100 chapters baby letsgoooo

Trigger warnings: Mentions of eating disorders, vv brief mentions of substance abuse

Remingtonistrying: Stressing out over everyday activities is my favourite hobby wbu?

After hearing Remington cry to her about Emerson and how he's triggering him by being so thin, Abigail takes it upon herself to get to the bottom of what's going on so she can stop the brothers from falling out over it. She takes Remington for the first proper session with his new therapist, promising to pick him up later and have dinner with him, ringing the doorbell before getting back in the car.

"Hi Remington, come in," Jane greets, stepping aside.

The boy plays with his fingers, pulls the sleeves of his hoodie, which is actually Andy's, further over his hands. He's led into a tidy room, similar to Abigail's in some ways and completely different in others. He sees she doesn't have a water jug on the table, though has more cushions that Abigail did.

"Make yourself comfy," Jane says, motioning to the couch. "I wanna spend today learning a little more about you, if that's okay. Of course, I've read through your file and so on, but I'd rather hear certain things from you. Is that okay?"

Remington, after sitting on the grey cough, nods.

"Your last therapist left me a couple notes to help me make you feel safe with me. I'm gonna read them out and you can tell me if any of them aren't right."

"Okay," the boy mumbles. He knows they'll all be bang on. He nods after every bullet point, agreeing with all of them, and twists his wedding ring on his finger while she opens a brand new notebook.

"Tell me about your brothers," she says then, "Emerson and Sebastian, is it?"

He nods.

"How's your relationship with them?"

"Fine, mostly."

"Only fine?"

"Well," he sighs, "right now they're being dicks."

"Oh?"

Remington keeps his eyes down. "'cause they know I'm relapsing real bad and then Emerson goes and fuckin' makes himself real fuckin' thin and now I have to beat him."

"Beat him?"

"By being thinner."

"So you think he's doing it just to trigger you?"

Remington nods.

"Why do you think that?"

"'cause he's a dick and he's spent all the time I've been diagnosed saying I use it as an excuse."

Jane writes the date in the corner of the page before noting down what he's juts told her. "I take it you two aren't getting on great at the moment?"

"No. We used to. Like, we were best friends. But now I'm closer to Sebastian and Emerson just kinda-he keeps doing shit to fuck up our relationship. Like he fuckin' told Andy he was in love with him even though we've been married literally for years."

"And do you think he's trying to sabotage you purposefully?"

"Mhm. And Sebastian's all like, oh Remington, he's really struggling, stop being such a drama queen bitch. And it's like...what about me and my struggling? Have they just suddenly forgotten that I had a literal fuckin' heart attack and that my husband is taking heroin like it's fuckin' oxygen and I made myself sick again last night, after promising mum I wouldn't, and Sebastian's more fucking concerned about Emerson? How is that fair?"

"There's a lot going on, huh?"

"How'd you work that one out?" He asks rather rudely, realising how it sounds and wanting to fold in on himself. "Sorry."

"It sounds like you're jealous," Jane says.

Remington looks at her. "You what? Jealous?"

"You can see Emerson is getting the support or attention that you feel you need more and you're jealous. It's making you angry at him and at Sebastian."

"I'm not jealous," he insists, "I just know he's faking it."

"Faking what?"

"Whatever the fuck is making him not eat. He's never had issues with food, and then the moment I start getting better, he goes and does this." He plays with the hem of the hoodie. "And Sebastian was like, you need to eat, and shit, and yet he's let Emerson not fuckin' eat the whole time I've been away. So that makes no sense because why do I have to eat if he doesn't?"

"You're jealous," she repeats, "because Emerson is doing what you wanna be doing. You've been in recovery for years, right, so it's not a surprise that when you see someone else, specially someone you're close with, losing weight so rapidly, you revert to your old ways as a way to 'win', if you will."

"I'm not jealous."

"There's nothing wrong with it, Remington. It's normal for you to be feeling that way."

"But I'm not feeling that way."

"I think you're so used to being the one struggling that the idea of someone else being in the same sort of situation makes you feel pushed away and deserted."

Remington laughs because she's right but he doesn't want her to be. He's never been spoken to like this; so straightforward and confident. Abigail always has a much softer way of putting things. This is a shock.

After the forty five minutes, which he finds increasingly upsetting because everything she says is right and he wasn't prepared, when he arrived, to be bombarded in such a way, he ignores Abigail when she asks how it was, gets in the car and looks out the window for the whole journey.

She stays quiet, let's him think about whatever it is he needs to think about, waits for him to get out the car before locking it and opening the front door for him, since she's been staying at his and Andy's place to look after him. "Alright, what's up?" She asks, once he's settled on the sofa with a rather stern face.

"I don't like her," Remington pouts.

Abigail sits next to him. "Why's that?"

"Just don't."

"Did she say something to get this reaction from you?"

He shrugs aggressively, reaches for the television remote.

Abigail takes the remote from him before he presses the on button. "What's really going on?" She asks.

Remington gets up, snatches his phone from the table. "I don't need more fuckin' therapy," he snaps, "and you're not even my fuckin' therapist no more."

"Hey hey, it's okay." She sees the sadness behind his anger. "I'm not trying to therapize you, doll, I can just see something's bothering you and I don't want it to manifest into something bigger in your head. That's all."

"Everything's so confusing," Remington mumbles, sitting back down and putting his head in his hands. "And Andy didn't answer the phone before." He sighs. "And she knows too much." He lifts his head and looks at Abigail. "And my brain keeps fuckin' shouting at me all the time 'nd it's too much."

"Did she say somethings that you weren't ready to hear?"

"Can we talk about something not serious now?"

Abigail pulls his hands apart because she can see he'll start scratching if she doesn't.