Fix Me (Alternative ending)

Chapter 2

Trigger warning. Brief talk of eating disorders.

Remington sits in bed beside Andy and draws over the scar across the man's throat with a light finger. He leans down and kisses his husband's cheek.

Andy smiles. "You're in a soft mood today, huh?"

The boy just shrugs.

"You've been stroking my neck for the past ten minutes."

"I know," Remington whispers, "'cause I want you to know that you're still very pretty, even with the scar."

Andy hums. He's happy for now. They're free of the stalker and, until they find out who he is, they don't have to think about it. But Andy knows that if he turns out not to be who Remington wants him to be, the poor boy will have a crisis and a breakdown.

"And you're not dead so..."

The man chuckles. "That is very true," he says, "I'm definitely not dead."

"You know," Remington begins, and Andy already knows he's about to say something stupid. "When you talk it's like you're puking perfectness."

"I think I know what you mean, but that sounds-I don't know-kinda gross? Since when has puking ever been perfect?"

Remington giggles. "No, I said you puke perfectness."

"Right. What does puking perfectness sound like, exactly?"

"Your voice, obvuously. You should call your next album 'Puking Perfectness."

"How about we get another cat and call it 'Puking perfectness'?

"Let's get another cat!"

Andy shakes his head. "I didn't mean it, sweetheart. One's enough, don't you think?"

"I say the same about you."

"You're not nice."

Remington pouts. He sits up and stretches his arms above his head. "You can go home tomorrow, right? It's too white in here."

The older nods. "You know you don't have to spend every second in here, kitten. You do have a home."

"You are my home."

"That's very sweet, but you can't live in me."

Remington grins. "How'd you know? It's always the other way round."

Andy raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean, the other way round. When have I ever-oh."

The boy laughs. "Took you a while."

"I'm tired. Leave me alone," Andy complains, prodding his lover. "Just gimme cuddles and leave your dirty sex jokes at home, okay? Okay."

"But-"

"Don't fucking say it."

Remington giggles. "But you-"

"No."

"But you are my-"

"Do you want me to bite you? Because I will." He pulls Remington towards him.

"You are my home," Remington say quickly, "so leaving me dirty sex jokes at home means giving them all," he pauses, placing a kiss on Andy's unimpressed face. "To you."

Andy shakes his head. "I'll make you sleep on the floor," he threatens, adjusting a wire that's in his arm. "I can't believe my throat was slit. How fucking cliche is that?"

"Literally. You were confronting our stalker and he slit your throat. It sounds like a budget horror film."

"It sounds living in a city."

Remington snorts.

"Oh my god."

"What?"

"You're actually the most precious thing I have ever seen."

"I'm in a weird mood," Remington explains, "I think I'm a bit high on painkillers."

Andy takes the boy's bony hand and kisses the back of it. "I think you're adorable. Can you do me a huge favour and get me a drink from the vending machine?"

"Oh, sure. Do you happen to know where some coins are?"

"My wallet is somewhere in here. While you're there, you could even get yourself something."

Remington looks at him dryly. "Do you know how much sugar is in-"

To make him stop talking, Andy kisses the boy. "No, and it doesn't matter. It tastes nice and you haven't had a treat for literlly ages. No one is gonna judge you or think you're fat for drinking one sugary drink, sweetie. No one ever thinks your fat."

"Well I am," Remington insists.

"No you're not."

"I am." He's persistent. It's a shame he is trying so hard to make people believe it when the only one who even sees it is him.

"Am not. Treat yourself. I'll see you in a few minutes."

Remington finds the wallet and fishes out a few pound coins, sticking his tongue out at Andy before leaving the room. While he's waiting for a recyclable cup to fill up from the machine, a child runs towards him, clearly excited because their parents are letting him use the vending machine. "Is it this one?" He shouts, and Remington flinches.

A woman across the waiting room gives the young boy a thumbs up.

"I want it now," the child demands rudely, and Remington looks at him in surprise.

"One minute," he says calmly, and offers a smile.

The little boy isn't having it. He wants it and he wants it now. "Move." The word is bossy and the boy actually shoves into Remington, who has to remind himself that he's not in the presence of his ex.

"Please don't touch me."

"Well then let me have it!"

Remington concentrates on staying present in the room rather than sinking into his memories. "I'm nearly done," he responds, "just give me a second."

"One. There. Go now."

"You're parents didn't teach you about manners, huh?"

"Go now."

Remington sighs. He picks up a lid and the hot drink, sending the mother of the boy a dirty look because he's upset with how she was watching that play out and not doing anything to stop her son from being so rude. With Andy's drink, he goes back into the room, handing the man his drink and sitting on the bed, no longer in a good mood.

"What's wrong?" Andy asks, straight away noticing the shift in atmosphere.

The boy shrugs. He puts the spare coins back into the wallet. "People are dicks."

"Oh no, what happened?"

"This fuckin' kid started demanding he uses the vending maching now and then he fuckin' pushed me. And his mother was just sat there watching. Fuckin' bitch."

"That's a lot of fucking."

Remington can't help but to smile at that. "Looks like you're the one making the dirty sex jokes now."

"Looks like it. You sure you don't want a drink of something? We can share this."

"Too fat," Remington whispers, "'m about to relapse. I can feel it."