Help Me (sequel to Save Me)

Chapter 33

I don't know if this needs a trigger warning.

When VIP begins, Remington is praying that he isn't asked anymore fucking questions about being fucking abused because he might actually shout at someone if that happens. So hopefully it won't.

He's feeling better now that he's had a good cuddle with Andy, even though the man has to go home in a week. Remington understands that he has to go home because Black Veil Brides are in the middle of an album, but he can't help feeling sad when he thinks about Andy going home without him. There is a part of him who just wants to go home.

Remington hasn't spoken to Emerson or Sebastian since the drummer shouted at him, and he's still trying to work up the courage to say something. Andy has tried to persuade him, to assure him that Emerson isn't mad at him, but Remington isn't having it. He is convinced his brothers are angry at him for not telling them that he wanted to die, and he won't believe Andy when he says they aren't, even though he really wishes he could.

"Is it true you're engaged to Andy Biersack?" Someone asks, and Remington sighs. He's so sick of answering the same things over and over. How many times do they need to be told that he is, in fact, engaged to Andy Biersack.

The singer has to hide his annoyance at being asked this so much. "Yes. It is very true. Look, here's the ring," he says, holding his hand out for everyone to see. "Next question." He looks around the room and points at someone, smiling, and hoping it's a different question.

"Will there be new music soon?"

Remington crosses his legs. "There will! We had a song recorded before we started tour and it should be released in a week or so." (Lonely, the song is lonely.) "It's-um-it's a really personal song that I wrote when I was not in a good place and I'm-well-I'm kinda scared to share it because I made myself so vulnerable and I've never written lyrics that are so honest in my life." He suddenly feels so exposed. He looks down and waits for someone else to ask a question.

A hand goes up and Emerson nods at them. "Is the song about being abused?"

Remington stands up and kicks his chair. "I can't fucking do this!" He snaps, and kicks the chair so hard it clatters over. He storms out of the room and straight outside, screaming and punching the wall. He's so fucking angry that they won't just leave him the fuck alone. He's asked over and over that they don't ask questions about it, and what do they do? Ask fucking questions about it. He punches the wall again. It hurts. Fuck, it hurts.

"Remington?" The voice is concerned. "Remington, hey, no, stop," Andy says, grabbing his hands and pulling him away from the wall.

The boy is breathing heavily. "Fuck!" He shouts, eyes wide and angry. "Why won't they fucking stop?"

Andy holds him to his chest and sways. "Shh-sweetheart, it's okay. Just breathe. Nice and slow. You're alright." He has Remington's hands in his own, rubbing his palms slowly. They stay like that for a few minutes. Andy swaying, kissing his head, Remington leaning into him, eyes closed, breathing as calmly as he can manage. Andy waits until Remington is calmer before talking again. "What's wrong, princess, what's got you so upset?"

Remington exhales and shakes his head. He turns around in Andy's arms. "They keep asking me fucking questions about being fucking abused! What am I meant to fucking do?" He looks at his lover, begging him for an answer.

"Breathe. You're going to go out on stage tonight and you're going to ask everyone to film you, and you're going to explain this, okay? Tell them all to post the videos and then everyone who isn't at tonight's show can see how upset it's making you." He's always so calm. When Remington is stressed and overwhelmed, Andy is calm, and the boy couldn't be more grateful for that if he tried.

With a deep breath and a nod, Remington wraps his arms around Andy. "Okay," he mumbles, "okay, I'll do that." His voice is muffled by Andy's shoulder. "Thank you." Every time Remington talks like this, all soft and fragile, it really shows Andy just how much he needs him, how they couldn't live without eachother. And that's how it should be.

The man runs his hand over Remington's back, under his shirt, making contact with his warm skin, and he feels the way Remington relaxes at the touch. "No need to thank me. I love you. Are you okay now?"

Remington makes an incoherent noise and shakes his head. "Not yet," he murmurs, "don't wanna let go of you." He's happy here, in Andy's arms, protected from the world. If only he could stay like this forever. "My hand hurts," he whines after a moment, "think I punched the wall too hard."

Andy pulls away and looks at his knuckles, all scraped and bruised. "I think you did," he agrees, "let's get you a bandage, yeah?" They go back into the venue and find a first aid kit in the green room. Andy makes Remington sit down and carefully cleans his hand and bandages it up securely, kissing his other hand and ruffling his hair.

They're in the dressing room for another five minutes before Emerson and Sebastian come in, looking concerned. "Are you okay?" Emerson asks, approaching his brother.

Remington nods. "Yep," he answers, smiling to prove his point.

"Okay," Emerson says, not sounding convinced, but not wanting to anger his brother by getting into it. He already upset Remington today.

The singer hears the questioning tone in the younger's voice and frowns. "What?"

Emerson furrows his eye brows. "Huh?"

"You don't believe me, do you?" His tone is accusing, tired. He wants to sleep.

"Of course I believe you," Emerson fires back, though it doesn't sound very convincing. "It's just-"

Remington rolls his eyes. "It's just what, Emerson? It's just that I didn't tell you that I wanted to die? Sorry! I'm fucking sorry! Is that what you want to hear? That I'm sorry I want to die? Because I guess I fucking am!" Suddenly he's crying. Why does he keep crying?

The blue eyed rockstar takes Remington's hands. "Come with me, princess, come and get some fresh air." He can see Remington is working himself onto the edge of a panic attack, and knows how claustrophobic he can feel when he's overwhelmed like this.

The boy follows Andy out, waiting until they're outside and on their own before talking. "He hates me," he states, teary, "he hates me, Andy."

"No, pretty, he doesn't hate you." Andy disagrees, "he's worried about you, that's all." He brushes tears from Remington's pale face and kisses his forehead. "You're gorgeous," he  whispers, sensing that Remington is in need of some love and support.

Remington can't help but to smile at the soft words of his wonderful wonderful fiance. "'m  ugly," he pouts, cheering up now he's out of the building.

With a shake of the head, Andy responds. "Now, sweetheart, that just isn't true. You are beautiful." He hears the door open and turns to see who it is. "Hi, Emerson," he smiles.

"Hey," the drummer says quietly. He isn't sure what to say. Is Remington angry at him?

There's an uncomfortable silence. Emerson believes Remington is angry with him and Remington believes Emerson is angry with him. It's a mess. The singer looks at his shoes. He should get some new ones. He looks back up at Emerson, sighs, looks away again, and talks. "I didn't mean to shout."

Emerson shakes his head. "It's okay. I understand. I shouldn't have confronted you about it." He opens his arms. "So, friends, yeah?"

"Always," Remington smiles, and accepts the hug. "You will always be my best friend."

The drummer smiles, too, and nods at Andy, thanking him for taking care of his brother so well. Everyone needs someone like Andy.