Make Me (Remdy)

We All Hang On

Trigger warnings: Mentions of death, depression

"I'm falling in love with you, too." Andy's voice is quiet but sincere. For some obscene reason, saying it makes him nervous, despite the fact that it's already been said to him. He holds Remington's teary gaze, stroking his cheekbone with his thumb. "Are you gonna say something, or..."

Remington looks at him for a long time before breaking the gaze and wiping a stray tear from his face. "Told you that you were gay," he says finally.

Andy rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "Don't be a cunt when I'm pouring my heart out to you."

"I'm always a cunt, sorry." He shrugs and smiles. "You're very beautiful up close," he compliments, touching the man's cheekbone. "You can't be mad at me for saying that now."

"You're such a cunt."

"At least I don't have one."

Chuckling, Andy pulls him towards the bed. "Can we go to sleep now?" He asks. "Because I'm about to pass out."

"Yes, sleep," Remington returns, sitting on the bed and kicking off his leather pants.

They lie together under the covers in the dark room, the sound of the road to accompany them. His chest against Remington's back, Andy draws shapes into his naked torso. "Are you okay?" He whispers.

"Huh?"

"You came here in the first place because you were feeling down. Are you okay now?"

"Aw, he cares."

"Cunt."

Remington hums. "I'm fine mostly."

"The travelling is getting to you a little?"

"Mhm." He yawns, puts a hand over Andy's. "Just missing my own bed and that, y'know? I'm not good at sleeping on the bus. Motorways and everything still kinda freak me out."

"I'm sorry, babe."

"What for? You didn't smash a lorry into Sebastian's car and fuck up the rest of my life." He sighs. "Sorry, I get bitchy when I'm tired."

"Me too, don't worry about it," Andy whispers back, then kisses his shoulder. "I'm glad you came here tonight."

"Me too."

* * *

They leave early the following morning for the next venue. The journey is a slow one because of an accident blocking up two lanes of the motorway, which Remington is the first to find out about, since he has a habit of looking up live updates of any road they're travelling on. Out of paranoia, and also perhaps because subconsciously, he likes torturing himself.

When Andy hears of the reason for the traffic from the driver, he goes to check on the younger, who's sitting in his bunk, holding a pillow, and crying. Andy pulls back the curtain and sits on the bed. "Hey, darling, you okay?"

Remington wipes his eyes and nods.

"D'you want a hug?"

Again, he nods, wraps his arms around the man gratefully.

"We can pull over if you need some fresh air," Andy suggests.

"No, it's fine. Sorry."

"Shh."

"I just...I really really miss them."

Andy kisses his head.

"Everyone's just moving on and I can't."

"There's no time frame for moving on from losing someone."

Remington sniffles. "Like...Emerson's girlfriend has a new partner now, and what if that means she doesn't think about him anymore?"

"I'm sure she does."

"And no matter what I do, I just always end up feeling the same." He lifts his head. "And now someone else might have to feel like this, too, and that's not fair. And this bus is so fucking noisy, it's like trying to sleep inside a jet engine." He shakes his head. "Are we even moving?"

"Doesn't look like it," Andy responds, glancing at the window. "Listen, I don't want to sound like a worried parent, but tour's hard enough as it is, if you need a break, that's nothing to be ashamed of."

"It's fine, really."

"Okay, but say if you start feeling burnt out. It's really important you say something or you'll be dragged down and mangled in the meat processor that is touring."

"That's a disturbing metaphor."

"Yeah, I don't know why I thought it'd sound good."

Remington wipes beneath his eyes. "It's only another month, I'll be fine." He moves back to lean against the wall, sighs. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Not cry all the time."

The man crosses his legs, facing Remington, and shrugs. "I do, you just don't know."

"Really?"

"Sometimes. Not as much as I used to. Most of the time, I just act like a cock to distract myself from the tragic series of events that is my life, as you've probably noticed."

"Mhm."

"If you listened hard at, like, four in the morning, you'd probably hear me crying. Shit, that sounds depressing."

"Little bit. Comforting, though."

"I'm glad my sadness comforts you."

"At least I'm not the only messed up one."

"Oh, babe, I can assure you, no one has their shit together at this point. We're all just hanging on." He checks his phone. "So, apparently if we keep moving at this speed, we'll be six hours late to the venue."

"Great."

"Good news is that I've got ice cream in the freezer. Want some?"

"Obviously."