Strangers At The Alter

7

Trigger warning: VERY brief mention of abuse

After dinner that evening, Andy stayed out of Remington's way because he knew how frightened he was and didn't blame him. Since the wedding, he kept having to pull his car over on the way to and from work to cry. Every day that passed, he felt worse, because the longer it went on, the longer Remington was away from his family and his home and his life. Andy wanted to tell him to take the debit and get a taxi back to London, to keep the money, to use it, but he couldn't. He knew they put a tracker in him. 

Three days after their shared dinner, he decided to talk to him again, and that evening, once he'd returned from work and greeted his housekeeper, he went up and knocked on the closed door. Remington opened it almost instantly. "Hey," Andy said. "I'm sorry, I didn't interrupt your reading, did I?" 

Remington glanced down at the book his was holding, a finger inside to keep the page. He shook his head even though he had interrupted. 

"I'm ordering pizza, do you want any? I can find the menu for you. Or you can find it online. Oh, that reminds me. I was gonna ask. The laptop, it works?" 

Remington nodded. Andy had handed it to him at breakfast the previous morning, already logged into Netflix with an account made under the name Remington. It was unexpected but appreciated, and he watched what he watched at home, hoped it would make him feel a little less like the world was ending slowly around him. 

"Anyway, uh, pizza? The place is called 'Fellinis'. I'll let you look at the menu online and come back, alright?" 

"Okay," Remington said. "Thanks." Then, hurriedly corrected it to, "Thank you." 

"You want a drink while I'm down stairs? Tea? Coffee? Fake wine?" 

"Uh, no," Remington said, though he did want one. "Thank you." 

"Alright. Well, if you change your mind, let me know. Or make yourself a drink, I don't mind. It's your house, too. I'll let you look at the menu. Fellinis. Double l." 

"Okay. Thank you." 

Five minutes later, Andy knocked again, and asked if Remington wanted a pizza, and after hesitation - time spent trying to work out what the right answer was - Remington said he did, gave Andy the name of it on the menu, and Andy said, "Perfect. I'll leave you to your book now. Let me know if you want anything else. And Dayna, the housekeeper, is around, but she won't bother you." 

"Okay." 

When the pizza arrived, Remington was battling with himself on whether or not he had the guts to go down to make a coffee, and when Andy knocked again, he jumped and quickly answered, tried to hide his anxiety. "You wanna come down?" Andy asked. "Just because I went overboard with the sides and there's no way I'm eating it all on my own." 

"Okay," Remington mumbled, quietly grateful that the decision had been made for him. 

"Dayna's just gone so everything's all sparkly. She's like a magician, I don't know how she does it so fast. One hour she's here and she somehow makes everything like new again. Blows my mind. Anyway, I'm rambling. Come sit in here. The dining table is too formal for pizza." He gestured to the living room and continued into the kitchen to retrieve cutlery, and hesitantly, Remington sat on the nearest couch. "Alright," Andy said when he returned. "Help yourself. I think this one's the one you wanted, but like I said, I went overboard, so have anything you like the look of." 

"Thank you." 

"How's your book?" Andy asked, determined to get something more than single word answers. 

"It's good." 

"You read a lot?" 

"Not really." 

"I like comics more than books. Batman, to be precise." 

Why aren't you beating me up yet? Why has it nearly been a week and you're still being nice?  

"You have any hobbies?" 

Remington picked up the plate Andy had gotten for him and put a slide of pizza on it. "Singing," he answered. 

"What sort of stuff do you like singing? I'm gonna go out on a whim and guess not classical." 

"Uh, rock." 

"Yeah. You look like a rock fan. I mean that in the best way possible. I worship rock music."

Now, are you lying to gain my trust? Are you trying to slither your way into what I enjoy so that you can ruin everything for me? More than you already have? 

"I grew up with KISS. Now with them, obviously. But with them playing in the house. I used to paint my face like them and jump around the house until my parents told me to go to bed. Got black and white paint everywhere. Even now, when I visit them, I still find smears of it on the carpet in my old bedroom." 

Okay, well, if you are lying, you're very good at it. 

"Anyway, what about you? Favourite bands?" 

"Oh, uh, My Chemical Romance." 

"Good choice." Andy pushed a container of sweet potato fries towards him. "I suppose you went through the gay panic phase of crushing madly on Gerard way, too?" 

Remington was so surprised that he nearly laughed. "Who didn't," he said eventually, trying not to smile too much. 

"Well, quite." 

Stop being so confusing! 

"You sing any of their songs?" 

"Yeah. Uh, Teenagers, mostly." 

"Just by yourself, or with, like a band, or something?" 

"My brothers," Remington said, and was immediately sad again. 

Andy wanted to either hug him or tell him to go home, and he didn't know which made him more sad. "Oh, right. Sorry." 

"We were gonna start releasing our own stuff. As a band. Never happened." 

"What would your band have been called?" 

"Palaye Royale." 

"Like the building?" 

"The one in Toronto, where our Grandparents met." 

Andy hummed. "That's beautiful," he said, and for the first time, Remington knew he wasn't lying. "You can still contact them, you know? This isn't a kidnapping. I don't know if you have your phone, but if you remember their numbers, or emails, or anything, please do let them know that you're alive. They must be worried." 

"Really?" 

"Of course. I don't want you to never see them again just because of what those disgusting people are doing. If it was up to me, I'd make you take the debit card and get a taxi back, but they'd probably shoot us both." 

"Oh. Thank you." 

"If you need a phone charger, there's a spare somewhere in here. Couldn't tell you where. Have a route later if you like. And if you need a phone, I'll take you into town tomorrow. It's my day off." 

"Thank you." 

"And now please eat, because there's so much food here, and not enough room in the fridge." 

Remington dropped a handful of the fries on his plate. "Thank you," he said again, and found that he had stopped trembling. "You're being very kind to me." 

"You don't deserve anything less. Eat up. I'm not gonna be the only greedy one in this house."