Make Me (Remdy)

We All Fuck Up

Trigger warnings: Mentions of depression, self harm, depression, verbal+physical abuse 

"You told them I've gone?" 

"Yes. But I don't see why it has to be such a secret. You know they only got a bad impression of you because I brought you into the studio after Andy told me not to." 

"This Andy boss you about a lot, does he?" 

"No. No, he doesn't 'boss me about' at all, Leo. It's just that it is his studio, you know. He's the founder of the band, he's the one with all the connections, he did have a point." 

Leo rolls his eyes. "This is why I keep telling you to leave the fucking band, isn't it? Because they're using you, how can you not see that? You're just a pawn in their fucking game." 

"No, that's not what it's like. You don't understand. Without the band, I'd have nothing. Andy and the others, they're the only ones I've really gotten close to since-" 

"Drop the guilt tripping act. You know as well as I do, they only want you for their image, so they can be all 'look at us, we're saints, we have a gay f*mboy in our band. Oh, everyone, love us!'."

"I'm not a-" 

"That's exactly what you are." 

"I don't see why you have an issue with them, anyway. They're nice people." 

"Are they? Or are they rich cunts using you for your body?" 

Remington scoffs. "Don't call them cunts," he argues. "And using me for my body? What do you think they do? Fuck me all day? They're professionals, Leo, they're not using me for anything." 

"So you haven't fucked that privileged, cunt of a singer then, have you not?" 

"That's...different. And he's not a privileged cunt, he's a nice person with a nice voice." 

"What's his voice got to do with this?" 

"Are you serious right now? This doesn't need to be an issue. So what, me and Andy had sex a few times. What's that got to do with anything?" 

"He's contaminated you," Leo announces, and Remington can't help but to laugh. "I'm serious, Remington. I want you to stop seeing him." 

"What? No, that's insane. He's my friend-" 

"He's no such thing." 

"You're dictating my friendships now, are you? How mature." 

"Don't pull that tone with me." 

Remington shakes his head and moves away from the builder. "I'm not gonna stop seeing Andy, Leo. He's my friend and I trust him." 

"You trust him," Leo echoes, unimpressed. "You trust him more than you trust me?" 

"I've just known him longer is all. He's done a lot for me." 

"He's bad for you, Remington." 

"He literally saved my life, but sure. Whatever." 

"I said, don't pull that tone with me." 

"You can't stop me from seeing people just because they don't like you. That's ridiculous." 

"He's completely controlling." 

"He's really not," Remington protests, moving away further. "Just accept it. You feel threatened by him because he's hotter than you." Now, he looks away. 

Leo grabs his arm and pulls him closer. He leans forwards to aggressively whisper, "You fucking ungrateful little slut." Then he slaps him hard across the face and shoves him away. 

Andy's previous words come to Remington's mind. He's done it once. He might do it again. Remington knew he was right as soon as it was said. He knew before it was said, even, that Leo was bad for him. Bad for anyone. Unable to look him in the eye, he keeps his head down. "You have no right to control me like this," he says daringly. "I don't care if you don't like Andy or the band. They're important to me. He's important to me." 

"Are you hearing yourself right now? We both know you only like him because of his money, admit it." 

"No, because it's not true!" 

"Yes, it fucking is!" 

"There's nothing wrong with being friends with him." 

"You won't see him anymore, you understand?" 

"I understand and I say fuck you, you're not a nice person. I won't do shit I don't wanna do. And I don't wanna stop seeing him." 

Leo grabs his jaw and leans in again, whispering, "Listen to me, slut. If you dare speak to me like that ever again, I will find that cunt and run you both over. Now get the fuck out!" 

Remington flinches. "This is my house," He stutters, but Leo sends him a cold, hard glare, so he turns around and walks out. The air is chilling. The beginning of a snow storm is blowing about in the frozen wind and with nothing more than a hoodie and jeans on, he quickly starts shivering. 

He hurries down the street with tears pricking behind his eyes and his head down, hood up. "I fucked up," He cries down the phone to none other than the very person he's not supposed to be talking to. 

"What are you talking about?" Andy asks, and when the response is a son, he adds, "Hon, you need me to come see you? Have you hurt yourself again or something?" 

Remington keeps to the side of the pavement furthest from the road. "No. No. You can't. You can't." 

"Why not? What's wrong?" 

"Are you home?" 

"Yeah, just got back. Do you want me to put something in the oven for you and you come over, talk about whatever's going on?" 

"Okay." 

"I'll see you soon." 

"Okay," Remington repeats. He hangs up and continues walking.