Fix Me (Alternative ending)

Chapter 113

Trigger warnings: Nothing that bad at all, this is kinda a filler chapter

Abigail drives Remington to therapy with Jane but he refuses to get out the car. "I don't like her," he huffs, folding his arms. "She's mean."

"I thought you said she was growing on you."

"Well then I lied," he says simply, "because she isn't growing on me. I don't like her."

"Why not?"

"Because she's mean." The boy looks at her and pouts.

She rubs his shoulder. "In what way?"

"You don't believe me?" Remington asks defensively.

"You know that's not true, doll. How is she mean, huh?"

"She just is," he mumbles, "she keeps saying I'm being dramatic."

Abigail frowns. "She says you're being dramatic?"

"'cause I apparently 'make little things into big deals', so..." Remington hits the dashboard. "If I go in now she'll tell me I'm 'reading too much into it' and that Andy was just having fun, or something. So no thanks, don't make me, I'll cry."

"Really? She talks to you like that?"

Remington nods shamefully, as though it's somehow his fault.

"Okay, well I'm not having you sit through that crap." She opens the door. "Stay here, I'll be one minute."

Watching her get out of the vehicle, Remington asks what she's doing. She sends him a smile, closes the door, and walks towards the house. He watches as she rings the bell and waits for Jane, who appears soon after, to open the door. Remington knows they're talking but he can't hear them. He sits and waits.

Abigail gets back in the car after a short conversation. Remington looks at her expectantly. "So she's a bitch," is what the woman says to begin with, "and she won't be talking to you anymore."

"Wait, really?" The boy asks.

"Yep." She starts the car. "D'you wanna stay with me while you and Andy work things out?"

"Yes please."

In the spare room of Abigail's house, Remington sits on the bed doing nothing, until Andy inevitably calls. "What?" He snaps.

"Rem, please, you know I didn't mean it like that."

The boy laughs. "Then why'd you do it? Got bored and decided it'd be a good time to mess with your delicate flower again?"

"He was pissing me off and I wasn't thinking."

"That's the worst excuse I've ever heard."

Andy sighs audibly. "I'm being serious." He pauses. "Listen, kit-"

"Don't call me that now."

"Will you please let me talk?"

"Why are you mad at me? What have I done?"

"Since when was I mad?"

Rocking back and forth the way an insane asylum patient would in a horror movie, Remington says, "you sound mad."

"I'm not mad," the older confirms. "Look. All I was doing was trying to piss him off because he's a dickhead, alright? I swear. Why the fuck would I be ashamed of you?"

"Why wouldn't you be ashamed of me? I'm ashamed of me."

Andy shakes his head. "It'd do you wonders to see yourself from where I'm standing. Please try and understand it wasn't an attack on you at all."

"I'm so confused."

"I'm sorry for making you feel like I don't love you. I do love you. And I'm proud to have you and I wouldn't ever wanna lose you."

"But you still said you had a wife."

"Because I'm a fucking idiot."

"I just don't get why you'd even think of saying that if you really did love me. It's such a fucked thing to say. And you've always been so open about being gay, like...Andy, you're a being fucking dick right now."

"Believe me, I know I am. But please don't think I'm ashamed of you. I promise on everything I have, I'm not ashamed of you."

Remington rubs his eyes with his free hand. "But you still said it," he repeats, clearly not letting it go. "You lied to him about being married to a woman. I know I'm feminine, but come on! I'm not a woman! I'm still a fucking man, Andy! You're still with a fucking man!"

"Remington, hey, of course you are. No one is saying you aren't."

"No, you are! You're saying I'm not! God, why d'you have to be so fucking confusing? It'd be easier to eat a block of fucking cheese than to understand what the fuck you're saying!"

"I-"

"Bye," Remington says, and hangs up. He throws the phone on the floor and falls onto his back on the bed in defeat.

Abigail comes in shortly after. "I assume that went bad," she observes, seeing as he's yelling into a pillow.

"It went swimmingly!" The boy sarcastically announces. "This must be-what-the third time my marriage is fucked?"

"Your marriage isn't fucked," Abigail assures him, sitting on the bed.

Remington sits up and hugs her, mumbles, "I hope you're right."