The Debt of Guilt [BxB]

35: after

May
1995

Peter and Roy had found themselves in a dingy Mexican restaurant in Downtown LA, eating tacos and drinking beer. The lighting was dim, the music was loud and the place was bustling with people. There was the buzz of energy in the air and loud laughter drifted past their ears. The atmosphere was electric, filled with customers rambling in Spanish and waiters zipping in and out of the kitchen.

"Do you come here a lot?" Peter asked, biting into a taco, trying not to make a mess as the contents spilled onto the plate.

Roy laughed, watching Peter try to reassemble the taco, "Yeah, my sister's boyfriend works here." He jerked his head in the direction of a waiter who was speaking in Spanish to a couple of customers across the room. "What d'you think about the food?"

"Fucking beautiful." Peter said through a mouthful of food, washing it down with a swig of beer.

Roy chuckled, "Do you know how much longer you're gonna be in LA for?"

Peter put his beer down, contemplating his answer for a moment. "I'm in no rush to get back to England." The truth was, he had nothing left there. No one to miss, nothing to return to. Just a country he called home and an accent that fit.

"You planning on sticking around for a bit then?" Roy asked, a hopeful smile on his face.

Peter grinned, planting his hand on Roy's knee under the table, "I'm not going anywhere just yet."

Roy placed his hand over Peter's and gave it a squeeze. Then they both drew away, their touch leaving them each a little colder. "You like it here then?"

Peter didn't feel much attachment to LA. But he didn't feel much attachment to England either. Not anymore. He shrugged, "Yeah. I like that there isn't any rain."

Roy chuckled, "Yeah, me too."

"I feel like I haven't taken this whole visit very seriously." Peter admitted, "Haven't seen much of LA at all. Haven't even been to the beach."

"Well, you definitely can't leave without doing that."

"I guess I'll never make it to the beach in that case." He smiled, "That way, I never have to leave."

Roy grinned, "Sounds good to me."

After they finished their meal - and after Roy left a generous tip - they made their way back out onto the street. The roads were dimly lit beneath the street lamps but the evening was warm and the alcohol kept them smiling and alert. They walked side by side, chatting and laughing, their fingers brushing together but never quite reaching out.

They rounded a corner and Peter was blinded by a bright flash, followed by the sound of a camera clicking. Dread pooled in his stomach as he tried to get his bearings, desperately attempting to comprehend what was happening.

"Shit." Roy groaned, hand flying up to cover his eyes, blinking away the bright light, "What the-?"

"Let's go." Peter wrapped his fingers around Roy's wrist, dragging him in the opposite direction. His heart was pounding, his feet moving without his permission, everything spinning around him.

"What's going on?" Roy asked urgently, brows knitted together as he let himself get pulled along by Peter.

But it was no use. They were being followed. It was a lone man with a big camera, dressed all in black. The rest of the paparazzi were probably snapping photos of Danny at the premiere of his new movie tonight. Peter wondered why this man wasn't there, too. Why and how he had found Peter. Followed him. Taken a photo of him with Roy. A photo that might appear in magazines by tomorrow morning.