Help Me (sequel to Save Me)

Chapter 89

Trigger warning.

Telling Andy he's been hiding things is one thing, but actually explaining what they are is a whole different level of scary. Remington knows Andy is waiting for him to explain, but he just sits there on the counter, not saying a thing. Andy turns away to finish off the soup, and Remington looks at his hands as he tries to find the courage to say something. The idea of exposing himself in such a way is terrifying.

He doesn't say anything, and soon Andy is giving him a bowl of soup and a slice of white bread, without butter, and ushering him over to the table. Remington pulls out a chair and sits next to Andy, to avoid eye contact, and dips the bread in, sighing. "I feel sick," he says, dropping the bread into the bowl and pushing it away.

Andy spoons out the bread before and turns sideways in his chair. "Hey, sweetheart, look at me.

Remington does, with a stubborn face. "What?" He asks, voice agitated.

"I'm going to feed you, okay?"

The boy looks away. "'kay." He isn't sure what it is about having Andy feed him, but it makes eating seem less like a chore. "Just a bit, though."

With a nod, Andy puts a hand under Remington's chin, and gives him a spoonful of soup, which he swallows reluctantly. "Good boy," he says, and Remington laughs.

"Good boy?"

Andy smiles. "Good boy. Open your mouth."

"If I open my mouth, you're gonna make me have more," the younger pouts.

"Correct. Open your mouth."

Remington hesitates, but then does as he's told, and lets Andy give him some more soup. "I'm expecting endless cuddles for this," he tells the man, after swallowing and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You know I wouldn't let anyone else feed me." Andy does, in fact, know that. It's an ultimate act of trust; feeding someone with an eating disorder. And even more so because it's Remington, and he's been let down by someone he trusted completely to begin with.

"I know. Thank you for trusting me. Open your mouth."

"And I don't trust anyone like I trust you." He accepts another spoonful. "You need to eat yours, too, otherwise that's not fair."

Andy chuckles. "I will, don't you worry. The only thing that's not fair is how adorable you are. Open."

"Shut up," Remington whines,

It takes a while, but Andy manages to get Remington to finish the whole bowl of soup by talking about things to distract him while he feeds him. He wonders if it's true; that Remington wouldn't let anyone else feed him. He wonders if Sebastian ever did, when he was staying here.

Remington is surprised at himself for being able to finish it, and asks Andy to stand outside the bathroom while he uses the toilet so he has no chance of making himself sick, because he knows he probably would if there was no one there to stop him.

He watches tv while Andy eats his soup, and goes over what he is going to say about the nightmares, about everything he's been hiding from Andy, from everyone. The more he thinks about it, the more stupid he feels about hiding it all. It was such an immature and unhealthy way to deal with his problems.

When Andy joins him in the living room, Remington opens his arms, and keenly leans into the man, who picks him up and kisses his shoulder. Andy sits down with his lover straddling him, and pushes hair from his face. "Are you ready to talk about your nightmares now?"

Remington sighs. "Yes, maybe. Not really." He shrugs. "It's confusing."

Andy kisses his head. "I know, baby, I know."

"I want to, but it's so stupid."

The man rubs his back. "It's not stupid. I won't force you to tell me anything, sweetheart, and there's no rush. I just think you'd feel better if you were to tell me."

Remington smiles. "I know I'll feel better, but just-cuddles first?"

"Course."

"Did you talk to Emerson?"

Andy hums, runs a hand through his lover's hair. "I did," he responds, "he's really sorry."

Leaning forwards into Andy, Remington closes his eyes. "Sorry about what? Blaming me for being a fuck up, or for leaving me alone by the side of the road in the rain?"

"Everything. You're not a fuck up.

"But he didn't say sorry to me, though, so it doesn't really make a difference. He didn't stop me from getting out the car and he should have. You would have. You wouldn't leave me by a main road. I know you wouldn't. I am a fuck up."

Andy sighs. "I would never do anything of the kind, but I'm not Emerson, sweetie. You need to talk to him." His voice is gentle. "You're definitely not a fuck up."

With a frown and a yawn, Remington digs his head into Andy's shoulder. "Don't wanna," he whines, "'m sleepy."

"Good. Go to sleep. You've had a rough day."

Remington hums. "'s been rough," he agrees in a whisper, "tell you about the nightmares tomorrow. Promise." His breath is warm against Andy's skin. "You'll carry me to bed?"

A soothing hand is in the younger's hair. "You don't even have to ask to know the answer to that. Of course I will."

Remington smiles sleepily.