Help Me (sequel to Save Me)

Chapter 12

Remington doesn't let go of his notebook for the rest of the day. At dinner time in the evening, he sits with it in his lap and eats the bland food, happy that this is the last meal he's having here. He can't wait to be home again with his brothers and with Andy. He didn't realise how much he loved Andy until he was brought here, when he could only see the man every few weeks.

He can see Johnathon sat with some of what Remington assumes are friends, and wonders if he's shouted at them yet, or if it's just him that he shouts at. After dinner, he is taken in to an empty bedroom where they're letting him sleep for the night so that he isn't put in distress by having Johnathon in the same room. He is told to pack his things, and so ventures into Johnathon's room to shove his things into his bag.

The man is watching him and it makes him feel uneasy, but he doesn't say anything. "Are you leaving?" Johnathon asks. He doesn't understand how Remington can leave but he can't, when Remington is the one who keeps screaming.

The boy doesn't look up from folding a shirt. "Yes," he says simply, not wanting to get into another fucking argument.

"How much did you pay them?" The question is blunt.

Remington knows exactly what he is implying. "I didn't," he answers, giving up on folding his clothes.

"So you're telling me that they're just letting you go, even though you're fucking mental?" He sounds so rude. Remington wants to know what he did to make Johnathon hate him so much. Is it just his existence that angers people?

The singer nods. "I guess so," he mumbles, figuring that it is easier to just agree than to argue against it. He doesn't want another fucking argument.

Johnathon laughs bitterly. "I bet they're only sending you home because they can't fix you." Remington knows the man is jealous, of course he is jealous, because everyone gets jealous when they see someone leave, but why does he have to make Remington feel so bad about leaving? He should be happy for him.

"Probably," the boy says quietly, not about to get into a fight over this on his last day. Dr Johnson doesn't need another interruption. He zips up the beg, making sure his notebook is safely inside, and picks it up.

The older man just watches as he walks towards the door, opens it, and steps out. And then he sighs and asks himself why the hell he is so mean to the poor boy. He would do anything to be in Remington's shoes, to have family that cares, a boyfriend that loves him. He would do anything just to have one person care about him.

Remington sleeps well, despite the words of his ex-roommate lingering in his mind. The joy of knowing he's going home overweighs the sadness of hearing Johnathon basically say he's broken and useless. He's used to hearing that, anyway, so it shouldn't be a big deal.

In the morning, he has breakfast and then has to talk to Dr Johnson before he can go. He sits in the man's office, trying to be as patient as he can. The man has a paper bag on his desk. "Sebastian will be here to pick you up in ten minutes," he says, "Here are your medications. When you see your therapist, you need to give this to her. She'll give you a limited amount each week to reduce the temptations of overdosing."

Remington nods. That's a good idea. "Does she know I'm giving it to her?"

"Yes, we contacted her yesterday. Have you got everything?"

The boy hums. "I think so. This isn't mine," he says, and hands over the mp3 player he was given for music. "Do I get my phone and stuff back?"

Dr Johnson takes the little device. "It's all in this bag for you. If you find something is missing, just give us a call, alright?"

"Thank you."

The ten minutes waiting for Sebastian feels like so much longer, but eventually the man turns up and takes Remington's bag for him, thanking the doctors as they pass them. "Are you excited to come home?" He asks his brother, who nods enthusiastically, stepping out of the building.

"So fucking excited. You have no idea how fucking boring it is here, Sebby, oh my god!"

Sebastian chuckles. It is such a breath of fresh air to see Remington so cheerful. It's been so long since he's been cheerful like this. "Look at you smiling. It's so good to see!" He unlocks the car and the two get in. "Do you wanna go straight home?"

Remington shrugs. "Where else would we go?"

"We can go shopping, if you want. I barely recognise you in these boring clothes." He starts the car as Remington searches for his phone in the bag he was given.

The singer pouts. "They wouldn't let me wear any good clothes. Do you know how annoying it is to be basically told what to fucking wear?"

"Yes, because that's all you and Emerson do." His remark gets a laugh from Remington, who is now waiting for his phone or turn on. "How do you feel, though? Better?" Of course he's going to ask. He needs to know that his brother isn't going to try and kill himself like he nearly did.

Remington types in his pin and hums. "A lot better, actually. Despite the fact that my roommate was a total dick, I feel so much better." He's talking with ease, just happy to be out of that place and with his brother. "Holy shit, that is a lot of notifications!" His phone buzzes in his hand for a while, and he just stares at it in surprise. "I've been tagged in 6,432 posts," he says in shock, "wow, that's a lot."

They stop at traffic lights. "Everyone loves you," the guitarist says, "you do know that, don't you?" His voice goes momentarily serious.

"I know that some people love me," Remington responds, "it's green, drive." He commands as soon as the light changes.

"Yes sir," Sebastian jokes, "but seriously, you know that you are loved, right?"

Remington hums, putting his phone down and deciding to look at all his notifications later. "So-shopping?" He questions.

"Shopping," Sebastian agrees, "it's good to have you back, pumpkin."