Trigger Warning: PTSD, anxiety, depression, alcohol, physical/emotional abuse 

CUTE CUTE CUTE 

It was late, and Andy was walking the streets unable to stay in his house alone. He tried, for the hours after the lunch with Remington, but the missing presence and intimidation that Holden brought was too much for him to handle. He had to get out.

He still didn't have a phone, having thrown it in a rubbish bin outside the restaurant the night he was going to stab himself, but he didn't mind. Holden had been so vigilant about keeping in contact any time that they weren't together that being without the device made him feel lighter.  Still, he kept automatically feeling for it in his pocket. He didn't know how he'd ever get over the things that he had been programmed into doing. 

Passing the tattoo shop, he was disappointed to see it had been closed for the night, though shouldn't have been surprised considering it was nearly midnight. There was something inside him that was sure that if he saw Remington, everything would be okay. What his plans were, he didn't know, just that he couldn't sleep in his house. 

He walked to the other end of town, where there were rows of detached houses with their own private front gardens and parking spaces. As he was reaching the end of the street, the sound of laughter neared, and he stopped, turned, and was met by four people he didn't recognise, and Remington, sucking on a carton of juice like a child. 

"Oh, Andy," he said, a smile growing on his face. "Hey. What 'cha doing this side of town?" 

The looks he was getting from the four others made him uneasy. He kept his eyes down. "I just, uh, I came for a walk. Uh, I'm sorry." 

Remington shook his head. "No no no, nothing to be sorry for, babe. Oh, these are my brothers, Emerson and Sebastian, and their girlfriends, Shy and Larisa. Guys, this is Andy, my friend." 

Andy couldn't decide quite whether 'friend' made him want to smile or to cry. "Nice to meet you," he said. 

"Oh, I know you!" Emerson exclaimed, loud enough to make the man flinch. "You're Andy Biersack, right? Guys, I know him! He's in that band, Black Veil Brides. I fucking love your voice." 

"Thank you." 

"He's pretty cool," Remington gushed. "You know, it's late, I think I'm gonna go home. Thanks for the party, it was really something. Uh, Andy, you wanna walk with me?" 

Grateful for the excuse to leave the overwhelming company of so many people staring at him, Andy nodded, walked beside Remington. "You were at a party?" He asked; it was a daring task for him, but he was determined to converse like a normal human again. 

"Oh, yeah, kinda. I don't know. My brothers had this stupid idea to throw me a party for being single for a whole year. It's a whole thing, but basically, since I was, like, twenty, I was incapable of being single for even a week. Like, as soon as one girl broke up with me, I went straight back out and found another. So my brothers pretty much made an intervention and told me that if I didn't stop, they'd kill me, or something. I don't know." 

Andy's heart sunk into the cracks beneath him. 

"Oh, I should say, I'm not straight. Sorry, the way I said that was really misleading. I'm into girls, but not just girls. But it was because a guy broke my heart when I was twenty that I only went for girls, which was a big mistake, because I think I went a little crazy from all that pussy without any dick. God, I'm sorry, this is not a conversation anybody ever desires having. I feel like you don't want to hear any of this. I'm a little drunk, and it's all coming out." He put the straw of the juice box between his lips and sucked hard, cheeks hollowing, then squashed the carton in his hand. 

The joy of hearing he wasn't straight combined with the sight of him sucking on the straw was enough to make Andy flustered. It had been years since he'd felt any sort of want for a person, had been repulsed by Holden kissing him for the last half of their relationship. 

"Anyway, they threw me this party and made a big deal out of me being single for a year, which was great and everything, but you know what I mean when I say it kinda didn't do what they wanted it to? Like, it just feels like they're mocking me for having either no self control or having too much of it. I mean, I hardly go out anymore. I used to go out all the time, and now as soon as work is done, I go home, and that's it. Which is nice, I mean, I like not being a raging alcoholic or anything, but it would be nice if they just backed of, you know what I mean? God, sorry, I'm going on. This is why I don't like getting drunk."  He shook his head, laughed to himself, looked at Andy, said, "Anyway, sorry. You said you were out for a walk. I didn't even ask if you wanted company. You can tell me to piss off and I will, I know I'm an annoying drunk." 

"No," Andy answered. "You're not." 

"Oh. Good. That's what I like to hear. Man, you're so fit. Have I told you that already? God, you're so freaking fit." 

"Oh, uh, thank you." 

Remington veered off to the left for a bin on the street corner, dropped the crushed carton in. "So, how're you doing" He asked. "Did you come on a walk for a reason, or..." 

Following him around the corner, Andy said, "Home is weird now. Just kinda wrong, I guess. I don't know. I'm sorry." 

"This is probably too forward, but you can stay with me if you want. While you adjust to everything." 

"I really don't want to force myself on you." 

"You're not. I'm offering. I like your company, and also I have a habit of dropping my keys down drains when I'm drunk, so I would be forever grateful if you could take them from me until all the doors are unlocked." He began routing in his pockets. "You can say no, of course. It's up to you. Oh, here they are." 

"Thank you," Andy said, taking the keys. "I'd like that. I'm sorry for ruining your night." 

Remington shook his head again. "Are you kidding? I was dying for a way out of it. Fucking 'single for a year' party. What the fuck's all that about? Fuck, sorry, I just walked straight into you." 

He had, in fact, walked straight into Andy, but instead of flinching and backing away, the man wrapped his arms tight around him and pressed his face into his neck. He took a long breath in. 

Remington was surprised, but returned the embrace, said into Andy's neck, "This is unexpected and very nice." 

Andy didn't give a verbal response, but his soft crying and strong arms said more than enough; here was a person who he could touch without fearing the violence he had grown so used to; here was a person who he never wanted to let go of; here was the beginning of gaining himself back again.