Andy had hoped they'd get at least one song finished, but all his bandmates were interested in was Remington. "Look," he said. "I found him wondering along the road, I was worried he'd get hit by a car, so I helped him. He's been living alone for his whole life so he doesn't know great English, and I'm trying to adjust him into society. Alright?" 

They all stared at him like he was clearly lying. 

"I'm serious, guys, come on. Leave it alone. He needs help of some sort, I'm just trying to provide him with it. I can't leave a person who doesn't know what a mirror is to fend for himself, he wouldn't stand a chance." 

"What does Juliet make of it?" Jake asked. 

"What the fuck does she have to do with this?" 

"She still owns the house, doesn't she?" 

"Yes. Technically, she owns part of the house. She's on tour at the moment. I'm hardly gonna call and be like, 'Hey, sorry I turned gay, I hope tour's going well, are you okay with a stranger living in the house?' Seriously, it's under control, stop interrogating me." 

"You can't just let a stranger live in your house," Jinxx said. "You're basically asking to be murdered." 

At that, Andy laughed. "Murdered? He's harmless. Why are you all so concerned about this?" 

Jake and Jinxx exchanged looks. "Because you don't know anything about the guy. He could be putting all this on to get inside your house and suffocate you in your sleep. Have you never watched True Crime?" 

"No, because I have a life. Just calm down, he's not gonna suffocate me. You're being crazy right now." 

Pulling Andy to the side, Jinxx said quietly, "If you miss Juliet, there's nothing wrong with it. But don't threaten your safety trying not to be alone." 

Andy raised an eyebrow. "I'm not trying not to be alone, for god's sake, I'm trying to help someone who needs it. And like I've said a million times, I'm fine living on my own. I've done it before, I can do it now. Why is this so hard for you guys to understand? I didn't come in to discuss this, I came to work. So can we work?" 

"Andy-" 

"He's not gonna suffocate me, or drown me, or stab me, or whatever else you might be thinking. He's harmless and helpless and I'm being a good person. And I appreciate that you care about me, and I know that mine and Juliet's divorce has done shit to me, but really, I'm fine. It had to be done, and it's for the better. I'm gay, I can't live the rest of my life trying to love a woman. Besides, we're still close, you know that. We still love each other, just not in the same way, and I promise you, if I called her and said I needed her, she'd drop everything to come help." 

"Just be careful. You don't know what this kid is capable of." 

"Seriously, he's harmless. Now, I'm going to get this song finished if it kills me. Don't bring this up again, or I will set fire to the building with everyone inside." 

"You sound stable as hell." 

"I'm not even going to give that a response." 

"You just did." 

Andy shook his head and walked away. It was true that the divorce had done a number on him, that he'd struggled to get over the huge changes in his life that came with no longer being a husband and having a wife. He and Juliet had practically grown up together. They'd fallen in love almost as soon as they'd met, and both assumed they'd last forever. It wasn't anybody's fault - Andy had to remind himself of that - but he still felt responsible. 

Maybe Jinxx was right. Maybe he was so keen to have Remington stay with him because he'd rather a stranger than no one at all. But either way, Remington did need help, and Andy wanted to be the one to give it to him. Whether that correlated with his possible loneliness didn't seem to matter. 

* * *  

The house was empty.

Remington's bed was unmade and the water and sandwich untouched. He'd even left the blanket, belt chain, and ring behind. Andy cursed under his breath, putting the chain and ring in his pocket and grabbing the blanket before quickly leaving the house to drive to the only place he could think of. 

Stopping the car under the tree in the forest, Andy got out, stepped carefully over tree roots until the cottage, grey as it was, came into view. There seemed at first to be no one about. He couldn't hear any signs of voices or footsteps rustling the cracking leaves on the damp ground. If Remington wasn't there, Andy didn't know what he'd do. 

He walked around the house, just outside the police tape that was fluttering in the wind, slowing to peer through the gaps in the trees and check for fresh footprints. Hesitantly, once he was sure  no one was there, he ducked under the tape and took cautious steps into the derelict building. The dust crept down his throat and he coughed, covered his mouth and nose with the collar of his jacket. 

Beneath his feet, she stairs creaked alarmingly, some of them sagging so severely that he feared a butterfly landing on them would send them crashing to the ground. At the top, he carefully stepped around a bookshelf that had fallen over, staying as near to the walls as he could as to avoid falling through the ceiling. 

Remington's room was the furthest from the stairs, and Andy stopped in the doorway. On the sunk mattress, Remington was lying with the same rags Andy had cleaned, only they were now sopping wet and crusted in dust that had infected the house and everything in it. Andy wanted to cry.