Help Me (sequel to Save Me)

Chapter 81

Trigger warning. I apologise in advance.

Remington doesn't want to talk to Sebastian ever again. He feels so betrayed. How could his own big brother be so mean about his eating disorder? How could Sebastian hurt him like that? Now he has bruised wrists and, for once, it's not his fault. Sebastian hurt him, after promising he'd never do anything to harm him.

Sebastian doesn't know what he was thinking. He hates himself for talking to Remington like that, for shouting at him, for destroying the trust Remington had for him. God, he's such a fucking idiot.

Andy makes the sad boy popcorn in the evening and sits with the boy curled into his lap, stroking his hair and hoping that sleep with make him feel a bit better about this whole situation. "I wasn't scared of you," Remington says quietly, looking up at the man. "I thought you were Holly and I got confused." He's hesitant about eating the popcorn, but Andy makes him feel so safe that eating doesn't seem so bad. He just has to get rid of Sebastian's words ringing around in his head. Why can't you just eat normally?

Why can he just eat normally? Remington wants to know why, now, too.

"It's okay," Andy says, "you don't need to justify anything, sweetheart, it's okay." He keeps seeing Remington screaming in Sebastian's bathroom, terrified, hopeless.

The boy yawns. "I thought you would be mad at me," he whispers, "because-because I keep doing things to fuck everything up and you must be-you must be so tired of me ruining everything all the time. I can't even eat normally." It doesn't matter how much he tries to tell himself that what Sebastian said is stupid, it doesn't seem stupid. It's true; he can't eat normally, and it fucking sucks.

"I could never be mad at you, and you need to stop telling yourself that you ruin things when you don't, petal. You've never ruined anything."

Remington sighs. He puts down the popcorn bowl. "I feel like a fucking failure," he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. "I just-I just don't want to have anorexia anymore. I hate it so much."

"I know, sweetheart, I know. It's okay. It's alright." He holds the younger to him and kisses the top of his head. "It's okay, baby boy. Take a breath, close your eyes, you're okay."

Doing as Andy says, Remington lets himself breathe, and doesn't think about Sebastian, not now.

The guitarist has never felt more angry than he is now, at himself, at how much he's fucked up. He should have told Remington that he'd snap if the boy didn't go home but he didn't say anything. It's his fault. He buys a bottle of vodka and ruins almost a year sober, gulping down the alcohol way too fast, having way too much, and, after having downed nearly the whole bottle, stumbles out of the house, leaving the front door open, and gets in his car, tripping over in the process and scraping his hand.

The vehicle swerves and Sebastian knows he's going to crash sooner or later. That's the point.

"Remington, angel, don't do that," Andy says, carefully pulling the boy's hands apart. "No scratching, princess."

The boy just sighs, mumbling, "fucking hell," under his breath.

Pressing kisses to his husband's hands, Andy wonders what it must feel like to be in Remington's head all the time. "It's okay," he says again, voice soothing and soft.

Remington doesn't try to pull his hands from Andy like he was when Sebastian grabbed them because Andy isn't hurting him, and because he knows Andy would never hurt him. He thought Sebastian would never hurt him, yet here they are, in this fucking mess. And Remington doesn't even know the mess that his big brother has got himself into.

Sebastian's car is going too fast and he can't see straight and he doesn't know where he is, which road he's on, or even which fucking town he's in. He doesn't know anything anymore.

Yawning, rubbing his eyes, and getting up off Andy's lap, Remington says he's going to the toilet, and Andy trusts that that's all he's doing. Except it isn't. He closes the door, turns the taps on, and watches as the contents of his stomach comes up, sobbing, and falls back against the wall when the door opens. "Sorry," he sobs, and Andy gets him off the floor and gives him water.

"Shh-it's alright. I should've come up with you. Here, baby, brush your teeth, and then we can go to bed, okay?"

Remington takes the toothbrush. "Okay" he agrees, "sorry."

Sebastian is unconscious. He had driven straight into the side of a lorry. His head hit the dashboard because he wasn't wearing a seatbelt and there's blood dribbling down his face. A stranger calls an ambulance, sick at the sight of such a brutal accident. She's sure the man in the car is dead. By-standers watch as he's pulled out of the mangled car and put into the ambulance, and they all have a good story to tell to their families when they get home. But not Sebastian. He doesn't have a good story to tell to his family.

The blue lights flash and the sirens blare and Sebastian is rushed to hospital.

Emerson is woken by his phone ringing. He doesn't recognise the number but answer anyway. "Emerson Kropp?" Someone asks, serious.

The man sits up in bed. Shy wakes beside him. "That's me," he says, waiting for them to go on.

"I'm sorry to inform you that Sebastian Kropp has been involved in a car accident."

Emerson shoots out of bed. "What? Shit. Is he okay? Is he dead?"

"He's in hospital, sir, are you able to come in?"

"Yeah, where? Which hospital? Is he okay?" He picks up the first clothes he finds and dresses, grateful for Shy, who insists on coming too, for support.

Whoever is talking to him seems to avoid answering whether Sebastian is okay or not. "St James's hospital." They hang up. Emerson's heart is beating too fast. What the fuck has Sebastian done this time?