Trigger warning: Mentions of self harm, eating disorders (both vv brief), sex

In group therapy, Remington is, again, approached by Marcus. He smiles politely, says, "what's your interest in me?"

Marcus shrugs. "Huh?"

"You pay an awful lot of attention to me every session. Why?"

"You just seem nice."

Remington rolls his eyes. "I seem nice. Is that a compliment?"

"If you want it to be."

"I don't, actually. I get enough of those from Andy." He rinses his mug out. "You never say much, do you? In the sessions, I mean. You just kinda observe."

"Not a very sociable person."

Remington laughs. "Yeah, right. Fooled me."

"You're confusing. I can't decide whether you have an odd sense of humour or if you're just a bit of a dick."

"The second one, definitely. My husband prefers the word bitch, though."

"Well I see why. It suits you."

The boy shakes his head, mildly amused. "I do also have and odd sense of humour, by the way."

"Tell me a joke."

"I'm talking to one right now."

Marcus hits his arm and Remington quickly steps back.

"Don't," he says hastily.

"Oh, sorry."

"It's fine. See you on Wednesday." He turns on his heel and escapes through the door, opening the car door and yelping at a hand on his shoulder.

"It's me," Andy's familiar voice says, "sorry. Are you alright?"

Remington turns around. "I could ask you the same thing."

Andy raises an eyebrow.

"Well I know you lied when you said we'd be okay, so..." He leaves the door open and walks around to the passenger side. "And I'm fine. Some guy in there hit my arm 's all."

"Why?"

"He asked me to tell him a joke and I said I was talking to one."

Andy laughs, sitting in the driver's seat.

"I knew you'd find that funny." He closes the door. "You wouldn't hit me for saying that, would you?"

"I wouldn't hit you for saying anything, sweetheart. Do elaborate on me apparently not being alright."

Remington sighs. "Well are you?"

The man starts the car.

"See, I'm right. What's wrong?"

"I never said anything was."

"Marcus is a gross name, don't you think?"

Andy chuckles. "We are flitting through conversation topics very quickly."

"No we're not."

"We definitely are. Who d'you know called Marcus?"

"That guy."

"Ah."

Remington hums. "It is a gross name."

"I agree."

"Good."

The older pulls out onto the road. "You seem unsettled, kitty."

"No I don't."

"You're scratching your wrists like they've personally offended you."

"They have."

"How have they done that?"

The boy pouts. "They got fat."

Andy frowns. "Now now, that's not true. Give me a hand."

"You're driving."

"Yep. Hand."

"What're you gonna do, cut it off?"

"We both know, sweetie, that if I wanted to cut anyone's hand off, it'd be my own." He takes his hand from the gear stick to take Remington's and place it on his leg.

"There is something wrong. You wouldn't say that if there wasn't." Remington leans back in his seat. "It feels different now. Us, I mean. We feel different." He looks at Andy. "Why won't you just tell me what's wrong? D'you not trust me anymore?"

"If I tell you, you'll laugh."

Remington looks at him, confused. "Well now I have to know."

"Alright, so," begins Andy, "you know when you go half a year without a proper hug and you think you might implode? And then you start coming up with reasons as to why no one hugs you and you feel too stupid to just ask for one?"

The boy covers his mouth with his hand, making a noise similar to that of awing at a cute kitten. "You could've said you were touch starved. Pull over."

"It's not just that."

"Oh?"

"You feel stupid for asking for a hug and so, instead, you start doing questionable things to try and fix it."

"Questionable things?"

Andy sighs.

"You can't shy away now. What sort of questionable things?"

"Y'know, like...one night stands."

"Andy, one night stands aren't a big deal. I can get over that."

The man bites his lip before saying, "with girls."

Remington clears his throat. "Say what now?"

"It made sense at the time."

"I'm sure it did."

"My logic was, and don't laugh because I'll cry, that to stop thinking about you, I had to sleep with as many people who were the opposite of you."

"Did it work?" Remington asks, half jokily.

Andy sends him a glare. "What do you think?" He pulls into the driveway.

"Could you even, like, cum? Y'know, with women?"

"You're unbelievable. Get out and give me a hug."

Remington opens the door and stands up. "Could you even get hard with women?" He asks, unlocking the house.

Andy huffs.

"Here's when you tell me you're straight."

The man chuckles. "No, I couldn't cum. No, I couldn't get hard. It wasn't even real sex. It was mainly kissing and then some oral shit. Don't make me think about it."

"Did you go down on any girls?"

Andy groans dramatically, falling onto the couch.

"What was it like?"

"You're about to be in trouble."

"Did it taste like pepsi cola?"

"What?"

"Lana Del Ray."

The man rolls his eyes, holds his arms up and smiles as Remington lies on him. "It wasn't pleasant."

"Do I taste better?"

"Definitely."

Remington exhales. "I haven't had proper sex either, so I think we're even."

"I thought you were with this Kieran guy." He remembers, sitting up with his husband straddling him.

"Yeah, but I always stopped before we even got naked though. It never felt right."

"And he didn't try and force you?"

"No. Why's everyone ask that?"

"Paranoia I think, sweetie."

Remington smiles. "Is this hug satisfactory for you?"

"No."

"Oh."

Andy chuckles.

"Why not?"

"You've not fallen asleep yet and it isn't a satisfactory hug until you fall asleep."

Remington whines. "Maybe I'm not tired."

"Say that again in ten minutes."

"Why can't you fall asleep?"

"Because then who would carry you to bed?"

"You're a clever man."

"I know. Sleep tight."

"It's only six."

"Shh."

"You shh."