Save me. (Remington Leith X Andy Biersack)

Chapter 52

Big thanks to HeartArtemisHunter for all the help with this story! Much appreciated! X

Remington fiddles with the dial for a while until he finally manages to stop the water pounding down.

He peels his wet clothes off and leaves them on the floor in the shower, crawling out and stretching his arm until he reaches a towel.

The boy wraps himself in the soft fabric and stumbles into his bedroom, pulling back the sheets and hiding under them.

He stares blankly at the ceiling and shivers, water soaking into the bed.

He doesn't know how long he's there, but eventually he hears the front door open and the two lovers come inside. Remington wants to shout for his brother, just for a hug, but doesn't have it in him to interrupt their enjoyable evening.

His stomach rumbles. He should eat something. He should also sleep. And take his pills.

There's a knock on his door. Sebastian is checking if his brother is sleeping. When he gets no reply he opens the door and peeks his head in, frowning. "You okay?"

Remington is warming up now. He's still shaking. "No," he says simply, and looks away.

Sebastian closes the door behind him and sits on the bed. "Do you want to talk about it?" The boy shrugs. He's so confused. Is Dr Beckley actually dead? "Do you want a hug?"

He nods this time, and melts into his brother's warm arms. "I had a hallucination or something," he mumbles, "don't really know what happened, but I woke up in the shower."

The guitarist rests his chin on the top of the younger's head. "What was the hallucination?"

Remington shivers. "Read your emails. Said Dr Beckley died. Ran away to my house and she was there, choked me and banged my head. Then I woke up." He's whispering, voice trembling, and sighs. Sebastian can feel the boy shaking in his arms. "Is-is he dead?"

The man knows he can't keep it hidden anymore. It's not fair. "I'm so sorry, Remington," he whispers, "he's dead."

Remington heaves a breath. He would be angry if he wasn't so exhausted. And he can't bare the idea of being on his own right now. "Don't go," he begs, "please stay."

"I'm not going anywhere," Sebastian soothes, "go to sleep."

The younger whimpers. "Need to take my pills."

Sebastian grabs the bottle of pills from the table by the bed and hands two to Remington, who swallows them down and then sinks into the mattress. He waits for the man to lie down before curling up into his side and exhaling.

It's four in the morning when Remington wakes, shooting up and straight to the bin by the door. He thought he'd stopped being sick.

He looks up wearily when his brother crouches down beside him. "Sorry."

Sebastian shakes his head. "Shush, no, stop that." He helps the boy to his feet and leads him back to the bed.

Remington pulls the covers up over his face. "I hope she burns in fucking hell," he mumbles, and yawns.

"I hope so too," the older says, "now sleep."

Morning comes around. Remington gets dressed in a hoodie and tracksuit bottoms and shuffles into the kitchen, yawning. "Morning," he says to Larisa, and sits on a stool by the breakfast bar, "I feel like a fucking zombie."

Larisa has sympathy for him. She hears him at night, crying. "Do you want some Nutella pancakes?"

The boy perks up at this. "That'd be fucking great," he answers, "I mean yes please, thank you."

A plate or warm pancakes smothered in the chocolate goodness it put in front of him and he mumbles a thank you.

Remington eats his sweet breakfast slowly and in between yawns, stoping and frowning when there's a knock on the door. He watches Larisa leave the room to see who it is.

"Remington, Andy's here!" She calls, and the singer panics. He doesn't want the man to see him in this state.

Andy comes into the kitchen and leans against the counter. "I wanted to see you," he says honestly.

With a sigh, Remington drops his fork on the plate. "Why?" He asks bluntly.

"Because I miss you," the man explains, "is that not okay?" Andy feels a bit dejected. He thought the boy would be happy to see him.

Remington isn't hungry anymore. "I wasn't really expecting to see you," he says, "and I look like absolute shit."

The older of the two sighs. Why does Remington seem so down? "You're beautiful," he states, as if it's the most obvious thing on the world.

A bitter laugh escapes the tired boy's mouth. He finds it painfully funny that he'd ever be called even remotely average looking. "I could do with leaving the house," he admits, "and I do need some new clothes."

Andy smiles at this. "Perfect! Let's go shopping!"

Remington tries to be enthusiastic. Shopping with Andy could be fun, couldn't it?

The boy disappears upstairs and swallow his painkillers, brushes his hair, and messily smudges some eyeshadow on so he looks less dead. Or he just looks dead, but in an artsy way rather than an I get no sleep way.

He tells Sebastian where they're going and Sebastian ensures the younger man that, if he needs him, to send him a message. Remington feels better knowing his brother will come and pick him up if he gets overwhelmed or scared of whatever else keeps happening to him at the moment.

The two singers drive to the shopping centre and wonder into whatever shops are nearby.

In a vintage second hand store, Remington finds a turtle neck to replace the one he soaked in blood, and goes to try it on.

He takes his hoodie off and can't help but to let his eyes linger on the scar across his stomach.

She did that to him.

He likes the shirt, likes how it makes him look thin and healthy even though he's really quite unhealthy.

When he goes to pay Andy hands the member of staff his credit card right at the last moment, and while Remington protests, he does like being treated like he matters, like he's cared about.

At lunch time they sit in a quiet cafe off the main street and the waitress who serves them recognises Andy. She knows better then to ask for a picture.

Remington seems to brighten up in the afternoon. He finds a few pares of pants he likes and even buys a skirt, being put off on checkout by the middle aged man giving him dirty looks.

"What the fuck is your problem?" The boy snaps as the man scans the clothes.

"Remington, don't," Andy says quietly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Remington pushes the hand away and snatches the things from the man. He slams a £20 note onto the desk and storms out, suddenly angry.

He knows he shouldn't be annoyed at Andy. He's done nothing wrong. He's been so sweet.

But he's just so fucking angry at what has happened to him and that anger needs to go somewhere.

Andy catches up to him. "He's a dick, Remington, don't let him get to you."

The boy stops walking and turns around. He know she has no right to be annoyed at Andy. "I'm just so fucking pissed off at the world," he says sharply, "I didn't mean to shout. Sorry."

"It's alright. What do you wanna do now?"

Remington shrugs.