Guys wtf these comments made my entire year skksks

Trigger warning, mentions of self harm, anorexia, the usual.

Remington scrolls through Instagram, sitting on the couch in the recording studio. "I like the guitar," he says, one of Andy's songs playing through the speakers. He takes a photo of Andy's back, captions it 'God's at work,' and posts it to his story. He steps out of the room when Abigail's name lights up on his screen.

"Afternoon, Remington," she greets, in her forever calming tone.

"Hi," the boy responds, leaning against the wall.

"We had a session today, at one. I just wanted to check you're alright since you didn't show."

"Oh shit! I'm sorry, I completely forgot."

"No worries, as long as you're okay. I wouldn't want you to avoid coming because you're struggling."

Remington watches a door down the hall open. "No, I'm not bad. I just forgot 'cause it's not the normal time for a session. Sorry for making you wait."

"You don't need to apologise, Remington. If there's anything you wanna talk about now, feel free. I've got time."

He sees a young woman leave the room, closing the door behind her. "When's the next session?"

"Let me check."

Remington watches the girl while he waits, smiling at her when she catches him looking.

"Day after tomorrow," Abigail says, "at one."

"Okay."

"I'll give you a call if you don't turn up on time, okay? I know it's difficult adjusting to new routines."

"There's just a lot to think about and remember."

"I know. It's okay. You're doing well with it, Remington."

"Thanks." He sees the girl disappear down the corridor.

"Alright. I'll see you Thursday. If you need to talk before then, give me a call. I'll do my best to get back to you quickly."

Remington smiles. "Okay, thankyou."

"No worries. Stay safe," she says, and is about to hang up when Remington talks again.

"Am I gonna die?" He asks suddenly, as though it just dawned on him.

Abigail frowns. "If you keep working hard, no. You're gonna be just fine."

"And if I have another relapse? Will I die then?"

"I don't know. No one will know unless it happens. Don't think about it, okay? You're doing your best and I can see that. Just keep going, you'll be okay."

"Okay."

"Have some faith, Remington. You've got this."

The boy sighs.

"See you on Thursday. Stay safe," she says, and hangs up.

Remington turns and opens the door, gasping when he walks into Andy and looking up with a smile. "Sorry," he giggles.

The man ruffles his hair. "I was just about to come find you," he says, "where'd you go?"

"Abi called. I missed a session today. She was checking I was okay."

"Oh right. And are you okay?"

"Yep."

Andy smiles. "Good."

"Yep."

"Come tell me what you think of this song."

"Why?" Remington asks, looking up at Andy innocently.

"Because your opinion is important to me, kitty cat."

The boy puts a hand to Andy's cheek. "Love you," he whispers.

Andy mimics his action. "Love you more," he whispers back, "you know you're adorable."

"Shut up."

"Never."

"Kiss?"

"Always."

Remington smiles as he's kissed and knows Andy smiles, too, with a gentle hand on the back of his head.

On the way out of the studio later on, Andy introduces Remington to Kassandra and her band, and they end up sitting with the five girls in the studio chatting for a while.

Phoebe, a 24 year old with pink hair, tells the about how they still have a very small fanbase, that they can't seem to get past the few thousands. "It's frustrating," she says, "seeing all these world famous bands and not knowing how they got there."

"Torture," Remington says, and everyone looks at him. "That's how you get there. I mean...my band isn't quite world famous. We're no MCR, but we have a few million on Spotify. We got there by torturing ourselves. Making music non-stop. Touring so much we got no sleep. Forgetting about our own well-being to prioritize fans."

"I didn't know you were in a band," Emily, the drummer, says.

"Have been since I was in my teens. Nearly killed me, but you gotta do what you gotta do." He looks down as he talks. "Just keep releasing stuff and acknowledge all your fans. That's the best way."

Phoebe glances to the girl beside her, Mia, before talking. "Why would you be in a band if it nearly kills you?"

Remington shrugs. "The mysteries of the world."

"Is that not just stupid?"

The boy shrugs again.

"You're not exactly the most healthy person, are you," Phoebe goes on, "I mean, you're clearly way too thin to be healthy. So no offense, but I don't think I'll be taking your advice."

"Phoebe!" Two of the girls exclaim.

"Well then I'm terribly sorry for my existence," Remington snaps, standing up and stepping towards the door. "Who was I kidding, thinking a woman would ever respect me? Should'a fuckin' learnt the first damn fucking time!" He slams the door behind him and walks quickly out of the building, scratching at his wrists, agitated, and sitting against the wall to calm down.

"Oh, well done!" Kassandra shouts, once Andy has left to find his husband. "Why'd you have to go say that, huh?"

"Well you could all see it!" Phoebe shouts back, defensive.

"Yeah, and? They're both experienced musicians, Phoebe! They could really help us! D'you think they'll want to do that now?"

"Not my fault he's sensitive, is it?"

Alexis, the bassist, shakes her head, unimpressed. "You don't know what he's got going on! He was trying to help! You don't need to insult everyone you lay your eyes on, Phoebe, damn!"

"I don't insult everyone!"

The four others laugh.

Andy finds Remington sat by the wall outside, crouching in front of him and talking softly. "Come on, sweetheart, come home," he encourages.

Remington looks down at his hands, realises he's made himself bleed.

"She didn't mean to upset you, honey." 

The boy digs his fingers into his bloody wrist.

Andy pulls his hands apart. "Come on, have a hug."

"I don't want a hug," Remington says flatly.

"That's okay." He rubs the younger's knuckles.

Remington bites his lip.

"Let me take you home, okay? You'll get cold out here."

"Why? Because I'm so thin?" The boy asks spitefully, violently pulling his hands away. "Because I'm so pathetic and useless?"

"No no, sweetie, because it's cold and you're shaking."

Remington folds his arms. "I'm not shaking because it's cold!"

"So then talk to me."

"Piss off!"

"Rem-"

"No."

"You need to calm down."

"No."

Andy takes his hand again. "Look at me. It's okay."

"No."

"It's alright."

Remington shakes his head. "What's wrong with me?" He asks, teary.

"Nothing, sweetheart. It's okay to get overwhelmed."

"Sorry."

"No need for that."

Remington sniffles. "Hug now?"

The older doesn't hesitate.

"Sorry for ruining everything."

"You've not ruined anything. Deep breaths." He strokes the boy's hair and whispers, "I think you need a nap, huh?"

Remington nods.

Andy drives them home, unlocking the front door before lifting a sleeping Remington from the car and carrying him inside. He lies him on the bed and quietly leaves the room, turning the light off on his way out.