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Danny doesn't like arguments.
He never has, not since he was a little kid. Loud noises have always scared him. He used to cover his ears when things got too loud, but he stopped doing that after people started thinking that was weird.
Danny had a better family than most, but they certainly weren't perfect.
Case in point: his parents. His mother was kind, and loving, and supportive, and she drove him to baseball practice and gymnastics classes and dance practices. There was hardly a time when she was mad at him. Danny was her little angel. She cuddled him when he was sad and cheered for him at baseball games.
His dad was amazing, too. Danny was Dad's little buddy. Dad helped coach his baseball practices and took him and his friends for ice cream after games. They played Mariokart together on weekends.
But they weren't perfect.
One memory that's still vivid in Danny's mind is when his mom got mad over the mess in his room. He didn’t clean it often, but he was eight. Of course he wouldn't clean it. The mess on his dresser was the worst. She kept trying to convince him to throw out some of the trinkets he'd collected, like the cool rocks he found on the playground or the notes his friends passed him during class. He had so many things he didn't want to get rid of.
One day, she kept telling him to clean it off. He told her he didn't want to throw anything away. He was trying not to argue. He didn't like how loud her voice was getting. He didn't see the harm in keeping those things with him.
She got so mad, she swept all the things off his dresser in one swift motion. He covered his ears at the loud crash. Mom pointed to the mess and said “clean it up”. She left the room just as he started to cry.
Something on his dresser broke when she did that. He doesn't quite remember what it was, but he's pretty sure it might be the little glass boat and lighthouse his great grandmother gave him. The lighthouse is intact, but the boat broke off its stand and shattered. The remains of the boat are still in a little box under his bed, waiting for him to find the energy to glue it back together.
When Danny hit eighth grade, things went downhill. His intrusive thoughts got worse. He might have had depression back then, but he doesn't know. He didn't talk to his parents about it. He quit baseball and gymnastics by then.
His mom got fed up with his growing antisocial nature. She cornered him once and questioned him about it. He tried to avoid the conversation by going into the bathroom, but he didn’t get to close the door before she followed him. He curled up on the bathmat as Mom asked him question after question that he just didn't know how to answer, and her voice got louder and angrier.
He screamed. Mom just heaved a sigh and said he couldn't avoid the conversation by screaming. He cried and couldn't answer her questions.
As for his dad... well, he didn't have the best relationship with Danny's big sister.
Danny never knew what the initial problem between them was, and he still doesn't know what it could have been. He's pretty sure it started when his sister went through her “rebellious” phase. That phase went from simple teenage rebellion to verbally attacking Dad for anything and everything, even if he'd never done anything wrong. Dad, unwilling to retaliate with violence, did so with words instead. The two of them argued so much through the years, all the way until his sister was an adult.
Yeah, some of the fights were started by Dad, but more often than not, it was Danny's sister. She threw hissy fits over everything and always tried to twist her family’s words so the blame was on them. But that didn't mean Dad was innocent. He overreacted to everything Danny's sister did, and his voice was so so loud, Danny often hid in his room until the shouting faded.
So, Danny doesn't like confrontation.
Which is a shame, because the Undead get in a lot of fights.
Sometimes they're fights with other people. Random guys on the street come across them and want to fight them on the occasion. It's Los Angeles, after all. People get mugged at night all the time. The Undead has no problem beating them up and getting out unscathed.
Those fights are fine. They're not emotionally charged. Just pure, physical violence. Danny can handle that.
It's the infighting that hurts him.
Sometimes the guys get mad at each other. The fights are usually between J-Dog and Johnny. Sometimes it's Charlie against Johnny and Funny. Sometimes Danny will get annoyed and purposely push Charlie's buttons.
Danny doesn't fight much, but when he does, he never raises his voice.
He doesn't like shouting. Even if J-Dog snaps at him or Charlie yells at him, Danny doesn't raise his voice unless he's trying to be heard over the other shouting voices.
Funny Man and Danny are usually the mediators during fights. J-Dog is the most stubborn, but Johnny is almost as stubborn, so they butt heads every other day. Charlie is also stubborn, but less willing to fight over things, and he hardly fights with Johnny. J-Dog is willing to stop a fight to avoid scaring Danny. If Danny “fights”, it's usually just him stepping in for a moment to give his input to see if it will help the argument be resolved earlier.
The fighting gets on all their nerves. J-Dog and Johnny argue so much, it reminds Danny of his sister and father. Funny is always the one who has to break them up. Charlie always takes Johnny's side, which pisses J-Dog off.
One fight almost breaks them.
Danny doesn't know specifically what starts the fight, but Johnny and J-Dog are yelling back and forth in King Don's bar. The bar is already closed, so the Undead are the only ones present for the shouting match. Danny plucks J-Dog's headphones off the bar and puts them on so the shouting voices aren't as loud. He plugs the cord into his phone and scrolls through his music to help him block them out.
But it's hard for him to focus on music when J-Dog and Johnny's voices keep getting louder. Charlie is sitting by, sipping on a glass of whiskey, witnessing the screaming without a care in the world. Funny stands next to Johnny, arms crossed. It looks like he's taking Johnny's side in this one.
Their voices get louder and louder until they're screaming. Funny's trying to calm them down by explaining why J-Dog is in the wrong, but J-Dog is too stubborn to relent. Danny keeps scrolling through his phone, trying to ignore things, but he can't. Charlie hops up onto the surface of the bar to sit next to Danny, still drinking his whiskey.
J-Dog and Johnny yell louder and louder. Danny can't even decipher what they're saying at this point. He just wants them to shut up.
He hardly processes it as it happens. Johnny roughly grabs J-Dog's shoulder. He lets go of J-Dog before he can do anything. Johnny grabs something off the bar and throws it across the room instead. J-Dog is shouting at the top of his lungs. Funny has to physically push J-Dog away so he doesn't lunge for Johnny. Johnny throws something else and screams something that Danny doesn't process. Danny curls into a ball and covers his ears over the headphones. He's pretty sure he's yelling at them to stop, but he can't be sure over the rest of the noise in the room. He briefly hears J-Dog's enraged voice yell “STOP IT, YOU'RE SCARING DANNY!” but even though J-Dog means well, he's only making things worse.
A door slams. Danny tentatively looks up. Johnny's gone. J-Dog is breathing heavily, still pressed to the wall by Funny. Charlie sits next to Danny, eyes wide and hands over his mouth. The door to the back room cracks open and Don peeks out.
Funny lets go of J-Dog, giving him a hesitant look as if waiting for him to bolt for the door after Johnny. J-Dog doesn't move. Funny steps back and takes a deep breath.
“I'm going to talk to him,” Funny says calmly. “Stay here.” He walks to the door and steps out.
Danny shuts off the music on his phone. To his surprise, J-Dog says nothing about Danny using his headphones. He just sits down at a booth and hides his head in his arms.
Danny isn't sure how long the silence lasts. He's hugging his knees to his chest, nearly petrified. He's never seen Johnny and J-Dog that mad before. He didn't like it.
The door opens again a few minutes later and Funny walks in. “He's going for a drive,” Funny says to the rest of them. He strides across the room and stands near the booth J-Dog's sitting at. “Jay, he was crying.”
All of them are a little surprised at that. Johnny doesn't cry.
Funny sighs. “He's also thinking of moving.”
At that, Charlie breaks down without warning. “No, no, no, no, no,” Charlie says, frantically shaking his head. “He can't leave. He can't.”
J-Dog raises his head to shoot a glare at Funny. He points at Charlie. “You did that. That's your fault.”
“How is it my fault?”
“You couldn't have waited to say that until Charlie was out of the room? You know he has an unhealthy attachment to Johnny. You did that.”
“Relax,” Funny says. “He's thinking about it. He just finds it hard to be part of the Undead with you constantly picking at him.”
“I'm no worse than him,” J-Dog shoots back. “Johnny can't leave. Charlie needs him. I'll move. You don't need me.”
“Jorel,” Funny snaps, and they all go quiet. They rarely ever use their real names. Their nicknames are badges of honour for the Undead.
“No one is leaving,” Funny says. “We need you, too. I'll convince him to stay, but you have to realize that he is doing so much to compromise with you. This needs to be a two way street. You need to try, too.”
“It's hard to do that when I think he's going to hit me,” J-Dog says.
“He would never,” Funny insists. “He never has, he never will. No matter how much you fight.”
“He came close to it tonight.”
“I'll admit, he shouldn't have grabbed you. He did overreact. But you push at him all the damn time, and if I were him, I would have come close to snapping, too. How do you expect anything to get better when you just keep pushing at him like that?”
Danny tunes out the conversation. Johnny's thinking of leaving. Charlie will be devastated if that happens.
Charlie stands and makes his way to the back room, wiping his tears. As soon as the door to the back room shuts, Danny hears quiet crying and shushed muttering as King Don tries to comfort him.
“You did that,” J-Dog says again, gesturing to the door.
Danny doesn't want to be here anymore. It's getting late, but Johnny has the car they used to drive here, so Danny has no choice but to stay here for now. He's pretty sure the Undead is going to end up spending the night at the bar. It's not the first time that's happened.
Danny takes off J-Dog's headphones and makes his way to the bathroom, leaving Funny and J-Dog to their conversation. He leans against the door when he shuts it. He takes a moment to process everything. He still doesn’t know exactly what happened during the fight or what the hell it was about. He just wishes J-Dog could calm down for once and not push the others into a fight. He does that so often. Danny doesn’t know why.
He hears the front door to the bar open. Johnny’s heavy footsteps walk back into the bar. Danny grimaces as he hears him and J-Dog renew the argument, only Johnny sounds less angry and more devastated. He’s yelling a little, but not as loud as before. J-Dog is shouting back, and Funny’s voice cuts through, calming the both of them down so they can discuss things.
Danny pushes off the door and walks to the sink. He leans against it and stares into the mirror. He feels like he should be crying, but he hasn’t shed a tear all evening. He feels numb. He doesn’t like feeling numb. He should be crying.
He turns on the faucet and runs his hands under the cold water. He quickly washes his face, unwilling to stray from his nightly routine despite the fight going on outside. He’s pretty sure they’re all going to end up sleeping here, so he might as well get ready to sleep.
Danny dries off his face with a paper towel. When he looks up again, he sees steam rising from the water running from the faucet. He hadn’t realized he’d turned on the hot water. It must have warmed up while he was drying off.
A thought comes to him. His gut twists a little, but other than that, he stays numb. He really doesn’t like being numb, but he can’t muster up the energy to disregard that little thought.
He lowers his head and hides his face in his arms folded on the counter, seriously considering what he’d just thought about. He’s prided himself for not giving in to any of his intrusive thoughts, but this one is more harmless than most. Besides, no one has to know.
Keeping his head lowered, he reaches out and thrusts his right hand under the burning water. He hisses in pain and snatches it away from the faucet. It was hotter than he expected.
He straightens and looks down at his hand. The skin is a bit red, but there are no burns, and it doesn’t hurt when he touches it. No damage was done. It was just a little pain. It throbs a little bit, though.
He runs his fingers over his hand where he’d purposely burned it. He doesn’t feel anything, not even disappointment for giving in to one of his thoughts. He’s still numb. But he feels the little bit of throbbing pain in his hand, and that’s something.
He still hears the yelling.
He just glares at the mirror as the three others argue outside. He doesn’t like fights. They remind him of screaming in bathrooms and tense drives home after panic attacks and little broken glass boats.
He really should glue that boat back together.
He stands there as the shouting outside fades into crying. Johnny says something and J-Dog sniffles before he laughs. The three of them start talking, not shouting. Danny’s glad they’re working things out now. He hates it when his family is mad at each other. When people are mad, that results in tense silences, and as much as Danny usually loves silence, he hates it more when it’s tense. Tense silence means someone might start yelling again at any time.
The faucet is still running.
Even as Johnny, J-Dog, and Funny work things out, Danny still doesn’t feel. He can’t muster up much of anything to feel. No tears, no anger, nothing.
He doesn’t particularly like pain. So when he goes to touch the running water again, he’s hesitant. He swipes his fingertips through the water. He’s both disappointed and relieved when he hardly feels any heat.
He sets a hand on the faucet itself. The metal is hot from the water. He grips it in his right hand. The metal feels like it’s burning against his palm and his fingers. He lets go almost immediately. The heat lingers in his skin, and it’s something to feel. He swipes his hand under the water so it hits his hand where he’d burned it first. He does it too quick, but there’s some pain there, so he feels like he accomplished what he wanted.
He grips the hot metal of the faucet one more time before he shuts the water off. His palm is a bit red, as is the small patch on his hand that he shoved under the water. It doesn’t hurt much. The redness will fade by the time he leaves the bathroom.
He hears Johnny and Funny laugh from outside the bathroom. J-Dog snorts at something Funny says before they keep talking. Danny can’t hear their words, but it sounds like they’re figuring things out. That’s good at least.
Danny sits down on the floor with a sigh. He doesn’t know what to do now. He doesn’t want to go out there and interrupt, because he might make things worse somehow.
He still can’t fucking cry.
He almost wants to sleep, but he doesn’t want to sleep in a bathroom. Instead, he just tries to listen to what the others are saying. He can’t hear much, but it sounds like Johnny and J-Dog are going to try to work things out between them. That’s a relief to Danny. He’s never seen the two of them so absolutely furious at each other before. This was the first time that Danny was actually worried about them fighting physically.
The voices fade out and Danny hears footsteps making their way toward the bathroom. Someone knocks on the door. “Danny?” Funny’s voice asks softly.
Danny doesn’t respond. He doesn’t like talking when he feels like this.
The door cracks open. Funny pokes his head in. “Hey,” he says. “Johnny said he would drive us home if we want. You okay with that?”
Danny shrugs. He can’t find the energy to even stand up.
Funny enters the bathroom and crouches down to Danny’s level. “Look, I gotta stay with J-Dog tonight. He doesn’t want to be alone. If you want to join us, you’re more than welcome. And if you just want to go back to your apartment and be alone, that’s fine. I’ll leave my phone on so you can call me if you want. Just feel free to spam me with texts and calls. If you need help, I’ll come over.”
Danny stares at Funny. For some reason, what Funny said just really hits him.
Funny Man is such a good fucking friend.
Danny covers his mouth with his hand as he starts crying. Funny scoots forward and wraps his arms around Danny. Danny wasn’t expecting a hug, but he’s so incredibly grateful for it. He’s not used to getting affection.
He isn’t sure how long he sits on the bathroom floor with Funny Man. All he knows is that he’s crying and Funny’s hugging him and his hand is still burning and he wants to go home.
So he does. Funny helps him stand and leave the bathroom. Johnny and J-Dog don’t look mad and they’re not yelling, and Charlie is standing there clinging to Johnny, and Danny hears the rumble of the car engine outside. No one says a word about Danny’s tears, but J-Dog pats his shoulder in a silent apology. They all know Danny doesn’t like fights.
The car ride home is silent. Johnny’s driving and Funny is in the passenger seat. The other three have crammed themselves in the back. Danny tries to stop his crying as they drive. He feels pathetic.
Johnny drops Danny off first. Funny asks Danny if he’s sure he wants to be alone. Danny just nods, unable to muster up any words. Charlie’s staying with Johnny for the night and J-Dog’s staying with Funny Man. Danny doesn’t want to intrude, despite the fact that these are his friends and he knows that he wouldn’t actually be a bother.
He trudges up to his apartment alone. Even though the redness in his hand has long since faded by now, he can almost still feel his skin burning.
He shuts the door to his apartment. He stands there in the silence. After the loudness in the bar, the quiet just feels strange.
Danny walks to his room. He crouches down and reaches under the bed. His hand closes on a tiny box. He pulls the box out and opens it in his lap. The remains of the tiny glass boat his great grandmother gave him sit inside, still broken after so many years.
He sets the little box on his windowsill next to the glass lighthouse that came with it. He doesn’t have the energy to fix it right now. Maybe he will tomorrow.