It's really funny reading other books on here and seeing people that I recognize from my books

I just kinda go in my mind; "fancy seeing you hear" and I wanna say something but I'm too afraid to

WE HAVE A SHIP NAME FOR DAMIEN X REMUS X EVAN X QUINN

🖤💚💛🤍

It's REQD

Pronounced "wrecked"

Thanks to @sandersidesfun for coming up with this

And sorry I didn't update, I was kinda sick but I also have a problem where I base a new chapters worth on how many comments it first gets

When last chapter didn't do well number of comments wise, it kinda shut me down

And I have no reason why number of comments is how I judge my chapters worth and how much you guys like it

OKAY PEOPLE EMILE IS NOT PRONOUNCED EMILY

ITS JUST EMILE (THE 'E' IS SILENT) LIKE THE RAT FROM RATATOUILLE IF YA WANNA KNOW HOW TO SAY IT RIGHT, LISTEN TO THE MOVIE

AND A LOT OF YOU GUYS ARE SAYING WYLAN WRONG TOO BUT IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN HOW ITS WRONG

TRIGGER WARNINGS :

Remy POV
"This was a mistake,"  I sighed, driving to my supposed grandparents house.

"You survived your dad, now I'm sure you can survive some old people,"  Emile told me. 

He slipped his hand into mine and gave it a gentle squeeze.  I sighed again and rubbed my fingers over his knuckles.  Anything to distract myself.

From thoughts of my real father.  He's probably a nice guy, but I can't look at him without thinking about how he just abandoned me.  Left me to be homeless for most of my life.  Left me with that horrible mother who hurt me.  And didn't even care whether or not I existed.

Maybe my grandparents will be better, but I'm not so sure.  Anyone that raised the kind of bitch my mom was, must be just as bad as her.

"How much longer?"  I mumbled.  We had been driving on a backroad well out of the town limits for a good twenty minutes now.

"I don't know,"  Emile shrugged.  "I've never been around here."

I slowed the car a bit to read the address engraved on a stone next to a gated driveway.  It went winding up a forested hill. 

"This must be it,"  I sighed, already not liking this.

The address on the matched the one Mr. Bodulier has given us.  I pulled into the driveway and next to an intercom and keypad.  I pressed the button and waited for an answer. 

"Hello,"  Said an older man's voice.  "How may I help you?"

"Uh, my names Remy Dormir,"  I said awkwardly.  "I was told by a Mr. Bodulier that my grandparents live here."

"Oh yes!"  The man exclaimed.  "We've been waiting for your arrival all day Mr. Dormir."

I looked over to Emile in confusion.  Then the gates opened soundlessly before us.  I drove up the driveway slowly. 

Eventually, we reached the top and it was a huge expense of flat ground.  There was still a long winding driveway with huge cherry blossom trees on each side.  It's spring too so they're in bloom with beautiful pink and purple flowers.

A good sized lake was to our right as we drove along the cheery blossom tree edged driveway.  Up ahead was a huge house. 

It was an old colonial brick house but it was huge.  Three stories and painted white.  I could see a huge balcony over the front porch with big pots of draping ivy hanging over the railings. 

Tall Victorian style windows went along the house's wall facing the driveway.  Boxes of flowers were hung on every visible window.  Large flower gardens surrounded the house.  Evan would love this.

Finally, we reached the house itself.  The second I turned off the car, an older man in a suit opened the large front door. 

I grabbed Emile's hand out of nervousness and held onto it tightly.  We walked up the few stairs onto the big porch.  Two rocking chairs sat on the far end.

"Welcome Mr. Dormir,"  The man said.  "My name is Matthew Hearst.  I'm you're grandparents butler.  And who is this?" 

"I'm Emile Picani,"  Emile introduced himself.

"He's my boyfriend,"  I stated bringing our joined hands up so I could press a kiss to the back of his hand. 

If this house is full of homophobes, I'd rather get kicked out for it now.  I'd rather not get attached if that happened.

"I must admit I'm a tad surprised,"  Mr. Hearst composed himself.  "But, I can assure you two that you'll receive no backlash for this here."

I let out a sigh of relief in my mind.  I think Emile did too based on how he seemed to relax.  Things seemed a little less awkward. 

"Now, if you'll follow me,"  He said.  "Mrs. and Mr. Dormir are very excited to meet you."

He held the door open for us and we stepped into a huge foyer.  It was also three stories high.  I couldn't help but look up at the huge chandelier and the extensive staircases.  More pots of ivy hung over some of the railings.  A large window the stretched the three stories above the front door illuminated the foyer. 

Everything in here looked expensive and breakable.  Lots of white, gold, and silver.  This place also seemed very old fashioned in its furnishings. 

Mr. Hearst led the way down a long hallway.  We reached a sitting room.  The walls were mostly windows.  But otherwise, the back of the house seemed much more modern.

Modern couches and chairs.  A large tv on the wall above a huge fireplaces.  Thing white curtains next to open windows.  Soft fluffy carpet. 

An older lady sat on a comfortable looking couch.  A book in her hands.  She had long grey hair, pulled to the side.  She was wearing black leggings, a white shirt and a long grey cardigan.  She seemed pretty skinny and petite.

An man who also appeared to be pretty old based on his grey hair was sitting in a recliner.  He had on slacks and a white shirt.  His eyes were a dark chocolate brown.  Exactly like mine.

"Remington?"  The lady said hopefully.  She stood up and her blue eyes flickered back and forth between Emile and I. 

"That's me,"  I said, stepping forwards.  "And Remy is fine."

"Oh it pains me so much to know I've had a grandson for nineteen years and Ashley never told me about you,"  She whispered, holding a hand to her mouth. 

"My name is Charles,"  The man said, standing up next to his wife.  "I'm you're grandfather."

"And my name's Grace,"  The lady added.  "You're grandma."

"Who's this?"  Charles asked.  "You're friend?"

"My boyfriend,"  I told them, making our joined hands visible.  "Emile Picani. 

"Oh,"  Grace whispered.  "Well, it'll be nice to have you in the family Emile.  And that's such a pretty name.  Haven't heard that name since I was a little girl."

"Thank you,"  Emile smiled.  "And yeah, it's pretty uncommon now."

Another mental sigh of relief.  This was going surprisingly well considered how things went with Spencer this morning. 

"Sit, sit,"  Grace said.  "There's much to talk about"

Charles and Grace sat down on one of the couches together.  Emile and I sat down across from them.  I didn't let go of Emile's hand, still needing his comfort.  We sat so we were basically squished against each other.  Emile's nervous to be here, I can tell. 

"It's my understanding that you also met your father today,"  Charles started. 

"Yeah, he's a grade a jerk,"  I said disdainfully.  "His names Spencer and he's pretty rich.  He has a pretty new wife and four kids in a nice house.  He left mom the second he found out she was pregnant with me and never did anything to help me.  I'm never speaking to him again." 

"Sounds like a good plan,"  Grace laughed.  "Any guy with morals like that deserves a quick kick in the ass."

I laughed a bit out of shock.  I never expected her to cuss.  She seemed like a respectable nice old lady.  Well, at least I know I can start swearing.

"Back to Ashley,"  Grace said.  "It's horrible that we could only meet because of her death.  Was there a funeral?"

"No, I didn't have any money and to be frank I didn't give a shit,"  I told her. 

"I'm guessing she wasn't a good mother,"  Charles said.  "I always told you our daughter wasn't a good person."

"Understatement,"  I sighed.  "It was bad living with her."

"Please, and I'm sorry if it's painful for you to talk about, but please tell us what she did,"  Grace asked with such sadness in her eyes. 

I sighed and then told them about everything.  About her being a prostitute, a druggie and a alcoholic.  The homelessness when I was younger and then the crappy house we had for a while.  The scarcity of food, water, and clothes in that house.  The broken heater and AC.  How she beat me and always threatened me.  The names she called me and other horrible thins she said about me.  How she kicked me out for being gay.  How toxic and manipulative she was.  All the mental issues she caused me to develop.  And the disaster that was her meeting Emile and his parents. 

"I'm so sorry Remy,"  Grace said when I finished.  She looked ready to cry.  "You shouldn't have gone through that.  Trust me, if I knew you were born, I wouldn't have let you live with her."

"How long was she avoiding you?"  I asked, genuinely confused as to why anyone would leave a life and house like this. 

"When she turned eighteen, Ashley ran away to the city and cut all contact with us.  Before that, there was a lot of arguments and issues between her and us,"  Grace explained. 

"It's basically just a case of who got spoiled,"  Charles said.  "If you raise you children, you can spoil your grandkids.  If you spoil your children, you end up raising your grandkids."

"I just wish we could've been there to raise you,"  Grace said quickly. 

"It's okay I guess,"  I tried to comfort her her.  "I survived...somehow."

"You mentioned she kicked you out for being gay?"  Charles asked.  "You can always live her with us."

"No, it's fine, I've been living with Emile,"  I told them. 

"Well, our doors are always open for you two,"  Grace said.  "Maybe we can have a dinner with your parents Emile.  To make up for the first one."

"That'd be really nice,"  Emile smile.  He squeezed my hand again. 

"Yeah,"  I agreed.  "I think that could work really well."