It's disappointing when only Andy comes to visit today, and Remington asks him where his brothers are after a long, safe hug. Andy tells him the truth. That they're at the beach and promised it's only one time.

"Well they suck," Remington mumbles, "can you tell them I say they fucking suck?"

"Sure. I can do that. How are you, sweetheart? Oh, I brought you two hoodies, your sketchbook, and some bluetooth headphones so you can listen to music. I checked when I came in. They gave me an mp3 player to give to you. Here."

Remington takes the things from Andy, smiling. "You're the best! I've missed music so much! Specially your songs. They make me all calm." He puts everything on the couch beside him. "You know that time when we first met?"

"I do believe we've talked about this before, sweetie, but yes, I know that time."

The boy pokes Andy's leg. "Yeah but I like talking about it. Anyway, you know when you invited us onto your bus on the second night?"

Andy hums.

"That's it."

The older chuckles. "You are an odd one."

"I know." He grins. "I was just thinking about it this morning. Also you know they schedule in out fucking showers here?"

"Oh man, I fucking love you. You're so random. You are okay here, though, yeah? You don't feel unsafe or anything? Because you know if you don't feel safe, you need to say. I know you find that hard."

Remington blushes because of how thoughtful Andy always is. "No, Andy, I'm okay. I get shaky at meal times but it's okay, because I know that I need to eat. The other day I had to leave the canteen at breakfast and eat in someone's office because I was so overwhelmed."

"I'm glad you feel okay here. What's your number?"

"I don't know, that's complicated."

"Oh?"

The boy hums, taking Andy's hand and playing with his rings. "Because it keeps changing. Like-when I woke up this morning I wanted to suffocate myself with a pillow and I felt like a thirty seven, then it went up at breakfast, obviously, to like a forty, and then now I'm like thirty three, so..." He shrugs. "Oh, and yesterday, when I was with Kacey because she was upset, I felt like a thirty one."

"Kacey? She's the girl who was wearing the KISS shirt?"

Remington nods. "Yeah, her. She was sad because her mum never visits and basically just dumped her here. I found her crying in the corridor after therapy and let her do some colouring in my room with me to try and cheer her up. She wanted a hug so I hugged her and she cried into me for a while. I told her what you tell me when I'm crying into you. It seemed to make her feel a bit better."

"You are so fucking sweet, you know that? You probably made her day so much better by doing that." Andy can tell Remington is fond of the girl. It makes him smile.

"Well I hope so. I feel so bad for her, Andy, she has no one who visits her. I don't think I'd be able to cope if you didn't come and see me so often. I can't imagine how alone she must be feeling."

"How old is she?"

"Um...thirteen, I think. Young."

"Bloody hell, and her mum doesn't see her at all?"

"Not since she came her three weeks ago, no."

Andy shakes his head. "God, that's awful. I could never do that to my child."

Remington nods in agreement. "I couldn't hurt a child like that. I don't care if she's mine or not."

They hug before Andy leaves, Remington thanking him again for the things he brought with him. He takes them back to his room and leaves them on the desk, walking back down the hall and deciding to watch television with whoever is in the shared living room, since his therapist here said it's good for him to get out of his room for a bit so he doesn't feel isolated.

The singer sits on an empty sofa, sketchbook in his lap, and pulls the lid off the pen. He flips through the book and basically melts into the cushions when he finds a little message Andy has written on one of the pages in a pink pen, surrounded by little hearts. Smile, beautiful, you deserve it. Thinking of you always, your soppy lover, Andy x

He does smile. How could he not?

For twenty minutes he sits and draws, half-tuned in to what's going on in the room. It's not very busy. There are just two other people, one of them reading and the other watching the television which is on quietly. They're not allowed many channels, since lot's of shows could be triggering, so basically can only watch documentaries and the antiques road show. Remington is thankful that they've blocked any cooking shows.

He's approached by his therapist and looks up, waiting for the man to talk. "Remington," he begins, "we're taking a few people out to a concert tomorrow if you wanna come. I know you're into music."

"What's the concert?"

"Just a local band. If you're interested, let me know by tonight, okay? I need to know who to sign out for tomorrow."

Remington smiles and nods. "I'll come," he says, "I love concerts."

"Great. We'll be leaving at around six. You're okay in crowds, I trust?"

"As long as I'm with someone I know, yeah." He looks back down at his drawing.

The therapist walks away and Remington closes the sketchbook, happy with how today has tuened out. And he gets to go to a concert tomorrow. He doesn't even care if the band turns out to be shit. He's just happy to be going.