The Debt of Guilt [BxB]

29: after

May
1995

"She's pissed at me." Danny told Peter as they sat at the edge of his pool, feet in the water, positioned a few metres apart.

"Andrea?"

Danny nodded, "I really fucked that interview up."

"Yeah." Peter agreed, studying Danny carefully; he was less jittery today, though his eyes were still twinged red. He was high. "You kinda lost control out there."

Danny grunted in frustration, "Well, I wanted to stand by you." He defended himself.

"Where was that mindset five years ago?" He muttered bitterly.

Danny sighed in frustration, "I'm really trying here, Pete."

Peter shrugged, "I don't think I can ever forgive you. Haven't I already told you that?"

"Then why are you still here?" Danny snapped irritatedly.

Peter looked down at the clear blue water, kicking his feet to send ripples across the glassy surface, "I don't have anyone else." He admitted pathetically.

Danny glanced across at him, something like sympathy flashing in his bright green eyes. They were once a family. They once filled a trailer with laughter and joy and petty bickering. And now they sat a few metres apart, barely looking at each other, trying not to think about everything they had lost.

"I miss her so much." Peter gulped, still staring at the water, knowing that looking into Danny's eyes would be too difficult.

"Jen?" Danny asked softly, though he already knew the answer. Jenifer was the only 'her' that had ever mattered.

"Jen." Peter nodded in confirmation.

Danny sighed, "She's doing good, y'know?"

Peter pulled his gaze away from the water then, his head whipping around, eyes fixing onto Danny. His heart stopped for a moment, and an icy jolt ran down his spine, "What?"

Danny smiled sheepishly, "Yeah, she...she's happy, I think."

"You're in contact with Jen?" He demanded, "What the fuck, Danny? I mean, what the fuck?"

"We're barely in contact." He held his hands up in surrender, "She sends me photos of Hannah every Christmas, it's not like-"

"Show me."

Danny watched him blankly, "Peter-"

"I want to see." Peter said firmly, "I don't care that you didn't tell me about this." That was a lie. He was angry. But he was always angry these days. "I want-I need to see. Please."

Danny didn't move immediately, but just sat there, watching Peter with a twisted look on his face. Peter hated that. He knew what that look meant - it was Danny trying to carve all the parts of Peter away until he looked just enough like his brother. Until his eyes and cheeks appeared softer than they were and his lips were twisted into a smile full of joy rather than mischief. Danny was always doing that, turning Peter into Scott to try and cure his heart. It drove Peter insane.

Eventually Danny stood up wordlessly and Peter followed him back into the house, through the grand foyer, up the marble staircase, and into Danny's luxurious bedroom. Peter had never been in here before, but his head was too fuzzy to really appreciate the sheer size of the bed or the decadence of the furniture. Instead, his eyes bore into Danny's back, watching him rummage through his bedside table and pull out a folder.

Peter tried to grab it but Danny held it back, "We don't talk that often." He said wearily, "Jen has her own life and-"

"Please." Peter sat on the edge of the bed, tired, defeated, and brokenhearted, "I need to see her."

Danny sighed heavily, shoulders slumped over, and handed Peter the folder, "I'll let you look through it all in your own time, okay?" He said cautiously, then backed out of the room before Peter could reply.

He opened the folder with shaking hands, and immediately his breath caught in his throat. He was met with the sight of those misty green eyes, decorated in golden eyeshadow, and a head of wild ginger curls, piled up into a bun. It was a photo of Jenifer, stood in front of a Christmas tree, a baby gathered up in her arms, wearing a little Santa hat. Peter's eyes instantly prickled with tears, his heart pounding in his chest, palms sweating, world shrinking.

Jenifer. His Jenifer. The girl who swum out into the middle of the lake with them in her underwear. The girl who chewed on the end of pencils and spoke only in sarcastic comments. The girl who cried when she told them she was pregnant. The girl who shared his bed for months, snuggled up under the covers with him. The girl who he loved with his whole heart, even now, all these years later.

He turned the photo over, and immediately recognised her messy scrawl;

Christmas 1991

Danny,

I'm sorry I haven't written much. Things have been hard recently. It was just Hannah and I this Christmas and I really bloody miss you!

Of course I can't accept your offer. You're being ridiculous. But really Danny I do still love you and I appreciate everything you're trying to do for me.

Good luck with your new movie, I can't wait to see you on the big screen. I'll try to write again soon.

P.S. Hannah loved all the toys you bought her. You really didn't need to do all that, she's a baby, she doesn't know it's Christmas! But thank you, really.

- Jen

Peter picked up the next photo. It was of Hannah, a little older, with flushed cheeks and more hair. She was starting to look like Jenifer; light green eyes and tufts of orange hair. He was afraid to turn it over, but took a deep breath, and read the back;

Christmas 1992

Hannah and I have officially moved in to the new place! Honestly Danny it's beautiful. Little stone cottage in the Welsh countryside, not far from the coast. There's so many mountains and lakes and pretty places I want to take Hannah. I'm so happy she gets to grow up here, and I really can't thank you enough. This is more than I could have ever asked for.

I hear you're living in LA full time now, so I don't expect you fancy a trip to Wales at any point, but if you do, you know where to find me. You're always welcome, considering you're the one who bought the bloody house.

I hope you're happy. You've got everything you've ever wanted and I'm so proud of you. I know he would be too.

I know it doesn't do anyone any good but I can't stop thinking about him. He's all alone in there while we've started brand new lives out here. I still feel detached from the whole thing, like it was a different person who committed that crime, not my friend. Not my Peter.

I'm sorry. Moving on is hard. Really fucking hard.

Anyway, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

P.S. stop sending Hannah bloody Christmas presents, you're going to spoil her rotten.

- J

He was breathing heavily, tears falling down his cheeks. He had to stuff the picture back into the folder, trying to hide the pain it brought him. Because those eyes followed him everyday. Jenifer's eyes. Hannah's eyes, too.

He couldn't read the rest of them right now. It was too much. Too fucking much.

He stood up, folder under his arm, wondering if Danny would let him take it back to his motel with him. But then he paused, because a scrap of paper fell out, and landed by his feet.

It was crumpled and yellowing around the edges, but Peter still recognised it. All those years ago, surrounded by GCSE revision, Danny, Jenifer, and himself had crowded around this very note. He recognised the handwriting then, and he recognised it now.

'Please excuse how dumb this is, but you have the best smile in school. Maybe try to notice me sometime.'