"Dan?" The name felt foreign to Harry's mouth, though he'd heard it from Tom and Dougie so many times before. Of course, he didn't call him Daniel- but he'd never called him anything other than Danny. Calling him 'Dan' was something only close friends and family did.

Harry stood outside Danny's door, hands in his pockets. He took one hand out and lightly tapped the door again, leaning in to try and hear anything. After listening for a second, he heard a muffled sniff. Deciding that Danny was going to listen to him whether he liked it or not, Harry opened the door.

Danny was lying on his back on the floor, with his acoustic guitar resting across his stomach, playing a melody. Harry automatically felt a certain amount of respect for the younger boy; Danny was incredible on the guitar, and Harry knew it- even if he didn't want to admit it. He was amazing at singing, too, which Harry was jealous of.

Danny didn't loom at him, but the scowl on his face made it clear that he knew Harry was there. Taking a closer look at Danny, Harry frowned. Had Danny been crying?

Danny never cried.

"Danny." He said; Danny just moved down the fret board on his guitar and started playing chords, louder than the melodies.

"Danny, I need to talk to you." Harry said, louder; Danny strummed harder, still glaring at the ceiling.

"Danny!" Harry said angrily. Before he thought about what he was doing, he stormed over, grabbed Danny and yanked him up. The guitar crashed to the ground with an ugly array of strings twanging, mingling with Danny's yells. Harry, out of pure shock at what he was doing, kept his grip on Danny's shirt as he twisted and cried out in pain, trying to get away. Suddenly, he ducked out of his shirt and backed off. Harry dropped the now empty T- shirt and stared, wide eyed, at the shirtless Danny, who was backing up fast. His back connected with the wall and he stayed there, glaring venomously at Harry, who was still getting over the shock.

"Danny..." He croaked, his voice a mere echo of what it had been. Danny just watched him, tensed against the wall. Harry didn't know what to do, so he looked around, then slowly picked up Danny's guitar. He checked it for scratches or broken strings, then placed it carefully in the guitar stand next to Danny's bed; Danny just watched, now looking unsure of himself.

"You OK now, Dougie?" Tom asked, watching the screen as he and Dougie played Harry Potter on the Play station. Dougie nodded absently- Tom saw it out of the corner of his eye and smiled.

"He didn't mean it."

Dougie just nodded again, intent on catching the snitch on the telly before Tom did.

"He and Danny are going to sort this out, you know."

Dougie looked at him sceptically, and Tom paused the game.

"People don't work arguments out. Not like that," Dougie stated flatly. Tom frowned slightly.

"What makes you say that?"

"If people could stop arguing, my mum and dad would've stopped arguing before he left. It always happens. Soon, one of them's going to leave, then we'll have to go back home and carry on like it never happened." Dougie said matter- of- factly. Tom stared at him. How could Dougie believe that?

"Dougie, it is possible to fix arguments." Tom said carefully. Dougie looked confused. "If someone really wants to, they can. And I know Harry really wants to- he feels bad."

"Then how come mum and dad didn't want to fix it?" Dougie said, still looking confused. Tom could have slapped himself- in trying to change Dougie's view of arguments, all he'd done was confuse Dougie about his family.

Anyway, he couldn't change Dougie's point of view just like that. He'd obviously grown used to the idea that people always left.

Saving him from answering, a huge crash echoed from downstairs. Dougie jumped, and Tom leapt to his feet.

"What-?" Dougie started.

"Sounded like someone dropped a guitar." Tom said instantly, but as he spoke he heard what sounded like Danny, screaming. Tom threw open the door- as he did so, the yelling stopped- and quietly ran down the stairs. Dougie watched from the top as Tom went to the second floor and peered around Danny's door.

All he could see was Harry, standing and staring at the wall with a strange expression- like guilt, hopelessness, shock and self hate, all mixed in to one. Moving slightly, Tom saw Danny. He was pushed up against the far wall, for some reason shirtless, looking scared and angry. Tom considered stepping in, but decided not to.

It was up to them to sort this out.

He went back up and pushed Dougie in his room. "They're sorting it out." He said, then picked up his controller. Dougie did the same, and in seconds they were lost back in the game.

Danny watched Harry warily as he placed the guitar in the stand (why was he being so careful? Harry was never that careful with Danny's possessions) and turned back to face him. They watched each other for a few minutes, then Harry cleared his throat and said,

"Sorry about the guitar."

Danny's eyes narrowed.

"I don't think it's broken."

Danny blinked.

"The guitar, I mean."

Danny's eyes flicked to the instrument and back.

"I mean, I don't know. It might be out of tune or something now... I don't know stuff about guitars. Um..." He trailed off, and cleared his throat again, looking away. "You do. You're... good at that."

Throughout Harry's awkward speech, Danny's expression had turned from the initial anger, to scepticism, to shock.

Had Harry just complimented him?

Harry looked up, and started talking again. "I'm sorry if I hurt you, as well. You know, when I... pulled you up like that..." Danny's screaming echoed in his ears- and that was when he realised. The scene from a few moments ago ran through Harry's head in slow motion.

His hand had reached down- Danny had seen it coming and visibly flinched back to avoid it.

Harry grabbed the neck of Danny's shirt and yanked it in the air, pulling Danny with it and snapping his head back in the process. And the look on Danny's face...

He hadn't been in pain. The yelling was out of fear. Harry had scared him to the point of screaming his lungs out.

"I'm sorry that I scared you." Now he had started, Harry couldn't stop. "I'm sorry about talking to you like that downstairs. I'm sorry about treating you like a kid. I'm sorry about the time I pushed you in the swimming pool, the time I tripped you up in the street, the times I took the piss out of your accent, the times I called you stupid and ugly and... and..."

Danny watched, his mouth open, as Harry listed everything he'd ever done to him. The list grew longer and longer.

When he 'accidentally' burnt Danny with the hot oil from the frying pan.

When he 'accidentally' broke Danny's guitar.

When he found out that Danny had been expelled from school when he was fourteen after false accusations of arson, and used it as blackmail to get Danny to do what he wanted for a week. (And he actually hated himself for that- even before today, every time he thought about the look on Danny's face when he was making him food and the like was enough to make him literally bang his head against a wall.)

Eventually, Harry tailed off; by now he was near tears. Danny slid down the wall to the floor, still watching him, and also near tears. Harry walked over and collapsed about three feet away from him. There was a long silence- but it wasn't awkward this time. It wasn't companionable, either. It was just... a thinking silence. Harry thinking about ways he could try and apologise and make it all up to Danny; Danny thinking about all the ways Harry had hurt him, and wondering if he could forgive him.