Help Me (sequel to Save Me)

Chapter 116

Trigger warning

Three days pass and Remington doesn't leave the house. Andy tries to persuade him to go for a walk or at least sit in the garden, but he refuses, says he can't face the outside world.

Two nights in a row, Andy is woken by sobbing, and Remington keeps repeating how it should be him dying, and not Emerson. Andy knows that he's scared for his brother, and that all the arguing has really taken a toll on him, and assures his husband that it's all going to be okay, even though he knows that if Emerson dies, it won't all be okay.

On the fourth day, Remington sleeps in past midday, which at least means he won't be so tired, and greets Andy in the living room with a smile, which have been lacking on his behalf recently.

"I'm gonna talk to Emerson today," he says.

Andy smiles back. "That is a great idea. And you're even dressed today!"

The boy nods. "Yeah... my onesie kinda smells, so..."

"I see," Andy responds, amused, "well you look beautiful either way. Do you want me to come with you to see Emerson?"

Remington shrugs. "No, it'll probably be okay."

Standing up, Andy playfully throws a cushion at Remington, who catches it and hugs it to his chest. "Okay. You need something to eat, and by the looks of it, a hug."

"No to the food, yes to the hug," Remington says, throwing the cushion onto the sofa.

Andy wraps the boy in his arms and kisses his head. "I'm afraid the food part wasn't a choice, sweetheart."

"Well you just ruined this hug by saying that," the younger pouts.

"Mm, sorry."

After lunch, which Remington reluctantly eats, he walks into town and to his little brother's house, smiling when Emerson opens the door. "Hi," he says, "can we talk?"

Emerson nods and lets the singer in. "Sure," he responds, "sit down." He follows Remington into the living room, and sits next to him on the couch. "What's up?"

Remington sighs. "I feel like asking that isn't really the right thing to be fucking asking," he retorts, "I mean, you know what's up, Emerson, you have cancer and you didn't tell me. Sebastian told me."

"I know."

Remington waits for him to say something else, but he doesn't. "You know? That's it? That's all you wanna say to me after everything that's happened?"

"You mean that you ran away and nearly killed yourself in a random hotel? You know, that sounds strangely familiar to when-oh I don't know-you were stabbed!"

The boy has to tell himself not to shout back. "Are you trying to give me a fucking panic attack? What the fuck, Emerson? Like I don't fucking remember that!"

"Why are you always so dramatic?"

Remington raises an eyebrow. "I'm not dramatic," he argues, "I just don't get why you'd bring that up. You know how hard it is for me to think about." He doesn't remember why he ever thought this would be a good idea. "Why didn't you tell me?"

The question lingers for a while before it's answered, only telling Remington that it won't be a nice answer. "Because I knew you would do something stupid and I didn't wanna be responsible for it."

"Something stupid?"

Emerson nods like it's obvious. "Yes, Something stupid. And I was right, because apparently Abigail had to call the fucking police so you wouldn't kill yourself. Why did you talk to her and not us, Remington? Why don't you talk to me anymore?"