Trigger warning: Mentions of anorexia, self harm, suicide, depression

Long chapter to make up for the rlly fuckin slow updates

Happy to tell you I'm about half way through the original book I'm writing based off this.

Today, Remington is late for therapy. He sits on the couch and rubs his eyes.

"How're we doing today?" Abigail asks.

Remington shrugs.

"Andy's been back for a week now, yes? How's that going?"

"I need advice."

"Sure, what is it?"

The boy rubs his eyes. "If-if someone is lying to you and you-and you don't bring it up 'cause it seems like-it doesn't feel like the right thing to do, and you, like, start noticing lies in, like, everything they say...what do you do?"

Abigail picks up the water jug. "Who do you think is lying to you?" She asks.

Remington plays with his fingers and looks down. "Please just answer."

"I'd confront them, Remington. I'd ask why they're lying and tell them it's upsetting me."

"How?"

"Sit down with them, keep it calm. If they're lying, they'll be a reason."

The boy bites his lip.

"Is it Andy?" Abigail asks, "you think he's lying to you?"

He nods.

"What do you think he's lying about?"

"Just...everything."

"Can you give me an example?"

Remington picks up the glass of water. "I asked if he was okay 'nd he said he was touch starved but I-that wasn't the truth. I mean...maybe he was touch starved, but-but I know there's something else. And now 'm scared he just doesn't trust me, or-or love me, anymore."

"Okay. Why do you think he's lying?"

"I just do."

Abigail hums. "Tell me how it's making you feel."

"Not good."

"Have you been thinking about hurting yourself at all?"

He nods.

"And have you gone through with it?"

"No, but..."

"But you feel like you need to?"

He nods again.

"Well done for keeping yourself from doing it, Remington. That's great." She pauses to give him a moment to process everything. "How've you and Andy been since he got back? You haven't had anymore fights?"

Remington shakes his head.

"Do you think it's going well? Or are you worried he's lying about something serious?"

"Don't know."

"How's your eating? You've been doing fantastically recently. I'm proud of you."

"Fine."

Abigail crosses her legs as he puts the glass down. "Good fine or bad fine?"

The boy sighs. "I thought, after abuse, you were meant to get, like, stronger, or something." He looks down again. "'cause that's what everyone says, that you're s'posed to get thicker skin. Why is it not like that for me?"

"Just because they say it doesn't mean it's true. For some people, sure, but not everyone. And, Remington, it's okay to feel breakable after everything that's happened to you. You're not expected to be invincible."

"It sucks."

"I know, it does suck. But you do well handling it even if it doesn't feel like it sometimes." She refills his glass. "Are you feeling more fragile than usual?"

"It's just making me confused."

Abigail knows what he's talking about. She hums. "D'you think you could have a talk with him about it?"

"No, I-how?"

"Just bring it up when you're both calm and quiet. Perhaps in the evening while you're watching tv, or if you read in bed."

"What do I say?"

"Whatever you need to say. That you're confused and wish he'd tell you what was really going on. Perhaps mention that you're worried about him."

Remington rubs his eyes.

"How are you sleeping?"

"Nightmares again."

"About Holly?"

He nods. "It's not fair, she fucked me up so bad. She made me so fucked up."

"You're not fucked up."

The boy plays with his fingers and then, without really meaning to, bursts into tears.

Abigail looks at him sympathetically.

"Fuck, sorry," Remington stutters, wiping at his eyes and trying to calm himself down.

"No no, let yourself cry. It seems like you need to." She's quiet, not talking again until he's calmed down. "Talk to Andy," she then says, "can you do that for me?"

He shrugs.

Andy is already home when Remington gets back. He's making risotto. Remington sits on the table. "Smells nice," he says.

"Chef Biersack at your service," responds Andy.

The boy rolls his eyes. "Can I-can I talk to you?"

Andy turns around. "'course you can. What is it?"

"I-uh..." he looks down. "Know you're lying."

The man raises an eyebrow, turning the hob down and stepping away from the pan. "What am I lying about?"

"Nothing, never mind," Remington rushes, backing out. He slides off the table and turns to leave, slowing when Andy grabs his bicep.

"What is it?" Andy asks again.

Slowly, Remington turns around, looking at his husband. "I asked if you were okay and you said-you said you were just, like, touch starved."

"You are correct, I did say that."

"And that was a lie."

"Oh?"

Remington looks away. "Or at least there's something else and you won't tell me."

"I assure you, there isn't."

"You're lying again."

Andy sighs. "How was therapy?"

"No. Don't change to subject. Why are you lying?"

"Remington, please-"

"What if I instead asked why are you lying to me? Does that make a difference. Would you not be lying if it wasn't me?"

"What? Of course that's not it."

"Yeah? So then spill." He folds his arms. "Or I'll sleep on the couch until you do."

"I won't let you sleep on the couch."

"Tell me."

Andy shakes his head. "There's nothing to tell, sweetheart."

"Yes there is! Stop lying! You're making me feel all self harm-y."

The man sighs again. He knows Remington only said that to make him feel guilty so he would tell him what was going on, though also knows it's probably true.

"Fine, I'll go cut myself instead."

"Like hell you will." He makes the boy look at him. "You're right, okay? I did lie. Not because I don't trust you or shit. I do trust you."

"Why, then?" Remington asks desperately, beginning to scratch at his wrists.

Andy pulls his hands apart. "Hug first," he says, "I think we both need one."

The younger accepts it because he does need one. When he pulls away, Andy seems vacant. He grabs the man's face and kisses him hard. "Now tell me."

"I didn't mean to lie," Andy begins, hesitating and smiling because he can't help it when Remington kisses him again. "When you told me about whatever his name is, I got-I guess-paranoid."

"About what?"

"I was worried you might like him more than you like me."

Remington almost laughs. "You thought I liked him more?" He quietens down. "Jesus christ, no. I couldn't even tell him I have anorexia, Andy, and you really got worried about that?"

The man seems to almost pout. "Yes, I did. You wanna know why?"

Remington nods.

"Because for those six months we were apart, guess what I spent my time doing?" He doesn't wait for an answer. "Crying, alright? Crying and writing songs about you that I couldn't sing because it hurt too much. Hell, sometimes I threw up because of it. Migraines came back like a bitch. D'you know how depressing it to have this intense, screaming at you like a motherfucker, migraine and not have you bringing me water and cupcakes and playing with my hair." He looks down. "I swore I was gonna not jump from a window because, and I had to remind myself multiple times a day, we were still married. And that meant there was a chance that we'd be together again. So I fucking lied, you're right. I said I slept with girls and I didn't because I felt-I feel-threatened by him and what he might have over you. God knows I need you more than fucking oxygen, but how am I supposed to know that you still need me?"

Remington opens his mouth but Andy cuts him off.

"You're doing so well and you're eating and you haven't tried again to do anything to yourself and what if, Remington, what if that means that you just-"

"If you finish that sentence I'll kill you."

Andy can't look at him. "I haven't gotten close to anyone since I left and knowing you had just-I guess it made me realise that you might have moved on from me and our marriage and that you'd come home one day with divorce papers and then you'd be gone and with him and I'd just be here, alone, until I bit the bullet and left like I should fucking do. So I'm sorry for lying and making you self harm-y but can you blame me?"

Remington puts his hand to his cheek, makes him lift his head. He kisses his sad face and exhales. "First thing you should know, Andy. The last thing you should do is kill yourself. In what world would anyone want that?" He kisses him again. "And you should also note that he really is not a threat to you. I only got with him to avoid having to be alone. And I do still need you, you silly, silly man. Let me remind you how you found me when you came back. Also, let me remind you who I was running away from."

The man closes his eyes as he's hugged.

"Baby, he's not a threat, I promise. No one could be against you, 'kay? No one." Remington strokes his hair. "Can I hear some of those songs?"

Andy hums.

"One more thing." He pulls back from the hug, swipes tears from under his husband's eyes. "You're the reason I'm doing well. You know that, right?"

Andy was expecting an 'I love you', but somehow what Remington said means more. He sniffles.

"And also, in case you forgot, I love you."

"Thank you," Andy mumbles, "for bringing it up. I needed to talk about it."

"Well what are husbands for if not this?"

"I can think of something."

"Why are you so gross when I'm being nice?"

"Sorry, babe."

Remington kisses him again. "Also did you say I'd bring the divorce papers? You think I even know how to get them in the first place? I'm flattered by the intelligence you think I obtain."

Andy smiles. "So how was therapy?"

"Fine. I cried and she told me I probably needed it and then she told me to talk to you and I did because I-"

"Because you're a good boy," Andy cuts in, "damn right."

"Damn right." Remington's the one who's kissed this time. "'m your good boy."

YALL SHOULD READ THIS IT'S FUNNY

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