Hi! Sorry it's been so long, I've been in Greece the past week, not had much wifi or time to write, will hopefully get back to more regular updates now I'm home. If u want any photos I took of mostly stray cats, lemme know, I'll put some in the next updates :) 

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Remington hadn't seen Andy wearing a dress before, despite him owning his own brand of them. It was late, Friday evening, when the man returned home from his office, a large plastic container of fabrics in his hands, his keys between his teeth, and a pink, lilac, and white dress hugging his tall, slim body. 

Upon seeing Remington, he spat out his keys so they landed with a clatter on the lid of the box, and said, "Well, that was a fucking nightmare." 

Remington raised his eyebrow. "Your meeting with Harley?" He asked. "I thought you were looking forward to it." 

Andy carried the box through to the kitchen, where he slid it onto the table, shook out his arms to relieve their aching, and opened the fridge. "I was. But they're an absolute pain to work with. I mean, we haven't even started the designs, but they're so bossy. Like, okay, I know I'm bossy, but Jesus Christ, I seem like a submissive shy kid compared to them. Oh, you got more fake wine. Good." He took out a bottle, poured himself a glass, and sat down before the container. "I made a passing comment about looking through some fabrics I have that haven't been used yet, you know, ones that I've sourced from small businesses with the intention of creating a line for them, meaning that I would do it when I have free time in the office, but they were insistent on me doing it tonight. Like, refusing to leave until I promised I would. So...here I am." 

Remington put the keys on the table and sat down. "Maybe they just want to make sure it all turns out how they expect it to," he said, trying to lift Andy's mood. He didn't like seeing the man so tired out after work, even though it was, he realised, normal. The company was Andy's pride and joy; it made Remington sad to see it causing him any sort of unhappiness when he had worked so tirelessly to make it what it was. It almost seemed, at times, that he was being endlessly and cruelly mocked for wanting to enjoy his job. 

"It's great that they're so keen to be involved to such an extent, but my God, they've requested so much in such a short amount of time, I feel like I've been kicked in the head with platform heels." He sipped the wine and sighed, then put the glass down and started to dig through the fabrics. "The thing is, even if they like any of these, it'll take at least a couple weeks to source enough of the specific designs to create enough outfits, and I can't imagine them being so patient as to wait for that." He shook his head. "What do you think of this dress, by the way? I made it." 

"You made it?" 

"With my own two hands, baby. Just a little project to entertain me at quite periods. I finished it this morning. Oh, this is a pretty fabric, don't you think? Not Harley's style, I imagine. Too, uh, too delicate for them. They're more into the whole emo black red thing. Studs and all that. Maybe it could be combined with something darker, make something contrasting. I don't know." 

"Maybe take a break?" Remington suggested, his voice portraying a subtle harshness that he didn't intend, and regretted speaking when he saw Andy's sinking expression. "I just mean-" 

"No," Andy cut in, sounding wounded. "I know what you mean. I'll bear it in mind." 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so mean." 

"You didn't sound mean." He finished his wine. "You sounded like you're trying to make me shut up because I'm irritating you by my constant work talk. It's fine. I get it." 

"That's not it." 

"All you have to do is tell me to think quietly, there's no need to be so rude about it." 

"Andy, I-" 

"You don't understand why I'm so worked up about some dresses and you wish I'd shut up because it's annoying and boring you, I get it. I do. Point taken. I'll consider stressing out alone to spare you the inconvenience in future. Thanks for the suggestion." 

"No-" 

Andy dismissed him with a shake of his head and by filling his glass. He sipped the wine silently, shoulders hunched like he was balancing the entirety of the universe on them. When he finished the drink, he placed the glass on the table so it made almost no noise, put his head in his hands, and didn't move from that position, not even when Remington apologised and said he didn't mean to come across the way he did, that he loved hearing about the company. "Just leave it alone," Andy mumbled, his eyes closed. "I love you, but I don't think I really like you right now. At least, I don't like your company right now." 

Remington couldn't help the way those few sentences made him feel, despite knowing it was the exhaustion talking, that Andy would later apologise profusely for talking to him in such a way. Still, it cut into him, and, blinking frequently, he said again, "I'm sorry, Andy." 

"Andrew," the man corrected in a half-whisper, and it was the only thing he said for the rest of the night. He slept alone in his bedroom, or at least, he tried to sleep, but already, the guilt of addressing Remington so coldly was eating into him like frostbite. He messaged Abigail at gone midnight and she replied instantly, and he told her in shortened words and small sentences what had happened.

To make the night worthwhile, since he couldn't sleep, Andy continued looking through the container of fabrics until his eyes were heavy and blurring. Then he slept from four to six, woke, ate breakfast alone, and drove into work with the intention of apologising to Remington that evening.