We got some smut going on in here so enjoy that :)
Trigger warning also, but not too bad.

"You seem anxious, Remington," Abigail observes, "is there something going on?"

The boy nods. "I-um-I had a nightmare last night," he practically whispers, "I don't know why. It was weird. Holly was there and she was reading out mean comments but then she started saying things like Remington should kill himself and I woke up and I had to tell Andy to talk to me because I was going to kill myself." He looks down. "Andy said he's going to book a holiday."

"It's good that you were able to ask him for help. Did you feel better after talking to Andy?"

Again, he nods. "Yeah." He looks at his therapist. "It just freaked me out because it's been ages since I've had a nightmare." Remington hands her his notebook, which he wrote in this morning, after weeks of not even opening it.

It's been a weird night. I had a nightmare. I thought I'd stopped having them. I think I'm going downhill. Since Holly sent me the letter I keep having panic attacks and break downs and I'm scared I'm going to end up back where I was when Holly raped me. How can I be sure that wasn't even my fault? She said it was. In the nightmare I was in the shower and I think it was the bathroom from the hotel. Holly kept choking me and when I woke up I felt like I was still being choked. It only stopped when Andy spoke to me. Is that normal?

He was writing it while eating breakfast, and Andy had peered over his shoulder. Remington didn't care that the man was reading it. In fact, it made him happy. "You're not going downhill," he had said, stealing a mouthful of cereal.

Remington whined and grabbed the spoon back. "I am," he argued, "wait, were you serious about the holiday?"

Andy hummed and kissed the younger's shoulder. "Of course. I'm going to book it all today while you're at therapy. And you're not going downhill, princess, it's okay to have panic attacks."

Abigail reads what he's written and closes the book, handing it back to him. "The important thing isn't that you had a nightmare, Remington, but that you managed to get past it and talk about it with Andy. Do you remember when you couldn't talk about it with anyone?" She knows he can remember, she just wants to shine a light on how much he has progressed, since she knows he doesn't really think about it like that. He tends to look at the bad things that are happening, and not the good.

Nodding, Remington puts the book down beside him. "Yeah. I remember that. It was awful. I felt so trapped." His phone buzzes in his pocket.

How does Greece sound??

YES!!

"Is that Andy?"

"He's taking me to Greece," he informs her, smiling. It's funny how a conversation with Abigail can cheer him up.

When Remington gets home, he wraps himself in Andy's arms while the man is on the phone booking a hotel room in Greece, resting his chin on Andy's shoulder and listening to him talk. He loves Andy's voice. It's so soothing. He likes being able to just hug Andy without there being a reason, to know that the man loves him and cares about him no matter what.

Andy puts his phone away and rubs the younger's back. "I booked it for next week," he says, "how was therapy?"

"It was good. I feel better now. Also your hugs are very nice."

"I'm glad you think so." Andy chuckles. "Did you talk about last night?"

Remington nods. "I'm sorry if I scared you with what I said I was just-I didn't know what else to do." He feels bad about being so blunt, of course he does. It's hard to ask for help and he always feels guilty about it.

With a shake of the head, Andy pulls back and kisses Remington briefly. "Don't apologise. I was scared, but that's okay. You needed me and you told me and that's what I want you to do. The last think I want is for you to hurt alone."

The boy smiles. "How long are we going to Greece for?" He shrugs his jacket off his shoulders and drops it on the floor, making Andy laugh.

"Ten days. Nice shirt." He smooths the fabric over Remington's chest. "It's mine."

(smut ahead)

Remington grins. "I know. I stole it this morning. It's mine now." He kisses Andy and talks again. "I could take it off, though," he says suggestively.

Andy raises an eyebrow. "Or I could."

"Or you could." He lifts his arms up and lets the older of the two pulls his shirt off, dropping it on the floor with the previously discarded jacket and running his hands over Remington's shoulders and down his arms. "You look so much healthier," he observes.

"That's the best thing I've heard all year," Remington says in response, shivering at the contact Andy's hands make on his skin.

Andy hums, trailing his fingers down the younger's torso and ghosting over his crotch. He's always cautious about touching Remington like this. It's important to him that Remington feels comfortable and safe and that everything they're doing is what he wants to do, because he never had that choice before. "You tell me if you need to stop," the man says firmly.

Breathing out in pleasure, Remington nods, and pulls Andy over to the sofa. "I will," he promises, and lies on his back as Andy climbs over him. Remington will always be the submissive one. He hates the idea of having to be in control. Sometimes he thinks that's why it was so easy for Holly to get what she wanted; because Remington likes being dominated. He likes being pinned to the wall or to the bed when he knows he's safe and that what they're doing is what he wants. He likes being kissed and touched when it's what he wants.

But, of course, Holly didn't care about what he wanted. She only cared about what she wanted. If she wanted sex, she got sex. That was that. The tragic thing is that the hotel wasn't the first time she raped him, not really. It was the first time she had done it on the floor, the first time she had literally forced herself on him, but not the first time she raped him.

By the end of their relationship, she was kissing him while he was sleeping, and often grabbing his crotch to wake him up. She barged in on him in the shower and made him fuck her, even if he said he didn't want to.

Is that rape?

He's pretty sure it is. But then again, maybe not, because he did fuck her. Whether he likes to admit it or not, he was the one who fucked her.

Sometimes she interrupted him while he was on the phone to his brothers or their producer or their tour manager or anyone that wasn't her. Interrupting him in the way that made him physically shake, drop the phone. The amount of lies he had to tell was excruciating.

Sorry, I tripped.
I was making food and cut my finger. Yeah, I'm fine.

I'm fine.
Of course I'm fine!

If course, he never was.