Make Me (Remdy)

We All Deserve An Apology

Trigger warnings: Depression, suicide, death

Dw I'm hating myself for leaving this chapter on such a cliff hanger too :)

Remington is lying in his bed, as he has been since returning from the graveyard four days ago, when his doorbell rings. He doesn't make an attempt to get up, hoping that whoever it is will assume he's not in and leave, but it rings again a minute later, so he heaves himself out of bed and, with a blanket wrapped around himself, goes down to see who it is by peering through a gap in the closed curtains.

It's Andy, of course. He should have known it would be him.

The man is standing patiently with a thick coat on - it's snowing outside - and presses the button again.

Remington sighs. He isn't sure whether he should let him in or not. After all, he's the reason, or at least part of the reason, for this. Eventually, he unlocks the door and opens it, pulling the blanket tight in response to the cold air. He looks at Andy and says nothing.

Andy looks him up and down sympathetically, as though he has some sort of right to feel sympathy after what he's done. "Can I come in?" He asks.

Unspeaking, Remington steps aside. He goes into the living room and sits down, doesn't look at the man.

"Are you okay?" Andy sits beside him.

Remington shrugs, covers his hands with the blanket, partly because they're cold, but mostly because he doesn't want Andy to touch him.

"I haven't heard from you for a while, that's all."

"Oh," he mumbles dismissively.

Andy frowns. "Have I done something to upset you?"

He shrugs again.

"What's wrong?"

"Fuck off, Andy," Remington says, getting up and walking out of the room.

Watching him, Andy furrows his brows, standing up to follow him. "Remington, come on," he tries. "What've I done this time?"

The younger turns around, arms folded beneath the blanket, shakes his head. "You're a cunt," he says drily.

"Wha-Remington, I've not done anything."

"You're a fucking cunt and I hate you." He begins up the stairs.

Andy follows him. "Why? What for?"

"Use your fucking brain for once," Remington spits, at the top of the stairs. "Seriously, fuck you."

"Is this about me not coming to the graveyard with you? Look, I told you, I was busy."

"Just fuck off."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say, Remington. I'm sorry. I said I could go and you left me on read, what was I supposed to do?"

"Fuck off!" The boy shouts, slamming his bedroom door aggressively. Out of sight, he lies face down on the bed and cries.

Andy knocks on the door, sighs. "I'm sorry, I am," he says. "Please just talk to me." Remington shouts for him to fuck off again, but instead of doing that, Andy opens the door and comes in, sits on the edge of the bed. "D'you want a hug?"

"No, I don't want a fucking hug! Just piss off." He turns onto his side, back to Andy.

"Look, I didn't mean to upset you."

"Just go away."

"I'm trying to apologise."

"Fucking go."