You ask and I deliver :) 

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of depression, eating disorder/weight, abuse, self harm, blood/injury

As part of their new album, Black Veil Brides had asked Palaye Royale's vocalist to feature in a song. It was something the band had been discussing for months, since Andy mentioned knowing Remington through a relationship that was mutually broken off years ago. They had both since moved on, so he figured there'd be no harm in at least asking the singer. Besides, it would be great publicity for Palaye Royale.

Remington had agreed as soon as he was asked. At least, he agreed as soon as his manager had given him the green light. He remembered Andy and that he was in a band, and was flattered that the man even considered him for the song at all. He would never turn down an opportunity such as this one, and they had both moved on, so there'd be nothing weird about it, surely. He had a girlfriend, Andy had frequent boyfriends, there were no hard feelings.

His girlfriend was called Holly. It was a fitting name. She was prickly and beautiful, and she was selfish. Remington would never say that to her face, though.

He had learnt better in recent years than to speak badly of her to anyone, because her method of retaliation was to make him shower with her and to watch him draw a blade over his arm. She'd make sure to tell him when it wasn't deep enough, and to hit him when he showed signs of being in pain, and if he tried to resist, she'd take the blade and cut him herself.

He had nearly collapsed more than once because of blood loss, though often, it was down to the weight that he wasn't carrying, and while he was aware of the issues that had, he had gone beyond the point of caring.

Besides, she liked it when he didn't eat. It was the only time she ever called him a name that wasn't mean, and he needed those times.

Leaving the house for Black Veil Brides' studio was a thrill. He had been out so few times without her and this time, she didn't want to come, said the company of grown men who wear makeup was enough to send her insane. He chose to ignore her comment and left quietly. She knew where he was going and if she wanted to find him, she could.

He was met in the lobby by a man he recognised as their drummer, who smiled and said, "Hey, Remington? Good to meet you, man." He held out his hand to shake and noticed Remington take a small step back, close his eyes, open them, and take his hand.

"You too," he said. He felt guilty for touching another person's hand and he knew Holly wouldn't approve.

"Our studio is just this way. How was your journey? Traffic's been pretty grim lately for some reason. Lonny thinks it's because of the influx of holiday makers but I don't know. It's a weird time of year to come on holiday to London, if you'd ever go to London for a holiday."

Remington followed him through the double doors and found himself pulling his sleeves down over his hands. His eyes landed on Andy as soon as they stepped into the studio, and Andy looked up from his phone and gave a smile. It faltered for a moment. "Remington, hey," he greeted, getting off the couch. "Long time, huh? It's good to see you."

"Yeah, uh, hi," Remington returned, and begun to feel the sensation of warmth running down the inside of his arm. He folded his arms tightly and prayed it would stop bleeding before it seeped through his hoodie.

Andy's smile faltered again. He looked the singer up and down. "How's the band? Palaye Royale, right?"

"Yeah. We're, uh, we're good."

"Great." The man glanced from Remington to CC, frowned. CC shrugged. "Alright, why don't I show you the plan for the song, then? It's pretty much all written, I just didn't want to make your part too concrete before you'd had a chance to try it, y'know? Our ranges are probably different."

"Yeah," Remington said. "Okay."

Andy led him towards a desk in an adjoining room and pulled up a chair. He sat down and Remington did the same. "Okay, so the lyrics are here. This one's for you to write on or whatever. We'll go through the melody and I'm open to you creating your own harmonies and all that." He passed him a piece of paper and couldn't help but to linger his vision on Remington's fragile looking hands, not wanting to say anything but worrying that something might have been going on.

It wasn't his place and he was well aware of that. The two hadn't spoken in years, it wasn't fair to bring up his weight, but he knew that when they were together, Remington was told by doctors that it was important he didn't lose any weight because he was already teetering on being underweight. Now, there no question about that. There was nothing to him.

The blood was soaking into his hoodie. Remington could feel it trickling down his arm and rested his elbow on the desk so it would run down to his elbow rather than his hand. He couldn't focus well on what Andy was telling him, but said anyway, "Okay."

"Of course, you're welcome to change lyrics if you want, just run them by me beforehand, and we'll go through it without recording a couple times, so you're confident with everything."

"Okay," he repeated. Blood was pooling at his elbow and running down either side. Soon, it'd soak through his sleeve and mark the table.

"Alright, great," Andy said. "You sure that's all okay? You don't sound convinced."

Remington wanted to get up and run, not that he'd get very far after the breakfast he hadn't had. "No, it's...it's great." It was hard to sound like it was great when he was talking through gritted teeth. The more he bled, the more it hurt. Looking down at his elbow on the table, he could have cried. There was no way Andy wouldn't notice.

"We've recorded all the instruments and most of my vocals," Andy went on. "So I'll play you what we have in order for you to understand what we're going for." He dropped his gaze to the desk to find the computer mouse and, before Remington could properly prepare for it, said, alarmed, "Are you bleeding?"

After a panicked silence and stillness, Remington tried to give an answer that would make sense, but Andy cut in.

"Shit, why didn't you say?" He got up. "Come on, I'll show you to the bathroom."

Remington stood carefully. If he wasn't careful, he'd lose balance. He walked behind Andy without speaking, until they were in the bathroom.

"Alright, here, let me help," Andy insisted, pulling paper towels from the dispenser by the sink and trying to take his arm.

Clumsily, Remington pulled away.

"What's wrong?" Andy asked. "Just take your hoodie off and we can clean this up. It's no bother."

Remington wrapped his arms around himself and backed away.

Frowning, Andy stayed where he was. "Okay," he said calmly. "I'm gonna go and wait outside. If you need anything, a bandage or a glass of water or something, give me a shout." He stepped past Remington and left the room, stood against the closed door, and took his phone from his pocket.

Remington was shaking. He didn't attempt to tend to his wounds, just stood in the corner trying not to cry.

A few minutes passed, and Andy called, "Everything okay? You're very quiet in there."

Remington flinched at the voice and hastily pulled tissues from the dispenser, rolling his sleeve up and wiping angrily at the blood. His eyes were watering and they wouldn't stop now, and when Andy spoke again, he couldn't help the strangled sob that left his mouth. He knew Andy heard, and stood without moving, waiting for the door to open.

When it did, he had bloody tissue in his hand and blood dripping from his arm onto the floor, tears rolling down his cheeks at a steady pace. Andy stopped in his tracks. The door banged closed behind him and Remington jumped. "Okay," Andy slowly said, remaining calm, at least in his exterior. "I won't ask anything about this, but can I help clean it up?"

Staring with terror-stricken eyes, Remington gave no response.

Andy took a step towards him and he leaned away, so Andy took a step back and raised his arms in surrender, as though saying, I won't do anything without your consent.

They stayed like that, neither of them making any sort of movement, for at least a minute. Remington was at a loss as to what to do next. Andy could be trusted. There was no question about that. He was a safe person, he always had been, but being in this situation with him, exposing wounds that no one but his girlfriend had seen to him, was terrifying. No one had ever seen this and he hadn't planned on anyone ever seeing this, but here they were, and it was too late to pull down his sleeve and act like there was nothing beneath it.

He slid down the wall and sat against it, and the space between hitting the floor and erupting into body-shaking sobs was less than a few seconds.

Still, Andy stayed where he was. He considered turning the lock on the door, but decided that if what he suspected to be going on was true, it would only scare Remington. He couldn't feel trapped, not if he was going to accept any sort of help.

Remington wasn't looking at him anymore and was instead covering his face with his trembling hands as blood continued running down his arm. He cried relentlessly and he feared he might pass out, so much so that he was already thinking up excuses to give to doctors when they were to ask why he was so underweight.

Andy wanted to do something but didn't know what. He couldn't just leave, but he couldn't get any closer, either, so he stayed put and said as softly as he could, "Why don't we call it a day and pick up tomorrow?"

At the suggestion, Remington begun to hyperventilate, and Andy's suspicions were confirmed.

"It's okay, it's okay," he soothed, unsure of whether it was any help at all. "Do you want me to go?"

Remington shook his head and looked up at him.

"Do you want me to help you?"

He nodded and wiped at his eyes. By now, his clothes were patterned with drops of blood.

"Okay," Andy said. "I'm taking a step closer, is that okay?"

He nodded again.

"I'm going to get you some damp tissue but I won't touch you, okay?" He turned the tap on and soaked the folded paper in his hand. Then, he sat on the ground and leaned forwards, holding it towards Remington, but far enough away that Remington had to move to take it. That way, the younger would feel in control.

Remington pressed the tissue to the open wound and, looking straight ahead, mumbled through tears, "Please..."

Andy didn't know what he meant. "Please, what?" He asked. "Too close?"

Remington shook his head, looked down at his arm. "Help."

Slowly, Andy moved towards him, staying on the ground and taking the tissue from him without letting their hands touch. He couldn't be sure at what point would be too far, at what point Remington would freak and try to get away. From past experience, he knew that Remington was generally an anxious person who wasn't keen on unnecessary physical contact, that while they were together, a spontaneous hug was rare. It made him furious that someone had gone against so many of his personal boundaries in order to do this to him.

Remington watched Andy's hand. He was gradually calming down. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Andy was being as gentle as he could, wiping blood without applying too much pressure. "Don't apologise."

"I didn't...I don't want this."

"It's okay."

He took in a breath and quickly, like it was against the rules, said, "She made me."

Andy didn't look up from his arm, but inside, he was already wrapping a hand around her throat, pressing his fingers firmly into her airways, and yelling in her face. "Your girlfriend?" He asked, still calm.

Remington nodded.

"Okay."

"Sorry."

"You've got nothing to be sorry for. It's okay. I'm so sorry she's doing this to you. Thank you for trusting me."

"Will you help me?"

Andy did look at him this time. "Of course. You're gonna come home with me and we'll sort this all out, okay?"

"Okay."

"Is this the only way she hurts you?"

Remington shook his head, blinked, and more tears fell. "I don't eat," he whispered.

"Because of her?"

He nodded and sobbed again. "And now I can't stop."

"You're safe now. I'm gonna help you out of this."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. You shouldn't have to thank anyone for helping you out of an abusive relationship."

Remington pulled Andy closer, leaned into his shoulder, and closed his eyes. It was the first time in years he had felt able to close his eyes while in the presence of somebody else.