Got a 'No <3' from the Uni I wanted so that's rlly fun but it's ok, the woman interviewing me was a real bitch. Fuck Manchester, London's calling me.

Triggers: Mentions of abuse, eating disorders

Remington wakes alone in the room, which is unusual. He dresses himself and looks for signs of where Andy could be. His bed is unmade, suggesting he left abruptly some point last night, or early this morning. His book is still on the table, so Remington knows he's not gone to read outside like he does sometimes. He goes to breakfast alone, looking around for the man once he's sat down. He sees no sign of him.

After breakfast, Remington goes back to the room and starts reading one of the books Abigail got for him. He goes to therapy at around midday, still with no sign of Andy, and returns to an empty room. In the evening, he asks a doctor where Andy is, if he's okay, and is given an answer that answers nothing. Remington lies awake wondering where his husband is, getting up the next morning to find he's still on his own in the room.

"What happened," Remington tells his therapist, when he's asked about the fight he had with his brother, "is that they're cunts."

The therapist looks at him, unimpressed. "Let's try and minimise the use of words like that."

"What? Cunts? What's wrong with that word? It's a fun word to say. Cunts. Cunts. Cunt-"

"Alright Remington."

The boy huffs.

"I understanding visiting hours aren't always what you expect and sometimes people come and you don't want to see them, but getting over those fears is-"

"Part of recovery? Yeah yeah, haven't heard that before."

"Are we having a bad day?"

Remington crosses his arms.

"What did you and your brothers talk about?"

"That they're cunts." He pulls his feet onto the chair. "And they'd rather I just 'got it over with' and fucking went bye bye."

"They said that?"

"They said 'stop fussing and get it over with'."

"Both of them?"

"No, Emerson. Sebastian just sat there."

"Do you know why he said that to you?"

Remington huffs again. "Because he's a -"

"Yes, cunt."

"Well how can you say it and I can't?" He asks loudly, agitated about Andy. "He's fucking thinner than me and it's pissing me off!"

"That's not a reason to call him such rude words, Remington."

The boy sighs. "Well sorry for feeling like this," he says dryly, "and you can't tell me not to call him a cunt when he is a fucking cunt." He stands up, says, "I'm done here now," and slams the door when he leaves.

Remington sits in the garden for a while, drawing his mind back into the present when someone sits beside him.

"I keep seeing you around," she says.

The boy hums.

"So what're you here for?"

"Anorexia."

"I know you."

He looks at her.

"You're married to Andy Black, right?"

"I am."

"Lucky."

He hums again.

"You're not very chatty."

"Caught me on a bad day."

"So what's your name?"

"You know my husband but not my name?" He asked, mildly amused.

"I'm obsessed with Andy."

"Me too, darlin', and it's Remington." He plays with the bottom of his hoodie. "I'm not rude, I'm just in a bad mood. My brother's being a cunt. Anyway...what's your name?"

"Holly," she says, and Remington swallows. "So you've got a brother?"

The boy focusses on his fingers. "Uh-yeah, two." He twists his wedding ring.

"That's cool."

He nods uncertainly. It's not like she even looks or sounds anything like Holly, but her name being the same, for some reason, makes him feel like he's not safe.

"So are you two, like, actually together?"

"Sorry?"

"Some celebrities get with people just for the media."

Remington keeps his eyes on his hands. "That's not what we did."

"Oh."

"Is that a problem?"

"No, I just..."

He wants to go back inside.

"I didn't think he was actually gay."

Remington scoffs. "So he's written loads of songs about me even though he's straight and doesn't love me at all?"

"I just assumed they were written by, like, a lyricist."

"Do you know how offensive you're being right now?" The boy asks, "you're obsessed with Andy and yet you can't accept his sexuality?"

"I never said that. I just said I didn't think he was gay."

"Well he is."

"How do you know?"

He scoffs again. "The photos in the private folder on my phone, darlin', that's how."

"Prove it."

Remington laughs in disbelief. "In what world would I show a kid photos of Andy that only I've seen?"

"I'm not a kid, I'm sixteen."

"You're a kid. "

She shakes her head.

"I bet he doesn't have photos of you," she says, "who'd wanna look at you naked?"

"Right, so I told you, literally five minutes ago, that I'm anorexic, and you go and say that. I bet you're really popular," he spits, getting up. "And for the record, Holly, he does have photos of me, and he fucking loves this body, alright? Not my fault if you're too 'obsessed' with him to deal with that."

"I'm gonna tell everyone you're a dick," she says after him.

"Good, do that." He sticks his middle finger up at her and flinches when someone taps his shoulder. He turns to see a doctor, unimpressed. "She's called Holly and she's homophobic!" He shouts, pushing past the doctor and angrily snapping at them when he's grabbed. "Get off," he demands, "don't touch me."

"We don't treat other patients like that," the doctor tells him sternly, keeping a grip on his arm.

"I'm not the one insulting her body! It's all body fucking positivity until it's a man who's got issues with food!" He tries to free himself. "You can't touch me!"

"Whatever she did or didn't say, it's not acceptable."

Remington pushes against the doctor's chest, trying to put distance between them. "You can't touch me!" He repeats, trying to get the hint across. It's the first time a doctor here has been forceful like this.

"Apologise to her."

"Let go of me!"

"I'm warning you."

The boy attempts to pry his fingers off his arm but his loss of muscle does nothing to help. "You can't touch me!" He shouts for the third time, beginning to panic because it's been a while since he felt threatened like this, and in a hospital that's supposed to be safe, no less.

"Say sorry," the man says.

Remington whimpers.

"Say sorry."

"I haven't done anything!" He insists, and then, "it hurts!"

"Just apologise."

"No! Get off! Get off me!" He kicks against the man. "It hurts, stop! Please! Please..." Remington looks at the girl and tries desperately to get away. She looks like Holly. His Holly. "Let go," he begs, "it hurts, it hurts, let go! I'm sorry! I'm sorry, please don't. Please. I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Look at her, not that tree."

Remington keeps struggling.