Trigger Warnings: depression, suicide, self-harm, panic attack

Larisa, Sebastian, and Shy had been staying with Andy and Remington for a week, and on the eight day, Andy was writing out a reference for one of his staff members who were applying for a design position in his New York office, which, for obvious reasons, he did not have much control over other than monthly video calls to check up on sales and make sure everything was running smoothly, when there was a soft knock on his door. Once he had called for them to come in, he saw it was one of the more outgoing interns called Nina. She seemed uneasy and he told her to sit down on the black couch, asked what he could do for her. 

For at least a minute, she said nothing, and Andy didn't push her. He continued typing out the letter until, in a thin voice, she spoke. Then he looked up from his computer and listened, and she said, "It says in the, uh, in the welcome booklet to, uh, to come to you if we had any issues." 

Andy hummed. "Absolutely," he confirmed. "What's up?" He moved his computer screen to the left of the desk so it wasn't blocking her or his view. 

She was playing with her sleeves and avoided looking at him, instead focussing on the door opposite, where Andy had pinned a glossy printout of his favourite photo from Remington's shoot. "It's, uh..." 

"It's okay. Nothing you tell me will be spread among anyone else unless it's absolutely necessary." 

Now, she looked at him, then looked at the door again. She thought the photo of Remington - though she didn't know his name or who he was - was beautiful. Not just the dress, which of course was gorgeous - Andy had designed it - but also the way he was wearing it, the easiness of his presence in front of the camera. 

Andy found it difficult to anticipate what she'd say. That she had to leave the internship for some reason, he wondered, or something more personal. He thought it strange that she was being so quiet, since she was one of the loudest of the students. 

"I'm just, I'm finding things, uh..." It seemed suddenly for her barrier to drop, and she said with so much certainty it made Andy unsure he'd heard correctly, "I wanna die." 

At first, Andy had no response, had to remind himself where he was and that this wasn't the time to allow the words to set him off, though he couldn't help how he internally reacted to the blunt statement. It was something he had been working on for years, since his first attempt - to not decide he wanted to die every time he heard someone else say it, even if they said it as a passing I-want-to-go-home comment. "Right, okay," he said finally, collecting himself. "Alright. You've done the right thing telling me, and I am required legally to refer you to Human Resources." 

Her expression shifted and hastily, she said, "There's really no need." 

"I'm afraid it's a legal requirement, Nina. Don't worry, it's nothing to be afraid off. They'll talk you through what happens next." 

"No, really." 

Andy observed her, his healing bite marks coming alive like tiny fireworks under his skin. "I've got no choice," he said firmly. He'd internally rehearsed this conversation hundreds of times since founding the company, ensured he knew exactly what he'd do to make it as seamless as he could. But now, actually doing it, he had no clue what he was supposed to say. "If you come with me, I'll show you to the HR offices and introduce you. I promise it's nothing scary." He stood, and she shook her head. 

"Really, there's no need. I don't even know why I came in here." Getting up from the couch, she stepped towards the door. 

"Nina, you're gonna have to come with me," Andy told her. He opened the door and there was a small group of interns just beyond it, supressing laughter.

"I'm really sorry," Nina said before he had properly made sense of the situation. 

Through the impending panic attack, he found it hard to speak, but he managed to say, "I see. This is your idea of a joke. Which one of you told her to do this?" 

They continued trying not to laugh. 

"Who was it?" Andy demanded. "If no one owns up, you're all out. No more internship. Say bye-bye to your career as fashion designers, because a bad reference from me will fuck it all up for you. So come on, who was it?" 

That silenced them. 

"Now." 

Stutters but no real responses, and Andy was almost losing the little control he had over himself. 

"So I assume none of you want a job in fashion, then," he said. "That's fine. Get out." 

"Andrew-" one of them begun. 

"No. Too late. You're out. The three of you. Go on, fuck off." 

Nina looked at him, confused, because he'd said three, but including her, there were four. Slowly, the three turned and headed for the stairs. 

Looking at the girl still in his office, Andy said, "I can tell that was not your idea, but consider this a warning. Get back to your lunch." He waited for her to leave before closing the office door, locking it, and sliding down to the ground to call Abigail. 

"Biersack?" She said into the phone when he didn't speak straight away as he usually did. 

"Sorry." He gasped and then sobbed. 

"Andy, what's wrong? Panic attack?" 

"I fucking-I fucking hate my life. I try and do something fucking-I do something nice and it-it blows up in my fucking face like-like a fucking..." He didn't know what he was saying, what he was going to finish the sentence with, and silenced himself by biting his arm. 

As though she was right there, Abigail said, "Take your arm away from your mouth, Andy. It's okay. Tell me what's going on." 

Andy did take his arm from his mouth, dropping it into his lap. "My interns think I'm a big fucking joke, my husband hates me because-because his brother won't talk to him and it's my fault, and-and everything. Everything." 

"None of that's not your fault." 

"It is, Abigail. It is. And I just don't see why I even bother anymore when everything always fucking goes fucking wrong all the time. What's the fucking point?" 

"Tell me what your interns did." 

"It doesn't even matter." 

"You know it does." 

Andy wiped his wrist across his eyes, caught his skin between his teeth again. 

"Andy," Abigail said. "Arm. Mouth. Stop it." 

"How'd you fucking know?" He asked, dropping his arm again. 

"What did your interns do?" 

Unwilling to pretend it wasn't a cause for his attack, Andy explained about the prank - he didn't like calling it a prank when it was just fucking cruel - and about firing three of the students and giving the other a warning, and she told him that none of it was his fault and that firing them was the right thing. Then she said regrettably that she had to go for a session in five minutes and promised to call back once she had time. 

After she had hung up, Andy stayed on the floor for a further ten minutes, until he had calmed down, and then gulped down water and left his office for the afternoon class he was leading. Nina couldn't even look in his direction.