Danny knew what depression was, he'd seen it in all its many guises. From the quiet defeat of his mother, elbows resting on the polished wood of the dining table, cradling a thin glass that could have been water but burned fumes into her eyes as she drank. To the messy end, the broken sprawl of the gunshot or the limp hand of cut tendons. He'd seen it all, the extremes and everything in between and he knew enough to spot it in himself.
His apartment fucking smelt and if he'd actually made anything in the last few days his sink would have been full of dishes, as it was the flies were circling the take out boxes like miniature vultures over a kill. He wondered how long it would take until they realised he was worth following too, he figured not long, animals were pretty perceptive.
The knock on his door was cheery and quick and it took a few seconds of rummaging for his wallet for him to realise that he hadn't ordered any food yet. Yet, as he walked towards the peep hole the sweet tang of curry floated by. Flack was fidgeting on his doorstep, hand clutching a too heavy bag of food raised awkwardly to knock again.
The door opened with a clatter of chain and Flack stepped back. Danny didn't greet him, just looked at him, though he did stand back for Flack walk past him and drop the bag and the beer in his other hand onto the streaky counter.
Danny watched Flack cast his eyes around the apartment and watched as he cocked an eyebrow.
"You're really not dealing with this very well are you?" And that's all Danny needed, something he didn't even know he'd been waiting for but desperately, desperately needed.
The "Fuck you" came somewhere in between his fist hitting Flack's jaw and Flack falling back into the wall.
His knuckles had split a little and he sucked on them as he pushed down the urge to kick harshly at Flack's ribs. He yelled at him instead, unintelligible, angry noises that said nothing and yet lifted a hard knot from deep in his chest.
His arms were flailing away from his body and he's pretty sure he's spitting all over the wall but the rage is deep in his chest and really fucking warm, and it's been ages since he felt warm.
Flack was just looking up at him silently as he realised that he was crying though his noise.
He had the sudden irritable urge to hit him again but his anger was pulling away from him and all he felt was empty and really fucking tired.
Danny slid down the wall beside Flack, collapsing onto the tile sobbing into his hands and Flack just slipped his arm around him, pulling him close.
"I've gotcha."
And really, that was all he needed.