Trigger warning: mentions of self harm

The door flew open while Andy was in the shower, and he exclaimed a surprised, "Fuck," alarming Remington, whose eyes were wide. Reaching for the towel on the heated rail, Andy said, "Jesus, sorry. Didn't mean to make you jump. People don't usually burst in while you're showering, that's all. What's up?" 

"Why not?" 

"Privacy." 

"What?" 

"When someone's naked, it's normal to give them their own private space." 

Remington blinked. "Oh. Sorry." 

"It's fine. Don't sweat it. Did you need something? You came in here like the world was ending." Andy wrapped the towel around his waist and turned off the shower. 

"There was a noise." 

"What sort of noise?" 

"Like, over and over, same noise." 

"Oh. It must have been the phone. Nothing to worry about." 

"The what?" 

"Phone. We use them to talk to people who are in different places. I could talk to someone all the way across the world with it." 

Remington stared at him. "It sounds evil." 

Andy chuckled. "I'd love to know your definition of evil." 

"Evil is evil. What's that?" He pressed the top of the soap dispenser that was beside the sink, jumping back when a blob came out. 

"It's soap. To wash your hands with. Speaking of washing, what about your hair? Must be pretty matted, no?" 

"Pretty...what?" 

"Dirty. I mean dirty." 

Remington felt strands that fell against his face. "Oh," he said. "Yes. Dirty. I wash it?" 

"I think that would be good." 

"But no warm rain." 

"Well, cold water won't really do a good job. You could lean over the bathtub and then you'll stay dry." 

"You do it?" 

"Sure. I'll wash your hair. Just give me a minute to get some clothes on." 

Remington put a hand on his damp torso.

Andy raised an eyebrow. 

"Is it always like that?" 

"Is what always like what?" 

"Your body. Is it always like that?" 

"Like what?" 

"That." 

Andy looked down at himself as though he didn't know what he looked like. "Uh, yes," he answered, humoured, not sure what exactly he was saying yes to. "Alright. You take your hoodie off so it doesn't get wet, I'll be right back." 

Remington pulled his hand away. "Okay." 

He was sitting on the closed toilet seat, hoodie on the bathmat, rubbing the ring on his finger, when Andy returned. "Okie dokes," the man said cheerfully. "Come kneel here, lean your head over the side." He picked up one of the the two glasses on the side and turned on both taps, waited for Remington to settle before filling up the glass, checking it was no hotter than lukewarm, before saying, "Ready?" 

"Yes." 

Andy hummed, tipped the water over Remington's head. "Not too warm?" 

"No." 

"Alright. Stay there." He refilled the glass twice before picking up the shampoo bottle and squeezing a large amount into his hand. "Is it okay if I touch?" He asked. 

Remington nodded, and when Andy started massaging it into his scalp, he hummed. 

"That feels nice, huh?" 

"I never did this."

"No?"

"Just used the river."

"I have to say, for someone who's never washed properly, your skin is remarkably good."

Remington touched the bottom of the bath with his fingers. "When is a day not today anymore?"

"Well, each day is twenty-four hours long. So when you get to the end of the twenty-four hours, you're starting a new day."

"What hour is it now?"

Andy checked his watch. "Twenty-two."

"So nearly tomorrow."

"That's right."

"Okay."

Andy rinsed out the shampoo. "And usually, the dark hours are when we sleep. Or round about, anyway."

"Okay."

"Can I ask how you learnt to speak when you've been alone all your life?"

"Brothers talked to me when they came. But only sometimes they came. And books, but lots of words are too long. And evil people went into my house and made mess with things that hissed."

"Spray paint?"

"Yes. And they talked. So I listen, try to understand. Lots is too hard."

"You're doing a great job with it. English is one of the hardest languages to learn."

"Long words. I don't know what you say."

"Oh, sorry. I just mean, learning to talk and understand is very difficult and you're doing great."

"Oh. Okay. No. Too warm."

Topping the glass up with cold water, and rinsed the last of the shampoo out, then begun with the conditioner.

"My brothers are evil."

"Yes, well, I can't say I understand why they made you think they weren't real."

"They die."

"Oh?"

"Evil people die."

"I wish that was the case," Andy said, rubbing the conditioner into his hair. "But are you not a little happy that they're real?"

"No. They're not real to me now."

"I see."

"I did ears not cutting before."

"I'm very glad to hear that."

"I like no pain, it's better," Remington said while drawing invisible lines with the water on the surface of the tub. "You help with no pain, you made it better. How do I say I am...happy you did that?"

"You can say, 'thank you.' It means you know I did something to help and you want me to know that you are aware of it."

"Okay. Thank you."

Andy smiled, made sure his hair was coated in conditioner before sitting back on his heels to let it soak for a few minutes. "You're welcome. I'm happy I could help. While we're on the topic of hurt, how are your injuries doing? Do they need cleaning again?"

"I don't know. Is it done?"

"Nearly. A few more minutes."

"When I get better, will I go away?"

"You mean will I make you leave? Of course not. You're very welcome here. I enjoy the company."

"Okay. I say thank you again?"

"You're welcome."

"I never knew people are so good like you."

"You've seen the wrong people is all. I'll show you lots of good people."

Remington yawned.

"Nearly done, then you can go to bed."

"Okay."

Andy filled the glass. "I'm gonna give you an overnight face mask in a sec."

"A what?"

"It'll help your skin feel softer. It looked cracked in places earlier. Must be uncomfortable."

"Okay, but you first."

Pouring the water over his head, Andy hummed. "Sure."

Remington yawned again. Once Andy said they were done, he lifted his head and felt his hair.

"Let me just brush it out, make it nice and smooth. You wanna sit in bed?"

He nodded, rubbed his eyes. "I sleep soon."

"Absolutely."

"That means yes."

"Yes it does."

Remington nodded, followed Andy into the spare bedroom, sat on the bed repeatedly yawning while the man carefully untangled knotts in his hair. "When I cried because brothers are evil," he begun, "I thought you would go away."

"Why's that?"

"When I cry and brothers are there, they say, 'Stop it, you're being stupid,' and go away. But I though they go because my head gets too full to remember to keep them there, but they really go because they don't like it. They only come when I'm not sad or-or sick. But I'm sick lots, and sick makes me sad. So they not really there much."

Smoothing out the last of the knotts, Andy frowned. "They do sound evil. I'm sorry they did that. But crying isn't stupid, and being sick doesn't make you unlikeable. They just sound like nasty people." He put the brush down and unscrewed the top of an overnight face mask container. "And if you want, you can ask for a hug when you're sad. You know what a hug is?"

Remington shook his head.

"Can I show you? It means touching."

"Okay."

Wrapping his arms around Remington, Andy said quietly, "Now you just put your arms around me. There you go. How's that feel?"

"I feel like all evil people and things are all gone."

Andy hummed. "Good way to put it. Alright. Let's do this mask so you can sleep."

Remington pulled away in a daze. "We do that every day. So no evil people hurt us. "

"That's a wonderful idea. I'll put this on my face first."

"Yes."

Andy did, and once Remington was happy it was safe and not melting his skin off, he let Andy smear it onto his face, closed his eyes until he was done, and promptly lay down.

"Sleep well," the elder said, replacing the lid.

Mumbling, Remington said, "You helped again. Thank you. I sleep well now."