Help Me (sequel to Save Me)

Chapter 149

TRIGGER WARNING

The breakfast room the next morning is fairly busy, and they split across three tables. "The bus won't be done until tomorrow," Sebastian informs everyone, after being called by the garage it was towed away to. "The people at the venue know and I'm gonna call for taxis to get us there. There's no point cancelling the show because of this. We've cancelled enough already." He doesn't mean for the last bit to be said in an accusing voice, but that's how Remington registers it, and the boy looks down, ashamed, because he's the reason for all those cancellations.

He sits at the table next to Andy with a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice, trying to make himself eat it but not knowing how. This morning, Remington woke up feeling awful. Mentally exhausted. He wishes he could go back to feeling how he felt yesterday. The seems like bliss compared to now. When Andy asked what number he was, he said it was a ten, but really it feels more like an eighteen or nineteen. Maybe even twenty at times.

"We're gonna get there late no matter what now," Sebastian goes on, "so I say we just get into a taxi when we've had breakfast and we get there when we get there. There's no point rushing now if we're already gonna be late."

Remington wants to speak up, to say that he isn't sure he can even perform tonight, but he feels too weak to do that. He's let their fans down enough. He can suck it up this time. Surely he can. He looks at the bowl of cereal and feels like he might be sick. There's a butter knife on a napkin by the bowl. Maybe if he really forced it, he could stab himself with it. He hates that he can't stop himself from thinking like that.

Andy rubs his shoulder and leans in to whisper something. "Do you wanna eat it in the room?"

The boy shrugs. He doesn't want to do aything. He doesn't even want to be alive anymore.

"Try one spoonfull for me," Andy suggests.

"I feel sick," Remington whispers back. The first time he's said anything since they came down here. He pushes the bowl away. Emerson is looking at him and he can't look back.

There's a toaster over by the continental breakfast selection. He could stick a knife in. Remington tries to shake the thought away, to tell himself that it's silly, that he doesn't really want to die.

But he does.

He didn't feel this bad when he ran away after being told Emerson had cancer. He didn't feel this bad when he told Abigail he'd crash his car. He's never felt this bad. Before he can stop them his eyes are tearing up, and he blinks furiously, determined not to cry in front of anyone, or just not to cry at all. He's so sick of fucking crying.

It's like he can't breathe properly, like the only time he can really breathe is when he's on those stupid fucking diet pills. He tries to say something but his voice doesn't seem to cooperate, and it only makes him feel more useless. Andy notices his glossy, sad eyes, and takes his hand.

"Are we still on a ten?" He asks quietly, and Remington shakes his head. "Lower?"

The singer shake show head again.

"Higher?"

Remington nods.

"Okay. How about you come back to the room with me? We'll get you away from all this noise." He stands up once Remington has agreed, and offers a hand for the boy. No one asks where they're going, because everyone can see that Remington isn't feeling so good. Andy walks with him to the lifts, and once the doors have closed and they're going up, Remington says something.

"It's like...twenty," he mumbles. "It's never been twenty." He looks at the buttons on the side of the elevator. "I'm scared."

Andy can feel the poor boy's pain. "You're gonna be okay," he says, and the doors open.

They find the room, and Andy lets Remington in first, closing the door behind them and putting the key card on the side. Remington sits on the edge of the bed and puts his head in his hands. "Andy, would you be sad if I died?"

"What sort of question is that? Of course I would. I would be devastated." He sits next to Remington. "I'm going to get you something from room service, okay? I'm not letting you skip breakfast."

Remington whines. "I don't want anything," he complains, falling onto his back.

"I know, but you need something."

"What's the point of living if all I wanna do is die? Isn't it just kinda pointless? Like...I'm taking up space that someone else could have, someone who deserves it. I don't deserve it." He looks at Andy sadly and sighs. "I just-everything feels so difficult today." Tears trickle slowly down his cheeks.

Andy lies beside Remington. "I know, honey. You're gonna get through this. I know you will."

Wiping his eyes, the boy moves closer to his husband. "Can you cuddle me?"

"You know the answer to that. Just hold on one moment while I order you some breakfast." He gets up and picks up the phone on the table, asking for some toast and butter.

Remington leans into Andy as the man picks him up and pulls him into his lap. "I want to hurt myself so bad," he mutters, almost feeling a blade on his arm at the thought of it. "Sometimes I look at people in the street and I wonder if they ever feel like this. And it's weird, Andy, because everyone has their own life and their own problems and in the face of all that, I'm nothing. I'm one person with a fucked up past and no one who sees me who doesn't know me even cares. Like- I'm just a body to them." He yawns and rubs his eyes. "And even to you, I'm just a body. Someone to keep you company. I could be anyone else. Same with my brothers. They only love me because I'm their brother. I could be anyone else."

Andy shakes his head. "I disagree. I don't want anyone else. I want you. And you're not just a body. You're a beautiful, complex mind, with beautiful thoughts and such intelligence."

"But I could be anyone."

"But you're not just anyone, baby boy, you're Remington. And Remington is so much more than what he gives himself credit for."  He kisses the younger's head. "And you're the most talented performer I have ever seen. Not anyone could be that. You are the only person who can write your songs, and you are the only person who can sing like you can. Because you are special, honey, and there is so much to you that I don't think you really see."

"There's nothing to see," Remington says.

Andy hums. "There is so much to see. Your breakfast is here," he says when there's a knock on the door, and Remington crawls off him so he can stand up.

"Well all I see is a stupid, suicidal person with abandonment issues, so..."