Making Remy Laugh (BoyxBoy)

Six- Remy Reed.

When Remy climbed into the passenger seat of Sydney's car, the blonde boy was chewing his lip. It was obvious that there was something on his mind, something he wanted to discuss, but Remy wasn't one to push for those things, so he let the older boy stay in his head for however long he needed to. "Hey," Sydney greeted after a long pause and Remy just nodded in acknowledgement.

While this was a typical response from him, it wasn't because of his usual reason of not wanting to speak. For, not the first time, Remy was stuck in his head, thinking about the words and theories of his therapist over their appointment.  

"Maybe you should get out of the house more," and, "maybe you should try opening up and talking everything out with Sydney".

Remy didn't want to do any of these things, especially the talking to Sydney one. He didn't understand how that would help him. If talking to a specialist wasn't helping, why would talking to Sydney help. This therapist claimed that sharing his past with her, and sharing his past with someone he cared about would be different, but Remy highly doubted this. Besides, troubling Sydney with his issues was something Remy didn't want to worry about.

When Sydney asked, "How did your appointment go?" Remy convinced himself that Sydney didn't really care and was just asking for courtesy. It was easier to tell himself this rather than actually tell Sydney how it had went. It was easier than telling him that all the money his parents were paying towards his well being was wasted. That he didn't feel any better after talking it out because he still felt nothing when he talked about it. The appointment, as always, had gotten him nowhere.

Remy grunted in response, turning to look out of the window for a moment before changing the subject. "How was Atticus this morning?"

"He was alright. Asked me about twelve times why I was taking him instead of you, and then started crying because your dad left out a pair of navy swim trunks instead, and I was trying to find the maroon ones, but I couldn't-"

"They're in the drawer with his shorts-"

"Well I found them eventually. I tried to convince him that Navy was one of your favorite colors too, but he was not having it. Kept crying and saying but it's not his favorite favorite! And I was willing to tear apart his whole fuckng room to find those damn maroon swim trunks," Sydney claimed, and Remy just nodded in understanding. He understood better than anyone how frustrating Atti could get when he whined.

It was quiet then, and when Remy glanced at Sydney, he was back to chewing on his lip, thinking about something. Judging by the rapidly furrowing eyebrows, Remy gave Sydney ten seconds before he gave up on silence and came out said what was on his mind.

Ten.

Sydney began to drum his fingers against the steering wheel.

Nine. Eight.

Absently, rent ran his fingers over his cracked knuckles and thought about how vigorously he had scrubbed his hands that morning after waking up drenched in sweat.

Seven.

A sharp inhale, one that would typically be followed by words, but none came.

Six.

Another sound. "I-"

Five.

Silence.

Four.

"Remy, I..."

Three.

Silence.

Two.