Trigger Warning: Eating disorder, depression, anxiety

"Art, huh," Andy said, hands around a cup of hot tea. They were sitting in the hospital cafe. "Like, what sort of art?"

Remington was stirring his tea aimlessly. "Easy stuff. Collages from magazines. Sketching vases and flowers. You know. Things everyone can enjoy. That's why I do it. So everyone can have the chance to focus on something other than the hospital and why they're here." He laid the wooden stirrer on a napkin and picked up his drink. "Besides, I enjoy it. Showing people how to create things that I like creating. So it's a little self indulgent, too."

Andy hummed. "Some people are so sweet," he said.

"Thanks?"

"And then you work in a makeup salon?"

"Yep."

"Can you do my makeup?"

Face breaking into a grin, Remington nodded enthusiastically. "Oh. Sure. Absolutely. I would love to."

Andy smiled and dropped his head down to look at the tea, went quiet. Then after a moment, he said, "Sorry. Milk. I have to get over being scared of milk."

"That's okay, I understand. Take your time." Sipping his drink, he sighed thoughtfully.

Andy was glancing at him. "Why do you do it?" He asked.

"Hm?"

"You know. Why do you come here, really? Why do you care?"

"I like making people smile."

Blowing on the drink, Andy dared to sip it. "That's it?"

"Yes?"

"You're really just that nice, huh."

"Why is that so hard to believe?" Remington asked, humoured.

Andy shrugged. Neither of them spoke. He sipped his tea again. "Thanks," he said. "For cheering me up."

"I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Don't you have other sick people to be nice to?"

"Probably, but you were crying."

"As if I'm the only one crying."

"Most people tell me to go away when they're crying," explained Remington, swirling his fingers in a circle on the table. "Some like the company, but most don't."

"Who wouldn't like the company of a pretty thing like you?"

"Subtle."

"Mm. That's me. Mister Andrew Subtle Biersack." He took another sip of his tea. "Got any siblings?"

"Two brothers. I'm the middle child."

"Do they have wacky names too?"

Remington snorted. "My name's not wacky"

"Come on. Remington is a hairdryer brand. Or a typewriter. It's so wacky. But it suits you, though. I mean, not in a bad way. This isn't supposed to be an elaborate insult. Fuck me, I'm so shit at being a human."

"No you're not, don't say that. I know what you mean. It is a little odd. But you know, my little brother is called Emerson, so if anything, he pulled the short straw."

"Oh, wow."

"Mhm. What about you? Do you have siblings?"

Andy shook his head, a sadness washing through him. "No. Just me and my parents. I mean, I have the guys in my band who are basically brothers to me, but not in the literal sense. I sometimes think, would I have gotten to this point, y'know, with, uh, with starving myself, if I had a sibling. Some people are so close to their siblings, maybe that's what I needed to help me. I don't know. Don't get me wrong, my parents are the best I could ask for. You know, they took me in and looked after me, tried all they could to help me, but at the end of the day, it's like it doesn't even matter what they did. I still ended up nearly having a heart attack and being back here, unable to fucking walk down a flight of stairs. I'm sorry, you don't wanna listen to this."

"No, please. You need an outlet. Be my guest." Sipping his drink, Remington added, "I think, if you want my input, that no matter the support system you have around you, when you're struggling to such an extent, nothing seems enough to pull you out. That's not to say it's impossible to heal, but just that there's only so much people can do when they don't really, I suppose, understand what it is that makes you do it."

"Huh." Andy laughed to himself. "I don't know whether to thank you or murder you."

"Just don't get my blood on the floor, the staff will never let you hear the end of it."

Andy shook his head with a chuckle. "You're cute, you know that?"

Cleaning his throat, Remington dropped his eyes to his drink. "Oh. Thank you."

"Mm, welcome."

* * *

In the evening, Andy sat in his bed with his laptop watching time wasting YouTube videos, picking up his phone to Jinxx, who opened with, "Andy, listen. I'm sorry. About what I said before. I've been beating myself up about it all day. It wasn't my place and it's not fair on you to take the blame for something that you can't control. I'm just...I'm sorry." 

Andy moved his finger back and forth on the mousepad. "It's okay," he said. "I get it. I know you don't really understand why I'd do this to myself. I don't understand, so I don't know why anyone else would. Really, man, it's okay. Don't beat yourself up about it, please." 

There was a silence; Jinxx was surprised by Andy's ease. "Are you sure?" He asked. "You don't have to say it's okay if it isn't. You can be mad at me." 

"No, really. I was mad, for a while. And hurt. But I talked to Remington - the guy who volunteers here - and he made me realise that what I've done, you know, starving myself, is so, I guess, difficult to handle, that it's gonna effect everyone. Not just me. I'm sorry for acting like you should know everything about how I'm feeling all of the time." 

"Don't you apologise." 

"Anyway, my point is, it's okay. I'm not mad and I understand that it's fucking impossible to deal with this, uh, this disorder. I don't want you or anyone to feel responsible for how bad it got. You helped me so much by putting me in hospital last time and by constantly being here despite how rude I've been. Don't stress over one thing you said, please." 

"Okay. Thank you. I'm really trying to understand better what you're going through.  I've googled so much shit about it and I just...I'm so sorry you're dealing with all of that." 

"No, don't. I'll cry. Thanks for taking time to do that, I really really appreciate it. But Jinxx, if you or anyone else just wants to, you know, talk about it, I will. I mean, so you can understand a little better. I don't want to be alone anymore with it. It fucking sucks everything out of me." 

"We're just so worried about upsetting you by bringing it up," Jinxx explained. 

Andy closed Youtube on his laptop and then closed the laptop. "I know. And I appreciate that, too. But I want you to understand. So please, just ask, okay? I'll try to tell you about it without crying too much. Okay?" 

"Okay." 

"Thanks, Jinxx. For everything." 

"Of course, buddy. You have a good night, alright? Cc and Jake are dropping by the hospital tomorrow. I'll see you in a few days." 

"Okay. Thank you. I love you." 

"I love you too, Biersack. I'm glad you're doing a little better. See you." 

"Yeah. See you later." Andy put the phone on the bed and leant back, closed his eyes, exhaled.