We're All Scared Of Being Alone

201 20 19
                                    

Trigger Warning: Death, suicide, depression

"I'm guessing you're Andy," Larisa says, opening the door. 

The man nods, says he is. 

"Come in, come in. He's in a bit of a state." 

Andy presses a smile and follows her into the living room. "Hey, Remington," he greets, trying not to sound overly pitiful because he knows Remington won't like that. 

The guitarist is sitting on the couch with his hands in his hair. When he lifts his head, there are tears dripping down his cheeks, making his skin glisten. His chest is heaving with breaths and he looks up at Andy while wiping his face with the back of his hand. "They're dead," he whispers. 

Furrowing his brows, Andy kneels in front of the younger and puts his hands on his knees. "I'm so sorry," he says softly. 

"I'm gonna kill myself."

"No, darling." 

Remington stares at him, wipes his eyes again. "I want to go home," he sobs, dropping his head returning his fingers to his hair. 

"I'll drive you," Andy suggests. 

"No, Andy. Home. Home." He shakes his head. "I want to go home."

"It's gonna be okay."

"How? How, when they're-when they're dead, Andy? They're dead. They're-they're always gonna be dead. It-it doesn't matter what anyone-what anyone does, they'll always-they're always gonna be-Andy, how will anything be okay when they're always gonna be dead? They're dead! They're dead and-and I'm-and I'm not, and-and-and I don't want to be alone anymore."

The sobs that break his sentences make Andy wants to cry, too. He moves closer to Remington and takes his hands, pulls them carefully from his hair and holds them tight. His brows are furrowed and he says with sincerity, "You are not alone, baby, not at all. I'm so sorry you feel that you are, but I promise you're not. You have Larisa and Shy and everyone in the band and you have me. Darling, you have me." He rubs the back of Remington's hands with his thumbs. "And I know you think I'm a cunt, and I probably am, but I promise you, I'm a cunt who loves you, who wants you, who is asking you right now to stay alive. Not for me, not for anyone else, but for you. Because I know you don't agree right now, and that's okay, but if you die today, how will you ever do all the things you've dreamed of?"

Remington looks at him, at his comfortingly clear eyes, listens without interrupting.

"How will you play a stadium show or meet your idols or get that car you're after or just be happy, if today you die? You can't take all that away from yourself. You deserve to get all you want out of life, even if right now, all that seems too hard. I promise you, it's not. Sure, at points you'll ask why you're even trying, you'll fall down crying, but think of all the times when things go your way. Think of what an audience will look like from upon a stadium stage. The cheering and the tears of joy and the banners saying you saved them. Think of what it will feel like holding a brand new steering wheel for the first time, sitting in that soft leather seat knowing it's all yours, driving it for the first time, feeling the smoothness of the wheels, the shiny radio. And yeah, sometimes you might hate the thought of driving, but think of all the times when you don't. The times when all you want is to drive, to be in control of where you're going, to feel the wind and the sun and to be free. How will you feel that if today, you die?"

Remington finally breaks the gaze, looks instead at their holding hands. "I just want to see them again."

Andy nods. "I know. And I want that for you, so much, but I won't let you kill yourself in order to achieve it. They love you. They will always love you. They will want you to live your life the way they never had the chance to. They won't want you to sacrifice everything, baby, not even for them. I know it feels like the only option right now, but it isn't, and the pain you're experiencing won't always be here. But they will always love you."

For a while, Remington says nothing. He does what he can to calm himself down, lets Andy continue to hold his hands because it makes him feel listened to. Then, once he's found a more stable version of his voice, he says, "Will you take me home now?"

"Of course, darling, and I'll make breakfast, okay?"

"Okay."

Andy pulls him to his feet. "I'm sorry for being a cunt."

Remington collects his phone from where it landed when he threw it. "Sorry for saying I hated you."

"It's okay, I deserved it."

Even though there's almost no one on the road, since it's so early, Andy drives slowly, slowing further when a bus passes on the other side. He glances at Remington and sends him a smile when he sees the younger is looking back. He stops at a shop to pick up things for breakfast.

Andy makes coffee, eggs, bacon and toast once they're at the house. He serves Remington's first, handing him cutlery and the bottle of ketchup. Remington mumbles a thank you and waits for him to sit down with his own before beginning to eat. "Thank you," he then says again, adding, "For not abandoning me. It means a lot."

"I want you to know you can always come to me, okay?"

"Thank you."

"Of course. I'll stay with you today, clean up so you can get some sleep. Maybe we can watch a movie later or something."

"I'd like that." Remington smiles briefly. "You're really good with words, by the way. That was some deep inspirational shit you said before."

Andy smiles back. "That's what they all tell me."

"Don't ruin it by being a dick now."

"Sorry, babe."

"And I don't hate you, for the record. I love you."

"Everyone hates me sometimes, I don't blame you. I love you, too."

"I'm not surprised, you're very hate-able."

"Yes, so I've been told."

Remington smiles again. "But loveable too, though." He begins cutting up a piece of bacon. "And if I was in the audience, I'd hold up a banner saying that you saved me."

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