About the ending to Make Me which I know you don't like - I lost interest in that story a while ago, hence the lack of updates, however wanted to finish it. I completely understand it isn't the best ending for the book but if I didn't finish it now, I never would have gotten anywhere with it. Honestly I just lost all inspiration and wanted to bring it to some sort of close. To be honest, I'm surprised it's the ending that you're questioning and not the final storyline. I hope you can forgive me hah, go read my other stories and I promise I'll be better x

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Trigger Warning: Mentions of depression, abuse, PTSD, eating disorder/weight, self-harm

The room was dark and quiet. Remington hesitantly opened the door and stepped over the threshold. He half expected a scolding for simply being in the room, but got nothing, and after a few more light steps, there was movement in the bed. He froze, thought about turning and running, and heard, in a half-asleep voice, "You okay?" 

For a moment, Remington said nothing. "Oh, uh...Yeah," he stuttered. It wasn't his intention to wake the man, but then he didn't know what his intention was.  

Blinking his heavy eyes until they stay open, Andy propped himself up on his elbow. "What's wrong?" He asked, then in a more serious tone, "Have you hurt yourself?" 

"Uh, no. Not, uh, not yet." 

Andy hummed knowingly. "Can I get you anything?"

"Huh?"

"It's just, you came in here for a reason, no?" 

"Sorry," Remington said quickly. "I'll go." He begun taking steps back. 

"No, I didn't mean that. Sorry. No, stay. I mean, if you want to stay." 

"Really?" 

Lifting the covers, Andy nodded. "If that's what you came to ask, absolutely. Come lie with me." 

Remington looked at the mattress and then at Andy, both just shapes in the darkness. He bit his lip and shook his head. 

"I won't touch you unless you tell me to," Andy added. "And you don't have to if you don't want to. It's up to you." 

"Up to me?" 

"Of course. Completely. But if you decide not to, are you going to hurt yourself? Because if that's the case, I'll put on a movie." 

"I can lie with you?" 

"Of course." 

"Promise no touching?" 

"I promise no touching. Just sleeping, okay? You're tired, I can tell." 

Remington nodded. "Okay," he whispered. "No touching." Slowly, he edged closer to the bed, like Andy might leap from it and grab him. He whispered again, "No touching," to convince himself that it really was okay, and when Andy calmly repeated it, he got into the bed and let the covers fall over him. He lay back mechanically and looked up at the ceiling. "Okay," he whispered to himself. He hadn't been in a bed with someone without some form of danger for years. At least, it felt that way. It was becoming a part of his routine the last few months of their relationship. 

Dinner of insults, punishment before bed, a little bit of pain to carry him through to the morning, when he'd face a breakfast of criticism and a little more pain to carry him through to lunch. If he was lucky, lunch was just lunch, but hardly ever.  

Andy was quiet but wide awake now. He didn't want to move in case it startled Remington, so he lay still. He could hear Remington breathing. 

"Andy?" The younger said eventually. In his voice was a shakiness that both he and Andy had grown used to. 

"Yeah?" 

"Thank you." 

"What for?" 

"Not touching me." 

"You don't need to thank me. Go to sleep, okay?" 

"I can't." He closed his eyes and exhaled. "Not without punishment." 

"Well, you wanna know something? We don't do that in this house." 

"We don't?" 

"In fact, we don't do that in any house." 

Remington opened his eyes and turned his head towards Andy. "Yes we do," he said. "We do it in her house." 

"Her house? My love, it's your house, first of all. And second, we don't do it there, either. No punishment, not anywhere." 

"Not anywhere," Remington said, then yawned. "Oh. Really?" 

"Oh, really." 

"Not anywhere?" 

"Not anywhere, not ever. And you wanna know why?" 

"Why?" 

"Because your skin is for looking after what's inside." 

"Inside?" 

"All your beautiful thought that you haven't spoken yet, everything going on beneath your beautiful face. Your skin looks after all that, and we don't want to hurt it, do we? We want to protect it, so we can protect you." 

Remington touched his wrist with his fingers. "Protect me?" He asked. "From what?" 

"From everything that's made you hurt." 

He frowned. "But hurt gives it a point." 

"Gives what a point?" 

"I don't know. Life? Me? I don't know." 

"Sometimes," Andy said, "Hurt can be necessary. But most times, hurt doesn't give us anything apart from hurt." 

"Oh." 

"Go to sleep now, okay? It's late." 

"And still no touching?" 

"If you want no touching, we do no touching. You're in control." 

Remington turned onto his side, close enough to Andy to feel his breath on the back of neck, but their bodies didn't make contact. "I'm in control," he whispered. "Never been in control." 

"Get used to it." 

"In control. I like it." 

"I'm glad. Sleep." 

"I can't." 

"Why's that?" 

"Being in control makes me not tired," Remington said, then giggled. 

Andy hummed. "I see." 

"Thanks, Andy." 

"Nothing to thank me for." 

"Yes." 

"Oh?" 

"Letting me be in control," he explained quietly, yawning again. "Thanks." 

"Sleep," Andy repeated. "But you're welcome." 

"I thought I didn't need to thank you." 

"No, but I have a big ego to maintain." 

Remington giggled again. "Not as big as your-" 

"Yes, very good," Andy cut in, humoured. "Go to sleep now. Shh." 

"You don't know what I was gonna say." 

"I think I do." 

"Heart." 

"What?" 

"I was gonna say, not as big as your heart. Not cock, you filthy whore." 

Andy laughed. "Who you calling a filthy whore?" 

"The man with a sex tape and a huge cock, obviously. Go to sleep now. Shh." 

"Oh, you're cheeky, you know that?" 

"You let me have control," Remington said. He yawned for the third time. "Okay. I'll go to sleep now. Thanks." 

"Shh. I'm sleeping." 

"No you're not. You're talking." 

"Sleeping." 

"Filthy whore," Remington said under his breath. 

Andy tried to contain his laugh. "I'll make you leave." 

"No, I'm in control." Then, suddenly panicked, "Should I leave?" 

"Of course not, unless you want to. Shh now. Sleep time." 

"Yes, sleep time." 

"That means stop talking bollocks." 

"You can't tell me to stop talking, I'm in control." 

"Oh, I'm gonna regret that." 

Turning around to face the man, Remington smiled sleepily. He was out like a light soon after, and Andy didn't take much longer.