't make me suicidal, that's ridiculous."

"So then why did you fucking cut your arm up while you were there?"

Andy closes his eyes. "Remington, please. It's not that simple and you know it."

"Stop standing up for them!"

"I-"

"Seriously, they moved to America with checking you were okay with it, they made you wanna fucking die and didn't check you were okay, they let you leave the band - your band - and didn't check you were okay with it, and now you're gonna let them come here and make you feel shit again just because you're too much of a nice person to admit that you don't want them to? You need to fucking tell them how it is, Andy, or I fucking will."

"It's just a week, sweetheart. It's not-"

"Why are you letting them do this?"

"I'm going to sleep." Andy turns over.

Remington frowns. "I know you're crying," he says after a moment, hearing how the man tries not to make a sound. When Andy says nothing, Remington gets out the bed, walks over to the other side, and gets in beside his husband. "If you tell me it's not a big deal one more time I will actually lose my mind." He presses himself to Andy and wraps his arms around his neck.