The Debt of Guilt [BxB]

21: after

May
1995

The rooftop was simply a plain concrete clearing, with two deck chairs sitting by the edge, overlooking the clustered sea of buildings below. When Peter reached the top of the ladder and climbed over the edge, Roy was already collapsed into one of the chairs, sipping from his bottle of lemonade.

Peter approached him hesitantly, sitting down beside him, eyes tracing the downtown skyline. The sun was slowly sinking in the sky, wispy pink clouds swarming overhead, bleeding through the sky in washes of pastel. He thought back to his hometown; the dull plainness of it all, the grey jungle of concrete. He wondered if everyone thought about their hometown like that, in a bitter haze of bad memories, reminiscing about the boredom of it all, always forgetting about those moments when it would all light up in brilliant pink as the sun set each day. Because those moments were glimmers of beauty, and sometimes, Peter hated thinking about that beauty. Hated thinking about the fact that maybe it wasn't all bad.

"Have you lived here all your life?" Peter broke the silence first.

"Nah." Roy shook his head, "Grew up in Idaho actually."

Peter knew nothing about America, about the different states, about the geography of it all. He wasn't even sure where that was. "Right." He nodded, "And was that...? Did you like it there?"

Roy glanced across at him, face breaking into a smile, "You don't know where that is, do you?"

Peter smiled guiltily, "Not a clue, mate."

Roy laughed, "It's all mountains and trees and canyons and lakes. Fucking beautiful, but..." He gestured to the scene in front of them; the traffic, the noise, the concrete, the pollution. "Not as beautiful as this."

Peter scoffed, "You're joking, right?"

"Not really." Roy told him honestly, "I love the city." He shrugged, "Back home...Idaho...You could hike for miles and miles and never run into a single person. You had all the space in the world, and yet...I don't know...It all felt so small. So cramped and suffocating."

Peter nodded in understanding. It's how he had felt after his release from prison. Like he suddenly had too much space. Too much air to breathe and room to move around in. His freedom was oddly restrictive. "I know what you mean." He said finally, "You ever miss it though?"

"Being the only black person in the whole school?" He laughed under his breath, "Nah, not really."

Peter didn't reply for a moment, just took a sip of lemonade, eyes tracing the horizon, watching the sun cast its last rays, "Did you move here on your own?"

"Nah, I wasn't alone. As soon as we left school, my sister and I moved out here." He pulled his legs to his chest, reclining into the deck chair, "We have shitty jobs, and live in a shitty apartment, but man...never been happier." He ripped open one of the packets of crisps, and chucked Peter the other one, "Enough about me. Mysterious British boy here to visit a mysterious British friend. What's your story?"

Peter couldn't answer that. His story was messy, and long, and full of darkness. A childhood full of happiness and friendship and love. Teenage years full of loneliness and guilt and anger. Now he was twenty one years old, with nothing to show for his life. No money, no job, no friends. Just a past he was deeply ashamed of. "I don't have much of a story." He settled on. Maybe it was the truth. Maybe he wanted it to be.

"Nah, c'mon, everyone has a story." Roy pressed.

"Okay." Peter hesitated, "Grew up in a trailer park." At least he could tell the truth sometimes. Not lie about every single thing in his life. "I didn't have a lot of friends, but the ones I had were...well, everything." They were. They were everything. And now they were nothing. Scattered, alone, gone. It was like they never existed; Peter, Danny, and Jenifer. It was meant to be the three of them against the world. Now, it was the world against them.

"And it's one of those friends who you're visiting here?" Roy asked.

"Yeah." He smiled, "We were like brothers, though...well, not really. He was...He was fucking my real brother, actually."

Roy laughed loudly, and it was strong and sweet and amazing. "Shit, really? If any of my friends tried fucking my sister, it'd be on sight."

Peter chuckled, "Yeah. Yeah, well, he made my brother happy. Really happy. And then they...they weren't just fucking anymore, they were in love. Like insanely stupidly in love and I tried not to hate them for it but I did." More honesty. Too much honesty. He needed to rein it in. He wasn't just talking about his reckless friend from the trailer park. He was talking about Danny Fox. The celebrity. The straight celebrity.

"What happened to them?" Roy asked innocently, unaware of how loaded that question was. How painful it was.

"Just...y'know..." Peter needed to stop being honest. He needed to start lying again; he was good at that. "They didn't work out. Y'know, with the distance and everything. Was inevitable, really. They were just kids. Stupid kids. We all were."

Roy looked like he could sense the strain in Peter's voice, but he didn't ask any more about it. They all had sections of history they would rather bury. Parts of themselves they wanted to keep hidden.

"Why did you bring me up here?" Peter blurted out suddenly. The question had been sitting on his tongue for far too long, and he was itching for answers.

"I come up here most days." Roy responded evenly, "I finish work, I buy a sandwich, and I watch the sunset." He shrugged, "I thought some company might be nice, and you seemed..." He paused, "I don't want to say lost, but-"

"Thank you." Peter interrupted him before he could finish that thought, "Really. I...I needed to spend some time outside my head, and this...well, I guess this is exactly what I needed."

Roy grinned; it wasn't one of those Hollywood grins Peter had seen so many of here, but a happy wonky grin, still radiating adolescence, even in his twenties. "I thought so."

So they ate their sandwiches and watched the sunset, and up on the roof, Peter could forget about the mess he had left on the ground. The tabloids, the paparazzi, his face on the cover of a magazine. The chaos of Danny's life didn't engulf him up here, not like it had the night before, with alcohol flowing, and cocaine around everyone's noses.

Up here, it was just Roy. A sweet boy from Idaho, who liked sandwiches and sunsets and Peter.