Help Me (sequel to Save Me)

Chapter 159

Trigger warning.

It's Andy that has a weird dream this time, about Remington. The boy is visiting someone in prison. He never says who. It's odd. Nothing really happens, but Andy wakes up feeling like something is about to go really wrong. He shakes the thought away.

Remington is asleep beside him, so still he looks almost dead. Andy can't help but to check he is breathing. As much as he doesn't want to think this way, he knows he can't rule out the idea that Remington might swallow a while container of pain killers one night and just never wake up. He looks at Remington's hand, at how small his wrist is. It's impossible not to see the self-inflicted scars engraved into his milky skin, criss-crossing, some deep, some not. His body is delicate under the covers. Andy wonders what it's like to be inside the younger's head.

The answer is; not great.

Specially not right now. Nightmare. Another fucking nightmare. It's funny the things that trigger them. Well, not funny. Confusing, maybe.

This time he's in a fight with Holly. "You're so dramatic," she accuses, and Remington shakes his head.

"I collapsed, Holly! You kept telling me not to eat this, don't eat that, and I fucking collapsed!" Remington argues. "I had to go to the fucking doctors and ask what the fuck was wrong with me. Turns out I was fucking starved!"

"How is that my fault?"

Remington throws his arms in the air. "Did you or did you not just shame me for this jar of Nutella?"

"I didn't shame you, Remington. I just said-"

"You said I shouldn't eat it because I'm fat! That's shaming! I'm sorry, Holly, but the doctor told me that I need to eat more because I'm mal-fucking-nurished! If I don't eat more I'll end up in hospital! Do you want that?" He knows it's bad to be fighting like this, for her to not care about his health, but he does nothing about it. That technically makes it his fault.

Holly laughs. "You are fat!"

"Wow, thanks! What a supportive girlfriend I have!"

"Oh shut up! I'm just helping you. You don't want all your fans thinking you're fat, too, do you?"

Remington doesn't know how to respond to that. "They don't, because I'm not."

"Sure."

"How the fuck am I fat? I don't understand. And no fucking offense, but I trust the doctor more than you when it comes to my health."

"Well no offense, Remington, but I don't trust you at all."

The singer just sighs. "If you don't trust me then why are you with me?"

"Because you need me."

Remington notices how she doesn't say it's because she loves him. She basically never says that anymore. "And how have you worked that one out?"

Holly snatches the Nutella from his hand. "Because without me you'd just be a fat, good-for-nothing, shit singer, so..."

"I'm not fat," Remington insists, starting to believe her with how much she's saying it. "I hardly even eat."

"Well you're not eating this," she says rudely, and drops the glass jar onto the tiled kitchen floor. It smashes. "Clean that up," Holly demands, turns on her heal, and leaves.

Remington feels himself tear up as he kneels down with a cloth to clean the Nutella from the floor. He picks up a piece of sharp glass and, for the first time ever in his life, wonders what it would feel like to cut himself.

The first thing he thinks when he wakes from this dream is; why the hell did he stay with her? What meant he couldn't just leave? Why was he so fucking pathetic? "I didn't need her," Remington says, "why did she say I needed her?"

"Remington, princess, are you okay?'

He looks at Andy and shrugs. "She said I needed her and I believed her."

"She's wrong."

"She said I'm fat and I believed her. She made me hate myself and then she made me think it was my fault."

Andy doesn't know what to say.

"I believed her."

"Number?"

The boy slides out of bed. "Twenty three," he answers. "You're so good to me," he says suddenly, turning to face his husband. "Because when I say something bad about myself you always tell me it's wrong. Everytime. And you compliment me just because you want to, and you give me hugs before I ask and you never push me away. She never-she never did that. She never told me she was proud of me or hugged me when I needed it. When I asked for a hug she would call me a baby. She was so bad to me, Andy. Why did I stay? Why did I stay with her for so long?"

Andy pulls Remington back onto the bed. "You were trapped." He sits with Remington in his lap, legs around Andy's waist, leaning against him.

"I was so trapped. I guess it was easier to just believe that she was right and that I did need her than to actually think about how bad all of it was. I didn't ever self harm before her. And when she found out I was cutting myself she told me that I was just looking for attention and didn't even care to ask why I was doing it."

"She was so awful to you."

Remington hums. "And it took me two years to realise just how awful she was. So I guess that makes me just as bad as her."

"No. Don't you ever think like that. You trusted her and she took advantage of you and that is all on her."

"I trusted her. That was my fault. She didn't make me do that."

"No, but she should have respected that trust works both ways, and that you just don't take advantage of having someone's trust."

The boy yawns, sleepy again. "Do you think they'll ever find the stalker?'

"I fucking hope so."

"It's Jason. I know it."

"Remington, honey-"

"It's Jason," Remington cuts in, refusing to believe any different. "Your hugs make me feel better."

There is something that won't make him feel better.

Too bad he's gonna do it anyway.

Have another smiley face :) We're getting to a juicy part