Help Me (sequel to Save Me)

Chapter 24

It's weird to be back in one of these stupid creaky beds, and it's unsettling that he doesn't have Andy to cuddle. He got so used to being able to snuggle into the man if he ever woke up with bad thoughts. It feels cold without Andy.

Thank God for sleeping pills.

Remington doesn't know how he feels about Alex now. He's had time to think about it, and the more he does, the more freaked out he is by how openly the man was about flirting with him, even after he said he had a boyfriend. Something doesn't feel right.

He'd find it hard to sleep if it wasn't for the stupid sleeping pills. He'd rather lie awake all night than take them. But apparently that's not allowed here. What is allowed here?

The boy awakes from the forced slumber earlier than he is meant to, and whimpers, the dull light seeping through the curtain hurting his eyes and making his head hurt. He sits himself up and leans forwards, his head hanging between his shoulders heavily, like it's full with concrete that's clogging up his brain. He feels terrible.

He stays like that for a while, eyes closed, body quivering uncomfortably. He's definitely not well. That much he knows for sure. He starts to feel really quite hot and finds himself practically panting, and it's like his stomach is twisting inside him. "Fuck," he breathes, stumbling off the bed and straight to the bin, but only manages to get half way before he falls to his knees and throws up, coughing violently and then wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Alex wakes at the noise, and quickly gets out of bed to help Remington when he sees what's going on. He get's the boy off the floor and sits him on his bed, leaving the room to get a doctor. He returns less than a minute later with a member of staff who guides Remington out of the room and into the sick ward.

Remington is tucked into another creaky bed and told there's a bucket by the bed if he needs to be sick. He barely registers the words, but nods, covering his face with the blankets and curling up underneath. He wishes Andy was here to stroke his hair and rub his back like the man does when he's not feeling well. He's glad that he falls back to sleep eventually, for some reason feeling better now he's not in a room with Alex. Strange.

It's no surprise that he has a nightmare, but when he wakes up from it, he's feeling way too weak to scream or cry. He wants Andy so much it hurts his heart. A doctor comes to give him breakfast, which he can't face, and when he throws up after eating a bit of it, he's given a glass of water and told to try and sleep.

He does try, but he can't, not without Andy here to kiss his head and whisper that it's okay. It gets to midday and Alex comes into the small room and sits on the chair by the bed. "How are you?" He asks, as though it isn't obvious that he's feeling like absolute shit.

Remington is too tired for this. "Fucking great," he mumbles, "Never felt fucking better."

"Sorry. Stupid question," Alex apologises, and he does sound genuinely sorry. Maybe too sorry.

The boy looks wearily at the man. "You don't need to be here." Really, what he means, is I don't want you to be here. But he would never say that.

"What wouldn't I be? You're my best friend."

Remington shakes his head. "No, I'm not. You've known me for one fucking day." He sits up and rubs his eyes.

Alex smiles. "So? Doesn't mean you can't be my best friend." He's watching Remington way too intently.

The way Alex looks at him gives him weird feelings, like he's unsafe. He wants Andy. "I'm not in the mood for this," he says, "just go, please. I want to go to sleep."

At first, it seems like he won't, but thankfully Alex does go, and Remington sinks into the bed as a doctor comes in. "You've got a fever, Remington, so we're going to keep you in here for now. Since you're going to be in here for a few days, you'll be allowed visitors between 9am and 7pm, so do let us know if there's anyone you want to see."

Remington yawns. "I want Andy," he states, "please."

Once the doctor has gone, and he's on his own, Remington curls up and tries to go to sleep, but finds it to be impossible without Andy, and ends up crying when he has to be sick again. Why is the whole world against him?

A few hours pass and it feels like an eternity, and he's beyond relieved when he hears the door open and the familiar and soothing voice of his boyfriend. "How are you feeling, sweetheart?" He asks gently, sitting in the chair. The question doesn't annoy him this time.

Remington reaches his arm out weakly and whines. "Cuddle," he demands, "Andy, cuddle."

The words, and the desperation in which they're spoken, makes it very clear that Remington is feeling touch starved and vulnerable. Andy sits in the bed and helps Remington into his lap, seeing how exhausted he is, and kisses his head. "Oh baby boy," he whispers, aware that pet names comfort Remington, specially when he's not feeling so good.

The sick boy has the fabric of his lover's shirt in his hand and his body curled into the man, getting as much physical contact as he can get while Andy is here. He'll have to leave in the evening. "Thanks for coming," he murmurs, "needed you." It's the first time he's said those words to Andy, and he means them. He did need Andy. He does need Andy. He feels safe now. He always does with Andy.

"Of course I came, princess. I could never deny my baby boy cuddles." My baby boy. Remington blindly searches for his hand, grabbing it and holding it to his chest like a teddy bear for a child. Andy kisses his head again. "Your brothers are going to visit tomorrow." He rubs his palm.

Remington nods. "Sebastian's okay?" He asks, scared that his brother might still be drinking.

With a hum, Andy replies. "He's okay, pretty, Emerson is staying with him and he went to rehab today." His words are a relief. It's good that Emerson is staying with him. He's very good at being in control when he needs to be. The boy whimpers and shuffles about. "What's wrong, you okay?"

"Sick," Remington manages to say, and is grateful for Andy reaching over for the bucket so that he doesn't have to move.

The man holds it for his boyfriend and Remington heaves into it. Andy rubs his back and strokes his hair. "You're okay, you're alright, just get it out." When Remington is done, he puts the bin down and wraps him up in his arms protectively.

Remington closes his eyes, tired and dizzy. "Needed you," he repeats in a whisper, and they both know that it means so much more than saying I love you.

"You want to go to sleep, sweetheart?" All he gets is an exhausted nod. "I love you, precious, sleep well."