The Debt of Guilt [BxB]

37: after

May
1995

The next day the papers were flooded with photos of Danny and Neve on the red carpet. Arms around each other, dressed head to toe in sleek luxury, smiles twinkling in camera flashes. Rumours and speculations plastered across every page, gossip magazines gushing about Hollywood's newest couple. It made sense, the two of them together. Two beautiful young celebrities who once played love interests, finally fallen for each other, giving their fans exactly what they wanted. It was a strike of genius from Andrea, Peter had to admit.

Peter flicked through every magazine he could get his hands on, and not a single one had a photo of him and Roy in it. Perhaps the photo hadn't been good enough, or the tabloids hadn't cared enough. He suspected it also had something to do with timing. After the red carpet, all anyone wanted to know was what dress Neve Olson was wearing and which celebrities had started dating. Peter didn't matter today. There were more important things to worry about.

He hadn't slept very well. He was thinking about Roy. About the look on his face when he learnt the truth about Peter. About how long they had sat in silence, gazing at the stars. About how they said goodbye to each other quietly, disappearing into the night in opposite directions. When he got back to his motel room, he contemplated reading more of Jenifer's letters, just to hurt himself a little more. He hadn't, of course. Because reading those letter was even harder than telling Roy he went to prison for murder.

Now, he was sat at the end of Danny's bed, watching the other boy complain about how terrible his night had been. Peter wasn't sure why he had ended up here again, but his version of LA was small; Danny and Roy, that was it. Without Roy, this was the only place he had left to go.

Danny was shirtless, hair a tousled mess, eyes twinged red. The sheets of his king size bed were messy and pooled at his waist. Peter wondered, vaguely, how much coke Danny had done last night.

"I mean, the movie was good." Danny was saying. "Really good. I know it'll do well. I mean, I hope it does. I'm the bloody lead." He ran his fingers through his hair restlessly, "But the premiere itself... God, I wanted someone to shoot me. Too many cameras and reporters and people I hadn't seen since my party. Everyone kept asking me questions about you and I had to keep changing the subject because apparently I'm not allowed to talk about you, according to Andrea." Danny rambled on.

Pete rolled his eyes, "For someone with the perfect life, you sure do complain a lot."

Danny scoffed, "The perfect life?"

"Oh, c'mon, Danny, this is all you've ever wanted." Peter said dryly.

"I know." He had always wanted to be an actor, make lots of money, have a big house and the freedom to do whatever he pleased. But he never wanted to do any of that alone. He had always thought that he would have his friends at his side throughout it all. He didn't realise how lonely this life was.

"What is it?" Peter cocked his head to the side, trying to read Danny's expression.

Danny sighed, "I hate my life."

Peter knew that; it was obvious. He was just surprised to hear Danny admit it. "Oh." He breathed out, for lack of anything better.

Danny sat up a little straighter, "I love acting. I just hate all the bullshit that comes with it. There's no privacy; it's miserable."

Peter contemplated this for a moment, "Have you thought about theatre? Y'know, stage acting?" He suggested, "It's less flashy, less...well, y'know, you're unlikely to get followed round by the paparazzi if you work in the West End."

Danny smiled, "Scott and I talked about that once." He reminisced, "We talked about getting a flat in London together. I could work in West End productions, he could do his own thing. No red carpets or paparazzi or fucking tabloids." He sighed, "It's too late now. I've already made a name for myself out here." He leant over and picked up a heavy script that was weighing down his bedside table, "Besides, I start filming again soon. Another romcom."