Make Me (Remdy)

We All Need Relief

Trigger warnings: Depression, suicide, self harm, injury description, death 

I think Cece_Di_Chiaro mentioned something similar to this idea in a comment a while ago, credits to them for this chapter, love you! 

I'm literally sobbing at this I really apologise if it has that effect on you as well.

* * * 

Even Andy's best efforts are not enough. 

At six nineteen in the morning, he wakes to something wet on his chest. He touches it with his hand, half-asleep, and lifts his hand to see what it is. His fingers are red and he sits up, startled, pulls the covers off himself and off Remington, who's left arm, he discovers, is almost completely covered in blood that's not yet dry. His right hand is smeared with it and is resting on his abdomen. A small kitchen knife is loose in his grasp. 

He must have taken and hidden it while the elder was distracted with making tea. 

Andy grabs him, tries to wake him, swears over and over with frantic actions as he is wrapping the younger's arm with a pillow case. There are no traces of tears on Remington's cheeks, no redness to his eyes, no dampness to his face. It's as though he was happy, that as the blade was cutting deep into his arm, he was calm. Relieved, in fact. Andy thinks he must have felt relieved. The thought makes his stomach turn. 

He doesn't know how much blood someone can lose before they die, but there seems to be an awful lot soaking into the mattress and running down Remington's skin, and even with the fabric tight around his arm, it continues seeping from the long, deep wounds. 

Heart pounding, Andy pulls another pillow out, bandages his wrist with the case, holds it firm and reaches for his phone. There's a part of him that realises the chances of bringing Remington back from this are slimmed almost to nothing. He talks too fast for the operator to understand him at first, has to start again, explain what's happening, remember his address and his post code and not yell at them to hurry the fuck up. 

* * * 

Remington's skin is pristine, the only alteration on it being that of tattoo ink. He sits up. He's no longer in Andy's house, but in his own home, and there's music playing from downstairs, and voices. Voices that he could recognise anywhere, in any universe, at any time in space. At first, he thinks he's hearing things. It can't be that he's listening to them, because they're not here. They haven't been here for more than a year. They can't be here. 

He gets off the bed and walks out of the room and to the top of the stairs. It's definitely them. It couldn't be anyone else. Not Andy, not anyone else in the band. It's them. He knows it is. 

Only, how can it be? 

How can it be them? 

He steps down each stair with a horrible fear that by the time he reaches the bottom, they will have disappeared and the house will be as empty as it has been since they left, but when he stops on the bottom step, they are still there. They sound alive.

Remington stands there for at least a minute, unable to move. He tries to convince himself that he's going crazy, that they're not here because they're fucking dead, that this is stupid. Then he steps into the kitchen, where the music and the voices are coming from, and his eyes grow wide, his chest heaving. He stares at the two men and they stare back. 

"Oh my God," he whispers. "How...how are you here?" 

They look at him like he isn't supposed to be there, and Sebastian finally speaks. "Remington," is all he says. He sounds just the same as he always did. Kind and gentle and real. Then he opens his arms and says, "Come here." 

Remington does. He grips his brother tighter than he's ever gripped anything or anyone before, and he cries heavily into his shoulder. He cries for the familiarity, but mostly, he cries for the relief. Relief which he has been desperate for since the day they died. Relief that no one would ever provide him with. Not even Andy, though he had so hoped for it. 

Emerson hugs him for a long time, too. They all shed tears. Enough to fill a bath, Sebastian jokes in a passing comment. Then his features become those of concern and he asks, "How did you get here?" 

Still frequently wiping his eyes and sniffling, Remington shrugs and smiles. "Does it matter?" He replies. "I'm here now." 

"You're not meant to be here," the elder tells him. "Because if you're here, that means you're dead. Are you dead?" 

Another smile. "Hopefully." 

"No, Rem. You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be dead. Please wake up." 

"No. No, I want to be here, with you. I don't want to wake up." 

"It's not your time to be here, not yet," Emerson says. "We'll still be here when it is your time. You'll see us again. You need to wake up now." 

"You don't understand, being alive without you is worse than being dead," Remington argues. "Why aren't you happy to see me?" 

"We're so happy to see you, we've missed you more than we could put into words, but this isn't right. You should be alive. What about Andy? He'll miss you. You know he will. And won't you miss him?" 

Remington frowns. "How do you-"

"Please, you don't think we sit in here all day, do you? Honey, we've been watching everything you've been getting up to for the past year. You can't leave the life you've made for yourself. The band you're in is incredible, Andy is a good, kind man, and you deserve to be there with him. Be with him, not us. You can be with us later. We'll wait for you." 

"You really mean it?" 

Emerson hugs him again. "Of course. We love you. We can't let you leave all that you have for us. You only get one life, you gotta give it everything you have." 

"But I miss you so much, it hurts." 

"And we miss you too, every single day, but think of all you'll be missing if you stay with us now. All your dreams and adventures and tours and love stories. You're worthy of a full life, and I promise, baby, that in fifty or sixty years, we will be here and we will see you again, okay? I promise. But you need to wake up now, before you can't anymore. Please, wake up." 

Remington looks at Sebastian, still in Emerson's arms. The man smiles and nods in agreement. "Okay," he mumbles. "Promise?" 

"We promise."

"I love you." 

"We love you too. So much. We're so happy to see you again, and it won't be the last time. You look after yourself for us, okay? If you're back here in less than fifty years, we'll have problems." 

"I'm sorry for what happened to you," Remington says. He's crying again. 

Emerson pulls back from the hug and wipes his tears. "It's okay. It's not your fault. We're just so glad you're getting to live out the life you always dreamed of. You deserve everything good in life, you really do. Change the world with your band and go get your man, for the love of God, watching you two is SO painful, you're so oblivious to how much he loves you. And we'll be watching the whole time, smiling when you smile and crying when you cry. We're always with you." 

Sniffling and nodding, Remington turns to Sebastian. They, too, hug. Then the younger steps back, says, "I love you so much," and turns around. 

"Good bye, Rem. We'll see you later." Together, the two watch him walk away.