Make Me (Remdy)

We All Self Destruct

Hah if you want an update on the heart attack thing, I am now unable to feel my heart racing w/o the impending doom that I'm going to die, so that's fantastic :) 

Trigger warnings: Mentions of depression, death, abuse 

Leo is already seated when Remington is shown to the table. He says nothing as he pulls out the chair and sits down, waiting for the elder to speak first. Leo is looking right at him with a coldness in his expression, though smiles like he's happy to see him. 

He says, "I thought you were with that Andy bloke now." 

Remington can't look back. "Not anymore," he replies. "I was wrong about him." 

"Oh?" 

"He's not nice. He doesn't...care." 

"I warned you, didn't I?"

He shrugs, then nods. "Yes. You did." 

"I told you, you'd come back." 

"I know." 

"I said, Andy was using you. Everyone is using you. You know that? That whole band, the one you insist on staying loyal to, they're all using you." 

"Not all of them," Remington says. 

Leo sends him a don't be stupid look. "It was only a matter of time until you saw Andy's true colours. I told you over and over, he doesn't care. It was obvious. He only cares about himself. Do you see that now?" 

"Yes," he answers obediently. 

"Good. Now, why did you ask me to meet you? Did you want something?" 

"Yes," Remington says. "I want you back." 

"I see." 

"Please?" 

A thoughtful hum from Leo, as though it's something he actually has to think about. "Okay," he says. "I'll take you back. Under one condition." 

"Anything." His word is quick. Too quick, perhaps, but desperate times call for desperate measures. 

At that, Leo smiles again. "No contact with anyone in the band." 

"What?" 

"That's the condition. If you don't like it, get up and leave." 

"You mean everyone? Not just Andy?" 

"Yes." 

"Forever?" 

He sighs. "Forever, yes, Obviously. What, has he made you stupid now, as well as traumatized?" Another sigh. "God, it's gonna take a lot to fix you, isn't it?" 

Remington looks at the menu before him and bites his lip, conflicted. "You want me to leave the band?" He checks. 

"Isn't that obvious?" 

"When?"

"Right now." 

"Right now? But-"

"Right now, or I'm never helping you again. And believe me, you need my help. Look at you, you're a mess." 

"I'm not...whatever. Fine. I'll call them now." He hesitates, then takes his phone from his pocket, dials Andy's number, looks at Leo as it rings. "Andy," he says. 

"Remington. I didn't expect to heart from you," comes the man's voice. 

Remington wants to tell him how much he wishes they'd never fought, but instead, he says, "I'm leaving the band." 

A long pause. "What?" 

"I don't want to be in the band anymore." 

"What're you talking about? The band needs you. You need the band." 

"You're wrong." He looks at Leo, who nods encouragingly. "I don't need the band and I don't need you."

"Where is this coming from? You love the band, you say it all the time." 

"Well, I was lying. I don't love the band or you. I never did. I was lying." 

"Are you drunk? What the hell are you talking about?" 

"No, I'm not drunk. I'm not the alcoholic one here." 

"Wow, okay." A sigh through the line. "Alright, fine. You're out the band and apparently, out my life." 

"Great." 

Another pause, then in a voice that rather than confusion communicates concern, "Remington, are you with Leo again?" 

"Bye," Remington says. He hangs up, and is putting his phone away when Leo takes it from him and makes sure to block and delete Andy's number. 

"You've done the right thing." 

"I know." 

"Let's order." 

The younger nods, mind elsewhere. Is that really it? That part of his life isn't his anymore? It was all for nothing? 

"You're gonna get a proper job," Leo tells him. An instruction. 

"Okay." 

"Accounting or something. We'll get you interviews for next week. Enough of this bullshit music crap. No one makes a living that way." 

"Some people do," Remington mumbles, then seeing his unimpressed face, adds, "I know. You're right." 

"And you'll get some proper clothes too. These slutty things you wear are getting you nowhere good. You wanna be seen as a whore for the rest of your life." 

"No, of course not."

"You need clothes for a man, not for a girl. Men don't wear all this shit, Remington. It's embarrassing." 

"I know."

"We'll go shopping tomorrow." 

An obedient nod. "Okay." 

"You know I want the best for you, don't you?" 

"Yes. I know." 

"I'm only trying to help you fix yourself."

"I know." 

"No one wants to know someone who's broken. It's embarrassing."

"I know." 

"You just do what I say and everything will be fine." 

Remington nods again. He wants to cry. 

"No one will love you if you're broken." 

"I know." 

"Good." He waves a waitress over, orders for the two of them, and they eat as though they're both enjoying it. 

* * *

After dinner, they walk back to Leo's place. It's small. Smaller than Andy's, and Remington finds himself longing for the comfort and safety of the singer's home. The couches, the soft blankets, the bright Christmas tree in the corner, the toys left out by Lucas, the fire, the constant humming from Andy as he writes songs and sings along to those on the radio as he makes dinner. The argument suddenly seems irrelevant. 

Leo tells him to sit down and he does. Leo gets him a bottle of beer and he doesn't want it, but he drinks it anyway. He wants Andy's alcohol-free drinks. The orange juice and lemonade, the hot chocolate, and milky tea.

The TV is on. Leo is watching it but Remington can't. He looks down at himself. Does the way he dress really make him look like a whore? Is that even a bad thing? 

He wants to go home. 

Not the home with Emerson or Sebastian, though that does sound nice. 

He wants to go home to the couches, the soft blankets, the bright Christmas tree in the corner, the toys left out by Lucas, the fire, the constant humming from Andy as he writes songs and sings along to those on the radio as me makes dinner. 

The argument suddenly seems irrelevant.