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

Andy's efforts paid off. Holly backed away and left him alone upstairs. She wasn't worried. So what if she had accidentally slipped up and said something she shouldn't have? He had no way of proving it, and all that Remington had as evidence were cuts that the cops would put down to self harm before sending him on his way. She wasn't worried. She had no reason to be worried. 

Once she had gone, Andy returned to the door, wanting to speak but now knowing what to say. There wasn't anything he could say. Had Remington heard any of that? Was he aware of how completely insane his girlfriend was? Was he even still conscious? 

All things considered, the chances seemed low. He had lost a lot of blood, he hadn't eaten since God knows when, and he was cold and naked from the shower forced upon him. One thing was for sure - he was definitely going to need a shit ton of therapy to get over this hurdle. 

Andy wasn't sure how long exactly he waited quietly by the door, but was surprised by the sound of the handle being pulled down. He took a couple steps back and lifted his arms as he had done in the bathroom at the studio. 

There, Remington was stood, shivering, blue, and unsteady. He looked at Andy and though he was aware of the clothes he wasn't wearing, he was too tired to do anything about it. He was past the point of caring. He just wanted it to stop. 

Andy didn't move, but he had a kind, I won't hurt you expression on his face that made Remington want to cry again. 

There was no noise in the house. Holly must have left, and all that could be heard were the cars outside, and the clock ticking in the corridor. 

Remington made no attempt to leave the room. He wanted to stay standing, but he felt he might collapse, so he sat on the ground and dropped his hands into his lap. Blood was smeared all over his hands and his arm, and there were traces on his face and torso. The day had not been kind to him. 

Andy still didn't move. 

"Thanks," Remington said now. It was unexpected. Hearing his voice after everything. Andy had half-believed it had been sucked from him during her punishment. It was a relief to hear. Somewhere beneath the bones and the blood, he was there. He was still there. "I was listening." 

Andy lowered his arms but stayed where he was. "Don't thank me," he said. 

Leaning his head back against the wall, Remington closed his eyes. Keeping them open was becoming a chore. 

"Do you want me to find some clothes?" 

He opened his eyes quickly, shook his head. "No point." 

"How so?" 

"No point." 

You're just waiting to die, aren't you? "Let me get some," Andy said, and turned away. He wasn't going to let Remington accept defeat.

Remington didn't put up a fight. He closed his eyes again while Andy went to find something for him to wear, and opened them when he heard the man return. "You can come closer," he said. "I know you're not gonna touch me. You said it enough." 

There was humour in his words that Andy was glad to hear. He smiled, knelt before the younger, and passed him the clothes. 

"Thanks," Remington mumbled. He pulled the hoodie over his head and got off the ground to step into the tracksuit bottoms, stumbling and catching himself on the wall. "Sorry you have to see me like this." He sat back down and had the same need as he did when Andy was cleaning his wounds earlier. He wanted to hold his hand. 

"I got everything she just said on a recording, by the way." 

"You did?" 

Andy nodded. 

"Oh. Thanks. That's...that's nice of you." Looking down at his sleeved hands, he said, "You didn't need to come looking for me." 

"Of course I did. No one should be dealing with this, and definitely not on their own." 

"You're not supposed to be this nice." 

Andy raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" 

"You're a rock star. You're supposed to be rude and shit." He abruptly clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes widening. 

"What's wrong? Are you gonna be sick?" 

He shook his head, took his hand away. "Sorry. I'm not allowed to swear in here." 

"You're fucking kidding." 

"Not kidding." 

"Jesus." 

Remington shrugged. 

"We gotta get out of here. I don't know where she's gone or when she'll be back. We should go before she comes back." 

"No, I can't." 

"Why not?" 

"I have to tell her when I go." He looked at Andy and then dropped his gaze back to his lap. "She'll make me do it again if I don't tell her." 

Andy's eyes landed on his covered, bloody arm, and he had to force himself to stay calm at the thought of her harming him further. "It's okay," he said. "My car's just a few streets away." 

Already, Remington was tearing up. "I can't," he repeated weakly. 

"It's gonna be okay. She won't know where you've gone. You'll be safe." 

"No," he muttered. "No, I...I have to tell her." 

"No, you don't. Not anymore. I promise." 

"But..." He blinked. "I have to." 

Andy wanted to hold him tight and never let go. "She doesn't control you." 

Remington shook his head. "Yes," he mumbled. 

"Listen to me, I know she has said and done so many awful  things to you, but that's over now." 

"No..." 

"We need to go. It's not safe here." 

Remington had started to cry. 

"I know it feels like you have to do everything she says, but you don't. You don't. You're allowed to protect yourself." 

"No..." 

"Yes. You are. You're not her punching bag, no matter what she might have told you. You're allowed to leave, and you're allowed to not tell her. You are." 

He covered his face with his hands. Then he nodded and dropped his hands into his lap. "Okay," he whispered. "Promise?" 

Andy stood up. "I promise." 

"Okay." Slowly, Remington got to his feet. He felt he could lose consciousness at any moment, but he walked with Andy down the stairs and out of the house despite that. On the top step, he looked back at the building. "Okay," he said again. 

Andy was waiting on the pavement, and once Remington joined him, they made their way slowly to his car. In the passenger seat, the younger sat and stared. He was so frightened of what he'd just done that he wouldn't be able to sleep for weeks, he was certain. 

He had broken all her rules.