Trigger warning: mentions of suicide/depression, panic attack, anxiety 

Andy introduced Remington to the photographers on the top floor of his building two days after seeing Abigail, who he'd called the night before, during another panic attack. He had been surprised that she'd answered, since it was well past midnight, and was both grateful and in awe over how little she seemed to mind that he had woken her. They spoke for more than an hour, until he was calmed down, and once he hung up, he couldn't sleep. 

He tried, and he was tired, but he couldn't. The guilt and the anger and the horrible thoughts that rattled in his brain kept him awake, and so he was running on no sleep and too much strong coffee. 

Remington was cheerful, though, and seeing him that way made Andy's mood brighten, at least for the time being. "I don't know how long they'll want you in for today," he said as they were walking up the stairs. "But whenever you're done, get one of them to show you to my office, okay?" 

"Okay. Thanks." 

"And if at any point you feel uncomfortable, tell them." 

"I will." 

At the top of the stairs, Andy pushed open a door and held it for Remington, followed him through. The studio was large, covering most of the top floor, and there were two tripods set up with cameras and a white backdrop. "Franz," Andy said in a voice that didn't match his mood. "This is Remington." 

"Ah, yes. I've been looking forward to meeting you, Remington. Andrew is right, you are gorgeous." 

Andrew? You call him Andrew? "Oh, uh, thank you." 

"Show him to my office when you're done," Andy said. "I can't hang about, unfortunately. Interviewing for a new finance manager. Have fun." 

Remington was led over to a rail of outfits, and, observing him, Franz hummed. "Whatever we put on you, it's gonna sell out. All these are brand new to the website and need photos, so take your pick. There's space to change behind those screens." 

"Anything from here?" Remington asked. 

"Yeah. They're all full outfits. And you can keep those Docs on, they're great." 

Remington begun looking through the clothes that were hanging up. 

"So, how's it living with Andrew?" 

"It's good." 

"Is he a control freak at home, too?" 

"A control freak?" Remington hadn't thought of him that way. In some senses, he thought Andy was a little obsessive. There were things he did that seemed slightly strange, but everyone had their quirks, so he hadn't put too much thought into it, had tried not to pry, especially after reading about his suicide attempt. 

"He's insane. If you do one thing slightly different to how he'd do it, he freaks. He doesn't do that at home?" 

"I...I don't know." 

"You're his arranged marriage, right?" 

Jesus, can he do anything without the whole world knowing? "Uh, yeah. Yes." 

Franz hummed. "I never thought he'd go through with it. I mean, I've worked here for six years, and all the time I've known him, he's been so against it, so I'm surprised he did it." 

"I don't think he had much of a choice," Remington said. It didn't feel right, talking about him like this. 

"Well, I suppose not. I guess it's because after he OD'd, he lost all self respect. Or he lost it, then OD'd, then lost even more. Anyway, have you decided which one?" 

Is is just common knowledge? Does everyone assume everyone else knows? Remington lifted one of the hangers from the rack.  

"Great. Go get changed and we'll go from there. You ever modelled before?" 

"Nope." 

"Alright. No problem. You'll pick it up pretty fast." 

The shoot went smoothly. Remington was nowhere near as camera-shy as he expected to be, and they managed to do four of the nine outfits, Franz showing him the photos on his computer afterwards, letting him point out which ones he wanted deleting and which ones he liked the most. 

They were finished by five, and Franz walked with him to Andy's office and knocked on the door. "He's perfect," he said to Andy after they'd been called in. "The looks, the skill. He's made for it." 

"I thought he might be." 

"Any chance he'll be back again?" 

"That's up to him. Remington, what do you think?" 

"Sure. I had fun." 

"Great. Franz, send me your monthly time table and we'll fill the gaps. We'll be leaving in half an hour, so drop by sometime tomorrow." 

"Sure thing," the photographer said with a smile. "See you, Remington. See you, boss." 

"It's Andrew." 

"See," Franz said to Remington.

See what? Is that supposed to prove he's a control freak? 

Andy raised an eyebrow. "See what?" 

"Nothing, boss. Have a good night." 

"See what?" Andy asked Remington once Franz had gone. 

I wish I was a good liar, but there's no point even trying. "He, uh, he thinks you're a control freak." 

Andy laughed and shook his head. "Oh, I see. He wouldn't be the first. How was the shoot?" 

"It was good." 

"I'm glad." 

"Andy?" 

"Mm." 

So I can call you Andy, but everyone else has to call you Andrew? "Thank you. It really means a lot that you're letting me do all this stuff." 

"Letting you? You're your own person, you can do whatever you want to do, as long as you wear that ring and live in the house with me." 

"Oh, right." 

Andy's phone rang. Not the one on his desk, but his mobile. "Abigail," he said when he answered it. "No, yeah. Yeah. Uh, sorry. I'm busy right now. Yeah. Later. Okay. Thanks for checking. Okay. I will. Okay. Bye." Putting the phone down, he held his gaze on it. 

Who's Abigail?