Help Me (sequel to Save Me)

Chapter 134

Trigger warning.

The airport is busy and loud and even with Andy holding his hand, Remington finds it so hard to keep himself calm. After they've handed all their bags in and gone through security, which nearly gives Remington a panic attack, the men find a cefe to sit and wait in, and buy food for lunch, since it's midday. Remington tries to soothe his mind by engaging in the conversation, but he keeps tuning out accidentally and thinking about all the things that could go wrong on the tour ahead of them. He manages to eat the chicken salad Andy gets for him, but keeps looking down at the empty container and cringing because he ate it.

His brothers are talking about tomorrow's venue with Daniel and Andrew, and as much as he tries to listen to what they're saying, he can't, and he pushes his chair back and leaves the cafe without them noticing. He knows that Andy would have made sure he was okay, but the man has gone to find a toilet, which is where Remington is heading.

He weaves his way through the busy airport and pushes open the toilet door, finding an empty stall at the end and locking the door. Sitting on the floor, which is dirty, though he doesn't care about that, Remington looks from his hands to the toilet, and feels for his phone in his back pocket.

As much as he wants to shove his fingers down his throat, he knows he shouldn't, and desperately calls Andy, because his husband always picks up. Remington doesn't give the man chance to say anything, because he's already talking into the phone quickly, anxiously. "I need you," he says hastily, "I'm gonna be sick and I-please come."

Andy is just leaving the toilets, and stops walking. "Where are you?" He asks.

"The toilets by Costa, in the last cubicle by the wall." Remington grips the phone tightly in his hand and leans his head back against the wall.

Andy turns back around. "Okay, I'm coming." He opens the door and walks straight to the stall Remington said he's in, hanging up the phone and knocking gently on the plastic door. "Sweetheart, it's me. Can you let me in?" He waits patiently until the door is unlocked, and steps in, closing the door behind him and kneeling beside Remington. "Did you do anything?"

The boy shakes his head. "I..." he trials off and sobs suddenly, and Andy pulls him in for a hug.

"Hey, it's okay, it's alright," he soothes, and Remington shakes his head.

"I don't-I can't tour," he sobs, "Andy, I can't! I'm so fucking scared." He keeps his voice low, so no one else in the room can hear him.

Andy wishes Remington was exagerating, but it's way too clear that he isn't. "It's gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay." He feels the boy trembling against him. "Whatever you're scared of, petal, you tell me and I'll try my best to make you feel a bit better, okay?"

Trying to calm his crying, Remington nods. "Everything," he mumbles, "'m scared of everything." He inhales, strangled. "I can't fucking breathe!"

"Listen to my heart, sweetheart, and take take a nice, deep breath."

"It hurts."

Andy strokes the younger's hair. "I know, honey, breathe through it. I've got you."

Remington does his best to breathe, and Andy stays quiet, holding the boy to him and rubbing his back slowly.

They stay there for a good ten minutes, quiet, so Remington can calm down and compose himself before anyone sees him. Once he's not feeling so shaky, Andy helps him off the floor and wipes his cheeks with a tissue gently.

The boy sniffles and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. "I've never had a panic attack in an airport before," he murmurs, "and I don't want to again." He tips his head forwards when Andy kisses the top of it.

The two leave the toilets, Remington sticking close to Andy, and they find everyone else in the same place in the cafe. They all look up when they men approach. "Where did you go?" Sebastian asks, aiming the question at Remington.

"Had a panic attack," the younger brother responds, "Andy helped me." He sits down next to Andy and sighs. He wants to ask why no one checked if he was okay, but knows it'll start a fight, so says nothing about it.

An hour later, they can board the plane, and follow the signs towards the right area, each carrying their own bags for the long flight. Remington didn't put much in his, just Andy's red hoodie and a pair of noise cancelling headphones because he knows hearing strangers talking will send him crazy. They find their seats. Daniel and Sebastian and Andrew sit together, with Emerson behins, and on the isle opposite, Andy, Remington, and the photographer, who this time doesn't scare the singer. Remington sits by the window and pulls the hoodie over his head.

They take off and Remington listens to music for the first hour and a half, smiling when Andy takes his phone to see what he's listening to. It's the little things that can mean so much. Andy gets him a polysterine cup of tea when the cabin crew pass with the refreshments, and the boy falls asleep on Andy's shoulder, staying asleep until they're landing.

They collect their things from baggage claim and drag everyting out to the bus, which is waiting in the pickup bay, driver sat reading a newspaper with the door open. He greets them all as they get in, and soon they're on their way to the first venue, just fourteen hours away.

On the bus, they claim bunks, and Sebastian makes sure Remington has the one nearest to the bathroom, incase he has a nightmare that makes him sick. The guitarist knows that the stress of tour will intensify his nightmares.

Evening comes, and everyone crawls into their chosen beds, closing the curtains, and the bus is quiet, apart from the constant, mind grating buzz of the generator. Remington curls up into Andy and couldn't be more grateful for his husband being here with him, even though he could be at home working on the new songs for his band. He listens to Andy's heart beating and the sound makes him calm, and the soft, soothing hand in his hair lulls him slowly to sleep.

He just hopes the show tomorrow goes well. He just wants to make his fans happy. Maybe making them happy means never finding happiness for himself.