The Debt of Guilt [BxB]

46: before

October
1989

"Are you sure you're okay?" Scott asked that evening, pulling off his shirt - covered in flour and dough - and tossing it into the laundry basket.

Danny was watching him from the bed, attempting to slow down his mind so it would stop spinning at a million miles an hour, "Mhm." He mumbled, "Just tired."

Scott opened his mouth to say something else, then paused when he heard Hannah crying from Peter's room, "Yeah, me too." He sighed, rubbing his temples. "Why aren't you at work anyway?"

Danny stared back at him blankly. He had completely forgotten to go. "Oh, uh..." He cleared his throat nervously, "They fucked up the rotas - overstaffed tonight. They didn't need me."

"Oh." Scott smiled, "I get you all to myself then." He walked towards the bed, standing between Danny's thighs, leaning down to kiss him. Danny kissed him back distractedly, his fingertips grazing Scott's bare chest. After a moment, Scott pulled away, "Are you sure you're okay?" He asked again.

Danny shrugged him off, nudging Scott away, "I don't feel well."

Scott frowned. Danny had never shoved him away before. He'd never kissed him like that before either - like Scott's lips were cold and bitter. "Okay." Scott hesitated, pressing the back of his hand to Danny's forehead, trying to feel his temperature, "Are you alright? Do you need anything-?"

Danny brushed Scott's hand away and stood up, backing away from his boyfriend like it ached to be around him, "I'm gonna go for a walk." He said bluntly, "I need some air."

Scott stared at him, utterly bewildered, "You need some-what's going on?" His tone was laced with confusion, "Have I done something?"

Danny paused by the door, "No."

"Did something happen with Jen's stepdad?" He pressed, desperate for answers. Danny's distance was killing him.

Danny's shoulders tensed but he shook his head, "No, we didn't go in the end."

Scott was on the verge of begging Danny to just look at him. Meet his eye. Tell him what was wrong. "Oh, I thought-"

"I don't feel well." Danny said for the second time, "Okay?"

Scott resisted the urge to flinch at Danny's sharp tone, "Okay." He whispered back, trying to hide the pain in his voice.

But Danny heard it. And it took everything not to kiss Scott, to hug him, to stroke his hair, to tell him that he hadn't done anything wrong. This wasn't his fault. It was Danny's.

When he left Scott's room, he found Peter sitting on the sofa, staring at his hands. Danny froze, watching his friend blankly for a moment, "Peter?"

Peter looked up; his eyes were bloodshot and his hair still damp from the shower. "Hi, Danny." He whispered back, looking down at his hands again, "I can still see the blood."

Danny's eyes widened, his head whipping around to check that nobody else was around, "Don't." He hissed, "Don't say that."

Peter gulped, "I think I'm going to go to the police."

Danny rushed to his side, crouching down in front of him and taking both of Peter's hands in his, "No, you're not."

"I want to confess-"

"Peter-"

"We killed someone." He finally looked up, eyes welled with tears.

Danny shook his head frustratedly, "No." He spat, "No. You're not going to the police. You're not." He ran his fingers through his hair agitatedly. He couldn't help but think about the letter. He had got the lead role in a BBC drama. This was a big deal; this was his chance. He was not about to throw that all away and spend the rest of his teenage years in prison.

"Someone's going to find him soon." Peter's voice broke, "They're going to know it was us, they're going to-"

"We were never there."

"But we-"

"Peter." Danny gripped onto his shoulders, "We were never there."

Peter stared back at him for a long time, eyes flicking over Danny's shoulder when he heard the sound of Hannah crying again. Eventually he nodded, "We were never there." He whispered back.

Danny gave him a weak smile, standing back up and reaching for his coat, "I'm going for a walk." He hesitated in the doorway; there were so many things on the tip of his tongue. Heavy things and gentle things. Instead, he simply smiled, "Goodbye, Peter."

When he reached the cold air, shutting the door behind him, he blinked back tears. And as he walked out of the trailer park, he spared one last look over his shoulder, at the wonky metal trailer where he had made all of his best memories. Where he had fallen in love. Where he had learnt the meaning of family. The meaning of home.

He looked away again, pain ripping through his chest as he walked towards the police station.

When he got there, he didn't go inside straight away. He stood at the entrance, his heart beating fast, his breath quick and shallow. There was no going back from this moment. This was it. To start his new life - the one he had dreamt about for years - he needed to destroy his old one. Destroy the people he loved. Destroy the love itself.

He pushed through the doors and walked straight up to the front desk, "Hi, I'd like to report a crime." His voice was thick and full of disgust. He thought about Peter's soft honey eyes, and the way they had dimmed at the sight of all that blood. He thought about all those times Peter would push open his window for him, sleepy and confused, standing back as he let Danny crawl through, assessing his bruises. He thought about Peter finding out that Danny was seeing Scott; how angry he had been, and how quickly he had gotten over it because he loved them both more than anything.

It was a blur from then; the waiting room, the long corridors, the cold room where he now sat opposite two uniformed police officers holding notepads. They were watching him expectantly, brows raised, eyes questioning. Danny couldn't speak for a moment, couldn't move, couldn't do anything. He wanted to wake up and for this to all be a bad dream. He was sure that he would, any minute now. And he'd be back in bed, next to Scott, cuddled up beneath the covers, Hannah crying in the next room over.

"His name is Peter Wicks." Danny finally responded to their question, choking out the words, and knowing that from this moment on, everything would change.