Fix Me (Alternative ending)

Chapter 65

@aaawsten I lied :)

Trigger warning: Brief mentions of suicide, it's an easy read, I promise.

Abigail is surprised to open the door to Remington, who was banging on the it like he could die if she didn't answer. She goes to ask what's wrong but he pushes past her as Andy approaches.

"He knows," the man says, defeated, "sorry." He steps in when Abigail motions for him to.

"Where'd he go?" The woman asks, and at the same time, there's a yell from upstairs.

"Leave us alone!" Remington is shouting.

Abigail and Andy set off up the stairs.

"You can't do this to people!" The boy goes on, pushing her aggressively. "Can't you see Andy's having a hard time? You can't take advantage of him like this!"

"You're a mad man," Phoebe responds, pushing back.

"Hey!" Abigail says loudly from the doorway, "Remington, it's okay, we can talk about this. Phoebe, don't you touch him."

"He touched me first!"

"Phoebe."

Remington glares at them. "You lied," he says spitefully, "I don't want to talk to you anymore." He whips his head around when Phoebe kicks his ankle. "You've been nothing but rude to us and all we were trying to do was help you out!"

"Help us out? You're insane!"

"Shut the fuck up!"

"Remington," Abigail tries, "step back."

"Maybe you should learn how to stop your daughter from being a fame hungry whore!" He shoves into Phoebe again and she grabs his arm. "And at least I'm aware of my faults! You think you're fucking perfect and, lemme tell you something, you're fucking not!"

"It's not hard to see your faults, mate," Phoebe spits, "there isn't one single good thing about you." She twists his arm so he can't pull away. "Your band's shit, by the way. I listened to some of your songs."

Remington whimpers.

Abigail grabs the girl and pries her fingers off his arm. "You don't touch him," she snaps, "I don't care if you don't like him. You don't touch him."

"Fuck off," Phoebe spits, shoving her mother away and pushing Remington down so she's over the top of him. "You got me kicked from my band!"

"You did that yourself," Remington retorts, determined not to back down even though he knows that if she doesn't get off him he'll start hallucinating.

Andy wishes he could do something but he just wants to cry again.

"You're such a damn baby! Seriously, you're shaking like a pathetic leaf."

"Phoebe."

She rolls her eyes at Abigail, who grabs her shoulders and pulls her away from Remington. "What's the big deal? He can take it like a man!"

Getting off the floor, Remington dusts himself off. "D'you know what she's doing?" He asks Abigail, pointing an accusing and angry finger. "She forced her way into Andy's music by blackmailing him!"

"Is that true?"

Andy nods at Abigail's question.

"Fucking hell, Phoebe. I thought you'd grown out of your stupid blackmailing bullshit."

"It's not bullshit!"

Remington retreats from the scene and stands beside his husband. "Oops," he whispers, "I started a thing."

Andy takes his hand and leans into his ear. "Let's just sneak out."

The boy nods, and silently, they turn and ascend the stairs. "That is one confusing relationship they've got going on," Remington mumbles, opening the door.

"Could never be us."

"Seriously though, what a damn bitch." He steps out, Ands close behind, and closes the door. "You okay?"

Andy hums, unlocking the car.

"Sure?"

"Yep."

Remington sits in the drivers seat, not keen on Andy driving in the suicidal state that he's in, and takes the key from the man. "Wanna go out for lunch?"

Andy smiles as he plugs himself in, saying, "sure," and turning the radio on. "Hey, they're playing my song!"

"They are! That's damn cool." He pulls out of the driveway. "It's a beautiful song."

"Are you just saying that 'cause it's about you?"

"Yes, but it also is a beautiful song. Any song you've written is beautiful. Because you are beautiful."

Andy looks at Remington. "D'you wanna move house?"

"What?"

"Well, I was thinking," he turns the radio down, "our house; it's been mine since before I knew you existed. I moved into it when I was barely twenty. I dunno if it's just 'cause of the weird mood I'm in, but I feel like we should choose a house together, y'know? Have a few days looking around different places, see if we find anything we like. We don't have to move, of course, but it'd be worth looking, no?"

With a thoughtful expression, Remington responds after a moment thinking about it. "Sounds fun," he says, "but also...I'm attached to our house. It's where I first felt love again after Holly, where you proposed, where I feel safest. I don't know if I could just let it go."

"I get that. I don't wanna make you feel unsettled."

"But," the boy goes on, "I think looking is a good idea. You never know, we might find somewhere that I love even more than you." He stops the car by the side of the road and pulls the key from the ignition. "And I think it's probably that fact that I'm living with you that makes me feel safe more than the house itself." He opens the door. "Anyway, lunch."

"Yes, lunch. Hand."

Remington smiles, poking Andy's chest. "It is, yes."

"Shut up." He intertwines their fingers. "Love you."

"Love you too. D'you know you're real special?"

They find a café, sitting and reading over the menu, Remington picking up his phone to Abigail, who opens with, "everything alright? I turned around and you were gone."

"Fine," Remington says, "we didn't think it was our place to stay. Sorry for barging in and starting a fight."

"Don't worry about it. You can let Andy know that Phoebe will not be invading on his music and that I heard his song on the radio a few minutes ago. Very beautiful."

"I will, thank you."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Remington. Have a good day."

"You too." He hangs up, tells his husband what Abigail said, and smiles when the man smiles.