This is a sequel to 'Safety'. I would recommend reading that first, but at a push this can be read as a stand alone.
Danny's been gone for an hour when he finally gives in. The whisky tastes of the forbidden, and Rusty knows that he shouldn't be drinking it. Danny hasn't exactly said anything, but Rusty knows that he disapproves. Somehow, knowing that isn't enough to stop him from pouring himself yet another measure.
The fight with his mom plays out in his mind again, and again, and again. So he takes another sip. The liquid slides easily down his throat and he tries desperately not to think about what Danny is going to say. Rusty feels guilty, because he knows about Danny's past, and he knows that no matter what, Danny will stand by him. He's not known Danny for long, and he understand the enormous amount of trust that Danny's placed in him, he knows what that means. But he can't bring himself to stop drinking; he can't allow himself to face up to what's happened.
The sound of a key being turned in the lock jolts him out of his thoughts, and he hurriedly clears the bottle and glass away. Danny walks in the door, takes one look at him, and knows.
"You of all people should know how expensive hotel mini-bars are."
"It's not like we're going to pay."
"Where's the-"
Danny's tone of voice tells Rusty not to lie. "Back in the bar." He watches as Danny walks over to the fridge, and places all of the bottles on the table.
"What-" Rusty trails off as he watches Danny pours the amber liquid down the sink. The next bottle follows, then the next, and the next. He doesn't stop until he's emptied every single bit of alcohol down the sink.
"You know I could just ring -"
"Not if I ask you not to."
"I'm sorry." The two words contain sincerity, guilt and shame.
"Coffee?" Danny holds out the cardboard cup and Rusty knows that it's forgotten.
The hotel room is dark and the silence is getting annoying because for once, it isn't comfortable.
"I let you down today."
Danny turns to face him. "No. You just-"
"Acted like an idiot? I know."
"How about we just forget about it and go back to the odd drink -"
"Sounds good to me."
The church is almost silent as the coffin is carried out. Sobs echo around the building but Rusty, banished to the back of the church, refuses to cry. Danny watches as his friend bites his lip and wishes that the hand on the shoulder could make it all better.
The mourners begin to file out of the church, following the procession to the place where Rusty's father will be buried. Rusty freezes half way and an impatient aunt mutters something about bad blood. Danny nudges him gently, but he stands stock still. So he grabs hold of Rusty's hand and pretends not to hear the gossips, pretends not to feel the glares of Rusty's families.
"Danny, I don't think I can do this." The hoarse whisper is full of agony and fear and pleading.
"You don't have to."
"I think I do, Danny."
"Then we'll do it together." And there's strength and reassurance and love.