Help Me (sequel to Save Me)

Chapter 68

Trigger warning.

The questionnaire Abigail sends Remington torments him. He daren't open it. What if he answer the questions and it turns out that he does actually have an eating disorder and that there really is something wrong with him? He'd rather not know than have that to deal with. It's easier to not know.

It's just gone eight pm, and Andy got home half an hour ago, and they're currently watching television. Remington told Andy that he already ate, but he didn't. He knows he shouldn't have lied but it just happened. He's sitting so Andy can't see the screen of his laptop. He doesn't want to explain this to the man, not yet. Maybe not ever.

He clicks on the link. Reads the first question.

Are you afraid of gaining weight?

The boy wants to cry. He answers everything on the verge of tears and clicks send results. He knows he won't see them. Abigail told him they'd be sent to her first, so they can talk about it in therapy. It's better that way. He closes the laptop, sighs heavily, and puts it on the floor. He's fighting back tears, now. They won't let him be.

What will he do if he's told that he has an eating disorder? How will he cope with that? Will he be able to cope with that? He knows the urge is back, lingering, growing like a patch of nettles, not going away until he does something about it. The television sounds louder than it really is. It's making his head hurt. He picks up the remote, turns it down. Andy looks at him. "What's wrong?" He asks. He doesn't need to ask if he's okay. The answer to that is obvious. He isn't okay.

Remington rubs his eyes. The tears won't go away. "Nothing, I'm fine," he says, but he doesn't sound convincing. Not at all.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" Andy asks again, patient and concerned.

The boy looks at the telly without actually seeing it. "Nothing," he repeats, and stands up. He has to close his eyes for a second or two to calm the dizziness. He shouldn't have lied earlier. Why the fuck does he keep lying when he wants to tell the truth?

"You have eaten, haven't you?"

Remington is angered by the question but he doesn't know why. He's so sick of hearing and thinking about food. "Yes!" He shouts, cringing at the way it makes his head ache.

Andy frowns. He turns the television off. "Remington-"

"I've fucking eaten, Andy! I'm not anorexic! I can look after myself!" He hates how untrue that is. He hasn't eaten, he probably is anorexic, and he can barely look after himself.

The older of the two stands up, too. "I never said you couldn't," he reminds the boy, "please, talk to me."

Remington looks away. "No! I'm fine! Stop fucking pretending like you fucking care when no one fucking does!"

"That's not true," Andy tries, shocked at how sudden this is. "Sit down."

The boy glances at the doorway. "No! You can't tell me what to do!"

His voice is so pained and it makes Andy want to cry. "Please, Reming-"

"No! You don't fucking care about me! No one does! You're all just here to laugh at me while I fuck up everything!" He looks down at his hands. "I need to hurt!" He screams, and runs out of the room and up the stairs.

"Remington!" Andy calls, chasing after him and grabbing him before he makes it to the bathroom. The boy struggles against him. "Remington, breathe." He holds the younger to him, knowing he'll stop trying to escape once he's calmer. "It's okay, just breathe. In for three, out for three."

The warmth of his husband makes everything feel easier, and Remington lets himself be held. He really needs to be held. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

Andy rubs his back. Every time he hopes that the bumps on his spine won't be so prominent, but every time Remington seems thinner. "It's okay," he assures him, "have you eaten?" Remington knows he can't lie about it again. It's pretty clear that he hasn't. He shakes his head. "Will you eat now?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Remington, that's a lie and you know it. I'm going to get you something to eat. We can't have you collapsing again."

The boy just sighs. He doesn't know what to say anymore. He sits in the living room, waiting for Andy to return from the kitchen. He comes back with a sandwich and hands it to Remington, who looks at it for a moment before biting into it. Andy is pleased that he finishes the sandwich, and carries him up to bed after he falls asleep on him.

He can't help but to notice how bony Remington is when he lies him in bed at his shirt rides up, exposing his hips. The bones are sharp, and he carefully pushes the shirt up further, looking at his ribs, the sunken in stomach that's obviously not got enough food in it. He picks up his hand. His fingers are thin, like they might snap, and his wrist is so small, like a child's.

He gets him out of the shirt without waking him. He doesn't understand how he's lost so much weight so quickly. In Greece, he was hardly underweight, and now he's just skin and bone. It doesn't make sense. Andy has been so careful; making sure Remington eats everyday.

He holds his hand, runs his thumb over his knuckles, and then everything makes sense. There are scars on his knuckles that weren't there a few weeks ago. He threw up after that nightmare that he never explained. He goes to the bathroom after eating and always turns both the taps on, and when he comes out, he seems shifty, like he's hiding something.

Andy can't believe he didn't pick up on the signs earlier. He can't believe he was so stupid.

He looks back at his lover and tries to work out why he'd do this to himself. Is it because he can't cut himself and he needs a way to hurt? That thought makes Andy cry. He can only imagine the sort of pain Remington is in for him to be doing this. Why didn't Remington tell him? Has he told Abigail?

No.

Does he even realise how dangerous it is? Does he even know what he's doing?

No.

Remington never means for it to happen. He just suddenly gets this uncontrollable urge to puke up whatever he just ate.

And he's been doing it since the day they got back from Greece.