Trigger Warnings: Mentions of depression, abuse, eating disorder/weight, self-harm, suicide

In the middle of the afternoon, Andy returned home to drop off the shopping he had picked up on the way and found Callum in his kitchen. With everything that had gone on the previous day, he had completely forgotten about the existence of his boyfriend, and had a strong desire to tell him to leave. "Oh, hey," he said instead. "Sorry, I'm not staying." 

"Busy day?" Callum asked. 

Andy opened the fridge and begun emptying the plastic bag into it. "Uh, yeah. The guys aren't too happy about postponing the rest of the song. They understood, of course, but I feel awful, springing this on them with no notice." 

"Postponing the song?" 

"Yeah." He took an empty milk bottle from the shelf on the door. It was something Callum did - put the empty bottles back in the fridge - and was one of his many irritants when it came to the man. "You know, because of yesterday. I couldn't go in and pretend none of it happened. Besides, the song can't be finished without Remington, and he's not leaving hospital for at least a week, so..." 

"Remington's in hospital?" 

"What? Oh, yeah. It's a long story. Listen, I'll be back later." He checked his phone, keys and wallet were all in his pocket, and stuffed the plastic shopping bag into the designated drawer. "See you." 

"I love you," Callum said. 

Opening the front door, out of Callum's view, Andy made a pained face. "Yeah, bye," he said. He felt bad for not returning the words but he'd never said them to the man, and now wasn't the time to start. It'd only be lying, and Andy wasn't a liar. 

He drove to the hospital with the radio on, trying to forget about the boyfriend he had because he didn't want him anymore. 

When Andy opened the door, Remington was filling in some sort of questionnaire, and he smiled, closed the door quietly. "Anything interesting?" He asked. 

The younger shrugged, said, "It's for a therapist." He put the paper down. "They think I'm suicidal and anorexic, so that's really great." 

"And what do you think?" 

"I think it's a load of cack and they're being dramatic." 

Sitting down, Andy raised an eyebrow. 

"Anyway, even if they're right, what's a therapist gonna do? Bore me so much that I forget how shit I feel?" He sighed. "How come you're here? You don't have to visit." 

"I can go." 

"I didn't say that." 

"How's it going with your brothers?" 

"They're being huge cocks and I hope they die." 

"Ah, so it's going well, then." 

Remington huffed. 

"I got a lovely voicemail from Sebastian this morning telling me all about how I have no right to be here and I should, and I quote, go back to the studio and be an attention whore there instead."

"Well, he told me to never talk to you again, so...yay for us." 

Andy hummed. "Yay for us," he agreed. 

"He just gets jealous. And over-protective. You know, thinks if he can't help no one can. Fucking stupid." He covered his mouth with his hand. 

"Not allowed to swear here either, huh?" 

"I believe not." 

"Anywhere you are allowed to swear?" 

"Yes, actually." 

Andy waited for the answer. 

Remington shook his head. "Never mind, I forgot. So many rules, I can't remember half of them. There are tons about everything, but basically, if I do anything, I should cut myself. Hence the, uh, the situation going on here." He gestured to his arm. 

"Jesus," Andy muttered. "Hey, listen, I'm gonna go to the police at some point with the recording I have, they'll probably ask for physical evidence, you know, photos of your arm and stuff. That okay?" 

"Uh...I guess." 

"You can say no. I don't want to force you into it. If you'd rather I did nothing, that's okay. Whatever you want." 

"I don't know what I want." 

"Yeah, I can understand that."

He looked down. There was a long hesitation, and he quietly said, "They won't do anything." 

Andy furrowed his brows. "Who? The police? I'm sure that's not true." 

"No. I've tried. You don't think I've tried already? Andy, she's a woman, she's young, she's clever. The police, they'll take one look at her, and one look at me, and they'll say I'm being dramatic, I can't blame my girlfriend for me self-harming. Even with the recording, it won't do anything. It's just audio, it could be anyone. You could have just gotten any random woman to say those things, you know, to set her up." 

"You don't know that." 

"I tried, Andy." 

He frowned. 

"I tried. Three months ago. I went to the police on the way back from the studio, I showed them my arm, I had a voice recording of her yelling at me one time, they basically told me I was wasting their time, said I should get therapy because clearly I had issues, and showed me the door. They don't care, Andy. They don't...care." Remington shook his head, swiped away a tear. 

Andy didn't have a response. He had thought about what the police would say, of course he had, but was convinced they'd at least take it seriously enough to interview Holly.

"I appreciate what you're trying to do, but there's no point. The law, it's favoured towards women. She could probably go to the station and accuse me of abusing her, and they'd interrogate me, no questions asked. But the other way round? No way." 

"You can't just accept it and let her get away." 

"Accept it? Andy, I'm not accepting it. I'm acknowledging and despising it, but either way, she's a woman, I'm a man, who're they gonna believe?" He picked up the questionnaire and the pen and continued filling in answers. 

"This isn't right, she doesn't just get to go on with here life after everything she's done." 

Remington looked at him tiredly. "It literally doesn't affect you in any way," he said rather meanly. He was upset with the conversation but didn't know how to express that. "Don't act like this is surprising news. Seriously, it's just common sense by now. Double standards. A man commits a crime, he gets ten years. A woman commits the same crime, she gets two months and a few weeks of community service. It's been happening for years, don't act all surprised." 

"I've never paid much attention to it." 

"No, because you haven't had to, because your life is great and you can go home knowing no one's gonna fucking make you slice your wrist because you forgot to reply to one text. It's just the way it is, and I'm sorry you don't like it, but you're not the one in the shits because of it. I have to live with this, Andy. I have to fucking live with the fact that the person who was supposed to love me spent her time making me hate myself. I can't do anything about it, and let's be real, neither can you. You called an ambulance for me when I collapsed, you're not a fucking super hero, no matter how much you wish you were." 

"Rem-" 

"Remember that thing you said about consent?" 

"Yeah." 

Remington looked at the man. "Yeah, well I don't consent to you being here right now."