Make Me (Remdy)

We All Need A Way Out

Trigger Warnings: Suicide, death, self harm/injury, depression, abuse

Late. 

Remington was supposed to go to therapy earlier, but being with Leo meant he wasn't able to, and now, as he sits on the edge of the bed beside the sleeping builder, he realises it's perhaps the one day when he needs it the most. 

Angelica would tell him what she always tells him; it's okay to be struggling and it's important to reach out for help. He'd tell her he knows and then she'd check how he is because he's being awfully reserved, and he'd tell her. 

Only he can't, because he didn't go, and whatever help she might have given him is not here. 

He gets off the bed and tip-toes out of the room. In the bathroom, he stares at himself in the smeared mirror. A bruise is forming on his temple and he touches it, winces, blinks to keep his eyes dry. 

He's done it once, he might do it again. 

Remington doesn't have his phone. If he did, maybe he'd call someone. Shy or Larisa or Andy or someone. But Leo insisted on being 'gadget-free' and it was either comply or face the fist, which, ironically, he faced later anyway. He still doesn't know why the man attacked him. Something about not making an effort to be normal. It was all a bit of blur of tears and dizziness after the first hit. 

He tries to change his appearance by staring so intensely that his eyes ache, and when that doesn't work and he's still the slutty ex-guitarist/ex-boyfriend of the only person beside his brothers who ever really cared, he picks up the box Leo's razor is kept inside of, emptying the contents and finding the spare blades in a small plastic container, safely sealed. 

Without a second thought, Remington breaks the seal and takes one out. 

The first slash is a shock to his system, and if he was half-asleep, that no longer is the case. 

The second is easier but more painful, and he catches his blood in the sink, turns the tap on so it mixes with cold water and runs down the drain. 

The third is supposed to be the last, but he's already moving onto the fourth, and soon there are five. 

By twelve, the bruise on his temple is forgotten, and at thirteen, there's the horribly comforting feeling of his head swimming.

After fourteen, he finally puts everything back where it was. Hides the evidence. 

He leaves the bathroom and then the house, walks in the dark to the graveyard. His brothers are waiting for him. He knows they are. They said they would be.

He touches the stones weakly before sitting on the grass and shaking his head. "I need you," he says. Whether it's to them or someone else, he couldn't be sure. "There's nothing for me anymore." He folds his arms in the cold winter air, the new wounds stinging against his hoodie sleeve. "Everything I do just makes it worse. Like...Leo was supposed to help, but I guess I was wrong about that, too. I'm such a mess." 

Standing, he turns away from the graves and wipes his eyes. The bruise on his temple burns. He touches it again, closes his eyes through the pain, and continues pressing hard on the damaged skin until he feels he might collapse. Dropping his hand by his side, he begins walking back towards town. Blood runs down his arm and drips slowly from his fingers, leaving a trail of dark red splotches, like some fucked version of connect the dots. 

The door is locked. Remington stands outside for a long time before finally lifting his hand to knock. When no one answers, he knocks again, then again, until he's banging with both fists, and by the time it opens to an alarmed Andy, he's sobbing uncontrollably. "Everything's going wrong," he cries. His left hand is wet with his own suffering. 

"Oh, thank God you're safe," Andy breathes, letting him in and closing the door. Remington realises that he's still fully dressed, as though unable to go to bed. Andy wraps Remington in his arms, it being a little difficult what with his elbow in a cast) and the younger grips him tightly, cries into his shoulder, just below the neck brace Andy has to wear for four more days. "You have to stop doing this to yourself. I've been so worried." 

"I don't-I don't know what's wrong with me." 

"There's nothing wrong with you. It's okay. I'm so glad you came home."

"I...Nothing will-nothing's gonna fix me." 

Andy pulls back, holds Remington at arms length, cups his chin with his hand. "You don't need fixing, hon, you're not broken." 

"But..." 

"You're not broken," he repeats. "And if you are broken, then hell, so am I. Does that mean I'm a lost cause? No. Of course not. And neither are you." He observes Remington's face. "Did he do this to you? Did he hit you again?" 

Nothing, then a nod. 

"This needs to stop. You can't keep going back to him out of self-hatred." He wipes tears from under Remington's eyes. "It's okay to be struggling, but putting yourself in this situation because of it just...it's not the way to deal with it." 

"I know," the younger mumbles. "I just didn't wanna be alone." 

"I'm sorry for what I said. I regret arguing with you so much. But please, hon, please stop doing this to yourself. You're gonna get yourself in serious trouble with him." 

Remington sniffles. "I thought you didn't want me anymore." 

"What? No, of course I want you." 

"I thought you'd get back with Juliet." 

"That has run its course and I would like to never relive any part of it." He gently brushes his fingers through Remington's hair. "I know it's weird, her being back in my life, and I know it's complicated. I mean, I've said some shit about her and I don't regret any of it, but she's still the mother of my child and I won't just abandon them now. But that doesn't mean I'm gonna get with her again. And if that ever were to happen, I want you to fill the sink with water and hold my head under until I drown." 

"I'm not gonna murder you," Remington says with a brief smile. "But okay." 

"Can we agree to put the last argument behind us?" 

"Please." 

"Good," Andy says. He notices Remington's hand, takes it, carefully lifts the sleeve. "Let's clean this up," he suggests. Then, in an attempt to lighten the mood, "What're you wearing? A button up shirt?" 

The observation makes Remington cry again. 

"Leo made you wear it, huh?" 

He nods, wipes his eyes. 

"Well then, after we've taken care of you, we're gonna make a bonfire." 

Remington looks at him. "What?" 

"These clothes. We'll burn them. You don't need them. You look so boring ." 

"I..." 

"You have a wonderful sense of style and no builder is gonna change that. So you're gonna take this shit off, I have a onesie with your name on it, and we'll have a bonfire. I trust you like roasting marshmallows?" 

Still with tears in his eyes, Remington hugs Andy again. "Thank you," he says into his shoulder. 

"What for?" 

"Being alive."