Make Me (Remdy)

We All Tell Lies

Trigger warnings: Mentions of death, depression.

Waking in Andy's bed is strange, and even stranger because Andy isn't there. Slowly, Remington sits up, looking down at himself and the clothes that aren't his. Andy gave him a rather large black shirt and a pair of tracksuit bottoms last night. He rubs his eyes before getting out of bed and straightening the covers.

On the bedside table lies the man's phone, and in a rush of immaturity, Remington picks it up and turns it on. The lock screen is an ultrasound of what Remington can only assume is Andy's son. He puts the phone down and leaves the bedroom.

In the bathroom, he splashes his face with cold water and attempts to tidy his hair in the mirror. Then he collects his clothes from the hot towel rail where Andy left them to dry, changing into them and leaving what he slept in on the closed toilet seat in a folded pile.

Remington realises as he's looking for it that he left his phone in the graveyard drenched in rain overnight. He groans in irritation, kicking a doorframe before finally leaving the building.

He walks home via the graveyard to find his phone, picking it up off the grass and trying to turn it on. When it doesn't come on, he takes the back off and water comes out, so he throws it at the ground and stands on it out of anger. Soon, he gets caught up in looking at the vandalism and ends up crying again on the grass.

"I'm so sorry," he cries, "I was supposed to take care o' you and now you're fuckin' ruined." He wipes his eyes. "And I don't even know why they did this. Like...what sort of fucked up shit goes on in peoples' brains to make them think this is okay? Because this...this is all I have of you and now I can't even have it in peace! As if you dying wasn't bad enough, now I have to do something about this. And I don't know what to do. Do I tell someone? The council or something? And how will they know who did it? Or will they just never be found and punished? How is that fair? Why does all the bad stuff happen to you? Why can't you just be here, alive, and not fucking dead? Why is this happening?"

Remington throws the broken phone at one of the graves, stands up, and walks home.

When he goes to rehearsal an hour later, Andy pulls him to the side and quietly says, "why'd you leave this morning? I was gonna make you coffee and toast and shit."

"I already imposed enough," Remington responds. "Thanks, though, I appreciate last night."

"You've been crying again," the elder observes, frowning. "You went to the graveyard, didn't you?"

"I left my phone there. I just went to get it. It's fucked."

"Yeah, I'm not surprised. It was pissing down last night. You were like a sponge, you were so wet."

"You just compared me to something you use to wash dirty plates."

Andy hums. "Yes I did. I realised that."

"Where were you this morning, anyway?"

Shrugging, the man says, "I had to buy some milk," and glances behind him. "Look, let me get you dinner tonight."

"No, Andy, you don't need to keep doing that."

"But I want to keep doing it."

Remington sighs. "Look, I appreciate it, I do, but..."

"But what?"

"I don't like the mixed signals you're giving me."

Andy lowers his voice. "Mixed signals?"

"Yes, mixed signals. Y'know, the whole buying me dinner thing but then insisting that we're 'just friends'. Please just tell me honestly what I am to you, because I'm having a shit week as it is and I don't need you to lie to me just to save my pride."

"Remington..."

"Just tell me."

"I already told you. You're a friend to me. Just a friend. Nothing more, okay? Because I'm not gay, I don't like men, and I want to have you as a friend."

"Well then stop treating me like we're more than that."

"I'm not treating you like we're more than that."

Remington groans. "Yes, you are, stop being fucking dumb."

"Listen to me. We're friends. F-R-I-E-N-D-S. I told you the other night, I thought you understood. We're just friends, please don't try and force something onto me because I'm not comfortable with that and I'm not gay." He shakes his head. "And even if I was, why would I date you?"

"The fuck's the supposed to mean? You think I'm undatable? What, I'm too sad to date or something, yeah? I should just be alone forever because it'd be too difficult to get with me? Jesus Christ, man, you're a fucking cunt, you know that?"

"Remington, please."

"No, I get it. You pity me and you like buying me dinner because it makes you feel better about yourself for doing some charity work. There's an Oxfam down the street, donate to them next time, alright? I don't want or need your fucking money." He turns on his heel and joins the rest of the group without giving Andy a backward look.

In the evening, Remington sits at the vandalised graves and tries to make them come back to life by wishing, but it doesn't work and he's still sitting alone.

That is until Andy shows up with a canvas bag and crouches by the graves without saying anything. Remington watches him retrieve two new plant-pots from the bag, filled with soil and carefully planted flowers that match the ones that were destroyed. Andy collects the broken pieces of the old pots and Remington's phone, putting them in the bag and picking up the dead flowers. Then he replaces them with the new pots and stands up, still without saying anything.

Remington blinks tears away.

"The council know," Andy says quietly, picking up the bag. "They'll come replace the gravestones in a couple days, once they've been engraved. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Wait."

Andy turns around.

"Thank you."

The man smiles sympathetically. "See you at rehearsal."