Help Me (sequel to Save Me)

Chapter 58

Trigger warning.

Abigail opens the door to a teary-eyed Remington, frowning and letting him in. He's quiet, with his thin form drowning in a hoodie too big for him, and sits on the sofa without saying anything. "How was it in Greece?" The woman asks, knowing better than to jump straight in and ask what's wrong. He has to be eased into it.

The boy shrugs. "Nice," he mumbles, "I cut myself and we got married." It's hard for him to be positive after what he read last night, and he knows he should have told Andy, but he just couldn't.

"You cut yourself?"

Remington nods. "I regretted it after. Andy told me that it's nothing to be ashamed of but I am ashamed." He looks down at his hands, at the wedding ring, checking it's still there. Checking Andy is still there. He really couldn't go on without Andy. The only people keeping him alive right now are Andy and Abigail, and his brothers, if he had the guts to tell them he's seen the comments.

Abigail knows there's something more that's bothering him. He looks shaken, sad. "It's good that you regret it, Remington, it means you're able to understand that hurting yourself isn't helping. Congratulations on getting married." She observes his expression, his eyes, his slouched position.

"I know it isn't helping!" Tears escape his tired eyes and he sinks further into the furniture.

The therapist frowns. "Have you taken your medication this morning?" She's pretty sure she already knows the answer. It doesn't seem like he's taken his medication.

Shaking his head and pulling his sleeves over his hands, Remington rubs his eyes. "I felt weird," he mumbles, knowing that isn't really an excuse. What really happened is that he slept in because of last night's fiasco, and was in a rush to get here on time, and so forgot about his medication. Part of him is angry at Andy for not waking him up, for not driving him to therapy because he knows how anxious Remington is today, and he is aware that driving makes him worse. But at the same time, he understands that the man needs to be in the studio, and that, after all, Remington is an adult. He can look after himself.

"I've got the bottles of pills. Will you take them now?" She opens a drawer and picks up two pill bottles with labels stuck on saying R.L.

The boy nods and accepts the pills she hands him, swallowing them with water and sighing. "Sorry I didn't take it already," he says, putting the glass down.

Abigail closes the drawer. "No need to apologise. It's okay. Is everything okay at home? You seem very anxious."

Remington looks away. He needs to tell her. He knows he will feel better once he's told her, it's just so difficult to come to terms with it. "Fine," he answers instead, even though he isn't.

"There's nothing else bothering you?" The boy shrugs. He can't shake his head because then he'd be lying. "Tell me what's wrong. I'm here to help you. I know that sometimes it's hard to talk about things, Remington, and I understand that you don't always want to talk to Andy about it, but you need to tell someone. You know better than anyone what happens when you keep everything hidden, and I am sure I am right when I say you don't want another breakdown."

Moving about and sighing, Remington talks quietly. He knows she's right. He really doesn't want another breakdown. "It's just-I went on Instagram last night and-" he trails off.

Abigail is almost positive that she knows where this is going. She's had a quick look at Palaye Royale's Instagram recently and was shocked at how brutal the fanbase is. It's really not good for Remington, specially because he takes things so personally. "Do you want me too see?"

"Please," Remington practically begs, handing her his phone with screenshots of the comments he saw yesterday.

Abigail is horrified, and it makes it so much worse knowing how fragile Remington is. None of his so called fans have any idea the struggles he has with being happy and confident in himself. "You have to remember that they don't know you. They wish they did because you're their idol, but they don't. Please don't let this knock your progress back when you have worked so hard for so long." She gives him the phone back. "I want you to talk about this with Andy, even if it's just a short conversation. You two have a special connection and I think talking about it with him will make you feel better."

The boy sighs. "I don't want to dump my problems on him. He's busy and he's already done so much for me."

"He's done so much for you because he loves you, and because you I love him. How does it feel when you tell him things that are upsetting you? Does it help?"

"It helps a lot," he admits, "like it's easier to breathe."

Abigail smiles. "You'll tell him, yeah? Don't keep it from him."

With a nod, Remington gives in. "Okay. I'll tell him."

It's easier said than done, though, because at home later, he can't find the words. He keeps repeating what he's going to say over and over in his head but can't say it out loud for the life of him.

He wakes at one am and can't stop himself from looking at the comments again, reading them so many times he can memorise them, and doesn't realise he's sobbing until Andy wakes beside him and pulls him into his arms.

Remington hides the phone screen against his chest and refuses to let Andy see, even though everything in him needs him to. "I didn't-I didn't mean to wake you," he murmurs, feeling guilty for disturbing Andy.

"Shush you, stop apologising. Deep breaths, hold my hand, and tell me what's going on." Andy has to be firm when Remington is like this, otherwise the boy makes himself believe that he doesn't care.

A few moments pass before Remington says anything. "'m just a bit overwhelmed is all," he lies.

"Sweetheart, I know something's wrong. Please tell me." He kisses his head .

Remington shakes his head. "I'm fine."

"Angel, you're crying at one in the morning. You're not fine. What's wrong?"

The boy is finding it hard to keep it inside. He so desperately needs to tell Andy, but has convinced himself that he's just bringing Andy down. He should be able to handle his own issues. "Nothing, Andy, I'm fine!" He pushes his husband away and puts his head in his hands, angry at himself for shouting. He hates that he can't control his emotions all the time. "I'm sorry, Andy, I-I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Princess, look at me," Andy urges, "it's okay. You're okay. Just tell me what's going on. I love you and I promise that whatever it is will not make me love you any less. I just need you to tell me." The soft, calm voice he uses never fails to make Remington feel so safe.

Remington crawls back into Andy's arms. "Look," he whispers, and gives the man his phone.

"Oh baby boy, you need to stop this"

"What?"

"Obviously your fans can't leave you alone and you can't keep doing this to yourself. You were so happy when you weren't on social media. Don't you want to be happy like that all the time?" He runs a hand through the younger's hair and deletes the screenshots from his phone, uninstalling Instagram and turning the device off. "You can't let people you don't even know hurt you like this. It's not fair on you at all."

Remington yawns. "I can't help it."

"I know, beautiful."