Trigger warning: Mentions of depression, anxiety, PTSD, abuse, eating disorder/weight, injury

Remington was almost asleep when Andy pulled up outside his house. He blinked to keep himself awake, looked at the man who was leaning over the back seat to grab a jacket he had discarded there that morning. He yawned and covered his mouth with his hand. His arm was finally painless after the paracetamol he had been given at the police station and he was grateful for the relief it provided him. For more than a year, it had been in constant pain, stinging when he moved it, bleeding into his clothes until he had to throw them away. 

Andy folded his jacket over his arm and got out the car, walking around and opening the passenger door, standing against it as Remington slowly stood. The house was unlocked which meant Callum was there, and at the discovery, Andy sighed. He took Remington's shoes once the singer had taken them off, put them with his in the porch. "Make yourself comfortable," he said quietly. "I'm gonna get you something to eat." 

Remington was still trembling. There was a slam of a cupboard door and he flinched, closed his eyes, took a shaky breath. 

"It's just Callum. I'll make sure he leaves. Go and sit down, okay? And help yourself to the blanket that's on the arm of the couch."

There was a glassiness to Remington's face that made it hard to tell whether he was listening, but he nodded and turned for the living room, then stopped and said, "You'll come back?" 

"I'll only be in the kitchen, and then we can have some dinner together, okay? If you need anything, I'm here." 

"Okay." 

"Andy?" Came Callum's voice. Remington flinched again and Andy could have murdered Callum simply for existing at that moment in time. 

He turned for the kitchen, where the man was sitting with a cup of coffee, and didn't try and smile. "Listen," he said, keeping his voice down. "You need to go." 

Callum frowned. "What?" 

"You need to go, alright? Remington's here and he will not cope with a stranger in the house. You have to go." 

"Remington's here again?" 

"Yes, now go." 

"Well how come he gets to stay but I don't? What is this? An affair?" 

Andy shook his head, unimpressed. "I'll text you later if it's that big of an issue, but for God's sake, just go." 

"How would it not be an issue?" 

"Callum," he warned.  

"What? You can't kick me out, I'm your boyfriend!" 

"Shh. I mean it."

"I'm not leaving you alone with your ex, Andy." 

"Too bad, because that's exactly what you're going to do." He stole Callum's drink and poured it down the sink. 

"What the hell!" 

"You can't just keep coming in here uninvited and using up my coffee and my milk and dirtying my mugs. What do you think I am, a fucking hotel? I'm serious, you need to go." 

"Uninvited? He's the uninvited one!" 

Andy shushed him again. "No, he's not. Now go." 

"Yes, he is. He gets in one fight with his girlfriend and you go all psycho and act like he's gonna fucking die!" 

"I cannot believe you, oh my God. Get the fuck out of my house and go back to your own. Start buying your own coffee and doing your own washing, I'm not your fucking father and I'm so over you." 

"Over me? What the hell does that mean?" 

"It means you can fuck the hell out of my house and find yourself another rich man to do your chores for you." 

"Are you breaking up with me?" 

Andy rolled his eyes. He was boiling rice in a pan on the hob as they argued. "Yes. That's exactly what I'm doing. See you." 

Callum scoffed but got up. "I hope you both die," he spat, and left. 

Shaking his head, Andy found a bottle of soy sauce, swearing when the door slammed loudly. "Fucking cunt," he muttered under his breath, and turned to see Remington in the doorway, a few moments away from tears. "Sorry about that, he's difficult. Gone now, though. You okay? Wanna come sit in here with me?" 

Remington rubbed at his eyes and nodded. 

"Let me make you a cup of tea." 

He nodded again. 

Andy pulled out a chair for him, patted the seat, and picked up the kettle. "You look ready for bed." 

Remington sat in the chair. "So exhausted," he said. "I feel so weird." 

"I'm not surprised."

"Thanks for saving me." He yawned. "Needed saving." 

"I'm sorry you did," Andy said. "No one should have to go through any of that." 

He watched the man drop a tea bag into a mug. "How come they believed you?" 

"I burst into tears and cried hysterically on their floor until they took me seriously." 

"You did?" 

"I was so worried, I didn't know what else to do." 

"She was screaming at the man who arrested her," Remington recalled. The memory was vivid. "It was so good to see her like that." 

"I can imagine. Stupid bitch." 

"Stupid bitch," Remington agreed. 

Andy poured water over the tea bag. "You have milk in tea, don't you?"

"Uh, I don't know." 

"You don't know?" 

He shrugged. "Wasn't allowed tea." 

"Fuck. My God, that's fucking cruel. Well, I'll put some in, if you don't like it, I'll make you another." 

"Arguably the cruelest part," Remington said. It felt okay to joke about it with Andy, because he knew the man would still take the situation seriously, wouldn't laugh it off. "Thanks." 

"No problem. You like soy sauce, yes?" 

"Uh..." 

"Not allowed that either, huh?" 

"Nope." 

Andy hummed. He stirred the boiling rice. "I'll make the spare bed in a little bit and find you some clothes for tomorrow. We can drop by your place in the afternoon and pick up anything you need." 

"Do you mind if I don't go in?" 

"In your house? No, of course. You can stay in the car." 

"Thanks." 

Andy put the mug of tea on the table. "If you don't like it with milk, let me know." 

"Okay." He sipped the drink. "I still wanna record the song with your band." 

"Yeah? That's great. I'll talk to the guys about it. I know they were all taking a couple days off since I couldn't be there." 

"Okay." 

"How's the tea?" 

"Really good." 

Andy smiled, drained the rice. "Good. I'm glad." 

Remington took another sip and teared up, shook his head. "Look at that. Even tea makes me cry." 

"It's alright, nothing wrong with crying. I'd be worried if you weren't after everything that happened." 

"You're the only person in the whole world who's not a massive cock." 

"Why, thank you. If only more people had that opinion." 

"Well, everyone else is a massive cock, so..." 

"True that." 

Remington smiled through his tears, wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, took another sip of his tea, which tasted like heaven. It made sense, because he was having a conversation with the real life God, after all.