Trigger Warning: Mentions of blood/injury, self-harm

Andy put the blankets on the bed. "Here," he said. "Have a look through, tell me which you want." 

"What are they for?" 

"To keep you warm." 

"Why are they like that?"

Andy frowned. "Like what?" 

"All colours." 

"They have patterns on them. Well, some do. The one at the bottom is just plain grey. Do you want that one?" 

Remington pulled it from underneath and shook it until he unfolded. He lay it on the bed and looked at it before putting his hand on it. "It's soft," he mumbled, like he couldn't make sense of it. "Will it be soft always?" 

"Well, after a lot of use, it'll lose some of its softness, but yeah, pretty much. It's nice, isn't it?" 

"Is it mine?" 

"If you want it." 

"Okay. Yes." 

"Great. Now here's a dry pair of underwear. Put them on, wrap that blanket around yourself, and come meet me downstairs, okay?" 

Remington stroked the blanket. "No," he said. 

"No, what?" 

"No leaving." 

"You want me to stay?" 

"Yes." 

"Okay. I'll stay while you change." Andy sat on the edge of the bed, turned away so he couldn't see Remington, who peeled the wet boxers from his legs and pulled on the new ones. 

Then he sat on the bed and pulled the blanket over his face.  

"It's nice, huh?" Andy said. 

Remington nodded. 

"Alright. Let's go down." 

"I bring it?" 

"That's right." 

"Okay." 

They descended the stairs slowly to avoid Remington tripping on the bottom of the blanket, and in the living room, Andy told him to sit down, which he did, covering his face with the blanket again. "I'm glad you like it," Andy said. "I'll get you some water and something to eat. Make yourself comfortable." 

While he was gone, Remington brought his legs up onto the couch and wrapped himself in the blanket with his head underneath. He jumped when there was a noise. 

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." 

Remington looked at him. 

"Here. Water and a sandwich. Enjoy." 

Without responding, Remington reached out a hand and put it to Andy's hip. "Sorry," he said, withdrawing it. "I forgot you're real." 

"That's okay. It must be a shock. Do you want anything else?" 

"Why are you not evil?" 

"I wouldn't feel good about myself if I wasn't nice to people." 

"Why not?" 

"It would make me feel guilty if I hurt anyone." 

"They're evil." 

"The ones who took your house?" 

Remington nodded, ran his fingers back and forth over the blanket. 

"Well, some people are not good. But most are." 

"Am I?" 

"Yes, I think so." 

"What happens to the bad people?"

Sitting on the other end of the couch, Andy thought for a moment. "Well, there are different types of bad people. Some of them are bad but aren't doing anything to break the law. Others-"

"The what?" 

"The law. It's, like, the rules everyone has to follow. But some people do bad things that aren't against the law. Like ones who took your house. That's their job." 

"Their job?" 

"Yeah. They're told to find places that look dangerous and to knock them down to make space for safe buildings." 

"They're gonna...knock it down? My house? No." 

"I'm afraid so." 

"No!" 

"What was it like there?" 

"It was my house." 

"What were the rooms like?"

"All covered with dust and the roof is falling down." 

"See, it's unsafe. I know it's hard to understand, but it's just what happens." 

Remington shook his head. "But all my things...Can I get them?" 

"Well, what things?" 

"My things." 

"Like, clothes, books, or what?" 

"Everything. All my everything." He rubbed his eyes. "I want to go home." 

"I know. But it's not safe there anymore. You're safer here, okay?" 

"No. Home." 

"Remington, listen. I get it, I do. You've never been anywhere else and you miss it, but I promise you, if you go back, you're probably going to get hurt." 

"But I hurt now already." 

"I know." 

"So hurting at home will be better." 

"Not if they knock it down while you're inside and it all falls on you." 

"Oh." 

"You're safe here. I promise." 

Remington kept rubbing his eyes until they burned. "Everything is wrong," he said. "I don't like it." 

"I know. I'm sorry it's happened to you. Drink some water, okay?" 

He looked at the glass before continuing to rub his eyes. 

"You'll make them sore," Andy said. "What's the matter, are they hurting?" 

Remington shook his head, dropped his hands into his lap. "Everything is wrong," he said again. 

"How about a nap? Are you tired?" 

"I go home." 

"No. You wont be safe there. You stay here, okay?" 

"No. Home." 

Andy sighed. "Here, lie down. Close your eyes. It's okay. You're gonna be fine." 

"No. Home. Home now." 

"I can't let you go back. You'll get hurt." 

"I want home. I want home now." 

"I know, but it's not possible. You're safe here. I'll look after you." 

Remington started again to rub his eyes. "You make me not hurt?" 

"That's right." 

"I did some of it." 

"What's that?" 

Remington gestured to the wounds on his arms. "I did some of it." 

Frowning, Andy said, "You hurt yourself?" 

"Yes. Because sometimes I can't remember if I'm real and it makes me remember. But I stop now." 

"I'm glad to hear that." 

"You make it better now, please." 

"I can't do that if you don't let me use those antiseptic wipes." 

"Okay, but on you first." 

"Sure. Be right back." Getting up, he left the living room and came back a minute later with the first aid box. "Alright," he said, rubbing one of the wipes on his hand. "See, nothing evil about it." 

Remington touched the skin that had just been cleaned. "Okay." 

"You eat your sandwich. It'll distract you." Andy pulled the blanket away from Remington's arms and chest, let it sit in his lap. He gently dabbed at the cuts on his right arm while he ate with the left, apologising when he winced. 

"What's that?" Remington asked, pointing with the sandwich at the television. 

"It's a T.V. When it's turned on, you can watch all sorts of things on it." 

"Like what?" 

"All sorts. You wanna see?" 

"Is it noise?" 

"Yeah." 

"No." 

"I can mute it. Then it's just pictures, no noise." 

"No, it's evil." 

"Why's that?" 

Remington took another bite of the sandwich. "I don't know. Ow!" 

"Sorry, sorry. Nearly done this arm." 

"What's on yours?" 

"Hmm? Oh, you mean the tattoos?" 

"What?" 

"Tattoos. It's art that's on my skin." 

"Why?" 

"Because I like it." 

"Is it forever." 

"Yeah." 

Remington looked closely at Andy's hand, poking the dragonfly tattoo. "What's it mean?" He asked. 

"Well, this one was from my ex-wife. My nickname for her was dragonfly." 

"What?" 

"A wife is someone who I loved so much I decided to marry her and be with her forever." 

Remington frowned. "But she's not here." 

"No. We decided in the end that we didn't love eachother anymore." 

"Oh. Why?" 

"The fact of me being gay, mainly." 

"Being what?" 

"Gay. It means I like men rather than women." 

"How do you know?" 

"Well, I've been with both men and women, and I realised that it's the men who make me feel things more." 

"People are confusing," Remington said, watching his hand. He yawned and shook his head. 

"Sleepy?" 

"My eyes won't be open anymore." 

"Yeah, I'm not surprised. Lie down." 

"But you're still doing that." 

Andy hummed. "That's okay. I can carry on while you sleep." 

"Okay." 

"Are you warm enough?" 

Moving so he could lie with his head on the arm of the couch, Remington nodded, yawned for a second time. "You make me safe," he mumbled. 

"I'll make you safe, don't you worry."