Stranger Danger

14

Trigger Warning: Mentions of self-harm, suicide

"How do I say this?" Remington was pointing to a word in the book he was reading. As a way to help improve his English, Andy had suggested they read together every day, so he could explain anything Remington didn't understand. He had made a passing comment about two or three days days of adult English classes a week but Remington had shut it down immediately, insisting it sounded 'evil'. 

"Courageous," Andy replied. "It means someone really brave. Like you." 

"Courageous," Remington repeated. "Okay. I try to remember it." He looked at Andy. "Why you not wearing a shirt?" 

"Well, I got a new tattoo, and it hurts when I wear a shirt." 

"Where?" 

"Where's the tattoo? Back of my shoulder. You wanna see? Just don't touch it, okay?" 

"Okay." 

Andy turned so Remington could look. 

"Why you get it?" 

"I just like it. But some are special to me. Like my band logos and lyrics and the one for my parents." 

"I get one?" 

"You want a tattoo? What would you get?" 

"It can be anything?" 

"That's right." 

"I get my house?" 

"That sounds like a lovely thing to get."

"Then it's never really gone so then I not have to go." 

"I think that's a fantastic thing to get tattooed. Where would you get it?"

"I not know yet. I think about it. And I not know that long word you use." 

"Fantastic? It means, like, really great." 

"I try to remember it." He looked at the chain in his lap. "Where's Juliet?" 

"She's gone for lunch with her sister. She'll be back later."

"She has tattoos, too." 

"She does." 

Remington nodded, picked up the chain. "Why you not at your other place?" 

"My other place? Oh, you mean the studio? I have a few days off so I can make sure you're okay." 

"I not know if I'm okay." 

"Well, that's okay, too." 

"I read more." 

"Go for it." 

Quietly, Remington continued with the book, talking again to ask what something meant. He decided he was bored after half an hour and went up to his room to watch the birds through the window fluttering about in the trees in Andy's garden, something he found comforting as it reminded him of the forest he'd grown up in. It was too cold to be outside, and he liked knowing that he could be warm and dry even in the harshest of weather, something he hadn't believed possible until meeting Andy. 

During winters all through his life, he'd spent nights and days shivering beneath hole-ridden pieces of fabric, always hungry, wondering how long it would go on for, how long he could go on for.

When his brothers visited - not that he knew they were real at the time - they brought food without telling him it was them who brought it, leaving it in the dirty kitchen for him to find. He spent his life believing that the house was responsible for it, that it chose when he could eat and when he must starve for a few more days, that it dictated the weather and the state of his injuries.

He couldn't quite wrap his head around the concept that the house was gone, and yet he was not. It was part of him, his life tethered to it. If the wind knocked its roof off, tore through a window, or brought down a wall, it was a rule that he must cause damage upon himself, too. If he didn't, disaster would strike. 

Now, in a safe, clean, wind-proof house, the memories of all the times he'd dug into his skin with pieces of brick and glass made him want to cry. For so long, he'd truly believed that the house had owned him, and yet now, it was a pile of rubble, and he was still very much intact, and in better health than he'd ever been. It wasn't that the house owned him, but rather that it owned his mind and his thoughts, and consequently, his actions. 

Everything he'd done had been for nothing. 

That evening, the three sat down for a dinner that Juliet had made, and Andy asked her about the tour. She answered with an easy smile, as though nothing even remotely nasty had happened between them, as though their divorce was a decision that they came to over home cooked meals and with calm, kind voices. Looking at her ex husband, there was no malice, no anger. Their divorce had done them both wonders, that much was obvious. 

Andy noticed Remington pushing his food around the plate without eating much of it, glancing at him as he talked with Juliet. When their conversation came to its natural end, Andy asked, "Not hungry?" and Remington looked up at him with a mildly startled expression. "Or do you not like it? It's okay if you don't." 

"I go," Remington said. 

"Where?" 

"I go." 

Andy frowned. "Go where?" 

Letting his fork fall onto the plate, Remington said, "I go with my house," causing Juliet to look at Andy questionably. 

"I know you miss it, but sometimes we have to let things go." 

"Yes, but I not let my house go. I be with it my whole life, I not be without it. It's all wrong without it, I not like it." 

"Is it okay if I say something?" Juliet asked. "I know it's not my place, but I do understand what you're going through." 

Remington looked at her. "Okay," he mumbled. 

"Me and Andy have known eachother since we were young. We fell in love almost straight away and thought we'd be together forever. But then I started noticing that he was a little, uh, unhappy. With everything, it seemed. His sparkle had gone, and seeing him that way made me sad. I love him, I don't want him to be unhappy." She looked at her ex and continued. "It took a long time to get the issue out of him. But when he finally told me that he thought he was gay and couldn't love me like he was meant to, I knew I couldn't make him try. You see, I love him, and I loved him then, and though it was so hard to break up with him, it was the right thing to do. Being in a marriage that wasn't right for him would have ended up ruining him, and as hard as it was, I don't regret it. We both gained a lot from out divorce. He's had the freedom to come to terms with his sexuality, and I have the relief of knowing he's not trying to love me the way he can't. You see how this is like you and your house?" 

Remington stared at her, and she couldn't work out whether he was deep in thought or completely blank. "My house is...is like how you were to Andy?" He asked eventually. 

"Well, how my relationship to Andy was, yeah." 

"My house not good for me and I have to let it go so I can be happy in new house?" He pondered over the thought, then said, "Thank you, Juliet, you help me." 

"You're very welcome, honey." 

"Honey?" 

She smiled, but Andy spoke. "It means she likes you and wants you to be okay." 

"Oh. Okay." He picked up the fork and started to eat.