it's been a few days since remington and i officially got together, and to be completely honest, everything has been so great recently. i've been super happy with him. and i've been working on myself as well so that i don't hurt him again, because even though he acts like a hard ass, he is one of the absolute most fragile people i have ever met. he gives me an actual reason to fight to get better.
currently, we're laying in the music room, just talking about life.
"so, when exactly do you get let out of here? and what are we going to do after we leave here? i ask him, my head up in space a bit, but i'm sure his is too as we both stare off at the ceiling. his hand is heavy in mine, intertwined and resting by our sides.
"i think in the next few weeks, if they don't decide to make me stay longer. and honestly? i don't know. what do you want to do? i know my brothers and i are going to keep making music. record our ep and such." he says.
"nice. have you been signed yet? and when do i get to meet your brothers anyway?"
"unfortunately, not yet. it would be cool as hell to get on sumerian though. they've signed some really incredible bands in the past. and i think they're coming up for family day, so then i guess?"
"baby, thats so cool! i know you'll get signed soon, i believe in you. and i would absolutely love to hear you guys play. y'know, like all of palaye royale, see you do your thing."
"you wanna know what i'd like to do?" he asks and i can physically fucking hear the smirk twist up across his lips, knowing some sly bullshit is about to make its way out of his mouth.
"what?"
"you."
"wow, real mature there, you unholy riverboat"
"did you seriously just call me an unholy riverboat, chevy?" he asks, sitting up, looking at me with faux offence scribbled across his face.
"i did indeed, unholy riverboat" i smile, acting as innocently as i possibly can.
"and you say that i'm the immature one, ma chérie." he snickers, shaking his head, looking at me disapprovingly.
i looked up at the clock on the wall and saw we had only a few minutes left to get to our group therapy session, and if we don't go, we will have to stay later. and i don't want that for us.
"babe, we gotta go to group therapy. or we won't get out of this damn place any time soon" i say, going to stand up and rush to the door.
"no." he mumbles, tone as if he's demanding me to stay put, pulling me back down into his chest.
"rem, we gotta go" i say, slightly frustrated at his lack of care for the matter at hand "we dont want to be here longer than we have to"
"kiss me first. then i'll consider it." he tries, like a defiant child, puckering his lips at me.
"fine" i lean down and gently peck his lips.
"not good enough" he pouts, shaking his head.
"you are such a fuckin' child sometimes, you know that right?"
"yup" he snickers, popping the p dramatically.
i roll my eyes at him, leaning down and giving him a proper kiss, attempting to pull away quickly, but he clearly isn't having that. he grabs my waist, pulling me the rest of the way to the ground again, directly on top of him as he tries everything in his power to savour the moment. really though, i think he just knows the longer he sits around and makes out with me, the later we get to group therapy. which means he doesn't have to participate. he's a piece of shit, i tell you.
i run my fingers through his hair and pull away, pushing away the not-so-spiked section of his natural curls that falls down into his eyes to look him directly in them, smiling fondly. he really is a beautiful individual.
"better now?" i ask him, resisting the urge to roll my eyes yet again.
"'much" he grins.
"lets go then. get your bitch ass up" i say, standing and pulling him up.
"ugh, fine" he groans, following suit with me.
_____
we have been sitting in group therapy for a while now. remington and i, although sitting across the room from each other in what's now like our assigned seats, keep doing things to try and make the other person laugh. it's all fun and games however, until someone is telling a depressing story about how their life sucks and their mental illness struggles, and you about burst out laughing at your boyfriend with his thumb pressed to his forehead, wiggling his fingers in the air. you end up looking like an insensitive twat.
"well, since you two want to be jokers today, remington and ophelia- you're next. remington, you start, how have you been?
"well ya see sir, i'm lovely right now. thanks to ma chérie over there." he says winking in my direction.
"would you enlighten us on what ma chérie means?" the therapist questions him.
"it's what i call ophelia over there. its french." remington says.
"yes, but what is the meaning?" the apparently quite annoyingly persistent therapist asks.
"it means my sweetheart, could you be more fucking irritating about things?" i mutter, rolling my eyes.
"me or remington?" the therapist questions.
"you obviously." i say rolling my eyes again, looking over at remington, who is trying not to laugh at how completely and utterly done with this therapist i am.
unlike our one-on-one therapist, this guy's an annoying twat.
"well ophelia, since you seem to be super talkative today, why don't you go?" he tries, looking frustrated at me.
"i'm great!" i say, my tone dripping with sarcasm "my brain is fucking sick. i never get a break from a spinning sensation where i feel like i'm two seconds from hurting everyone i love in an uncontrolled fit of rage. that's why i'm booked to this hellhole, because i cant seem to be sane. but i have remington- and he's practically a godsend. i've never loved someone the way i love him. but i've hurt him once before and i know damn well i'll probably end up doing it again. i'm like a tornado of never ending chaos and destruction, but i'm a tornado in love and i can't tell you if that's better for me or worse for me. because for once in my life i'm passionate about something, and it's that spikey haired and pretty eyed little prick by the name of remington. end of fucking story" i vent, making a point to talk about remington and how much i love him, flashing him a half smile before getting up and storming out of the room.
"hey babe! wait up!" i hear remington calling after me, so naturally i turn around to see his stupid little face looking at me, his eyes wide as though shocked that i actually turned.
"hey" i whisper softly, trying to calm down, shaking my head in attempt to clear my thoughts.
he wraps his arms around me, pulling me into him tightly, resting his head on my shoulder so he can whisper to me.
"hey, hey. ma chérie. breathe. its okay, you're okay. i love you so much"
"i love you too" i mumble, hugging him back "that guy is such an annoying, prying little prick! he never leaves anything alone. i know its his job but like, it would be different if we weren't in a group session. he needs to learn to stop prying about things. if we don't say it the first time you ask, leave it. sometimes i don't want a group of fucking people learning my life story!" i ramble, frustrated, knowing he'll listen, if nothing else.
"i know. i know" he says softly, comforting me.
_______
we end up back in the music room, laying on the floor again. staring up at the ceiling, my head on his chest, his arms around me. he told me stories about his family while i cried.
yeah, i cried. for a long, long time. i needed to get it out so i don't blow up on him again. i wouldn't be able to live with myself if i were to do that.
we both fell asleep in that floor, completely and utterly at peace within each other's arms. in that moment, i really was happy.
YOU ARE READING
hospital beds:: remington leith au
Fanfiction"i hate you, you insufferable son of a bitch! i absolutely fucking hate you" "oh, i'm the only one who's allowed to hate me! i'm the sun king!" [all lowercase intentional. mental health themes as well as vulgar language follow. read with care]