Help Me (sequel to Save Me)

Chapter 13

HI! I just wanna say a huge fucking thankyou to every one who reads this! I appreciate you so much and it makes my day to see such sweet comments and messaged from you. I never really intended on carrying on this story back when I started it, so it's really fucking reassuring that people like it and read it and genuinely care about it, because I often think that it's a pretty shitty book if I'm honest. So thankyou!

The two men come into the house and dump everything by the door, wondering where Emerson and Andy are, since they were both here this morning. "We need to work out where you're living," Sebastian says as they take off their shoes.

Remington unties his laces. "I'm guessing it's between you and Em?" He asks. Part of him wants to stay with Andy, though he knows that's not possible. Not yet, anyway. Hopefully one day he will be able to live with Andy.

"Unless you've got a third brother," the guitarist jokes, "think about it. There's no rush." He watches the singer wonder into the kitchen and open the fridge.

"I missed nice food," Remington says cheerfully, "I missed everything." He feels a hand on his shoulder, and turns to look at his brother, smiling. They both notice how he didn't jump at the contact.

Sebastian smiles, too. "What was it like there?" He is genuinely interested, and he genuinely wants to hear all about his brother's time away. It's important to him.

The younger man finds a jar of Nutella in the cupboard and gets a spoon form the drawer. He tells Sebastian all about it. About Johnathon, Dr Johnson, the art gallery argument, everything. Sebastian listens intently, the voice of Remington more than welcome in his ears. He never really thought he'd miss his brother as much as he did.

At some point the front door opens and the two familiar voices of Emerson and Andy are heard as they chat. Remington practically leaps up from the chair he's in and dashes out to see them, wrapping his little brother in a hug. Emerson gasps, abandoning his things to encase his best friend in his arms. Neither of them say anything, they just take in the familiarity of eachother, of being whole again after so long.

When Remington hugs Andy, he hears the man whisper into his ear, and swears that his heart actually bursts inside him. "I never want to see you hurting." His hands are on the small of the younger's back and he talks into his ear.

Remington exhales. Right now, right here, he feels so so loved. He doesn't say anything in response. He doesn't need to. Andy knows how much his boy loves him.

The four men sit in Sebastian's living room all playing scrabble, chatting, laughing. "I'm sorry, Em, but cringiness is not a fucking word," Sebastian protests as the drummer puts the word down on the board.

"Yes it is," the man argues, laughing.

Sebastian shakes his head, looking at the two lovers on the other sofa who are comfortably snuggled up together, Andy's arm protectively around the younger's shoulders. The guitarist is so glad that Remington feels safe with the man now, after so long of being scared of even just touching him. He knows how devastating it was for his brother to be so terrified of Andy. "It literally isn't."

Emerson is laughing. He knows damn well it isn't a word, but was hoping that he'd get away with it. "Fine, fine, I'll put something else down," he gives in, taking the letters off the board, also glancing at the two men on the sofa, smiling at the sweet sight of them. He loves how much Andy cares for Remington, how fond he is of the brow-eyed boy.

"Thankyou," Sebastian says, his voice light, happy. They're back together. But better than that; Remington is smiling, and he has that sparkle back, that joy within him that brings up the mood of everyone around him.

Once Emerson has put down a word that isn't made up, it's Remington's go, but he's content with just listening to the men around him talking, and lets Andy go for him.

His mind momentarily flicks back to the hospital, to Johnathon, Freya, Amber. He wonders what they're doing, whether they ever think about him, if they miss him. But he's only been gone a day. They probably don't. He did spend the whole time there arguing with Johnathon. He still doesn't understand why they fought so much. Was it his fault? If Holly was here, she'd say it was, because it always is.

The boy doesn't understand why she had to make him believe that everything was his fault, or why she saw the need to convince him that not even his own dear brothers loved him. He just wants to know, once and for all, why the hell she put him through everything that she put him through.

"Don't disagree with me," she said more than once, "you know I'm right."

Remington never knew how to respond to those words. To begin with, he didn't know she was right, not at all, but by the end? God, by the end, he believed every single fucking word that came out of her cruel cruel mouth. "I'm sorry," is what he'd always end up saying in response. It was the only thing he knew how to say to her. Everything else was too hard to say.

Holly would laugh sometimes, when he said sorry, and towards the end? Well, she'd hit him. "No, you're not," she would say, which was ironic really, because she always told him not to disagree with her, and there she was, disagreeing with him.

"Remington?"

The boy blinks stiffly. "Huh?" He notices that he's in a different position now, his body curled into Andy, who's giving him concerned looks.

Andy frowns. "Are you alright?" The man is pretty sure he knows why Remington has started trembling. He hates that he knows.

"Flashback," Remington says simply. He sees no point in hiding it.

His arms holding the younger to him, Andy kisses his head. "It's your go," he says.

Remington hadn't realised he'd been in his head for so long. He's embarrassed. "Oh, okay," he manages to say, looking at the letters he has. He yawns, rubs his eyes, and gives up. "You do it, 'm too sleepy." He shuffles around and settles in the man's lap.

"Go to sleep, princess," Andy soothes, rubbing his back. "Sweet dreams."

Remington smiles sleepily, closing his eyes. He hasn't been this happy for so fucking long, he forgot it existed. God, he hasn't felt so safe, so comfortable, so protected, in so long.

He never felt like this with Holly. Not ever. Even when they first met, when she was nice, when she took him out and made him breakfast and made him laugh. He never felt like he does now. Even in Sebastian's or Emerson's arms, he doesn't feel like this.

Because this-

this is what being with your soulmate feels like.

And no one can ever take that away.