Trigger warning: Mentions of PTSD, hallucination, abuse.

The men sit on Andy's couch for a few hours, well into the night, talking. Remington feels safe here, with Andy. The man is so comforting.

Andy eventually gets up, taking their mugs into the kitchen and returning. "You could stay in the spare room but the bed's not made, so you have mine and I'll sleep down here," he says.

Remington looks up at him. "I can't make you sleep on the couch."

"I mean, we can share the bed, but only if you're comfortable with it."

Remington just nods. He doesn't know how to respond without sounding over excited.

"Great. I'll get you some clothes to sleep in."

The boy follows him upstairs, sitting on his bed and yawning while Andy finds a t-shirt and some tracksuits. "Here," he smiles, handing them to Remington, "keep them if you like, I never wear them."

"Really?"

"Sure."

Remington smiles sleepily, standing up with the clothes and finding the bathroom so he can change. He folds his clothes up and takes them back into the bedroom, flinching when Andy puts a hand on his shoulder. He turns around and exhales slowly to calm himself. "Sorry," he stutters, ridding the imagine of Holly from his mind.

"No, I'm sorry. You okay?"

"Yeah."

"You can get in bed if you like. I'm just gonna get changed."

Remington pulls back the covers and crawls under. "Thanks."

"For what?" Andy asks, taking his shirt off and catching the boy staring.

"Just...for not hurting me yet. Thank you."

The older frowns. "You know you never have to thank anyone for not hurting you, Rem." He gets in the bed beside Remington with just tracksuit bottoms on, his heavily tattooed torso visible. "No need for the 'yet' either. I'm not gonna hurt you. I could never."

Remington plays with his fingers.

"Sleep well, sweetheart."

Remington wishes he could sleep but he can't. He doesn't know what's more frustrating; not being able to or not knowing why. He lies awake, the inevitable and soul destroying thoughts making homage in his mind, their chaos bringing him close to tears. Sometimes dealing with a nightmare is easier that dealing with these thoughts on an over active and over tired brain.

He gets out of bed without waking the man beside him and checks the time. It's been more than hour and he hasn't slept a single minute of it. "Get it together," he says to his reflection in the bathroom, splashing his face with water.

The boy rubs at his eyes because they begin tearing up and stumbles back when Holly appears beside him in the mirror.

"Go away," he whispers, "go away, please."

"No," she responds, glaring at him as though she's really there.

Remington bites the inside of his mouth, it being a habit he's developed as a way to stop himself crying. Crying made Holly mad.

"Can't even sleep without me, can you? Didn't I tell you you'd fall apart without me?"

The boy just stares at her non-existing reflection, unable to say anything.

"Don't ignore me."

"Sorry."

She rolls her eyes.

"Sorry."

"Shut up."

Remington covers his face with his hands and hopes that when he looks again, she'll be gone. But he daren't move his hands.

"You so fucking pathetic," Holly says sharply. Remington feels the insult like a stab to the stomach. (Omg what a coincidence..)

The boy whimpers. He feels sick. He doesn't understand why this is happening.

"Seriously, Remington, as soon as I'm out of jail, I'm coming for you."

Remington sits on the floor and puts his head between his knees. "Stop," he begs, "please, Holly, please. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it."

"Remington?"

"Please don't hurt me," the boy sobs, as Andy crouches in front of him, having woken for water and noticed the absence of Remington in his bed. "Please don't," Remington cries, "please. Please don't."

"I'm never gonna hurt you," Andy says gently.

"Has she gone?"

"It's just me, sweetheart."

Remington lifts his head slowly.

"It's just me. You're safe."

"Just you," the boy whispers.

"That's right. Just me."

"Sorry."

"Come on, come get some sleep."

The next morning, Remington wakes with his head in Andy's lap, the man sat up with a book. He rubs his eyes and looks up at the older, who smiles.

"Morning. You sleep okay?"

Remington yawns. "What's the time?"

"Ten fifteen. I didn't wanna wake you. You seemed to need that sleep."

"Oh, thanks."

Andy ruffles his hair.

"Thanks for last night."

"No need to thank me."

Remington sits up and stretches his arms above his head. "Thanks for letting me stay."

"What did I just say?" Andy teases, putting his book down.

"Fuck off," Remington mumbles with a smile. "But, like, if you ever want company, I'm available."

"Good to know."