43: after

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height

June
1995

Peter was avoiding Danny.

Their relationship had gotten too complicated. There was so much love and hate, all mixed up, fused together and inseparable. He couldn't love Danny without hating him. And he couldn't hate him without loving him. All his bad memories tangled up with his good ones. Danny's loyalty tangled up with his betrayal. Their friendship tangled up with sex. Every time Peter thought about it, his head hurt and his chest ached. It was too much.

And so, he tried not to think about Danny. Tried not to read magazines or look at Danny's movie posters for too long. It was hard, avoiding him in a place like this, where parts of Danny were scattered all across town. But it wasn't impossible.

Roy was a good distraction. They went on walks, they went out to eat, they sat on the rooftop of the gas station, eating sandwiches and watching sunsets. And when Roy was working, Peter sought out other distractions; he wandered through LA alone, browsing through shops and bookstores and art galleries. For the first time since he arrived, he actually explored the city, getting to know all its dusty little corners. He enjoyed it, too. Spending time alone, getting to know himself again. It was like meeting a stranger in some ways, - recently, he had become so detached from himself, he wasn't quite sure who he was anymore.

It had been a week since Peter had seen Danny. He was beginning to think that maybe he could do this forever. The distance, the silence. He had done it for five years. He could do it again.

That hope dwindled away when he walked into the motel's reception one afternoon, only to be met with Andrea's stony glare. She was paler than usual and her shoulders were stiff. When she saw Peter, she nodded curtly in his direction, "We need to talk."

He frowned, fiddling with the key in his hand, "How long have you been waiting for-?"

"Let's go." She led him straight back outside, opening the door to a shiny black car and ushering him in. When he hesitated, she tutted impatiently, "Get in the car, Peter."

"Where are you taking me?"

"I'll explain on the way." She told him firmly, giving his shoulder a little nudge, "I'm not kidnapping you."

He eventually relented, climbing into the back seat, Andrea clambering in beside him. The windows were tinted and the car smelt like lavender air freshener. As soon as they were buckled in, the driver took off. "Where are we going?" He asked in frustration.

She didn't look at him, "Daniel's overdosed." She said.

Peter's heart stopped.

"He's okay." She said quickly, though her expression remained sickly pale, "The paramedics were able to save him. He's been moved to a private hospital."

Peter couldn't move, couldn't talk, couldn't even blink. He wondered if this would be it for the rest of his life; frozen in place in the back of a car, his brain replaying those two words on a loop for eternity; 'Daniel's overdosed'.

"Peter." Andrea pulled him out of his internal spiral, "Are you okay?"

He gulped, his throat dry, "I-Is he...?" He fumbled over his words, "D-Did he ask for me? Is that why...?" He hesitated, "Is that why you're here?"

She still wasn't looking at him, "No." She said simply, "He didn't ask for you. He hasn't..." She sighed, "He hasn't said much of anything since waking up."

Peter nodded, trying to process this information without his head exploding, "Was it...?" He couldn't bring himself to ask, but he needed to know the answer. "Was it intentional? Was he trying to...?" His voice broke, the rest of his sentence getting lost in his throat. No, he thought. No. Danny did not do this on purpose. He wouldn't.

Andrea took a moment to reply, "We're not sure." She finally said, "It may have been an accident, though the amount he took..." For the first time, Peter heard a touch of vulnerability in Andrea's tone. "Danny's been taking drugs for years; he knows his limits." She said plainly, "The amount he took would suggest that he...that it was a suicide attempt."

A strangled sob ripped out of Peter's throat. Pain tore through his chest at those words. Because how could they possibly be real? How could Danny be so stupid? So selfish? So weak? How could he try and leave Peter behind? Leave Peter alone in the world, after everything they had been through?

He was smarter than this, braver than this, better than this. He was Danny Fox. The boy who survived years of abuse from his Father, the boy who's heart never hardened despite it. The boy who loved so generously, who gave so much it himself away to other people. The boy who cried when his boyfriend was attacked, and beamed with pride when his friend gave birth. The boy who made it alone. Achieved all of his wildest dreams with no one at his side. The boy who's ambition led him to betray everyone he ever loved. The boy who Peter loved, as much as it hurt him to do so.

That boy would not have chosen this. That boy would never chose this. He couldn't. Peter refused to believe it. It was all an accident. A mistake. Danny had misjudged his limits. He had taken too many drugs. He had been an idiot. He was stupid. Stupid, but not weak. Not capable of this. Not capable of choosing this.

When they finally pulled up outside the back entrance of the hospital, Andrea shoved a hat and a pair of sunglasses into Peter's arms. The pair were then escorted through the quiet hallways by a couple of security guards until they stopped in front of a white door, and Peter lost his ability to breathe. He contemplated not going in. Wondered if Andrea would let him go back to the motel and pretend none of this was real. Because as soon as he laid his eyes on Danny, there was no going back. No hiding from this anymore. Peter wasn't sure if he was ready.

But he didn't have a choice, because a moment later, Andrea opened the door and pulled Peter into the room with her.

Danny looked like a teenager again. All barriers of wealth and fame and status broken down, leaving him at his vulnerable core. He was nothing more than a pair of green eyes and a head of wild blond curls. He wasn't a celebrity here. He wasn't the hundreds of characters he had played, all piled up into one person. He was just Danny. Sweet, broken Danny.

Peter tried not to cry as he approached him, his fingers instinctively weaving through Danny's, squeezing his hand so Danny knew he was there, "Hey." Peter greeted quietly, taking off the hat and sunglasses and placing them on the chair beside him.

Danny looked confused by his presence for a moment, but he was too weak to hide the relief that washed over him. He was glad Peter was there. He made him feel human. "What're you doing here?" He murmured, attempting to squeeze Peter's hand back, but realising he was too weak to move.

"Andrea told me what happened." Peter's eyes flicked up to Danny's agent, stood at the other side of his bed, eyes glassy, expression neutral.

"M'sorry." Danny whispered, and when a tear streaked down his cheek, he was too weak to brush it away.

Peter smiled sympathetically, reaching over to wipe Danny's wet cheek with his thumb, "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit." Danny groaned.

Peter's touch lingered on Danny's cheek for a moment, then he swept his hand through Danny's hair, pushing his curls away from his eyes, "I'm so sorry, Danny." His voice cracked.

Pain flickered in Danny's expression, but he tried to hide it, "Don't be." He whispered.

The last time Peter had seen Danny, Peter had broken both of their hearts. And now Danny's last words to him echoed through his head, like a twisted whisper, haunting him; 'Don't leave me.'

"Peter." Danny wanted to reach out and hug him, maybe even kiss him. But all he could do was lay there, watching the only person who still cared about him fall apart. "I-I can't stop hurting you, can I?"

Peter squeezed Danny's hand again, probably far too tightly, "You can never do this again." He was crying now, all his anger and despair pouring out of him, "If you..." He gulped, "If you died, I-I don't...I don't know what I would do."

Danny was too choked up to reply straight away. So, he just lay there, uselessly, watching as Peter reached out and wiped his tears away again. Andrea was still at his other side, but he refused to look at her. Refused to see the disappointment written across her face. Eventually, Danny gained enough control over his voice to speak, "I won't die." He whispered; it was an empty promise, but it was all he had left.

Danny and Peter were complete and utterly broken. And that had never been more apparent than right now, in this hospital room, both falling apart in front of each other. And maybe this time, they wouldn't be able to put each other back together again.

Because all Danny could hear were sharp fragments of the last conversation they had had. I don't want to lose you.

Lose me? Danny, you never had me.


You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net