Trigger warning: Mentions of depression, abuse, PTSD, self-harm/blood

When Andy found Remington, he wasn't hiding, but was sitting in the shower without the water running. There were tears on his face and blood on his arm and his fingertips, and when he saw Andy, he immediately looked down. 

"Oh, honey," the man whispered. Remington put the razor to his skin again and Andy took it from him, dropped it into the sink. "No more of that today," he said. 

Remington shook his head. "No, I...I have to." He touched his arm. "Not enough yet." 

Stepping into the shower and kneeling in front of him, Andy frowned. "You don't need punishing, honey. You've done nothing wrong. And even if you had, you still wouldn't deserve this. Never." 

"No, you don't...you don't understand." 

"What don't I understand?" 

He shook his head and closed his eyes, leant his head back against the wall. "He said. He said don't tell him what to do." 

"Who? Sebastian? He's being a cunt right now, you don't need to listen to him." 

"No, he said. He said." 

"It doesn't matter what he said." 

Remington opened his eyes and looked at Andy. "Of course it does. It matters what everyone says. If...if you told me off, I...if you told me off, I'd still-I'd still need punishing." 

"Told you off? You're not a kid, you don't need telling off." 

"No, I do. I do." He shut his eyes again. "Can you finish them?" 

"What?" 

He gestured at his wounded arm. "Finish them. Please." 

"Finish them?" 

"Yes. Not enough. It has to be more, Andy. Has to be more." 

"I'm not gonna cut you, Remington. Not in a million years." 

"No, please. Please." 

Andy couldn't stop looking at his arm. "Honey, listen to me. You don't need punishing, you've done nothing wrong." 

"Yes, I have," he insisted. "Because I told him 'stop it', and I wasn't-I wasn't allowed." 

"You were definitely allowed." 

"No. No. Andy. No." 

"What Sebastian said was out of order and he's the one in the wrong, not you." 

"Yes, me." Remington moved suddenly, sat up straight. "Please. Please, just finish it. Just...please." 

"No."  

Starting to cry again, he tipped his head forward. "Please," he begged. "Andy, please. Just a few. Please." 

"No, honey. I'm going to get something to clean it up with, and a bandage. No more hurt, okay?" 

"Yes, more!" Immediately after raising his voice, Remington sunk back against the wall and covered his face with his hands. "See," he cried. "See, I keep breaking all the-all the rules. See, Andy!" 

"Hey, no.  Listen to me. The only rules you need to follow are the ones made my the law. No stealing, no drunk driving, all of that shit. Just the law's rules, okay? You're allowed to shout at anyone and that does not mean you should be punished. I mean, probably don't go shouting at strangers because they might not appreciate it, but you know what I'm saying. No rules in this house. No rules in any house." 

Remington was panting. "Yes, rules," he insisted frantically. "Rules, Andy, or how-or how will I be better? Please. More." 

"Here's what we're gonna do. I'm going to bandage you up all nice and safe, and then we're going to find something nice to watch on the telly. No more hurt." 

"No. No. No." He stood unsteadily and reached for the razor in the sink, screaming when Andy pulled him back, thrashing against the man despite the looseness of his grip. It wasn't the touch he was afraid of, but the fact that he might not be able to complete the punishment. The ritual.

Andy pulled him carefully down to the ground. "It's okay," he soothed. "No more hurt. It's okay." 

Remington was now sitting against Andy's chest, and gave up trying to reach the razor. He found much needed comfort in the arms that were resting around his waist and still wasn't used to the gentleness of the touch. He leant into it. "I'm scared," he confessed quietly. 

"I know, sweetie. I'm sorry if I frightened you." 

"No. Not that. I'm not scared of you." He wiped his hand across his face. "She's never gonna go away, is she?" 

"In time, she will." 

"She's always gonna be here." Then after a pause, "Really no more hurt?" 

"Really. No more hurt." 

Remington sniffled. "Okay," he whispered. "But more hugs?" 

"If you want more hugs, then yes, more hugs. Absolutely." 

"Okay." 

"Let's clean your arm up, alright?" 

"Now?" 

"Is that okay?" 

"But..." He took in a sharp breath. "Without finishing it?"

"No more hurt," Andy reminded him. 

"I don't know..." 

"How about we sit here for a little longer?" 

"Without finishing it?" 

"Yeah. No more hurt." 

"I can't." 

"You can't?" 

Remington shook his head. His hand had found Andy's and he was holding it tightly.

"Let's try, okay?" 

A hesitation, then he agreed, but just thirty seconds later, he was beginning to cry again, and let go of Andy's hand to wipe at his eyes. Andy said nothing, knew it was best to let him calm down in his own time, and when finally was managing to gather his thoughts, Remington said, "I think I love you again." 

The sentence caused Andy's eyes to widen, but he didn't say anything, not without working out how best to word it beforehand. It wasn't that he didn't love Remington, because he did, of course he did, but how could he possibly tell him about the boyfriend who he had since gotten back together with? 

I'm sorry but it's been so long since I did a cliff-hanger and I couldn't help myself, also if you're wondering why I'm posting at 1 am, it's because my drunk flatmate is drunk again and she's making a fucking racket and her room's next to mine, so yay for me.