Chapter Text
Your confusion
My illusion
Worn like a mask of self-hate
Confronts and then dies
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1. 1983: Wishful Thinking
Dan falls into the wrong crowd pretty quickly at school. He can’t really help the inevitability of it. He knows he’s smart (not as smart as Sam of course, since not many people are), has the ability to get good grades (even if he doesn’t apply himself or focus like David does), and is even good at sports (although Julia started out in Water Babies at three years old, and six years later she looks like a future champion).
None of Dan’s own achievements seem to matter to his dad, though. At home he might as well be invisible. He’s not even the middle child, Sam is, but Sam is some kinda John Nash/Alan Turing intellect combo. It’s not like Dan blames him; he’s just a kid. This is all on his dad. Dan’s just rebellious enough now at fourteen, as a freshman in high school, to admit that. To sit on the bleachers after class with friends, blowing off baseball practice and smoking cigarettes instead.
Cathy Miller’s there with them this time. Dan knows Tommy, Greg, and his sophomore friends Katie and Mikey are all wondering when he’s gonna finally make out with her. She’s willing and so is Dan. It’s just that since he started high school, he’s finding himself more interested in the captain of the football team than the girl he’s been crushing on since 8th grade, who’s suddenly interested in him back.
Dan hasn’t told anyone, won’t tell anyone. The last thing he needs is for his family to find out. Then his father would actually have a reason to hate him.
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2. 1984: Boys Don’t Cry
Dan started making mixtapes the year before, when he was supposed to be studying but couldn’t make himself give a fuck. He’s got a pretty good setup. Dual tape deck to record between tapes, a connector to transfer the stuff he still has on vinyl, even though he’s been buying cassettes with his allowance lot more lately. Sam always wrinkles up his nose and asks, “What are you ruining this time?” when he bounds into Dan’s room uninvited. They used to share, but their mom and dad thankfully put an end to that once Dan hit puberty. He seriously didn’t want to explain to his little bro why he was humping the bed in his sleep.
Sam’s the one who hooked up the vinyl to cassette converter for him and told him the best tape deck to buy. He’s also the one who built Dan a computer for them both to use (probably so he would still have an excuse to come into Dan’s room) out of a kit he bought with money he saved from tutoring his classmates in math after school. Dan doesn’t know much about the Apple computer that got all that buzz after its Superbowl ad, but he’s pretty darn sure Sam’s creation is highly superior.
Sam’s nose is always in a book. He’s a bonafide genius, is in all advanced classes and probably could’ve been in high school with Dan right now, except he didn’t want to be. Wants to just “enjoy being a kid.”
Dan doesn’t know any kids like Sam.
“So what is it today?” Sam asks, sounding bored, but Dan knows it’s all a front. Sam loves it when Dan tells him about his favorite music.
“Atmosphere by Joy Division. Gotta transfer it from the 12 inch.”
“That’s new.” Sam examines the album cover.
“Yeah, wanted it for a while. They put it out after Ian died.”
Dan starts up the recording, listen for that great sound of the needle gently catching against the vinyl.
Sam’s biting his lip when Dan reclaims his position and looks back over, the two of them sitting on the floor, leaning back against the bed. “How’d he die?”
Dan looks away, staring at a soda stain on the carpet from the root beer he spilled last night. His brother might be a mathematical and science genius, but there are things in life that are beyond brains. That’s the shitty part. The reality. And he honestly doesn’t want to explain suicide and depression to his thirteen year old brother. Especially since Dan thinks he understands, understands what it could be like to be that unhappy. It freaks him out. His dad is always getting on him for how his music is too depressing. It’s one of the reasons he couldn’t get into New Order, even though it was the new project from the surviving Joy Division members. They were too upbeat, too happy, too normal. His dad would approve.
“He uh, he killed himself, buddy. He was...sad. But like, really sad, not like when you get unhappy because Julia steals the remote from you or mom tells you you’ve gotta go to bed rather than read another chapter of Sagan.”
“Oh,” is all Sam says, but the word is heavy in the air around him. Dan wraps his arm around his brother’s shoulder and they listen together in silence. Dan tears up a little, but doesn’t let Sam see it, even though he knows Sam would never judge him.
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3. 1985: Road to Nowhere
The cigarettes turn into dope. His grades start slipping. He makes the basketball team and then loses his spot after missing too many practices because he was too stoned to drag his ass there after cutting 7th period to smoke up in the woods with Mikey. Mikey was a senior now, and importantly, had recently decided he’d be totally down with Dan sucking his cock. So Dan does it, and happily. Mikey only gives him handjobs in return, but Dan can’t be picky. Plus, it’s not like he hasn’t gotten laid by girls already. (Okay, so one girl--him and Cathy finally doing that deed--but it was good.)
This is better, though. The heat of Mickey on his tongue, the way it feels to suck him down, trying to take all of him.
It doesn’t matter that Dan's high more days than not lately, if it means he can get this. He isn’t home when his mom gets the call about his being cut from the team. He’s in Mikey’s room, sitting on his dick for the first time because Mikey’s parents are away and they’re both high enough for Dan to convince him that it isn’t “too gay” to do, that he’ll love it. Dan wasn’t sure if that was the truth for either of them when he first said it, but it sounded good and he really, really wanted to get fucked.
It’s not perfect and Mikey’s nails are cutting into his hips but he’s floating enough to not care, gasping into Mikey’s skin for him to make Dan come. Mickey touches his dick and comes inside him before Dan finally comes himself, shaking and moaning. When Dan gets home he’s walking gingerly and he’s got his sunglasses on, eyes bloodshot, giving away his recreational activities. His dad rips them off his face as he steps into the living room and sneers down at him.
“You’re high as a kite, Danny. And apparently no longer on the basketball team.”
“Oh,” Dan says, but he can’t muster up an apology, even as he looks at his mom, who seems like she might’ve been crying. He just doesn’t feel sorry at all.
“You’re pathetic.”
“Jacob,” his mother says, but Jay holds up his hand.
“No, he is, Jennifer. He’s a fuckup and should know it.”
Dan holds his head high, doesn't blink. “Yeah well, Dad, you’ve been treating me like I’ve disappointed you long before I ever really did, so I’m just sticking with the theme here.”
His dad’s eyes darken. Dan wouldn’t be surprised if he smacked him. It wouldn’t be the first time. But Dan also stands straighter than he ever has before, doesn’t back down, and after a moment his dad just says, “Get out of my damn sight.” The words, dripping with disgust, might as well be a slap.
Dan can hear his parents arguing as he bounds up the stairs to his room. He slams his door, locking it.
Sam’s there, sitting cross-legged on Dan’s bed and looking up at him with worried eyes.
“What?” Dan shouts. “What do you want, man?”
Sam looks hurt, before he glares and pulls out something from behind his back. “Found this when I was looking for your baseball cards.”
He’s holding up Dan’s bowl.
“Give me that.” He takes two long strides forward and snatches it out of Sam’s hand, hides it in his sock drawer with his back turned, blocking Sam’s view.
“Is that why Mom and Dad are so upset? You’re doing drugs?”
Dan sighs, dropping his head. “It’s not — it’s just dope, dude. It’s nothing.”
“If it’s nothing, then why do they care?”
Dan turns around and crosses his arms over his chest. “Because I’m not gonna be the sports star he wants, not gonna get some fancy basketball scholarship and go to some Ivy League school on it. Probably going to flunk out of school at this rate.”
“Because you do drugs,” Sam concludes.
Dan sighs again, rubs his hand over his face. “I don’t know what you want from me, Sammy. I don’t wanna play sports anyway.”
“You love sports. I hear you doing color commentary in your room at night.”
“So? I also love music. Maybe I’ll be a radio DJ.”
Sam snorts. They’re both quite for a moment.
“Can I do it with you, if it’s no big deal?”
Dans eyes widen. “What? No!”
Sam glares at him again, harder this time. “You said it’s no big deal, Danny!”
“That’s not -- it’s. Jeez, you’re my little brother, I’m not letting you get high.”
“I’m fourteen!”
“No, Sammy. Just. Stop. You’re a good kid okay? You’re -- the best. You don’t wanna be like me.”
“I think you’re pretty great,” Sam says quietly, and Dan nearly cries.
“Yeah, well, you’re the only one, buddy.” He sits on the bed next to him, the box spring bouncing beneath his weight, and ruffles Sam’s hair. Then they look through Dan’s latest pack of Topps. Sammy was dying to find a Mark McGwire.
Later, Dan will look back on that moment. He’ll tell himself he should’ve been firmer, should’ve knocked the thought completely out of Sam’s head. Should’ve tried harder to be the kind of brother Sam deserved, like David.
Should’ve.
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4. 1986: My Brain is Hangin’ Upside Down
Contrary to popular opinion, Dan is not stoned for his own graduation. His old man is so surprised he managed to not only to graduate on time, but build up his GPA enough to actually get accepted into an Ivy League school after all that Dan isn’t about to rock that boat. And sure, Mr. Jacob Rydell isn’t all that impressed with Dan getting a writing scholarship rather than a full ride through sports (“Writing? Kinda weak, Danny”), but it’s still Dartmouth, it’s not a community college and most importantly, it’s out of this fucking state.
So no, Dan isn’t stoned at his graduation but he absolutely is stoned after it.
He and Mikey ended over that last summer, since Mikey was going off to college that fall and still couldn’t admit he was even into guys. Dan knows he’s bisexual but he’s still not out. He’s hooked up a bit senior year, but mostly with girls. Tonight, though, there’s a Class of ‘86 party at Greg’s house. Greg’s brother is home from college and Dan ends up getting the graduation blowjob of his life life in the master bathroom, and also trying coke for the first time.
Rob is everything Mikey wasn’t. Confident in his sexuality, enthusiastic to give Dan head, and even more enthusiastic to put his dick inside him after they spend hours kissing, the drugs making everything feel vital and frenetic and necessary.
“Gotta use one of these,” Rob says, dripping with college-like wisdom and holding up a condom between his fingers. “That AIDS thing killed Rock Hudson last year, man.”
“I’m not an idiot,” Dan says, even though he and Mikey had totally done it bare a few times.
Rob just smirks like he knows something Dan isn’t telling him, and then they’re kissing again. It’s good, it’s great, and Dan can’t wait to have all the sex in college. He’s gonna go to class more, is actually excited about the journalism classes he picked and the one about radio broadcasting. He’s even taking a biochemistry class to make Sam happy, figures they could bond over it. They hadn’t done much of that lately. He’s gonna try to pull it together a little more. He’ll be out from under the thumb of his dad and away from his mom who just goes along with whatever her husband says anyway.
It’ll be good. It’ll be great.
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5. 1987: Don’t Give Up
He didn’t know. Dan doesn’t understand how he didn’t know. He should’ve known. Should’ve been able to easily read the signs. It would’ve been like looking in a mirror, after all. But he didn’t. Hell, he barely spent any time with Sam during his senior year, too concerned with pulling his grades up and making sure he got into an Ivy League school in a last ditch effort to impress his dad.
But instead of Dan knowing, Sam turns sixteen a week before Dan leaves for college; they have a big party, his parents beaming and all of Sam’s friends there. It's the fanfare that Dan didn’t get for his own graduation, but then again he never expected any, and he doesn’t begrudge it for Sam. Dan has friends who have a brother the same age as Sam and none of them get along. Dan figures that’s probably normal. It’s natural to clash, especially teenage boys. But Sam’s too funny, too kind, too energetic and likable. Dan can’t imagine disliking him, even when resentment might be a natural impulse. It just was never their dynamic.
Sam’s the one that hugs him the night of his own party and tells Dan he’s proud of him, like he’s the parent. A few days later Sam aces his written and road tests, because of course he does. The day Dan packs up his Volkswagen and leaves for Dartmouth is the day Sam gets his license. Dan’s still unpacking boxes in his super small dorm room when the phone call comes. The phone in his room isn’t even set up yet. This one is to the RA on his floor, the guy tracking him down and telling Dan that he’s got a call, that it sounds urgent.
Dan rolls his eyes and follows, smiling to himself. Sam’s probably calling to say Dan not being there is throwing off the whole dynamic and that Julia is trying to commandeer Dan’s room.
It isn’t Sam. It’s his father. There’s no hello. There’s only his dad’s emotionless voice telling him, “You need to come home. Your brother is dead. Sam.”
He adds Sam’s name like an afterthought, like Dan wouldn’t need the clarification. And it isn’t until he’s shaking and crying, sliding down the wall to crumble on the floor of the dormitory hallway that he realizes he didn’t. He might not have seen it coming, but it all makes sense now. And Dan knows he did this. He caused this.
He gets in the car and heads back home. He trashes his stash of dope before he goes.
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6a. Winter-Spring 1988: Atmosphere
The thing is, the dope would really help right now, but Dan doesn’t deserve ease or peace. He deserves to be raw with his grief, deserves to have it crawl up inside him until sometimes he feels like he might suffocate if he doesn’t gasp and cry and let it spill over and seep out. He started classes a week late in the fall and the school was understanding. Too understanding. That first semester his professors all looked at him like he might break down at any moment (and they weren’t necessarily off-base). Dan lost himself in music and sportscasts and tried not to feel like some of the light had gone out of the world because Sam was no longer in it. Steve Jobs had just introduced a new Apple processor and all Dan had thought at the news was: Sam probably still could’ve done it better.
Going home for winter break is as awful as Dan expected, and while his dad hasn’t outright accused him of his youngest son’s death yet, it’s clearly on the tip of his tongue every time they speak. Over Hanukkah he comes close to saying it, brings up the drugs. Dan tells him he’s been sober for four months. The timing of that event is implied, but his dad still says, “Convenient,” with a sneer in his voice. Dan takes it in stride because, honestly, there’s no one who could hate Dan more than he already hates himself.
It’s fine with Julia and Dave. No one is happy obviously, everyone’s aching, but they don’t treat him like some black sheep. Although Dan knows deep down Dave doesn’t really like him. They’re too different. His mom is quiet, sad. The streets on the block are all lit up for Christmas, yet nothing is shining in the Rydell world.
Dan doesn’t stay the whole break. He can’t. He feels like he’s suffocating, especially since he keeps hovering outside the closed door of Sam’s room, unable to make himself go inside. He goes back to the dorms after New Year’s, eats ramen, lies on his bed and listens to music in his headphones even though there’s no one around. The sound is better that way. He discovered Tom Waits after Sam’s death and has been working his way through his discography. It’s hard to think of much else when you’re swallowed up by Tom’s smoky rasp. Sam would’ve liked it. There’s snow on the ground, it’s cold and the campus is empty, but Dan suddenly doesn’t feel so alone.
One day in spring Dan is driving to meet up with some guy that he met in his journalism club, even though he has no interest in dating right now and just wants to get laid. But the guy, Adam, wants to go to a movie so that’s what they’re doing, Dan supposes. Adam wants to see Hairspray and Dan never really got into Waters and doesn’t think it’s really his thing, but hopefully they could at least make out. Dan hasn’t made out with anyone at all in -- well, in too long.
He’s got the radio playing instead of one of his mixes. Atmosphere comes on, re-released for the Substance album. His chest locks up and he has to pull the car over to the shoulder just to get some air into his lungs. Suddenly he’s back in his bedroom in Connecticut, just him and Sam with their temples together, listening to the melancholy sadness of Ian Curtis’ voice as it washes over them. Dan doesn’t realize he’s crying until he’s sobbing and can barely breathe, panic seizing hard in his chest.
He starts the car up once he calms down, finds a pay phone and cancels his date. Then he goes to Tower to buy Substance and lies down in his dorm room, listening to it on repeat.
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6b. Summer 1988: The Ledge
Dan manages to score an internship at a sports radio show in LA over the summer. He still isn’t quite sure how. Maybe his professor is just taking pity on him and giving him shining recommendations so Dan has something constructive to do with his time. Dan’s been enthusiastic in class, though, actually interested in this. Besides, he could deal with special treatment if it meant he could escape to someplace completely different. The appeal of California is overwhelming to a townie like Dan.
The job isn’t much, a glorified gofer position, but he meets some cool people and by the end of the first week he’s hanging out with some of the other interns after work. He finds himself getting into New Order when he ends up in a West Hollywood club that’s blasting “Blue Monday 88.” The beats are good and although it’s not his favorite track he ends up revisiting their older stuff, particularly “Ceremony,” originally a Joy Division song.
Dan can recognize he’s not the same. He’s not the fourteen year old who rebelled against a band just because his dad might approve of them more. Dan is well aware how foolish, how childish that notion was. He realizes now that it was never about the music, or any other innocuous topic. It was about tearing Dan down. His dad would’ve still found a reason to hate New Order if Dan had liked them. Maybe they’d have been “too gay”.
Dan definitely doesn’t mind being “too gay” in the back room of that WeHo club, that’s for sure, and he scores a mean blowjob while Bernard Sumner repeatedly asks how does it feel over the club’s sound system.
It feels pretty damn good, actually.
Aside from his newfound ability to easily hook up with guys in public, Dan’s favorite part of the LA gig is being able to hang out in the writers room and even turn out some test copy. His favorite of the writers is Casey McCall, who’s smart, funny and can command a room without even realizing he’s doing it. Plus, he’s stupidly attractive. Like GQ attractive, despite being far too pasty for someone who’s already been out in LA for a year. Casey should be on the air, not stuck writing for self-entitled douches. He’s only four years older than Dan, but he seems larger than life and wise beyond his years, while Dan still feels clumsy and out-of-place in spite of his ability to turn on confidence and become a different person if the situation calls for it.
More importantly, Casey actually sees him. He doesn’t act like Dan’s just another faceless, nameless summer intern. Dan doesn’t feel the need to “turn it on” as much around Casey. He can be more himself, even if he still isn’t completely sure who that person is when he isn’t stoned 24/7. Casey makes Dan laugh and seems delighted when Dan returns the favor, matching him wit for dry wit. Dan’s not sure he’s ever felt a connection like this before, and he finds himself jerking off to Casey’s dumb face and gorgeous hands nearly every night in his shitty apartment.
So of course he finds out Casey’s getting married in a few months. Because why would Dan be able to get something that good. After learning the news (Casey’s face beaming as he introduces his fiancée Lisa), Dan goes back to his apartment alone, gets drunk and chain smokes. He starts feeling itchy in his own skin, but he doesn’t try to score any dope even though this is LA and it would be all too easy. He has a quiet breakdown on the one year anniversary of Sam’s death and speaks to his family, but he still doesn’t buy drugs and he still doesn’t tell Casey about Sam, even though he wants to.
He’s never actually wanted to tell someone before. Normally, he spends most of his time trying to make sure no one knows. It’s different with Casey. Everything’s different with Casey. And Casey’s getting married.
He leaves the internship with a tight smile in Casey’s direction, a futile attempt at guarding his feelings. But Casey claps Dan on the shoulder, the touch warm and inviting, and presses his phone number into Dan’s palm.
“You should try and come back next year,” Casey says, his voice sincere and his smile too beautiful to do anything but get lost in.
(Dan is hopelessly, irrevocably lost.)
He nods at Casey, puts the slip of paper into his wallet, and knows he’s just enough of a masochist that he will.
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7. 1989: Love Song
Some days, when it isn’t so hard, when it actually takes him three hours of being awake to even think about his little brother, Dan hates himself with a fiery passion and wishes it had been him in that car instead.
So he tries to lose himself in creativity. He writes more, writes sports copy, writes the way Casey would want him to. They talk on the phone here and there and it’s hard to remember Casey’s a married man now while Dan’s nearly twenty and still just a dumb fuckup.
He also makes more mixes. Makes one with Casey vaguely (okay, more than vaguely) in mind and listens to it on repeat. He sleeps with guys, sleeps with girls, but never falls for anyone and has no room for anything else in his heart except the thought of being in LA again this summer.
He gets the internship and Casey’s possibly even more gorgeous than he was last year. Must be married life, Dan thinks bitterly.
He only met Lisa the one time. She didn’t seem to like him much, despite the fact that Dan had turned on the charm. Or, perhaps, because of that.
The internship is good, rewarding. Dan’s learning a lot about the way the industry works and what it takes to be in this kind of career. Being near Casey is even better, if maddening. It’s great to see their assistant producer Dana again too, even if she does get Dan stressed out from her own high energy. He doesn’t miss the way Casey smiles at her. It’s softer than the way he smiles at Dan, years of history that Dan can’t even hope to contend with. He tells himself jealousy is an ugly quality, but there are many parts of Dan that could be characterized that way.
Casey calls him “Danny” even though no one else there does. He has since the first week they met. Dan had nearly corrected him, a quiet but firm “Actually, it’s Dan,” but something held him back. He still isn’t sure what, only that when Casey said his nickname it didn’t remind him of his dad. Dan’s family mostly used the name as a way to chastise (even Sam, sometimes). On Casey’s tongue, however, the name sounds foreign to his ears. Dan could drown in those two syllables and never come up.
He and Casey work on one of the scripts together toward the end of his internship and it’s like lightning in a bottle.
“Wow. We need to make this happen. You and me, Danny,” Casey says, sounding a little breathless.
Dan would love to make him and Casey happen. Would kill to hear him sound like that while on his back with Dan's head in his lap, but he’s no homewrecker. He files the thought away for tonight in his bed and just grins at Casey like his thoughts don’t verge on NC-17 the majority of the time they’re together.
“Just tell me when and where and I’ll be there.”
Casey laughs and claps his hand on Dan’s shoulder, lingering a little as he squeezes. He’s always finding excuses to touch Dan. It would torment a lesser man, but Dan’s already drowning in enough torment of his own creation and doesn't have room for any more.
“Just hurry up and graduate, rookie.” Casey says the words with such affection that Dan's heart feels like it might bust through his rib cage.
That night, instead of jerking off, he pulls out the mix he’d been tinkering with in the months leading up to the internship. He listens to it again and closes his eyes, decision made.
On his last day, the tape is burning a hole in Dan’s pocket. He nearly chickens out, but then Casey pulls him into a hug, their first real embrace that isn’t a one armed bro thing. So Dan takes a breath and reaches into his pocket. He presses the hard plastic into Casey’s palm, recalling the way Casey did the same as he gave Dan his number last summer, his heart racing.
Dan tells himself Casey won’t know that most of the songs are specifically for him, or that Dan wasted two cassette tape sleeves printing the tracklist because his hand was shaking so hard, the words looking like chicken scratch whereas Casey’s handwriting was always so perfect, every I dotted and T crossed. He won’t know that Dan is of the mind that gifting a mix to someone is the ultimate late-80s romantic gesture and that he’s never had any desire to do that for anyone prior to this.
“Because you could use some new tunes, Fleetwood Mac,” is what he says as their fingers brush. The touch lights Dan up from the inside out in a way that he hasn’t felt in forever, maybe never truly has.
“Hey now, Fleetwood Mac is still relevant,” Casey replies, all dry wit, brilliant white teeth, and stupidly crooked smile.
“So is soccer, apparently; that doesn’t make it good, my young friend.”
Casey throws his head back as he laughs, his smile radiant, and Dan knows in that moment that he never wants to be out of Casey McCall’s orbit.
He leaves LA with his mind set on finding his way back to Casey, pulling himself together as much as it takes and being -- better. Sam’s bright light may be gone too soon, but Dan thinks some light shines around Casey and he’s not ready to let that go, unrequited or not. He’ll be alongside Casey McCall, where he belongs, the two of them finding a way to make that chemistry happen again.
Dan’s still pretty broken, and he knows he’ll never be whole again. But for the first time since graduating high school, he’s actually looking forward to the future and what it might hold.
He thinks maybe, somewhere, his little brother is proud.