Make Me (Remdy)

We All Hate Self-Help Books

Going through an intense Ariana Grande phase, pray for me (She's incredible, have you SEEN her live perfomances?!)

Trigger warnings: Mentions of death, depression, PTSD, abuse (all brief)

They stand in the garden watching the fire for some time. A strange relief is felt on behalf of Remington at seeing the clothes turning to ash, and as the fire is dying, he says, "I think you're my favourite person." 

Andy kicks a piece of wood towards the fire. "And you've only just come to that conclusion?" He moves his broken arm from his side to his chest. "God, it's fucking itchy." 

"Scratch it, then," Remington says with a shrug. "Oh, my bad. You can't." 

"Alright, don't get bitchy. I basically just saved your life." 

"You didn't save my life, you just saved me from needing you to save my life." 

Andy hums, moves his arm again. "I swear, there's fucking ants in this." 

"Don't be dramatic." 

"Can I ask you something?" 

"Sure, but I can't guarantee an answer." 

"Do you really value yourself so little that you'll put yourself in situations that end up hurting you like that?" 

Remington finishes off his hot chocolate. "I don't know," he says. A non-answer. Then a sigh, and, "Being alone is worse than being with someone who isn't nice to me." 

"Hon, he literally made you block everyone you know and proceeded to upset you to the point of you needing an escape so much that you hurt yourself. You want to tell me that's better than being on your own?" 

"It's...complicated." 

Andy hums. 

"Don't give me that tone. I know, I know. I fucked up. I get it. What else do you want me to say?" 

"The truth?" 

"The truth?" He huffs. "Fine. The truth. The truth..." 

"Do go on." 

"But it's so depressing," Remington complains. "Fine. Fine. The truth is that I have no self respect and would rather spend my time with a huge abusive asshole that with my own PTSD ridden company. I know it's dumb and stupid and I'm a fucking-I don't even know what-but I don't know what else to do. It's been more than a year and I'm still drowning in grief. Grief was supposed to be over by now. That's how it...that's how it works." 

"Grief doesn't work like anything, hon." 

"Yes, it does. It works like..." He sighs. "It works like...someone dies, you cry. They have a funeral. You cry. Then for a few weeks after, everyone is all oh, I'm so sorry for your loss, and then that stops and you go back to being like you were before they died." 

"You have definitely read too many 'dealing with the loss of a loved one' books." 

"I've read all of them." 

Andy hums. 

"And they're all utter crap and written like fucking poetry, and I love poetry as much as the next guy, but not while I'm trying to get over losing my fucking brothers in a fucking accident that could have been avoided if that fucking driver just fucking looked where he was fucking going instead of veering into the wrong lane and killing the only fucking family I had like a fucking-" 

"Don't say cunt. That one's reserved for me." 

"Do you think you're clever?" 

"Oh, absolutely." 

Remington folds his arms and shakes his head. 

"Have you spoken to Larisa or Shy lately?" 

"What? No, not really. Why?" 

"Maybe you should talk to them about throwing an official 'goodbye' thing for your brothers. You know, gives you all the chance to have a proper celebration for them. It might help you." 

"I don't know. Maybe." 

"Think about it, okay?" 

"Yeah, I will. I'm going in, it's cold now." 

* * * 

They go to Juliet's the following day to look after Lucas while she's at the studio working on her next album, which she and Remington had in in depth conversation about over Christmas. It isn't her that opens the door to Andy's knock, but a man he can only assume is her boyfriend. "Uh, hello?" The man says, looking from Remington to Andy. 

"Hey, I'm Andy. Juliet asked me to babysit." 

"Oh, right. Of course. She said before she left. Sorry. Do come in. I'm Jonah, Juliet's boyfriend. I'm just on the way out, so this is perfect timing." 

Andy steps into the house and Remington follows him. 

"Please help yourself to anything in the kitchen. Lucas is playing in his room, I'm sure he'd welcome your company. Uh, there's a stack of games he likes under the TV, I'm sure you know better than I do how to entertain him." He closes the door and leads the two into the living room, looks at Remington. "I'm sorry, I don't think you introduced yourself." 

"Remington. Andy's boyfriend. AKA his second kid." 

Jonah laughs. "I'm sure Juliet would say the same about me. Alrighty, I better go. Have fun, Juliet should be back by four, but if she isn't, I'm back at six." 

"No pressure," Andy assures. "Happy to spend time with Lucas." 

"You are no where near as much of a dick as I expected you to be." 

"You know, I get that a lot."

"He is a cunt, though," Remington says. 

Andy rolls his eyes. "Some people are never pleased." 

Jonah leaves and Andy goes up to find his son, who's in his purple-walled room rolling marbles around on the floor. "There's my little Batman," the man says, watching him with a smile.

"Daddy!" Lucas exclaims, abandoning his game and charging over-excitedly at Andy, who would pick him up if not for the cast his arm is in. 

"Hello, monkey. What're you up to?" 

"Noffing." He pokes the cast. 

"Remi's downstairs. You wanna say hi?" 

Lucas nods enthusiastically and walks with the elder out of the room, talking at him about the very specific rules of his marble game. Andy couldn't even begin to understand how to play, but he nods a long nonetheless. "Remi!" The child says when they make it to the living room. 

"Lukie!" 

"Snakes and Ladders?" 

"Absolutely." 

"Daddy play?" 

Andy sits with them on the floor. "You must be a master at this by now." 

"I'm the winner!" 

"We haven't started yet, silly." 

"I win already," says Lucas, giggling, and picks out which counter he wants to use. 

"I see," Andy hums, taking a red counter and placing on the bottom left square of the board. 

Remington chooses the yellow one. "Better be on top form, Biersack," he says. "Lucas is a pro at this." 

"I always win." 

Remington leans in to Andy, whispers, "If you're a little too far ahead, just turn the dice onto one for a couple goes after rolling, let him get ahead." 

Andy kisses the side of his head. "You're spoiling my son," he whispers back. "I love you for it."