How has this got to seventy chapters already?! How are you liking it??

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of self harm, depression

CC calls Andy the following morning, though the man is unable to answer because he's stood in the shower with Remington, a hand holding the younger's waist while he rubs shampoo into his hair with the other. Remington hasn't showered alone since the accident, what with his own fear of it happening again and Andy's paranoia of the same thing, it makes them both feel better to shower together. That way, if he were to slip, he'd be caught.

When Andy doesn't pick up, CC sighs, shakes his head, and says to Jinxx, "This is getting ridiculous."

"It's only half ten," Jinxx says. "Give him time. He has to make sure Remington's alright."

"He's been doing that for months."

"Yes. Because Remington has brain damage, you moron. Stop being so harsh on him, he's doing his best. I'm sure he'll call back when he can, and he said he'd be in by half eleven, not half ten. Give him an hour before you star planning a bloody murder."

CC sighs but gives in.

After the shower, Andy reminds Remington where his clothes are and gets dressed while watching in amusement as he opens every drawer in the bedroom for a pair of 'those foot thingies, y'know the ones.' When he finally finds them, he spends five minutes trying to find two that match, giving up and taking out two random socks. Then he sits on the bed to put them on.

"I'm just going to make breakfast," Andy tells him. "Just shout if you need me."

"Okay," Remington says cheerfully. "Thanks, Andy."

"I don't know what you're thanking me for, but you're welcome." He ruffles the boy's damp hair.

"Who do I know called, uh...called Andrew? But not you. Someone else called Andrew?"

"Ah, the guitarist in your band is called Andrew."

"Yes. That's it. Thanks, Andy."

"No problem, cutie. See you in a bit. Don't put your socks on the wrong feet."

Remington looks at the socks. "You can put them on the wrong feet?" He asks, eyes widening.

Andy chuckles. "No, I'm teasing, love. You're cute."

"You're mean." Remington pouts and folds his arms. "I don't know what, uh, teasing means."

"It means I was joking. Winding you up. Being a meanie."

"Oh. Okay."

When Remington joins Andy in the kitchen, he's given a mug of tea and a plate with scrambled egg and smoked salmon. He looks at it and then at Andy, who's looking back at him, trying not to laugh at his face. "It's scrambled egg," he says. "It's nice."

Remington pokes at it with the fork. "It looks like how my brain feels."

"Don't be mean to my scrambled egg."

"What if I don't like it?"

Sitting opposite with his own, Andy smiles. "You do like it. Just try it, love. Trust me."

"I don't trust anything that looks like that."

"I'll spoon feed you like a baby," the man threatens playfully. "We can play the choo choo train game."

"Shut up."

"Just try it. If you don't like it, I'll make you pancakes. Promise."

"What're pancakes?"

"That things we had yesterday."

"I don't remember anything past you being a meanie."

"You're moody this morning."

Remington huffs. "Yes," he agrees. "Because you're, uh, abandoning me all day."

"You don't remember pancakes but you remember me telling you I'm going out last night?"

"Don't question how it works."

"I'm not 'abandoning' you, love. I'll be back for dinner. It's only a couple of hours." He checks his phone now, texts CC that he'll be there in forty five minutes. CC sends back a thumbs up. "C'mon, eat your breakfast."

The boy scoops up some of the egg onto his fork and puts it in his mouth.

"See? Nice?"

He pouts but nods. "Yes. It's nice. Buy you're still abandoning me."

"Where did you get that word from?"

"Inside my head with all the other words."

"No, I mean why are you using that word? I'm not abandoning you. I'm going to the studio for a few hours because it's my job, and then I'll come back home to you, because I love you."

"Abandoning," Remington repeats stubbornly.

"Abandoning would be if I left and never came back. I'm not doing that. I'd never do that."

"Abandoning."

"Remington, love, tell me what's wrong."

"You're abandoning me." He stabs a piece of salmon like it's alive and he's killing it. "You're abandoning me for a stupid job."

Andy raises an eyebrow. "Let me remind you that if my job is stupid, so is yours. What's wrong?"

"I don't have a job."

"Yes you do. You're in a band. Same as me."

"That's my job?"

"Yep."

"I didn't know that."

"Tell me what the matter is so I can sort it out before I go. I don't wanna leave you here in a bad mood all day."

"Not leave, abandon."

"Remington."

He stabs more salmon. "What?"

Andy gets up. He pulls out the chair beside the younger and sits in in. "What's the matter?" He asks again. "If you say nothing, I know you're lying. What is it?"

Remington shrugs and drops the fork.

"Are you worried about being alone?"

Another shrug.

Andy takes his hand and kisses the back of it. "I understand, baby, I do. I know how it feels, alright? I've like that, too. But you're gonna be fine, love. It's only a few hours, and if you need me, you can always call, okay? I'm always here for you, even when I can't be here in person. You know that."

Looking at their intertwined fingers, Remington sighs. "But...but what if it happens again?"

"You're scared you might hurt yourself?"

"Or something."

"Okay. That's okay. Don't cry, love. It's alright. I'll see if one of your brothers can be here until I'm back."

"No!"

"But...Love, if you're worried you'll hurt yourself, your brothers can help."

"No, please. They make me want to do it."

Andy frowns. "They do?"

"Yes. Because they're so, uh, so controlling. Not them, please."

"I don't know how to help, then, love. I can't bring someone you don't recognise into the house, that won't help. What would you like me to do?"

"I like Andrew," Remington says.

"Yeah? Okay. I'll call Andrew."

"Okay."

Andy kisses his hand again and reaches over the table for his phone. Luckily, Andrew agrees to come round until he's back, saying he's happy to help, and Andy waits for him to arrive before leaving. "Help yourself to anything in the fridge," he tells the guitarist. "Make yourself at home and if you can't find Rem, he'll be in my podcast room, probably under the desk. I'll be back by seven."

"See you later," Andrew says. Remington is sat on the stairs playing on his phone.

"Have a good day, love. I'll be back before you know it."

Remington looks up and nods.