Trigger warning.
Andy comes back from the studio late, closing the door behind him and frowning when he hears a sob from in the kitchen. He drops his coat and dashes into the room where his fiancé is crumbled on the floor, bloody and red-faced and covered in puke. Andy's heart drops to his feet.

Remington looks at him through his glassy, irritated eyes, not knowing what the hell to do. It's like all his happiness and hope has just gone, and he has no fucking clue how to get it back. Fuck, he wants Holly to fucking burn in hell.

"Baby boy, what's going on?" Andy asks, filling a glass with water and crouching down opposite the boy. He puts a gentle hand under Remington's chin and holds the glass up to his lips, tipping it slowly while Remington swallows the cool liquid. "How long have you been here?" The man questions quietly, putting the glass down and stroking Remington's hair. The boy shakes his head. He can't make his voice work. "How about I run you a nice hot bath, yeah? You just tell me when you're ready." After receiving a sad nod, he carefully wraps the quivering singer in his arms and gets him off the floor, not caring about the vomit and blood that's getting on his clothes. He helps Remington up the stairs and into the bathroom, sitting him on the toilet seat and turning on the taps in the bath.

Remington rubs his eyes again. His wrists hurt and he feels so disgusting. "Holly-she-she sent me a letter," he mumbles, watching Andy soak a flannel. "Don't want to talk about it."

With a damp, warm cloth, Andy wipes blood from Remington's face. "That's okay, pretty, you don't have to talk about it. I just need you to be okay. Do you want me to read the letter?" He rinses the cloth and kisses his lover's forehead. Remington nods. While the bath is filling up, Andy cleans the younger's arms and makes sure to tell him over and over that it's all okay and that he loves him.

Once the bath is full, Andy helps Remington out of his clothes and into the bath, promising to join him as soon as he's read what Holly sent him. The boy sinks into the warm water and leans his head back, wondering what he'd do without Andy. He doesn't know. It's at times like this when he knows that he couldn't live without him. Andy treats him like he's to most precious and beautiful person on the planet and it makes him feel like there is hope. He can't let Holly win.

Downstairs, Andy finds the piece of paper on the floor, and reads it quickly, tearing up at the horrible words. Holly is such a fucking bitch and he hopes she dies alone. He folds the letter up and cleans the floor before going back up, where Remington is lying in the bath looking at his wrists with weary eyes. "Is she right?" He asks, glancing at Andy, who's undressing.

The man shakes his head firmly, sitting behind Remington in the water and wrapping his arms around the younger. "Absolutely not. Don't believe her for even a second, angel, she's full of shit." He holds the boy's hands in the water.

Remington lets his eyes close. "You make me feel okay," he whispers, leaning his head back and slowly breathing out. It's true. Andy does make him feel like there is hope, like he's going to be alright.

They stay like that for a while, gentle and calm and warm, until the water starts going cold. Remington still feels awful and shaky and pathetic, but at least now he's safe and protected and warm in Andy's arms. He smiles when Andy hands him his onesie, stepping into it and zipping it up all the way, hiding himself from the world. "Do you promise you'll talk about it with Abigail?" Andy asks, knowing what will happen if the boy keeps it all inside. He doesn't mind if it's not him that he talks to about it, he just wants to know that he is talking about it with someone.

With a hum, Remington wraps his arms around Andy, his cheek against the man's chest. "I promise," he murmurs, smiling sleepily as Andy plays with his damp hair.

"How are you feeling now, pretty? Any better?" He sways slowly side to side.

The boy nods against him. "A little bit better. Tired." His voice is so innocent and small. He's never seemed so vulnerable and fragile before. He yawns and leans into the man.

Andy guides him over to the bed, lying down with the boy against his chest. "It makes me so sad to see you in distress like that. I hate Holly more than I've ever hated anyone."

Remington curls into him and exhales. "I want her to die."

"I know, sweet baby, me too."