Remington gulps as the door is opened.

A kind looking man, around 40 years old, is standing there. He's wearing a pale blue shirt and some grey trousers. He looks nice. "You must be Remington. I'm Dr Beckley, it's nice to see you."

The singer nods. He doesn't even try to smile. "Yeah, that's me."

The unfamiliar man steps aside. "Come in," he says, and the three brothers step into the house. He leads them into a tidy, big room, furnished with black sofas and a large bookshelf. "I assume you two are his brothers?"

The boys had emailed him prior to meeting him, explaining Remington only agreed because they said they'd go in with him. He won't do it alone.

Sebastian nods. "It's nice to meet you, I'm Sebastian," he greets.

"Emerson," the younger says.

"Make yourselves comfortable. We're going to take it slow. You don't have to tell me anything you're not comfortable with." He is looking at Remington now, his voice soft, gentle, cautious. He's definitely experienced.

Remington feels a bit better now. This man seems trustworthy. He glances at Emerson and gets a reassuring smile in response.

"Can I get any of you a drink?"

The boys all decline. They just want to get this over with.

Dr Beckley sits down in an armchair with a notebook and a pen. He waits for Remington to settle down on the sofa with his brothers and then talks. "I'm going to ask you some questions, nothing serious, just so I can get to know you a little bit. Okay?" Remington nods. He doesn't let go of his brother's hands. "If I say something that makes you uncomfortable, you do not have to answer." These words bring reassurance to the singer. The man is here to help. "What do you do as work?"

Good, easy question. "I'm in a band," he says, "with Emerson and Sebastian." He can't help the smile as he says this. Thinking about Palaye Royale makes him happy.

The therapist smiles. "Wow, that's impressive," he says in admiration, "okay, where's your favourite place?"

Remington thinks. "Anywhere with these two idiots," he mutters, "doesn't really matter where." He's avoiding looking at the doctor, determined not to break.

Nodding, Dr Beckley says, "you're very close with your brothers. That's good." He scribbles something into his notebook.

The singer still doesn't look at him. "They're my best friends," he states.

"Do you have a partner, Remington?" The question is careful.

Remington's eyes stay in his lap. "Kind of," he answers, "it's complicated. I ran away from him," he admits. Is this going to be over soon?

The older man writes this down. "Can you tell me why?" Straight away the boy shakes his head. "Why did you decide to come to therapy?"

"I didn't-I don't want to be here. But Emerson wanted me to and I don't want to upset him." Remington is being truthful. There would be no use in lying.

The therapist nods. "What is one thing you want to do but haven't done?"

"Meet Gerard Way," he mumbles, "or play a show in an arena."

Remington answers questions as honestly as he can. He has to shake his head when he's asked about past relationships, fears, and nightmares. That gives Dr Beckley a sense of what the young man needs to talk about in later sessions.

The boys say goodbye and get back into Sebastian's car. Remington is strangely happy. He is relieved at how careful Dr Beckley was about the questions, not forcing Remington to answer anything. There is still a long way to go, but it's a start.

They stop in a cafe on the way home and Larisa turns up too since Sebastian had texted her saying they were here. The four talk and laugh and Remington is happy.

They get back to Emerson's place and Remington texts Andy.

I went to therapy today.

I'm proud of you. How'd it go?

It was better than I expected actually. He's nice.

You gonna go again?

Yeah, not because I want to tho. Just bcos Emerson wants me to and I want to be able to be with you without seeing Holly.

Can I see you tomorrow?

Yeah. Where?

I can come to you if you want. Save you the trouble.

Save me what trouble?

The trouble of forgetting to take the painkillers.

Shut uppp. It was one time!

Okay okay sorry. So yes I'll come over?

Yeah, sure. After lunch tho.

Why?

Bcus

Bcus?

Nvm
Remington doesn't want to admit to Andy that he is going to try and have a shower in the morning. He hasn't properly washed since the hotel incident and has been resorting to wet cloths and deodorant. But he desperately needs to wash his hair.

OK. See you tomorrow.

The boy is terrified of showering. What if Holly appears again? He has asked Emerson to sit in the room with him in a hope that his mind will be put at ease, but knows it's not going to magically make it all better.

He thinks about the therapy session. Is he really going to tell that man things not even Andy is aware of? That doesn't feel right.

Remington decides he's going to talk to Emerson about it before next session in a week. He knows better than to let it eat away at him. It's easy for things to get out of control.

Dr Beckley seems nice at least. He has one of those faces that looks so kind and thoughtful, as though he's experienced so much wisdom in his life. He probably has. His hair is a dark brown, fairly short, with streaks of gray showing through. The man seems trustworthy, kind, helpful.

And his house made Remington feel at ease. Calm. It was easy to look at. Soft colours and pictures on the wall, comfortable sofas and a nice, gentle lamp in the corner. It's obviously been carefully thought out. Every aspect of it. The way the sofa wasn't completely facing the chair he sat in so the client isn't made to look right at him. How there are cushions on the sofa, should one need something to hug. The jug of water on the table with a stack of two or three glasses, the calming pale blue carpet, everything. It is so comforting, so soothing.

Maybe therapy isn't such a bad idea.