TRIGGER WARNING: EMOTIONAL ANDY PHYSICAL ABUSE, DEPRESSION, BLOOD, VOMIT, INJURY, SUICIDE

For their ten year anniversary, Holden got the the gift of returning home an innocent man, and Andy got the gift of a bloody mouth. 

The beating had ended a while ago, at least an hour, but Andy was still where Holden had left him, splayed on the floor of the living room. His rib was broken. Andy had no doubt about that - he'd felt it once before, after leaping off the ledge at that infamous show - and the sharp throbbing that was stabbing at him was enough to make him wish he was dead. That, and the fact that he had been betrayed in such a devastating way. 

When he had given the call that he was going to drop the case, he had expected Holden to be grateful and proud of him for making the right decision, and for a moment, it really did seem that way. Andy had collected him from the prison he was being held in, and Holden had brought the man into his arms as though there wasn't anybody he wanted to see more, and he said, "You've been a good boy." 

Andy believed him. 

But then they got home, and Holden asked him to make tea, and he did, and when he put the mugs down on the coffee table, he didn't have time to straighten and stand, for there was a hand gripping his hair so that his head was forced up, his scalp alight, and Holden hissed, "Why aren't you dead yet?" 

That had made tears fill Andy's eyes, and all he knew how to say was, "Sorry." 

"Too right," Holden had muttered, yanking his head up so that Andy yelped. "You bring me misery, and nothing but misery. I fucking hate you and everything you do, boy. You hear me? You hear me?" 

Andy said, "Yes. Sorry. Yes, sir." 

Then Holden held Andy's mouth open with one hand, released his hair with the other, and took a knife to the inside, pressed the blade to the roof of his mouth until blood was all Andy could taste. "This'll teach you not to talk bullshit about me, won't it? You hear me, boy? This'll teach you." 

After that, Andy couldn't concentrate on what was happening, for he had never experienced such an intense pain in his mouth before, had never breathed only for blood to stop him from taking in enough air, had never expected it to be this bad. 

And now, with dried blood on his lips and his chin and his hairline, Andy tried to move. He tried to feel for his phone in his pocket, struggled to take it out when everything was on fire inside and he was breathing so shallowly he felt he was seconds away from fainting. Phone in his shaking hand, he unlocked it, opened an unread text from Remington that said; 'Let me know if u need anything.' He started typing out a reply. His eyes protested against the brightness of the screen. The roof of his mouth felt as though it was caving in, as though he would soon swallow it. He blinked hard and his head started to ache. 

"Get up here, boy!" Called Holden from up the stairs. Andy forced his phone back into his pocket and began crawling. He had to stop and cough, and when he did, he vomited. He let his body fall limp and decided that whatever punishment he'd get for staying there when he was supposed to move was fine, because it would probably kill him. And Holden was right; why wasn't he dead yet? 

It was all going to be just fine. 

* * * 

Hours later, still crumpled in that same spot in the living room, mouth half-open and teeth coated in a sheen of blood, new bruises numbing his left side, Andy again felt for his phone, continued blindly typing out the message. He pressed send and just minutes later, his phone started to ring. He answered quickly, before Holden would hear it, though was sure Holden had gone to bed a while ago. 

"Andy," Remington said. "Do I need to call the ambulance?" 

Biting on the side of his hand to silence himself from the pain, Andy blinked, and blinked again. He said nothing.

"Your text, Andy. It says you're dying. Are you telling me you're killing yourself? Please, Andy, just talk to me. I'll help you. Please." 

Andy hadn't told Remington he dropped the case. He couldn't bear the idea of admitting to such a cowardly thing, so he let the younger believe he had gone to court. He bit hard on his hand. The taste of blood went unnoticed. 

"Look," Remington went on. "What's your address? I don't know it. I'll call an ambulance. You're gonna be fine, just please tell me. Please, Andy." 

The man continued saying nothing. He wasn't sure he could, not with the wound in his mouth and the suffocating air he was struggling to breathe. 

There was a heaved breath through the line. "Andy, honey. Listen to me. You're so wonderful and beautiful and the world would be very little without you. Please tell me your address. Or at least the street name." He got silence as a response, so he continued. "I had to tattoo a guys arse crack the other day. A stick man climbing out. It was fucking horrific. I really hope he ain't gay, or if he is that he don't bottom, because I can tell you one thing, I would not put my dick anywhere near an arse with that on it. Not that I top, but you get my point." He paused, then said, "Talk to me, buddy. What's going on? Are you hurt? You sound like you can't breathe very well." 

Andy took the phone from his ear and opened their conversation again, started typing in his address. 

"My sofa bed finally broke. I sat on it because I was procrastinating putting it away and had no couch, and it just, like, cracked. I don't know what exactly happened but it was scary as shit. I just went down with it, right in the middle, and I thought it was like the time it folded in on my brother, but no. It was done. One of the bars snapped. Guess I'm just so ripped my muscles weigh a ton." He laughed to himself then, as a way to try and ease Andy's mind. 

Andy pressed send and brought the phone to his ear again. 

"Oh," Remington said. "Good. Great. Thank you. I'll call them right now. Meet you at the hospital, alright, baby? Give you a hug, if you want. See you soon, okay? Shoot me a text if you need anything else." 

Andy had started silently to cry. He hung up and closed his eyes. He didn't know whether he wanted the paramedics to arrive in time.