Trigger warning. I'm sorry. This is kinda upsetting so consider this a warning. :)

"I can talk about it, now," Remington says to Andy, looking up from his book. They're still in bed, but woke up half an hour ago.

Andy smiles. "Whenever you're ready, pretty."

The boy puts the book down. "So, I keep having nightmares, obviously. You know that. I keep having nightmares about you." He goes quiet.

"About me?"

Remington shifts anxiously. "Yep." He goes quiet again, fiddles with his fingers.

"Okay. What happens in them?"

Remington doesn't want to talk about it anymore. He regrets bringing it up. "Just stuff," he mumbles, and gets out of bed. "You don't need to make me breakfast, I'm not hungry." He pulls on a shirt and routes through the drawers for tracksuit bottoms.

The older of the two frowns, but knows not to talk about food, even if Remington brings it up. "I'm taking you to therapy today, okay?"

"Okay." He leaves the room and goes downstairs without saying another word to Andy, and tries to figure out why he closed up like that suddenly. He wants to tell Andy about the nightmares but now he can't, and he doesn't even know why.

He boils the kettle and makes a cup of black coffee and sits with his head in his hands, tearing up when his stomach rumbles. Andy comes down. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?" He asks, rubbing his shoulders.

"Nothing. I'm fine," Remington insists, lifting his head up and sipping the coffee, which is too hot and burns his mouth. Andy runs his hands down the boy's chest, and Remington jumps to is feet, banging the table and making the mug fall over. "Don't touch me!" He shouts. The nightmares are too much to handle now. He's convinced Andy really will hurt him. Like-really really hurt him. "Don't touch me," he repeats, in a quiet, shaky voice.

Andy picks up the mug and soaks the spilled coffee up with a tea towel. "Sweetheart-"

"No! I'm not your sweetheart! I'm just your toy. I'm just here so you can play with me, and then when you get bored, you'll break me and throw me away, because that's what everyone does! Throws me away! Emerson did! He got tired of me fucking everything up and threw me out of his car! Why don't you hit me now? Get it over with? Or maybe you wanna throw a glass at me, or-or push me down the stairs? How about this?" He pulls a knife from the rack. "Stab me!" The boy waves the knife in front of him. "STAB ME!"

"Re-"

"Or should I do it? Then you can watch me die! You could film it and send it to Holly! Maybe post it online. Remington Leith stabs himself because he's crazy. It'd make the headlines! But then again, it probably wouldn't, because no one, NO ONE, gives a fucking shit about me! Not you! Not Emerson! Not even Abigail! No one!" He gasps for air and drops the knife.

"Remington, look at me," Andy tries, "breathe."

The boy holds his head. He doesn't look up. "I mean-why would anyone give a shit abut me? I don't blame you. I know I'm a walking fucking disaster. I can't even eat like a normal fucking human, I've been in a mental hospital twice, and I'm anorexic! ANOREXIC! Who could ever love someone who can't even enjoy a fucking meal? Who would ever want someone who can't go out with friends because they're scared of hallucinating? Who would want someone who won't open social media because everyone on there wants them to die? Who could ever want me?" He kicks the knife and it slides across the tiled floor. "I want you to stab me," he says, in a voice that Andy's never heard before.

Andy picks up the knife, puts it on the side. "Breathe," he repeats, "look at me. Breathe."

Remington is still for a second of two before grabbing another knife and holding it against his stomach, right over the scar that Holly gave him. "If you won't, I will," he threatens.

"Remington, put it down."

"No!"

"You're okay, you just need to put the knife down." Andy's voice is shaking. He's so scared of Remington actually stabbing himself.

His hands gripping the handle, Remington looks straight at Andy, like how a murderer would look at their victim before tearing them apart. "Why?"

"Because I need you to."

The boy's gaze flicks down to the knife in his hands. "You do?"

"Yes. I need you to put it down, because I need you."

Remington lets it fall from his fingers. "No you don't," he protests, "no one does."

"I do. I've never needed anyone more."

"I'm scared."

"I know, but it's okay."

"You're gon' hit me," Remington whispers, "you're gonna hit me."

"Oh baby, no, I would never."

Remington shakes his head. "The nightmares," he says, so quietly Andy has to read his lips. "Andy, the-the nightmares." He looks up at Andy now, with such sad eyes that it's hard for Andy to keep himself from crying.

"Come and sit down. It's alright." Nodding and rubbing his eyes, Remington sits back in the chair, and holds his arms out for a hug. Andy kneels on the floor in front of him and wraps the boy in his arms. "Hear my heartbeat? Just listen to that," he comforts, soothingly, and lets Remington cry into him for a few minutes.

When Remington pulls away, he's red-eyed and pale-faced, and wipes his eyes. "Sorry," he mumbles, "for shouting."

"Tell me about the nightmares, princess."

Remington sighs. "About you hurting me," he says, "and leaving me." He throws himself at the man, nearly knocking him over backwards.

Andy holds his husband to him and kisses his head. He is so relieved Remington has finally told him what was wrong. "Sweetheart, you know that's never going to happen."

"But-"

"Uh-uh. There are no buts ."

"Emerson hates me," the boy cries.

Rocking gently, Andy rubs his back. "No, he doesn't, baby. You need to talk to him."

"I can't talk to him because he hates me."

Andy pulls back. "He doesn't, pretty, I promise."

Remington doesn't say anything in response. His stomach rumbles and he looks away. "Feed me again? Please?"

After the morning's events, and Andy feeding Remington cereal, the boy is dropped off at Abigail's. She lets him in, and can tell he's had a rough few days, just from how he's walking. "Hiya, Remington," she greets, pouring him a glass of water as usual.

The boy messes with his rings. "I shouted at Andy today," he says, "and yesterday Emerson left me by the main road in the rain because it's my fault that I'm anorexic and everything is my fault."

"Alright, Remington, let's focus on one thing at a time. You shouted at Andy. Why?"

Remington looks at his hands. "cause of the nightmares," he murmurs, "about him hurting me."

Abigail knew something was bothering him. "So you were scared by the nightmares and shouted at him because of it?"

"Yes."

"Okay. What happened after?"

The wedding ring shimmers in the lights. "I told him why I shouted and he told me it was okay and fed me breakfast 'cause I didn't wanna eat." He looks up at her. "I really thought he was gonna hurt me, Abi, is that-is that bad? And-and I was gonna stab myself. Is that bad?"

The woman shakes her head straight away. "Not at all, Remington. It's understandable. Holly hurt you over and over, so you having nightmares like this makes sense."

Remington doesn't know if he can believe her. "Okay."

"You said Emerson left you by the road in the rain?"

Nodding and picking up the glass of water, Remington can remember it vividly. The cold rain seeping into his skin, the cars rushing past, no one stopping to check he was okay. He wasn't. He isn't. "We had a fight." He tells her about visiting Sebastian, and how Emerson had snapped at him on the way home. Remington explains that, when he asked Emerson to stop the car, he didn't really think he would. He expected Emerson to do what he knows Andy would have done; turn child lock on and tell him everything's okay. He feels let down by his brother. He says that he is convinced that Emerson hates him, but then pauses, and adds on, "it doesn't matter, though, because I hate him, too."