Trigger warning: Self-harm, depression

Four days after Andy was taken, Remington cut himself. He didn't know what else to do. Andy was so important to him, so important to his mental health, that being without him was more painful than being stabbed by the pallet knife.

He forgave Andy. He never blamed Andy in the first place. It wasn't fair they they'd taken him when it was them who fucked him up. He didn't need another update. He was perfect already.

His brothers remained oblivious to the self-harming, and he would keep it that way. It would change the way the saw him, and the way the treated him, and he didn't want it to change. He just wanted Andy back and for everything to go back to normal.

When his phone rang on the fifth day and it was someone from The Perfects and Co, Remington was both terrified and wildly relieved, because it meant they were either going to tell him he'd never see Andy again, or that he would.

"Remington Leith?" Asked the woman.

Remington said it was him.

"Alright, Remington. I'm sure you know why I'm calling."

"Uh, yes."

"Andrew was one of the most severely effected by the faulty update, which I can confirm was due to hackers breaking into the system. I'm sure you're anxious to know what's going to happen to Andrew."

"Yes."

"Right. His shut down failed to wipe the update from his brain, however our scientists are working extensively to reverse the damage. Obviously, it would be unsafe to have him out in the wild, so to speak, without being certain the violence is gone from his mind, so we will be keeping him for a little while longer, but rest assured, he will be returned to you as soon as we can be certain he will be safe."

"That's such a relief."

"I can imagine. I'm so sorry for what happened. He stabbed, you I believe? Are you healing well?"

"Yeah. It wasn't that deep."

"I'm glad to hear it. We'll be back in touch once we have more information on Andrew. I understand this can be a difficult time for you. Perfects can become very therapeutic for those who they spend the most time with."

"Thanks."

"Look after yourself. Do get in touch if you have an questions. Look out for emails."

"I will."

"Alright, Remington. Take care."

Later that day, in the studio, Remington told his brothers of the news, and they both looked unconvinced, and Sebastian slowly said, "He stabbed you."

"Yes," Remington said. "I'm aware. I felt it."

"Remington. He stabbed you. You can't be around him anymore."

"He was hacked. They told me."

"They'll tell you anything to get him off their hands."

"The hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Seb, leave it," Emerson cut in. "I'm happy for you, Rem."

The guitarist scoffed. "Happy for him? Emerson, he could have been killed by the fucking thing."

"Andy's a person, not a thing," Remington spat.

"He's a thing, Remington. A thing that tried to murder you. And you're just gonna welcome him back into your house? Are you fucking insane?"

"No, Sebastian, I'm fucking not. I'm just smart enough to know that he was hacked."

"Dumb enough, more like," Sebastian said. "He'll do it again, and don't expect sympathy from me."

"He won't."

"Seb, seriously," Emerson tried again. "You know how close they are."

"Obviously not that close if it just tried to kill him."

"He's not a thing, get it through your fat fucking skull!" Remington shouted. He was tearing up. All he wanted, all he needed, was for Andy to come back, to be himself, to hug him, to know that he had been cutting himself without having to ask. He didn't have the capacity for any of this.

"Whatever it is, it stabbed you with a pallet knife, and you're fucking crazy if you think it won't happen again."

"No, Sebastian. It won't happen again, because for the fiftieth time, it wasn't him! He was hacked!"

"Sure he was."

"Right, you know what, next time you want to talk to me, send me a fucking text. Then I can ignore you in peace. I'm singing this fucking song." Remington stormed off towards the recording booth and snatched up the headphones, glared through the glass at Sebastian, and sung. Angrily, then sadly, then he had to stop because he was about to cry, and when Emerson asked through the intercom if he was okay, he just said, "Play it from the top."

At home in the evening, after biting back tears all day, Remington sat in the bathroom and sobbed. He didn't understand why he was so upset, when, after all, Andy would return, but he didn't like it, and as he was dragging the blade across his wrist for the fourth day in a row, he realised that he didn't need Andy so much because he was a Perfect, or because he knew everything, or because he was always gentle and calm, but because he was the only person that was completely separated from his band.

All the friends he'd had and lost had been interested in the fame and the money and the clout of having him in their social media posts. Even his brothers, whom of course he loved, sometimes seemed unapproachable simply because they were in the band, and it was getting the point that the band was making him so detached from reality that he didn't want anything to do with anyone who was connected to it.

Andy had always shown an interest. He asked about their songs and what the lyrics meant and how the studio had been each day, but he never showed an interest in what it could get him, never cared about that. He just cared about Remington and asked about the band because it was a big part of Remington's life and identity.

It was something Remington had been desperate for for such a long time that now he had experienced what it was to have Andy, having him taken away was worse than before he knew him.