The Debt of Guilt [BxB]

31: after

May
1995

"Danny?" Peter called out, the folder full of fragmented memories and a painful history tucked under his arm. He was wandering through the house, looking for other boy, who had seemingly disappeared.

He pushed the door open to the games room - the same room where they had gotten drunk on an expensive bottle of whiskey at Danny's party. He stopped in his tracks, sighing in disappointment as he leant back against the doorframe. Danny was leant over a desk, a line of white powder spread out in front of him and more dusting the tip of his nose.

"You're a straight up addict." He said bleakly.

Danny leant back in his chair, blond curls falling into his flushed face. He wiped the powder off his nose, and shrugged in disinterest, "Don't act surprised."

"I'm not surprised." Peter told him plainly. "I mean, I will admit, at first I thought this was just a rich person thing. I thought you only did it because the other celebrities did. But..." He shrugged, "I guess it's more than that. You really do have a problem."

"I have lots of problems." His eyes fell to the folder under Peter's arm, "You found what you were looking for?"

Peter crossed the room, leaning against the table dusted in cocaine. "You bought her a house."

Danny didn't react, "Yeah." He looked up, eyes red, "Do you want a house? I'll buy you one too, if you want."

Peter scoffed, "Jesus, Danny, you're a fucking mess." He said in disgust, "I don't want a house."

"Yeah, neither did Jen at first." He told him honestly, "She only accepted my offer because she had Hannah to look out for. She's a good Mum. Always knew she would be."

Peter couldn't look at him, it was too much. Seeing Danny all done up and handsome on Roy's television screen was hard, but not as hard as seeing Danny like this, all scruffy and broken and full of chaos. "We were meant to be there." Peter mused quietly, "We were meant to raise Hannah together, all of us."

"I helped." Danny said, and though he didn't intend for it to come across as boastful, it did. "After you went to prison, and before I left..." He fidgeted with his hands, "We lived together for a little while, did you know that?"

Peter couldn't take many more revelations in one day, "No, I didn't." He admitted bitterly.

"Yeah. We lived in an apartment together. We were both so fucked up after what had happened and Hannah was still a baby and you were gone..." He took a deep breath. Those were some of the memories that stung. Almost as much as the happy ones stung. "I think that being around each other just brought up all the pain we were trying to bury." He breathed out, "We could barely look at each other by the end of it."

Peter stared at the cocaine on the table, desperate for something else to focus on, "And then you left."

"She needed me to leave." He admitted earnestly, "She would never have said it, but it was what she wanted. She hated having me around, and I kind of hated being around." Danny was staring at the cocaine now too, and Peter wondered if he was resisting the urge to snort it. "Once I made a name for myself here, I started sending her money every month. Even after I bought her the house, I still send her money. I send Hannah Christmas presents. I don't write anymore, though. Not sure there's anything left to say."

Peter couldn't help but wonder whether everything he was doing for Jenifer was his way of dealing with the guilt. Sending her money, buying her a house, getting Christmas presents for her kid. It was all about Danny trying to feel better about himself. Trying to buy his way out of the shame. "Do you miss her?" It was a stupid question but Peter needed to ask it.

"All the time." Danny's hands were trembling and he had to tug at his fingers to keep them busy, "I've never been happier than I was in the summer of 1989. With you and Jen and Scott." His voice caught on Scott's name. It was always hard to say it out loud. "You guys..." He couldn't put it into words, "The memories. All the things we were back then..."

"You miss the people we were. The people we used to be." Peter sighed because he knew exactly what Danny meant. He felt the same way.

"Yeah." Danny agreed sadly, "When we were kids. All happy and dumb and reckless. When the stupid things seemed so important and the important things seemed so stupid." He reminisced fondly. "I live in a mansion in Beverly Hills." He looked around the elaborate games room helplessly, "And I miss that shitty trailer in that shitty town more than anything."

Peter hated to agree with Danny, with the person he loved more than anything while simultaneously hating him more than anything, but he was right. Danny's multimillion dollar mansion would never live up to the tiny cramped trailer with no heating and an endless supply empty mugs of tea. It would never be as comfortable, because it wasn't filled with dreamy, distracted teenagers, just trying to get by.

"You kept the note Scott wrote you." Peter said suddenly.

Danny didn't seem fazed by this, "I've kept every part of Scott I have." He pulled out his wallet, and fished out a folded Polaroid picture, sliding it over the desk towards Peter.

It was a photo of Danny and Scott curled up in Scott's bed, all tousled hair and red cheeks, smiling so brightly Peter thought he may go blind. The entire frame was filled with radiance and happiness and love. And all these years later, Danny had kept that small scrap of love, folded up into a neat square inside his wallet, next to his credit cards and pouches of cocaine.

Peter handed it back to him, and Danny slid it back into his wallet, "I hate how much you loved him."

"I'm sorry." Danny murmured, which Peter had not been expecting.

"I always knew it was him, y'know?" Peter swallowed hard, "The note he wrote you on Valentine's Day; the one he left in your locker." He reminisced, "I knew it was him as soon as you showed us. I recognised the handwriting."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Danny asked, still unfazed.

"Wasn't my place."

Danny ran his fingers through his curls restlessly, "Are you sure you don't want a house, Peter?" He offered again, changing the subject.

Peter suspected that Danny didn't want to talk about Scott anymore. It hurt too much. "Put the money towards rehab instead." He told him, eyes flicking down to the cocaine once again, "Otherwise you're gonna overdose and your money will be no use to anyone."

"Nah, you're in my will."

Peter stared at him blankly, "What?"

"My will." Danny shrugged, "Forty percent of my money and assets will go to you, forty percent to Jen, and twenty percent to charity."

Peter had received far too much new information for one day. He felt like his head might explode. "Why would you do that?"

Danny was looking at the cocaine longingly, then his gaze met Peter's, the same expression in his eyes, "Who else do I have left?"