Help Me (sequel to Save Me)

Chapter 129

Trigger warning. My deepest apologies and thanks for reading I love you

It's a relief to be talking to Abigail again, even though it's only been two days since he last saw her, and Remington, as usual, takes his shoes off and curls his legs up on the couch. He is quiet as the woman sits down, waiting for her to talk first.

"How are you?" She asks.

Remington yawns and rubs his eyes. "Tired," he says, "anxious about tour. It's hard to sleep." He thinks about last night, when he was lying awake because he was so worried about going on tour. He kept making up situations in his head, things that he is dreading, like a security guard handling him roughly, or a rude fan upsetting him, or struggling more than he already is with his eating disorder and starving.

"Is there anything in particular about touring that is making you anxious, or is it just the idea of tour in itself?"

"Just-not being at home, and not being able to come here twice a week, and the noisy bus, and people asking about my abuse and my...anorexia, and that I might-I might stop eating again." He rubs his arm, where the cuts from when Andy didn't come home are healing. Sometimes he wants to tear the stitches out and let himself bleed to death.

Abigail hums. "Okay. Let's back up for a second. Tell me why not being at home is making you anxious."

It's comforting that she listens to everything he says, and that she takes time to make sure he can talk about everything that's bothering him, so he leaves therapy feeling at least a bit better. "It makes me feel safe at home, where there's lots of room and it's just me and Andy. The bus is different. The generator is loud all the time and if it breaks, it's cold, and half the time I don't even know where we are because we do all the traveling over night and I get so disorientated sometimes because I have no clue which city we're in and it makes me so stressed." He looks down.

"Being in one place gives you security. You know what to expect."

"Yeah, and on tour, I have no freaking clue what's gonna happen next because there's always something about to happen. I have no time to sleep properly because I always have to be somewhere, and sometimes people who work in the venues are mean and they talk to me like I'm a criminal just because of what I look like. I hate it, Abi, I actually hate it."  He's never said that about playing shows before. It worries him that he said it, and that he meant it.

Abigail can only imagine how stressful touring is, specially for Remington, who is so easily broken down. "Tell me what you enjoy about it," she says, hoping that he finds at least something positive about it.

Remington shrugs. "I like the actual performance part. I like seeing the crowd singing the lyrics with me. I like the feeling after a sold out show."

"Okay, good. I think you need to try and focus on that, rather than on what's making you stressed. Is Andy going with you?"

The boy nods, perking up at the thought of his husband being with him. "Yeah. I guess that'll help." He sighs. "It's just-last time we toured it went so badly and I'm so scared of that happening again. It's so easy to get stuck in a downward spiral on tour. Ever since we were strating out I've always found that tour is when my depression is the worst."

"It's good to acknowledge that, Remington. It's better to know than to deny it. I want you to do something for me."

"Okay, do what?"

The therapist gives him a gentle smile. "If you feel like you wanna kill yourself while you're on tour, no matter how long you've been touring, you make sure you tell Andy, okay? If it gets bad and you're really struggling, cancel a show, have a good long sleep, and remember that your mental health is always more important than any concert. Can you do that?"

Remington nods straight away. "I can," he confirms, "I'll tell Andy, I promise."

He walks from Abigail's into town, since Andy said he'd meet him in the cafe where they have lunch sometimes after therapy. Andy went to collect their new car today, after the police told him they'd found his torched by the side of the road.

The singer walks slowly to the cafe, sleeves pulled down over his hands, hood up, long skinny legs carrying him gracefully. He doesn't look at anyone who walks past him, though pulls his hood down because it's rather large and was getting in the way of his eyes. Sometimes he thinks about their first tour, when they were playing to less than one hundred people. It makes him sad to think about.

He remember how he felt the first time they played live. He was so proud of his band, of his brothers, and of himself. He isn't proud of himself anymore.

There's a vintage clothes shop, and he steps in to have a look, just because he can, and looks through the smallest sizes for something he might like. After looking for ten minutes, he finds a shirt he'd wear, and buys it without trying it on. He knows it'll be too big. Everything is.

As he leaves the store, he catches someone from across the street looking at him weirdly, but shrugs it off and carries on towards the cafe. He glances over the road again and the person is gone.

Remington has a strange, unnerving feeling, but chooses to ignore it, because normally that's just him being paranoid. He speeds up but he isn't sure why.

Someone bumps into him. Remington gasps and looks up to see who it was. He's pretty sure it's the guy from across the street. "Sorry," he says, even though it was their fault.

"You're in that band, aren't you? What're they called? Um...Palaye Royal?" His question seems genuine, but Remington has lied enough to know this man already knows damn well who he is.

He nods slowly. "Yeah..."

"What's it like being in a band? Is it fun?"

"I guess." He knows he should be running from whoever this is but he can't seem to move.

The man has a weird smile on his face. "How's Andy?"

Remington doesn't answer. He doesn't know what they're doing, but he knows it's not good.

"Can you give him something for me?"

"What is it?" Remington asks, trying to get rid of the stranger.

"This," the man says, and punches Remington hard across the cheekbone. He turns and walks away with an accomplished smile, and the boy falls back against a shop window in shock, hand over his cheek, eyes wide, and all he can see is Holly.