It's quarter to midnight, why is it so freaking hot?! I'm not built for this, give me the rain and the cold back. 

Friendly reminder to drink water and also to spam my comments :) 

* * * 

Trigger Warning: Physical/emotional abuse, depression, anxiety, injury, suicide, death

Holden threw a fit at the mistake on Andy's tattoo as soon as he saw it, gripped his boyfriend's arm with a visibly painful hold, exclaiming to both him and Remington, "What is this?" 

Remington kept his professional calmness about him. "I've explained to Andy already, he's been offered a free cover up and of course a full refund. I can't do anything other than apologise and do what I can to fix it." 

"It says Hold On, for Christ's sake! My name's Holden." 

"I'm aware." 

Andy had learnt how to be when he was handled in such a way as now -  stay completely still and silent, and it might be over sooner. 

"Please don't handle his new tattoo like that, you could damage it." 

"It's already fucked!" 

"Sir, I've already apologised, and I'll apologise again to you both again, but I can't undo it. I can offer you a half price discount for your next tattoo." 

"We're not coming back here." 

"I understand. Please release his new tattoo, it'll blow out and look like a permanent bruise if it's handled roughly." 

With a scowl, Holden dropped his hand by his side. "You're not seeing us again," he snapped, before dragging Andy out. 

Remington wanted to chase after them and pull Andy back, stand between him and Holden, take all the hits for him. But he stayed where he was, and soon, his next customer was arriving. 

Andy struggled to keep up with Holden, his battered body begging for rest, dragged towards the car by his wrist. Holden was blaming him, as expected, for the mistake in his tattoo, was telling him that he 'should have noticed'. He apologised until the words weren't words anymore, was shoved down into the back of the car, told to shut up, which he gladly did. 

They went out for dinner with Holden's parents again, and when Andy excused himself to go to the bathroom because he was on the verge of tears, his boyfriend followed him, trapped him in the enclosed room, and kneed him between the ribs. Andy yelped and bent over forwards, was pushed back against the wall. His eyes were leaking in spite of his best efforts. 

Leaning close to Andy, Holden whispered aggressively, "Don't you make a scene, boy. This is a public place. You hear me?" 

Andy nodded quickly. 

Holden took his jaw in his hand, forced their mouths together. Andy stopped breathing, only started again at a second blow to his stomach. "Get it together," Holden demanded. 

"I'm sorry," Andy stuttered. He couldn't see properly through the wetness of his eyes and the pain in his chest. 

"Whatever. Now hurry up, before they wonder where you've got to." With that, he left the bathroom, and, locking the door behind him with a shaking hand, Andy lowered himself to the ground, wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, whimpered, then sobbed, when a sharp pain shot through him

He tried to make himself be quick, to stop the tears and calm himself, but knowing he had to stop made it all worse. He thought again about filling the sink and plunging his head under the water. He covered his mouth to muffle himself. 

There was somebody on the other side of the door; he could hear them moving about, no doubt waiting for him to leave so they could use the toilet. Without the ability even to take a steady breath, never mind get up off the ground, he couldn't leave, and so stayed there, the side of his head pressed against the wall, stomach on fire, head in an arctic sea. 

"Andy," came the inevitable voice, and he tried to pull himself to his feet, to hurriedly splash his face with water and harshly rub it with a towel. As soon as he opened the door, he was taken roughly by the hand and back to the table, where he put on his best smile, and soothed himself with the quiet planning of his suicide.