A/N Alright. Keep with me here. I made a major change at the end of the story that affected pretty much every chapter from here on out so editing this was extremely extremely difficult, and it gets a little patchy, for which I'm sorry. This chapter begins to discuss a bit of Remy's past, and it makes writing for Remy even harder. I hope you enjoy this because it took hours upon hours to fix.

"Remy," His father said in a careful voice, following Remy into his bedroom, despite the eighteen year old trying to slam his door between the two of them. "Remy".

"Don't want to talk about it," Remy snapped and threw himself down onto his bed. He was a bit mortified after being caught with an older boy's tongue in his mouth by his father, but none of that compared to the disappointment of having to send Cecil away.

Remy almost let out a dreamy sigh at the thought of the other boy. Who would have thought that Cecil Clarke would be the man to make Remy feel different. To make his heart pound and his palms sweat and his pants tighten.

Yes. There was no denying it any longer. Remy was incredibly attracted to Cecil Clarke in a very sexual way. In the way that Remy had always sworn he would never feel about anyone.

His father seemed to be thinking about this. "I thought you were asexual. You told me you were asexual Remy. I wasn't worried about anything like this happening because you said that you were asexual. Aren't you asexual?"

"I thought I was," Remy said, his voice muffled by his pillow. "I didn't lie to you".

"And what about now?" His dad asked, and Remy felt the bed dip as the older man sat on the foot of it. Remy remained silent. "What now, Remy?"

"Now I'm experimenting?" Remy said, like it was a question and his father groaned. With a sigh, Remy rolled onto his back, propping his head up on his pillow to look down at his father. "It's not a big deal".

"It is a big deal," his dad corrected, looking down at him pointedly. "I should have seen this coming. I should have known that you would want to try these kinds of things again. I just figured that after what had happened to you, you were serious when you said you were asexual". Remy closed his eyes. "I didn't think I'd need to protect you more than I already have".

"Sorry to disappoint," Remy snapped, rolling onto his side.

"That's not what I mean, Remy," his father said, softly. "I meant... I meant that I just wasn't prepared to protect you from boyfriends. If anything, I thought you'd be straight, but now..."

"You don't need to protect me from anything".

"Please don't tell me that I'm not your real father, because that doesn't change anything. I still love you like you're my own," His father said and Remy sighed. He had taunted his father with this before, but hearing it from the other man's lips had him ashamed.

"That's not what I was saying. I meant..." Remy trailed off and rolled back onto his back. "You don't need to protect me from Clarke. He'd never hurt me". Remy closed his eyes. "I have him wrapped around my finger".

"Remy," His father began. "I don't think you're taking this as seriously as you should".

"We kissed," Remy said. "We're not even dating".

"Have you had sex?" The older man asked and Remy made a pained noise, rolling over again, this time onto his front. "Alright alright. I'll take that as a no".

"Good".

It was silent for a minute. "We should talk, Remy".

Remy got a tingling feeling in his gut, as if something was about to go terribly wrong. "About what?"

"About the past".

Remy's breath caught in his throat."Why are you pushing this on me all the time".

"Remy-" the boy sat up in bed quickly, his eyes wide as his stomach stirred.

"What are you- what-" Remy cut off as his father gently ran a hand down his arm soothingly.

"Dr. Morris told your mother and I that you are still having trouble remembering exactly what happened. You're still reciting it as a story, something that someone told you, not something you yourself have experienced". Remy just blinked at him. He has it all wrong. "Sometimes your past is so tragic that you force yourself to forget about it to cope, but she says that you will most definitely start to remember, and soon, and that will help you heal, Remy. We just want you to get better. We want you to remember what happened because you learned a lot having experienced that, and I want you to use that information in your life". His father took a deep breath and Remy just turned his face away. He didn't like the effect these conversations had on his body; it had his hands shaking and his eyes threatening to leak tears. He doesn't understand. "Remy, I don't think you should start a relationship with anyone until you're better. I think that your judgement will improve after you've accepted your past-"

"I'm fine," Remy snapped, raising a hand to quickly wipe at his eyes, and then fixing his father figure with a heated glare. "You don't know anything about Cecil, and you don't know anything about how I feel about him". Remy pauses and let out a shaky breath. "I don't want to talk about this and you're trying to force it on me. It makes me feel sick, and I want nothing to do with it". Remy's small hands curled into fists in the sheets. He didn't want to feel sick. All he ever wanted to feel for the rest of his life was how it had felt to kiss Cecil. All he ever wanted to remember was Cecil Clarke's warm lips and his charming smile.

"How do you feel about him?" His father asked softly and Remy swallowed, blinking more tears from his eyes. He wasn't able to wipe them before they fell, so they rolled down his cheeks in slow streams.

"It's not about how I feel about him," Remy tried to explain, bringing his palms to his cheeks to hide the signs of his internal pain. "It's about how he makes me feel".

"And how is that?"

Remy met his father's eyes. "He makes me want to smile".

The man looked at him with a pained expression before shaking his head and gently patting Remy's calf beneath the covers. "Just be careful kid, alright?"

Before Remy could even think of a response, his dad was gone, closing Remy's door and shutting off his light on the way out.

***

Remy should have known that falling asleep with his stomach in a knot and his hands shaking would have lead to nightmares, but once Remy was asleep, he couldn't force himself to wake up.

There was blood on his hands. Lots of it, and the body in his arms was heavy, straining his muscles, but he continued to shake it. "Wake up, wake up, wake up. Please, I need you to wake up," Remy was crying. He ducked his face into the person's neck, inhaling a familiar smell before letting out a sob. "Please, you're all I have".Remy's fingers slid through the cold fingers of the person he was holding. It was his fault.

The front door opened and Remy jerked, but didn't dare move from his place. People were coming into the room, their voices loud as they yelled to one another. Three bodies in this room.

Remy didn't look up at them. Instead he stared down at the pale face before him.

He realized that he wasn't going to wake up.

"Hey," a soft voice said and Remy tensed as he felt someone crouch next to him, a gentle hand landing on his shoulder. "We need to get you checked out, bud".

"No".

"We need you to let go of the body".

"No".

"Son-"

"I'm not letting him go," Remy snapped. "You can't take him away from me. He's all I have".

Remy jerked away, his hands clutching his blanket so hard that his knuckles were white. He took a deep breath, and then climbed quickly from his bed as his stomach lurched. He ran to his bathroom, kneeling before the toilet and emptying his stomach.

Quickly, he scrambled to his feet and began washing his hands in the sink, frantically trying to wash them clean.

He couldn't remember much of his dream, only small bits, such as his hands slick with blood and the sound of the door banging open, and even those memories were slipping away until Remy was left on his knees in the bathroom wondering why he had even gotten sick.

He pressed a hand to his hot forehead when his urge to wash his hands ceased, and glanced down at his shirt, which was hanging heavily off his thin frame with the weight of sweat. With a noise of disgust, he pulled it over his head and immediately turned to his shower, twisting the knob until hot water poured from the nozzle.

He turned back to the sink then, reaching for his toothbrush to wash the taste of bile from his mouth.

Remy looked at his shirtless image in the mirror, marveling at his clear skin and thinking back to a time when it had been covered with bruises.

Before he got into the shower, Remy threw up again, and then began to wash his hands.

***

"Hey kid," his mother greeted, her voice very soft as Remy took a seat at the island. "Would you like some coffee? You're looking a little tired".

Remy scoffed. He had seen his face that morning and knew he looked like absolute hell, but it was just like her to be gentler in her description.

"Coffee sounds great," he groaned, leaning down and pressing his face against the counter.

"You Alright?" His father asked, entering the kitchen with Atticus in his back, still half asleep. Remy, without a word, slowly pulled his cracked red hands off the counter and folded then in his lap.

"I'm alright". His father eyed him wearily as he helped Atticus into the seat next to Remy. "Didn't sleep great".

His father was still looking at him, eyes narrowed, and Remy looked away as his mother placed a steaming cup of coffee before him. "Thank you-"

A large hand wrapped around his wrist and pull Remy's hands from his lap. His father eyed the skin for a moment before sighing and dropping his hand. The cracked skin gave away the fact that Remy had spent the entire morning in front of the sink, washing and washing his hands. "What did you dream about?"

Remy shrugged, dropping his hand to his mug. He typically enjoyed tea better, but at the moment he didn't care what he drank, as long as it would keep him awake. "Don't remember. I could just still feel it on my hands".

"Feel what?" Atticus asked now, his voice very sleepy. Remy watched the small boy's raise his hands and rub at his eyes.

"I don't know," Remy lied easily. The truth was too hard to explain to Atticus. "I just felt dirty".

Atticus reaches a hand out to touch Remy's fingers and the eighteen year old flinched but didn't pull away. "You feel clean".

"Thanks buddy". Slowly, Remy withdrew his hand. It was almost awkwardly silent for a moment, the only sound being the clink of glass on the stainless steel countertop as his mother placed a plate of pancakes in front of him.

"Are you ready for your appointment this afternoon?" His father asked from behind him and Remy nodded his head, reaching out as his mother handed him a fork. "You have lots to talk about".

"What do you mean?" His Mom asked, fetching Atticus a plate of pancakes. "Are your memories coming back?"

Remy ignored the question. He couldn't talk to them about his memories. Not yet. "He's talking about Clarke".

"Mr. Cecil!" Atticus cried happily and Remy watched as his mother's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Atticus's swim teacher?"

"Yeah," Remy said, his voice bored. "We're friends now".

"Really?!" Jenny asked, very enthused and Remy's father scoffed.

"Cecil comes over with Sydney when you two are at work sometimes!" Atticus said happily and Remy shot a look at his displeased father.

"You two seemed very friendly for friends," the man grumbled and Remy ignored him, stabbing his food with his fork.

"What do you mean, Brandon?" His mother asked and his father looked up at his wife.

"I mean that Remy has a boyfriend," he explained and Remy watched his mother's eyes widen.

"Oh Remy," she breathed and Remy just shook his head. "I don't think-"

"I don't care," Remy said, and then quickly added, "he's not my boyfriend".

"Well Remy-" his mother began and Remy raised a hand to dismiss her.

"I'm sure that I've heard it all before, so spare me". He glanced down at his plate, observing his half eaten serving of pancakes and sighed, pushing his plate towards his smaller brother. "Wanna help me finish theses off?" Atticus's eyes lit up at the idea of helping Remy do something and he immediately resumed where Remy left off with a new fork his mother provided. "I'm going to go read for a while. Are you okay if Atti and I go to Sydney's early today?"

His dad looked annoyed with him and his mouth opened to protest, but his mother interrupted. "Of course dear".

As he left the kitchen, he could hear their hushed conversation behind him. "Why did you say he could go?"

"We can't force him to stay here all the time," Jenny responded.

"We're protecting him-"

"From what? Sydney?" Jenny asked. Remy turned the corner and leaned against the wall to continue eavesdropping.

"Maybe he's not going to spend the afternoon with Sydney. Make he's going to drop Atticus off and go to see Cecil," his dad argued and his mother scoffed scoffed.

"When has Remy ever lied to us?" She asked and there was an intake of breath, as if his father was going to speak. "No, Brandon. He's never given us a reason not to trust him, he's a good son and he knows what kind of people are out there. It's a miracle that he even trusts us, Bran. How are we going to justify isolating him? We need to trust Remy's judgement-"

"But he doesn't fully understand yet," his father argued. Remy closed his eyes.

They don't understand, not me.

"Maybe he doesn't need to understand in order to make decisions for himself". It was quiet for a moment. "Atticus doesn't understand either, and I hope he never fully does. We don't hold Atticus back or question every friend he makes". Remy could imagine his mother stroking Atticus's hair as the boy happily continued to eat his breakfast, not even paying attention to his surroundings. "We should be happy that Remy is finally opening up to someone who isn't family. It means that he's moving on".

The dining room fell silent, and Remy began to make his way to his bedroom.

***

"Remy, you're going to be late," Sydney said after he shook awake his cousin. Remy and Atticus has gone to Sydney's home early, and then had immediately fallen asleep on the older boy's bed together.

Remy blinked up at the blond boy before rubbing at his eyes. "I kissed Cecil Clarke".

"What?" Sydney demanded and Remy sat up in bed.

"With tongue".

Sydney let out a soft laugh. "Oh my god, Remy".

Remy just glared at him. "If you say I told you so you're going to be three fingers short of a fist".

"Remy, we need to talk about this". Remy climbed from the bed, glancing at the digital clock on Sydney's night stand. He was going to be late, and Dr. Moris didn't like it when he was late. "Sit your ass down. You can't just tell me this and then leave".

"Well I'm going to," Remy said, rubbing his eyes again, trying to get the sleep from them. "Take good care of my brother or I'll castrate you".

"When have I ever not taken good care of your brother?" Sydney demanded, dropping down on the mattress next to Atticus. Absently, Sydney patted Atticus's hair down flat. "So you and Cecil Clarke, huh?"

"I'm leaving," Remy said, glaring at his best friend forcefully.

"Alright," Sydney said, smiling as Remy opened his bedroom door. Just before it was shut between them, he spoke a soft, "I told you so".

***

"How have you been feeling," Dr. Morris asked and Remy just blinked at her unenthusiastically.

"Fine".

She sighed and looked down at the notebook on her lap. "Are you sure-"

"Yes I'm sure".

"Because you look exhausted, your hands are chapped, which means that you've had another episode, and your father called me before your appointment because he was concerned about you and some boy," the doctor asked and Remy scoffed.

"He called you?" Remy asked and the Doctor's blank face told him just what he needed to know. "You want me to talk about my problems, let's start with my father-"

"Let's," Dr. Morris cut in and Remy paused.

"My adoptive father". It was quiet for a long moment and the doctor clicked her pen on her notebook. "I really don't want to talk about either of my fathers actually".

"That's alright," she assured, and then immediately jumped into another subject. "So, you've established that you're not asexual, I presume. Do you like men exclusively?" Remy just shrugged. "Remone-"

"I don't know what I like and what I don't like; I just know that I like Cecil".

Her eyebrows raised. "I'm guessing that's your boyfriends name?"

"He's not my boyfriend," Remy said immediately. "But that is my... friend's name".

"Is he the reason why you stayed up late last night? Is that why you're so tired?" The doctor asked and Remy chewed his lip in annoyance. He hated that she had to jump to conclusions, but he also knew she had no choice. He didn't provide her with information unless she directly asked for it.

"We went out late last night. I got home around nine. My father kept me up for another twenty minutes bitching, but then I fell asleep".

"So why do you look so tired Remy?"

He shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. "The nightmares kept me up I guess".

"Ah". For the first time that session, she scribbled something in her notebook. "Do you remember what the nightmare was about?"

"No". He chewed his lip. "It was different this time though".

"Different how?" She asked, looking up over the frame of her glasses.

"It felt... more real. Like, when I woke up, I could have sworn there was blood on my hands. I felt it there, on my hands, between my fingers, and no matter how long I scrubbed and washed them, I couldn't get it off". Remy held his hands out before him, looking down at them. "I can still feel it". He clenched his fist, splitting on of his dry knuckles but he paid it no mind.

"This is good, Remy," the doctor said, trying to smile reassuringly at him before continuing her notebook scribbles.

"Good?" He scoffed. "It's good that I didn't sleep at all last night? It's good that this entire morning my hands have felt dirty and all I've wanted to do was keep washing them?"

"Yes," she said. "Because it means you're remembering, and once you remember you can finally let go". Remy narrowed his eyes and didn't speak. He had heard these words so many times already. "It has to get worse before it can get better, Remone".

"I'm completely fine with how it is now," Remy argued. "I don't... I don't want to deal with this".

"Remy, traumatic amnesia doesn't last forever-"

"No," he said. "You guys are trying to kill me. You're trying to force me to relive something that will make me want to kill myself". Dr. Moris paused, dropping her pen onto the notebook.

"Do you ever think about that?"

"What?" Remy asked, though he knew exactly what. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the couch.

"Killing yourself".