Fix Me (Alternative ending)

Chapter 20

Trigger warning - mentions of eating disorders, self harm tendencies. Sorry bbys ur gonna hate me

For two weeks, Andy is in the studio every day, from nine am every morning to nearly ten pm every night. The absence of the man makes it easy for Remington to get caught up in bad habits, to surrender to his inner demands. It starts as just a healthy routine. Just an hour every morning, running up into the woods. The adrenaline makes him feel light and it quickly becomes less and less healthy as he substitutes lunch for exercise, and eventually, breakfast, too.

The weight starts dropping again and Remington only works himself harder, so he's running dizzy and feeling like he might be sick. He begins writing in his notebook again, after months of not picking it up. Writing things like Nearly passed out today but it's okay because I deserve to be punished for stopping Andy going to America, and Lost four inches on my waist since I last measured. Stopped eating apart from in the evening with Andy so he doesn't get suspicious. You can't tell me it's unhealthy because exercise is healthy. This is healthy.

In therapy, he lies to Abigail, tells her he had breakfast when he didn't, that he's managing well. Today is no different. "I've been feeling really good," he tells her.

"I'm glad," Abigail says, and then, "I am a bit concerned, though. You're looking very over-worked."

Remington shrugs. "Oh, am I?" He asks, trying to play it off so she doesn't catch on.

"You are, yes. Are you being one hundred percent honest with me?"

The boy nods. "Of course," he lies.

Abigail doesn't seem convinced.

"We've just been very busy in the studio," Remington says, thinking up any excuse to draw the attention away from what he's doing to himself.

"Okay. Remember to take time off. It's important you keep in control of your recovery."

I am in control. "I know."

On the drive home from therapy, Remington works himself into a panic attack because he realises how awful it feels to be starving again and that he should be telling Abigail and Andy what's really going on, that he's handling things so badly and Andy would be better off going to America and leaving him here. He pulls into a carpark to calm down, sitting with his head on the steering wheel for ten minutes before finally driving home.

Andy is home earlier than usual today, kicking open the front door, hands full with a bouquet of flowers and a shopping bag. "It's fucking busy in Tesco," he says to Remington, who takes the flowers from him.

"It's really busy in town. It's odd."

"Yeah, loads'a tourists or something." He carries the shopping into the kitchen.

Remington follows him, arranging the flowers in a vase. "How was your day?"

Andy answers as he's emptying the bag. "Well, they're all banging on about America, as usual, which sucks. But the album is almost done now."

"Wait, so they're just gonna leave you here as soon as you're done recording?"

The man nods.

"What the fuck? Andy, you can't let them do that!" He opens the fridge, picking up the new bottle of milk. "You can't give up your band."

Andy sighs. "What else am I supposed to do? Leave you?"

"I don't know. But, Andy, it's your band. You're the original member! You write almost all the songs! It's yours!"

"I know that."

"So then why are you letting them steal it from you?" He puts the bottle in the fridge, turning to look at his husband. "Seriously, Andy, it's not right."

"Tell me what I'm supposed to do, then, because this is the only thing I can think of," Andy says, agitated now. In his mind, Remington is right. It's not fair. Black Veil Brides is his band. He doesn't want to give that up.

Remington sighs. "Go with them," he mumbles, scared at the idea but not wanting to be the reason Andy loses his career.

"What?"

"Go to America with them."

"Remington, are you kidding? I can't leave you here!"

"Yes you can. You can pack up your things and get on a plane and be in your band and live your dream. You can."

Andy freezes. Is this Remington saying he doesn't want him anymore? "I don't want to leave you."

"Well do you wanna watch your own band fly away without you instead?"

"Your more important that my band, Remington. I'd chose you over my band any day. And this time is no exception."

Remington shakes his head. "You can't give up your dream for me!"

"I'll find another band, Remington! Or I'll go solo. But I am not gonna fucking leave you here and go to America, okay? That's just not gonna fucking happen."

"Stop putting me first! I'm not a fucking angel, Andy! You'll find some other man in America who's actually capable of being a fucking adult and you'll be happy there. You don't need me!"

"Yes, I do!"

"You don't! You don't! Face it. I need you but you don't need me."

Andy rubs his temples and closes his eyes for a moment. "How can you think that? I need you more than I've needed anyone, Remington. You know those days when I randomly call or text you? Yeah, those are days when I have to talk to you or I'll go fucking crazy, because being in the studio day in, day out for months makes me so incredibly stressed. And you know what makes it better? You do. So don't you fucking dare think I don't need you. Don't even joke about it."

Remington looks down. How did this turn into an argument? "But you can't lose your band for me," he says eventually, "I won't let you."

"You're gonna have to."

"Fine, then I'll leave you."

"What?"

"You won't leave me and go with your band, so I'll leave you and then you'll have to go." Before continuing, Remington pulls his wedding ring from his finger. "There. You're free. Go to America!" He shouts, throwing the ring at Andy's chest and storming out.

Andy picks up the ring off the ground, looking at it and wiping away unwelcome tears. "Fuck!" He yells at the empty house, throwing a box of eggs at the floor with force and screaming. If there was ever a time where he shouldn't be alone, it would be now.