Fix Me (Alternative ending)

Chapter 17

Sebastian doesn't have time to say anything because as soon as he opens the door, Remington barges in, clearly not in a remotely calm mood, and falls down onto his brother's sofa with a humph. The man frowns, closing the door and sitting on the edge of the couch where Remington is face down in a cushion. "What's wrong, bub?" He asks softly.

Remington groans loudly.

"Remington?"

"I'm a terrible husband," Remington complains, drawing out the words unhappily.

Sebastian puts a hand on the younger's back. "Not true. What happened?"

"Andy doesn't trust me!"

"Also not true."

"It is!" Remington insists, "he's having panic attacks and he won't talk to me about it."

"That doesn't mean he doesn't trust you, bub. Come on, sit up. I'll make you some tea."

The boy shakes his head.

"Are you alright? You seem very shaky."

Remington groans again. "I feel like I'm going crazy," he half-slurs, "and I think 'm a bit drunk."

"Drunk? Since when did you drink?"

"Since I bought a bottle of vodka and drank nearly half of it."

Sebastian raises an eyebrow. "Okay, well half a bottle is a lot, so I'm gonna get you some water. How come you did that?"

Remington sits up and rubs his eyes. "Well it's what you do when you're sad," he mumbles.

The older hits his arm playfully. "I don't like drunk you," he jokes, "so you're sad?"

"Mm."

"Alright. Wait right here I'll get you some water." He stands up, ruffles his brother's hair, and steps towards the door. "And if you need'a talk I'm here, okay?"

Remington flops back down and waits for his brother to return, clumsily pulling his phone from his pocket when it starts ringing. "Greetings," he answers, the word flat.

"Remington? Why's there half a bottle of vodka on the coffee table?"

The singer drunkenly laughs. "I was drinking that," he slurs bluntly.

"Yeah, I got that. Why? You don't drink."

"I do today."

"Okay. Sweetheart, what's going on? Are you alright?" Andy's sitting on the couch with he bottle in his hand, swirling the liquid around inside.

The boy swats Sebastian away when he tries to give him a glass of water. "I'm dandy."

"Where are you?"

Sebastian pries the phone from the younger's hands, saying, "I'm sobering him up and I'll drive him home," and hanging up.

"No home," Remington complains.

"Yes, home. Drink." The guitarist opens his brothers mouth with his hand on the boy's chin, holding the glass to his lips and tipping it. "Tell me the truth now. What's really going on? You never drink, and you never get drunk."

Remington gulps down the water, pushing the glass away and wiping his mouth, avoiding Sebastian's fatherly expression.

"Remington, hey, look at me. Talk to me."

"He won't talk to me."

"Who? Andy?"

"'nd drinkin's s'posed to make it better."

Sebastian shakes his head. "Drinking never helps, bub. Take it from me. "

Remington rubs his eyes and realises he's close to crying. "I know," he slurs sadly, "sorry."

"No need for sorry, you've not done anything wrong. Look, I'm gonna get you some more water and then I'm driving you home. You can have a nice sleep and talk this out with Andy, okay? I've got to go for dinner with Larisa in half an hour."

"He's gone hate me now."

"He's definitely not."

The boy presses a hand to his head. "I'm not valid," he says out of nowhere, and Sebastian frowns.

"What? Of course you are."

"No-no, 'cause I'm a man and I like other men and I don't like kissing girls and no one likes men who like-who like men."

"Homophobic opinions are invalid, Remington, not you. You're so allowed to like men instead of women. Come on, I'm taking you home." Sebastian gets up, taking his brother's hands and pulling him off the couch. He guides Remington outside and into his car, closing the door and getting in the driver's side. It takes ten minutes to get to Remington and Andy's place, and Sebastian walks the drunk singer up to the door, opening it and calling for Andy, who soon appears. "He's drunk," Sebastian says, "and very sad, and thinks you hate him."

"Very very sad," Remington mumbles, stumbling.

Andy catches him. "I see. How's a bath sound?"

"Yes, give him a bath," Sebastian says, "have fun."

Remington whimpers.

"Thanks, Sebastian," Andy says, as the guitarist is closing the door, and gently pushes Remington towards the stairs. "Alright, kitty cat, what's going on? Why've you been drinking?" He turns Remington around, making the boy look at him and stroking hair from his face. "Are we having a bad day?"

Remington rubs his eyes. "I don't like bein' drunk. 's like a weird hallucination."

"Why'd you drink, then? What happened?"

"'cause you won't-you won't talk to me."

Andy strokes his hair and shakes his head. "Oh sweetie, that's what all this is about?"

Remington nods.

"I'm so sorry, kitty, I really wasn't trying to upset you. I just find it hard to talk about myself. I'm gonna run us a bath, okay?"

"You didn't upset me, you just..." He sighs. "'kay, bath."

Left wondering what Remington was going to say, and helps his husband up the stairs, turning on the tabs in the bathtub only then asking, "I just what?"

Remington shrugs.

"Come on, princess, talk to me."

"You won't talk to me, so no."

Andy sighs. "Remington-"

"No. I won't talk to you 'til you talk to me," Remington announces stubbornly, crossing his arms. "I don't want a bath with you."