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

Andy explained to his band that something had come up and they'd have to reschedule for another day, and after they'd all agreed, he walked Remington out to his car and opened the door for him. No words were shared as they begun the journey from the studio, but Remington was on the edge of a panic attack and he was so hungry that his stomach was punishing him with pangs of sharp pain. 

It could also have been down to the kicks in the gut he endured the night before, but it was hard to tell. 

He didn't know what was going to happen now, or how much Andy actually could do to help him. He couldn't ask to stay in the man's house for more than a night or two, and besides, Holly would soon find him and drag him back into her death grip. There wasn't much he could do. 

Andy had moved houses since their mutual breakup, which Remington had expected. He had been living in a small one bedroom house while his band was taking off, but now they had found popularity, he had been able to upgrade to a more comfortable, spacious building. Remington was envious of his easy life, and though he knew it wasn't all easy - Andy had dealt with alcoholism in the past - it was a hell of a lot easier then the life he was living. 

Andy could leave the house without fear of bloodshed on return. 

Unless he fell over the doorstep and smashed his head on the ground, which, knowing Andy, wasn't entirely impossible. 

He took the keys from the ignition once they were in the driveway and said, "I should warn you, my boyfriend's probably gonna be back later." 

Remington was finding it difficult to pay attention to anything other than the pain from his stomach and his arm, but he nodded. 

"He shouldn't be any bother, but if you see another guy around, it'll be him. Unless someone's breaking in again." Andy opened his door. "Okay?" He asked, and immediately realised what a stupid question it was. Of course he wasn't okay. He was starving and scattered with wounds that he had been made to inflict upon himself, there was no way he was okay. 

But Remington nodded, undid his seat-belt, and got out. 

Inside, the house was bright and airy, dotted with framed paintings that Andy has created, as well as some original Black Veil Brides merchandise and an award for song of the year. Andy kept his distance from Remington as he showed him around, and once the tour was over, he suggested they properly tend to his cuts. Remington just nodded again and followed him to the bathroom. 

"How're your brothers?" Andy asked as he was gently wiping his arm with an antiseptic cloth. "Emerson and Sebastian, right?" 

Remington nodded for the third time. His arm stung but he didn't have the strength to care about it. "Fine," he said. "We argue a lot." 

"Yeah?" 

"Creative differences." 

Andy hummed in understanding. "I've dealt with a fair amount of that," he agreed. It felt wrong, talking about anything other than what that despicable woman had done to this poor boy, but he knew he couldn't bring it up. It wasn't his place, and he was just relieved that Remington had trusted him enough to come home with him. He couldn't threaten that trust now, not when Remington needed it so badly. 

Remington was thinking of sleep. The sort of sleep that goes beyond dreams and nightmares and thoughts. He watched Andy's hands and longed suddenly to hold them, but then he pictured Holly, and what she'd say if she knew what he had done, and he changed his mind.

He had broken one of her main rules; he had told someone. She'd surely kill him for this. 

"Am I hurting you?" Andy asked. 

Remington blinked and shook his head even though it did hurt. 

"You're shaking is all." 

He was tearing up. "Oh," he whispered. 

"Okay, I think that's gonna be okay. Let me bandage this up, then we'll have something to eat, okay?" 

"No, I..." 

Andy unraveled a bandage and begun wrapping it around his arm. "Just a little," he tried. 

Remington shook his head. 

"Let's just try," he suggested now. 

"Okay," Remington said weakly. The bandage felt foreign on his skin. Holly never let him take care of his injuries like this. The most she'd do was get him to wash the blood away in the shower, though usually, that involved her scrubbing at his open wounds until they bled more. He wasn't used to being in such gentle hands like this. 

Andy smiled and got off the floor, helped him up. They went into his bedroom and he gave Remington clean clothes to change into, promised to clean his the best he could, and left the singer to change while he went down to find something they could eat that wouldn't pose too much of a challenge. 

Ten minutes later, Remington stepped un-surely into the kitchen diner, staring at his feet. "Thanks for these," he said.

"No problem," Andy replied. He pulled out a chair, said, "Sit down, we'll try this. If you can't do it, that's okay." 

Remington sat in the chair and looked at the tinned tomato soup on the table. "Thanks," he mumbled. How he was supposed to make his hand pick up the spoon, he didn't know. 

There was a crash from the porch and Remington flinched and dropped his vision into his lap. 

"Callum, is that you?" Andy called, regretting it when he noticed Remington's increasingly shaky expression. 

"Who else would it be?" Called Callum as door slammed and Remington's whole body jerked, and then he came into view, and his eyes landed on the younger man. "Oh, who's this?" He asked, looking at Andy. "You didn't mention bringing anyone over." 

Andy shook his head. "That's Remington," he said. "He's just staying for a bit." 

Callum frowned. "For how long? And why? Andy, you didn't tell me any of this." 

"You don't technically live here," Andy pointed out. "And I don't know how long." 

"Wait, you said his name is Remington. Isn't Remington that one ex you told me about?" 

Andy stood up. "Why don't we discuss this in the other room," he suggested, sending Remington an apologetic look as he passed. 

"Fine, good idea," Callum huffed.

Remington pushed the bowl of soup away and listened as Callum went on to say, "You should tell me when one of your exes comes over, Andy." 

"I'm sorry, Cal, it was last minute." 

"Why is he even here?" 

"Listen, he'll be no bother, he just need me at the moment. Something's happened at his house and-" 

"He's your ex, Andy. I'm not comfortable with your ex hanging about." 

"Nothing's gonna happen." 

Remington stood up and collected his phone from the counter. He had a message from Holly. 

When u get back we need to talk. 

'Needing to talk' was code for 'I'm gonna make you cut yourself and laugh while you cry'. She always made sure her texts weren't suspicious, in case someone got a hold of his phone.

"How am I supposed to trust that?" Callum was asking now, as Remington quietly left the kitchen-diner and tip-toed towards the front door. 

"For fuck's sake, I'm not gonna fuck my ex, Cal. I'm not that sort'a guy. He's staying and if you don't like it, you can go. This isn't your house, it's mine. You have your own house." 

Remington silently opened the door. 

"Fuck that," Callum argued. "You're not having your ex all buddy buddy in your house. He's going. He can stay with someone else. He must have friends or a girlfriend or something." 

"It's not that simple." 

My girlfriend will be glad to see me. 

Remington stepped out, closed the door, and walked away.