Help Me (sequel to Save Me)

Chapter 84

Trigger warning.

The news that Sebastian will be in jail for six months isn't a surprise, though is very upsetting, and has Remington and Emerson in tears. The younger goes home, overwhelmed and in need of sleep, and Remington cries into Andy.

The youngest brother couldn't be more grateful for Shy, who cancels her day of work to stay with him. Emerson is terrified of what is going to happen to Remington with Sebastian locked up for half a year. Sure; the two are going through a bit of a rough patch at the moment, but Remington needs Sebastian. He always has. Emerson needs him, too, and he doesn't know how he's going to cope with the guitarist gone for six months. He just hopes Remington is okay. At least he has Andy.

Remington is told he will be in hospital for another week, since he's still underweight and weak and they need to be sure he isn't just going to fall straight back into his awful eating habits as soon as he's home. The problem is-Remington wants to fall back into his bad eating habits when he gets home, because he doesn't want to be fat and ugly. He doesn't want to eat at all.

Andy goes home briefly to shower and change into clean clothes, and brings Remington a book, his notebook, and buys a nice bright bouquet of flowers to put by the bed, just to bring some life to the white room. When he returns to the hospital, Remington is sitting on the bed with his phone, watching videos of cats on Instagram to cheer himself up, and looks up as Andy comes in. "I'm so bored," he whines, dropping the phone on the bed and standing up to stretch his arms and legs.

"I bought you some flowers," Andy announces, showing the boy the pretty flowers. "I even remembered to bring a little vase from home to put them in."

Smiling, Remington watches Andy arrange the bouquet in the little glass vase. "Did you find my book?"

"Indeed, I did." He puts the things down on the table by the bed, with the flowers, and ruffles Remington's hair. "How're you doing, princess, you feeling okay?"

The boy shrugs and sits back down, adjusting the tube on his face. "Apart from wanting to be sick all the time, I'm fine," he answers, "and 'm worried about Sebby goin' to jail. Don' want him to go." He leans on Andy when the man sits beside him, and sighs.

Andy rubs his arm, and beside him, Remington yawns. The boy doesn't sleep well in hospitals. "I know, but he'll be okay. It's only six months."

They both look at the doctor who comes in. He explains that Remington should have a shower, and shows Andy how to disconnect the tube from the frame and close the end up so he can get it wet. Remington doesn't want to shower. He doesn't want to have to look at his body.

The doctor leaves them alone, and Remington yawns again. "I'll just shower now," he says quietly, and stands up. "Why can't they just take this thing out?" He knows why; because he won't eat anything and he'd lose weight and probably die.

"Alright, come on, I'll wash your hair," Andy soothes, screwing the tube shut and gently pushing Remington towards the little bathroom.

"Don' wanna see," the boy whispers, rubbing his eyes.

Andy closes the door. "You close your eyes if you need to, sweetie, I'll make sure you don't slip." He turns on the water.

Remington nods and closes his eyes, lifting his arms up and letting Andy take the gown off him. He likes how Andy doesn't say anything about his body. That would make it so much worse. Once he's undressed, Andy guides him into the shower, holding his shoulders. Andy's hands in his hair make Remington calm, and he leans his head back as the man washes his hair, the warm water running down his face like tears. "I never meant to starve myself," he says out of the blue, "I didn't know it was getting so bad, Andy. Thought I was fine."

"It's okay to not be okay." There's a little bottle of conditioner on the shelf, and Andy picks it up. "You're being helped, baby boy, you're not fighting this on your own."

The boy can't help running his hands over his ribs. "Feels like I am," he mumbles, "thought I was getting better but I'm-I'm getting-'m getting worse."

Andy takes his hand. "And that is okay. The important thing is that you know there's something wrong now, and you're getting help, and you're still here, still breathing." He runs the conditioner through his husband's hair, glancing at his body. It's reassuring that he isn't scarily thin, that he's not as thin as he was when he was diagnosed. Andy knows part of the reason why he collapsed yesterday was because of the news of his brother being in a car accident, and not just because he had purged that morning.

"I just wanna go home and for everything to be like it was before-before I hallucinated. This is my fault!"

"No. No, it's not. You can get out now, if you want. I'm holding a towel for you." His husband just nods, and Andy turns off the water, wraps the towel around Remington, and kisses his head.

Remington opens his eyes. "I love you." Hands holding the towel tight around him, he stands still as Andy uses the hand towel to dry his hair. "Thankyou for looking after me."

"No need to ever thank me. I love you and I will always look after you. Arms up."

The hospital gown is put back on and Remington sits back on the bed as Andy re-connects the tube, just thinking. It's funny how this disorder is messing with him. Strange, really, and scary. There's a voice in his head that keeps telling him that he's fat and ugly and that eating is wrong, but then there's a little voice saying that he's beautiful and that starving is wrong, and he doesn't know which one to listen to, but the louder one is just -

-easier.

But recovery isn't easy. If it was, everyone would do it.