The Debt of Guilt [BxB]

16: before

June
1989

Danny and Peter didn't talk about what they saw outside the clinic. They didn't talk about it on the way home, and they didn't talk about it when they laid side by side on Peter's bed, listening to the radio and smoking in silence. It felt heavy and unspeakable. It felt outrageous and impossible. And when Danny went home that evening, he wondered if they would ever be able to talk about it.

Danny was back outside the Wicks' family trailer just a few hours later, blood dripping from his split lip onto his creased collar, and a bruise marking his swollen cheek. He stood outside Peter's window for a moment, trembling and hesitating, before casting his eyes towards Scott's window. His light was on.

After a knock on the glass, Scott's blinds were ripped open, his sweet honey eyes widening when he saw the state of Danny's face. He quickly opened the window, standing back to let Danny clamber through, before shutting it behind him.

"Bloody hell, Danny, are you-?"

He was cut off when Danny's lips crashed against his, hot metallic blood trickling into Scott's mouth as Danny tangled his fingers into Scott's soft hair, nudging him onto the bed. There were a few burning moments of electricity and frustration and pure unfiltered lust, and then, Scott pulled away.

"What happened?" He asked firmly, pushing Danny off of him, scooting as far to the edge of the bed as he could. If they were an inch closer, he wouldn't be able to restrain himself.

Danny reached across, taking Scott's hand in his, "Neither of us wanna talk about my Dad right now-"

"I do!" Scott whispered back irritatedly, "Because you're bleeding and you're hurt, and you don't just get to come in here all...all..."

"M'sorry." Danny mumbled, smoothing his thumb over the back of Scott's hand, tracing shapes on his soft skin.

Scott looked up at him. He had expected an argument. A roll of the eyes. A sarcastic comment. Scott sighed, "You okay?"

Danny was so used to lying, he was surprised how easy it was the tell the truth, "No." He breathed, something in his voice breaking a little.

Scott had never seen him vulnerable before. So exposed and unguarded. No stupid grin, or witty remarks. Just Danny, a scared teenager, covered in bruises, helpless and broken. His bright green eyes were foggy, sad, and begging for Scott's understanding.

Scott wrapped his hand around Danny's and pulled the blond boy into his chest. They laid there in silence, legs tangled up, Danny's ear pressed to Scott's ribcage, listening to the sound of his beating heart, his lip spilling blood onto Scott's soft white t-shirt. And Scott had a hand in Danny's hair, another one rubbing his back, and everything felt fragile and delicate and sweet. And then, Danny started to cry.

"H-He's never gonna stop." He whispered, not bothering to wipe his tears away as he buried his face into Scott's chest. He let himself break, and scatter into a million piece, spilling himself all over the sweet brunette.

Scott continued to brush his fingers through Danny's dishevelled blond curls, "What happened?" He murmured.

"H-He just...He...He doesn't need a reason." Danny sniffled, "He's just angry at everything. At my M-Mum, and at me, and at the world and I...I don't know how to make him stop, I just...I-I..."

"It's okay." Scott wrapped his arms around Danny and pulled him impossibly closer, "You're okay." He didn't know what else to say. Nothing could make this better. Nothing could change the fact that eventually, Danny would have to return to his trailer, to his family, to his Father, to violence.