Trigger Warning: Mentions of depression, PTSD, abuse, self-harm, suicide

Remington didn't explain to Andy what Holly supposedly told him, though Andy was having a hard time believing she had even told him anything at all, imagined it was just a way for him to justify his possible suicide attempt.

After they fell silent in the bedroom, neither of them made any sort of sound for at least two minutes, and it was Remington who spoke. 

"You're still here," he said. His voice was level but he sounded like he could drop dead from exhaustion. 

Andy, who had pressed his phone to his chest, nodded. "I know." 

"Why?" 

"Because I..." He hesitated, worked out how to word it without sounding patronising or controlling. "Because you said some...some worrying things." 

Remington frowned like he didn't understand. "I was just telling the truth," he said. "Is that not what I'm supposed to do?" 

"So she really just told you whether or not to commit suicide, did she?" 

The skepticism in his voice made Remington's frown deepen. "Yes." 

"And what did she tell you, exactly?" 

"Whether or not to commit suicide." 

"Yes, but what? Did she tell you to do it, or not?" 

Remington shrugged. 

"This is important, Remington. You can't say stuff like that and not explain it." 

"I have explained it." 

"No, you haven't. I need to know whether or not you're going to try and kill yourself." 

"Why?" 

"Because I need to know how to help you." 

"Help me?" He frowned again. "With what?"

Andy was having a hard time keeping his voice calm, and had begun wondering whether it would be more effective to be a little stricter, only he worried that it would just remind Remington of the way Holly had spoken to him, and he would lose the trust he had worked hard to gain. "To feel better," he said. "To get your own life back."

Remington observed the man's features. "To feel better," he echoed, the words foreign. "Oh."

"I know you're having a hard time and I just want to help you to get through it, so you can live your life the way you always wanted."

"Oh."

"Do you understand what I mean?"

He nodded.

"And do you agree with me?" 

"That I need help?" 

"Yeah." 

"No." 

"You don't need help?" 

"No," Remington said. "I don't need help." 

"Okay." Andy leant against the wall. "So then can you tell me what she said?"

Remington shook his head.

"Why not?"

"Can't."

"Why can't you?"

"Not allowed."

"She said you're not allowed?"

He nodded.

"Okay. That's fine. In that case, I think you should go to sleep and we can talk about this tomorrow."

"Are you going to sleep, too?"

"Yes, of course," Andy said. "Once I know you're safe and sound."

"Safe and sound?" He yawned, as if on cue. "How will you know?"

"Because you'll be snoring."

"I don't snore."

"No, course not."

"Will you stay?"

"Do you want me to stay?"

Remington nodded, patted the bed beside him. He seemed to have returned to his previous state of being afraid. His voice was soft again.

Sitting on the bed, Andy was surprised when Remington crawled almost entirely into his lap, and had the horrible thought of 'he's hugging me goodbye', but he said nothing, just stroked his hair. 

"Andy?" Remington whispered after a while of comfortable silence. He was falling asleep against the man's chest, felt it vibrate with a hum of acknowledgement. "Would you tell me to?" 

"Would I tell you to kill yourself? No, of course not. I want you to live your life." 

A long pause and a sigh. "But it's not mine." 

"We'll make it yours again." 

"I don't want her anymore." He sounded close to tears for the first time all night. 

"I know, honey, I know. It's okay." 

"I'm scared of her." 

"I know you are. So am I. She's awful." 

"I don't wanna disappoint her." Remington took in a breath, like he was preparing for something. "Don't want anymore hurt." 

Andy was running his fingers through his hair. "No more hurt now, baby, she's gone." 

"Not for me," he mumbled. "She's not gone for me. I still...I still have to hurt." He turned his head to look up at Andy. "Can't sleep without it." 

"Let's try tonight," Andy suggested. 

"No, I...She told me." 

"She told you what, honey?" 

"To hurt." 

"I'm not gonna let that happen." 

"But it has to." 

"Not tonight." 

Remington yawned, let his head return to it's previous position. "Has to," he whispered. "Or no sleep." 

Andy begun gently rubbing his thumb over Remington's wrist. He could feel the bumps of scars, could count how many he touched as he ran his thumb back and forth. "It's okay," he soothed. "I got you. No hurt tonight." 

Remington wasn't used to such softness on his arm. "You got me," he mumbled. 

"I got you." 

"You got me. No hurt." 

"No hurt, that's right. Just sleep." 

"Just sleep." 

"Just sleep. I know you're really tired." 

"Okay." 

Andy kept rubbing his wrist until he was asleep, but was unable to sleep himself. He sat with Remington curled into him for the whole night, awake.