Trigger Warning: Mentions of self-harm/suicide 

Remington stared at them, then turned his gaze to Andy, surprised to realise that the man was also looking in their direction. "They're back," he said quietly. 

Andy didn't know what to say, so he said, "I know. I can see that." 

"What?" 

"Are they your brothers?" 

"Who?" 

"The two men over there." 

"You...You can't see them." 

"The one on the left's wearing an awfully filthy hat." 

At that, Remington jumped away from the man, shaking his head. "No," he mumbled. "How can you...are they..." 

"They're real, Remington." 

"No!" 

"I promise, they are. I'm looking right at them." 

Remington took steps backwards. 

"You know you're trespassing police land," Andy called to the brothers, and they glared at him like he wasn't supposed to acknowledge them, which he knew he wasn't. "Why don't you come over here and explain what's going on, why he thinks you're not real?" 

In response, they turned and fled around the other side of the cottage, and when Andy turned to Remington, he was sat against a tree sobbing. "Let's go back to the car," Andy suggested. 

"No! My house!" 

"I know, but there's nothing left of it but rubble, and if you go in, something might collapse on or under you." 

Remington covered his face with his hands, the belt chain dangling from his fingers. "Andy," he said abruptly, through tears, catching the elder off guard. He hadn't expected Remington to remember his name. 

"Yeah?" 

"Is today yesterday yet? I don't want anymore today. Today is too evil." 

"Not yet." 

"They're evil." 

"Who? Your brothers?" 

He nodded, wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "They said they're not real, and-and when I try touch them, they always move so I never touched them, and now-now they're gone and my house is gone and everything is-everything is wrong." Shaking his head, he pulled the hood of the hoodie up and dropped his head down . "If the world is like this, I leave." 

"You leave? Where are you going to leave to?" 

"With all cuts because you said cuts is danger-dangerous." 

Andy crouched before him. "There's so many wonderful things you haven't seen yet." 

"Like what?" 

"Well, there's places all over the world." 

"The world is-is evil." 

"All of it?" 

"Yes!" 

"I'll make you a hot chocolate if you come back with me." 

Remington lifted his head. His eyes were red and irritated, his skin in need of cleansing and a face mask. "I want blanket." 

"Blanket's in the car." 

"I don't want car. I want blanket, no car." 

"Well, without the car, how are we going to go back to my house and warm up? It's very cold out here, don't you think?" 

"I live here all my life. Cold is not cold anymore." He started to rub the ring on his finger. "I go with you if you come in my house first. Then I go in the car and have hot chocolate with blanket." 

"Alright. But if anything falls, we leave, okay? I'm not having either of us squashed to death." 

Remington nodded. "I know all the safe bits." He got off the ground with help from the tree and begun towards the cottage, ducking under the police tape and waiting for Andy to do the same before continuing. "I take my things to your house," he said. 

"Of course." 

Inside, the cottage was cloudy with dust, and Andy followed Remington through the small entrance and into the living room. The damp furniture had turned grey with age, and Andy realised that was probably why he didn't like bright coloured clothes. The stairs were behind the living room, each step sagging precariously, and at the top, Remington stepped over a fallen door and said. "This is mine." 

"Your room?" Andy asked, looking around at the mouldy bed and smashed window. 

"Yes. All my things."

"Okay. You collect everything you want to bring, and then we'll go." 

"You help." 

"I don't know what you want to bring." 

"All my things." 

 Andy frowned. "You can't take all of this. What're you going to do with a bed that's growing mould?" 

"Sleep." 

"Don't you think it's nicer to sleep in the bed at my house?" 

"Yes, but this mine." 

"I know it's yours, but it's filthy. You'll contract a disease from it."

Remington blinked. "Your words too confusing." 

"I just mean, if you keep sleeping on it, you might get sick." 

"I was sick one time and there was blood in it." 

"That's not good." 

"I just bring small things, but make the bed at your house have no colours." 

"I can do that. Good idea." 

"And then your house is my house, too." 

"Exactly." 

Remington nodded, picked up a damp book. "Okay. And I stay in the world for all the...wonderful things." 

"That's a great idea. Do you want to give me some things to carry?" 

"Yes, but careful." 

"Of course." 

Remington got to work collecting various books and trinkets, giving the larger items to Andy, and once he was done, he said, "Now it's not my house anymore." 

"That's right." 

"Okay." 

"Ready to go?" 

"I tell it goodbye." 

Andy nodded. "Good idea. Say goodbye." 

"Goodbye, my room," Remington said. "I go to safer room now." He stepped out. "I never come back. Goodbye forever." 

"Goodbye forever," Andy agreed. 

Outside the front of the house, Remington again told it goodbye, adding, "The evil people will knock you all down so no one gets sick. Goodbye forever, I go to safer house now. Okay. I go. Andy, I go with you now." 

"That's right. Let's go. I'm proud of you for being so strong today. I know it was hard." 

Remington stared at him. "What?" He asked. "Words not making sense." 

"That I'm proud of you?" 

He nodded. 

"Oh. It just means that I know saying goodbye to your house was hard and that I'm-" 

"Oh. Proud. Like pride? I know pride from that book." 

"Which book." 

"Pride and Prejudice. But I don't know what prejudice is. But you mean proud like pride?" 

"Kind of, yeah. Let's go with that. Car's this way."