Ok I'm in the depths of an Andy obsession spiral and have been sobbing over live show videos but just the bits when he runs out on stage so excuse any typos ok thanks

Trigger warning: Mentions of suicide, depression, anxiety

Nobody knew that Andy saw a therapist, and he had been so anxious about the information somehow being discovered that for their first few sessions, he'd said only one or two things to her. 

It was something that the doctors in hospital told him to do after his suicide attempt. They said if he didn't, there was a high change he'd be committed into a mental health ward, and he didn't want that, so he agreed. 

She was older than him, by at least twenty years, and her name was Abigail (Every therapist I ever write will be Abigail, u got a problem with that?). Despite his reluctance to talk at first, she had been helpful and kind, giving him things to work on that were easy. 

Now, it had been three years, he was still seeing her, and today, he sat in her office and said without greeting her, "I'm spiralling," and she observed him for a moment before speaking. 

"How so?" She asked, notebook open on the oak desk, pen in hand. Her office was large and decorated with framed art prints and certificates she had earned. 

Andy leant back in the armchair and sighed. "Since the wedding," he said. "I haven't thought about it for years, but now..." 

"Let's talk about the wedding. We haven't gone into that since it happened. Tell me how the day went." 

"He was sobbing, we said 'I do', I took him home." 

"Okay. How were you feeling at the time?" 

"Fucking awful, Abigail. I've ruined his entire life." 

"This was not your choice," she reminded him. "How are things at home now he's there?" 

"They're fine. I mean, he's sweet and we have no problems. Like, we don't fight or anything. But I just, I feel so guilty all the time." 

"And has that worsened as time has progressed?" 

"His brothers came down to see him last week. One of them told me I should die, so..." 

"Okay. How did that make you feel?" 

"Fucking like I should die, what do you think?" Andy shook his head and sighed again. "I was trying so hard to find things to focus on that aren't bad. You know, the company and designing new clothes and reading and stuff, but then he said that, and everything's crumbling. Like, Remington - that's my, uh, my husband's name - he came to ask if I was okay afterwards, and that just made me feel worse, because now he's fucking worried about me even though he's the one who's been dragged across the country and forced to live with a strange man in a strange place with no family or friends." 

"You feel responsible for what's happened." 

"How could I not?" 

"This was forced upon you as much as it was on him." 

"No. I signed the form. I said I'd do it. He didn't. He just answered the door one day and some guys with guns shoved him in the back of a car." 

"What would have happened if you had said no?" 

"I'd have lost everything and would be living on the street." 

"You're a victim to the system just like he is, Andy." 

"I just want him to be in his own home." 

"And that's a good thing to want, because it shows that you care and that you understand how unfair it is, but it's also important to remember that you are prone to becoming extremely self-destructive and we need to focus on that first, okay?" 

"Why?" 

"Because if we overlook it for too long, you're going to continue spiralling until it gets too much, and I don't want to see you at a point where you're considering suicide again." 

"I'm already at that point, Abigail. I'm already-I'm already there. So tell me what to do and I'll do it." 

"What are you going to do when you get home tonight?" 

"Make dinner, eat with Remington if he wants to eat with me, and then probably sit in the shower crying." 

"And then?" 

"And then drag myself to bed." 

"Okay. And what did you do last night?" 

"I made dinner, I ate with Remington, and then I sat in the shower and cried. Then I dragged myself to bed." 

"And this morning?" 

"I got up, I made breakfast, I took Remington's up for him, and I went to work. But I had to pull over to cry. Then I fired someone and cried about that."

"When you cry, Andy, does that make you feel better or worse?" 

"I don't know. I just cry. Like in the waiting room half an hour ago, I cried." 

"Just now?" 

Andy nodded. 

"Okay. Talk to me about your medication. Have you been taking it recently?" 

"Nope." 

"Why's that?" 

"Because I forgot I had any." 

"Honestly?" 

He sighed. "Fine. I didn't want to." 

"Why?" 

"Because I have no reason to feel this way and I don't deserve anything that'll make me feel better because I'm disgusting and I should die like Remington's brother said." 

"Take a breath." 

Andy did. He rested his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes. "You're gonna tell me to take them again, aren't you?" 

"Yep." 

"Okay." 

"Two a day for the next week, and we can talk about whether you feel any improvements. Does that sound okay?" 

"Fine." 

"And if you're seriously considering suicide at any point, you give me a call and we'll work through it." 

"Okay. Thanks." 

"But please don't call to talk about dresses because as much as I love your company, I know nothing about men's dresses." 

"Exactly, you need teaching." Andy opened his eyes and looked at her. "Do you think it's wrong to tell someone they should die?" 

"Of course. It's always wrong. Though I'd make an exception for, say, a Nazi." 

Andy hummed, closed his eyes again. "That's what Remington said." 

"He sounds like a clever man." 

"Yeah. He seems it." 

"Give it a change with him, Andy. You never know. He might be exactly what you need." 

"Aren't you supposed to tell me not to be in a relationship when shit's bad?" 

"Yes, I usually would, but you two are married no matter what I say, and I don't believe that pretending like you aren't is going to help. You've got company at home now. You always said how lonely you felt in the house on your own. It's a horrible situation for both of you to be in, but it sounds to me like you're getting along, so take advantage of the company. Treat him well. It'll make you both feel good." 

"Okay." 

"What does he think of your dresses?"

"I got him a load. He loves them. Wears them around the house most days while I'm a work and shows me when I get back." 

"Sounds sweet." 

"Yeah. He is. That's what makes me feel so bad. Because he's so lovely, and I'm ruining everything." 

"You're not ruining everything, Andy." 

"Yes I am. Shush." He yawned, shook his head, and said, "If I need to call you and it's not directly suicide related, will you still talk to me?" 

"Of course. If you need to talk about anything outside of session hours, I'll do my best to answer." 

"Thanks." 

"Are you worried that you're going to need to talk a lot?" 

"I told you, I'm spiralling. And I'm not calling a crisis line. Not when I pay you God knows how much every month. Besides, all they do is say 'have a cup of tea and go for a walk'." 

"What are your plans for your day off tomorrow?" 

"I don't know. I might take Remington somewhere. Ice skating or something." 

"Well, I recommend a walk and a cup of tea." 

Andy smiled and shook his head. "You're a bitch," he mumbled, and Abigail smiled in return.