The Debt of Guilt [BxB]

9: after

May
1995

And so, Peter was back in Danny's stupidly luxurious home, staring at the boy in front of him, who looked closer to fifteen today. He had bags under his eyes, and his hair was scruffier than it had been last time. It was almost like nothing had changed, except the chip in his tooth was still gone, and everything had changed.

"You liking LA so far?" Danny asked. He was more relaxed this time, though the tension was still heavy, and his heart was still pounding.

Peter shrugged, reclining on the brown leather sofa. Danny was opposite him in an armchair, sitting upright, and fidgeting every few seconds. "I haven't seen much of LA." Peter replied, "Spent most of the time in my motel room."

"Oh, shit, y'know...m'sorry, I should've thought to... I'll set you up somewhere nicer for the rest of your stay." He smiled, "I'll get Andrea to make you a reservation at the Four Seasons—"

"I don't want you to do that." Peter interrupted him, "I don't want anything from you. You can't buy my forgiveness."

"I'm not trying to..." Danny forced himself to take a deep breath. He used to love arguing, but now, it made him break just a little. He needed to keep calm, "Would you like to stay here instead?" He offered.

Peter rose his brows in surprise, "Really?"

Danny shrugged, "I owe you. After all those nights I would crash at yours, taking up the whole bloody duvet." He joked.

Peter tugged at his sleeves nervously, "I don't think it's a good idea for me to stay here."

Danny nodded in understanding, trying to mask his disappointment, "Just let me know if you change your mind. About the Four Seasons, or this."

Peter stood up, restless, beginning to pace the room. He felt suffocated and claustrophobic, even in this massive mansion, "Can we go on a walk or something?" He asked hastily, "I'm tired of being inside."

Danny gave him an apologetic look, "M'sorry, Peter. It's not so easy for me anymore." He told him sympathetically, "I can barely leave the house without the paparazzi all up in my business, and with you next to me... I mean, I promise you...it's not fun."

Peter resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "Right."

"Sorry." Danny mumbled again, "If they see me with you, they'll follow you around for the rest of your stay." He tried to explain, "The tabloids are crazy."

Peter hummed in acknowledgment, "I just keep forgetting you're famous."

"Me too." Danny smiled.

"I keep seeing ads for your new film." Peter continued, "The one with the stupid name — what is it?"

"'The Dawn of The Cursed'." Danny told him, "Filmed half of it out in the Arizona desert. Got heat stroke on the first week, and had to push back filming." He explained, "Probably cost them a fortune in delays."

Peter just stared back at him, eyes empty and foggy, "Right." He breathed out.

Danny fiddled with the hem of his shirt, feeling Peter's gaze burning a hole in his chest, "You...uh...You seen any of my movies?"

Peter shook his head, "I tried to avoid them." He admitted, "Which was hard, because you're everywhere. So, yeah, bits and pieces. Never sat through any of them till the end though. Sorry."

Danny smiled genuinely for the first time since Peter got there, "No, that's great! I'm glad, actually." He said, relieved.

Peter shifted awkwardly in his seat. This was beginning to feel like another wasted visit. "Maybe I should—"