Shipping and Stabbing and Feels! Oh My!

Danny gazed at his reflection, eyes tracing the marbled skin that now reached mid thigh, the color a sickly purple with splotches of growing black. It was getting worse. Even his arms had begun to mottle, the lace-like discoloration slowly reaching up towards his chest, already cold fingers becoming ice.

His body was dying, heart beating at a languid pace beneath his finger tips, unable to circulate his blood fast enough.

But it wasn’t that simple—nothing in his life could be simple. His core would slow the progression of decay, his lower body temperature prolonging his life, as much as a half ghost like him could live. Would slow the rot he feared had already started inside of him. Danny moved a shaking hand down towards his abdomen, terrified of the possibility that he’d find it warm, that the rot had already begun and was slowly eating him alive. Instead his skin was chilled, cool to the touch in a way that would alarm anyone but him. He sagged in relief, hand dropping to his side.

Moving to get dressed for the day, Danny donned his now trademark pants and long sleeve shirt, not wanting anyone to see what was becoming of him. Not wanting his friends and family to see that he was slowly dying in front of them with a smile on his face. He couldn’t put them through that, unwilling to see them run themselves ragged to try and save the unsaveable. When the time came, he would leave behind a note, claiming himself a runaway, then he would find a calm place to lay his body to rest until the time came to shed his shell.

Clockwork had said that when a halfa finally died, their spirit would become untethered from their body, only a ghost possessing an empty corpse. For the unlucky few that suffered a slow death, their body would begin to lag behind their movements, aura leaking through their skin as their senses become muffled. A fate Danny was destined to experience.

The older ghost had comforted him as he broke down, offering Danny their home should he wish to stay. He hadn’t answered, too overcome by grief and shock to process anything, and they hadn’t pressed, instead holding him close as he cried, mourning himself.

“Danny! You’re going to be late for school sweetie!” His mom’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. With a final look in the mirror to make sure everything was covered, Danny grabbed his backpack and made his way downstairs, brushing off his parents’ concerns with a roll of his eyes and a smile on his face.

He was lying through his teeth.

-

Danny shifted in his seat, unable to get comfortable as he leaned over his desk, pencil gripped loosely in his hand. He couldn’t fail this test, not if he didn’t want to take summer classes, or worse, repeat a year. If he lived that long, a part of his mind whispered. He shifted again, barely keeping himself from flinching in pain. He could feel his teacher’s eyes on him, her reprimand earlier about distracting other students making the threat of detention a very real possibility.

It didn’t help that he’d lost weight, already loose clothing now hanging off his frame. He frequently forgot to eat, appetite almost nonexistent. And with Jazz off at college, she was no longer around to remind him. He’d had to start wearing a jacket near every day just to prevent suspicion, and even then he still had to reassure Tucker and Sam that he was fine, really.

More lies.

He leaned forward, careful not to place weight on his forearm. It was still tender from when Dash had grabbed him earlier, a bruise having already surely formed even if his grip hadn’t been tight. That, paired with the bruises on his shoulder and back from carrying around his book bag caused his stomach to sink. He was running out of time.

The thought of ulcers forming flashed through his mind and he shifted once more, gritting his teeth in pain.

“Fenton! Up front!” Danny let out a sigh as he heard snickers from all around him, placing his pencil down as he stood. Something felt off, skin too tight like an ill fitting shirt, but Danny ignored it as he took a step forward. The sensation was not unlike walking through water, lasting only a moment before his leg gave out and he crashed to the ground.

Laughter bubbled up around him. Great, just great. Danny was just about to get back to his feet when white caught his eye. Blending into his hand, offset to the side by only a quarter inch if that, was Phantom’s glove.

Panic overwhelmed him, and it was only his lack of needing to breathe that kept him from hyperventilating. He was losing grip on his body, the connection beginning to fray. How long did he have left? A month? A week? A few days? He was drowning, spiraling, panic consuming him more and more and—

Somebody grabbed the back of his jacket, lifting him to his feet as he blinked, awareness of his surroundings once again settling in. Everyone was staring at him, silent. He held his hand close, hoping nobody had seen what had truly happened.

A hand pushed against his back, leading him forward to the awaiting lecture he knew he was about to receive.

“Mr. Fenton, do you find it funny derailing my class? You may not care about passing, but I can assure you the other students—”

“Dude, what happened to your hand?” The teacher sent a glare to who Danny now realized was Dash of all people standing next to him. Could this day get any worse? The blond’s words then registered in his mind and oh yes it could. Danny cradled his hand closer to his chest before letting out a hiss as the pain registered. With quick movements that belied his size, Dash grabbed Danny’s arm in what had to be the gentlest touch he’d ever received from the jock, pulling it closer to get a better look.

Good news, his hands were back in alignment so white Phantom glove wasn’t visible.

Bad news, where he landed was already starting to turn, the discolored skin around the bruise only making the injury look worse.

The teacher let out an exasperated sigh. “Mr. Baxter, please take Mr. Fenton to the nurse’s office to make sure he didn’t just break his wrist in my classroom.” She dismissed the two of them with the wave of a hand.

Pressing a hand to Danny’s back again, Dash led them down the hall, waiting until they were out of earshot of the classroom before asking, “You okay man? I’m not the smartest but even I know your hands shouldn’t look like that.”

“Why do you care?” he bit out, shoving his hands into his pockets. It still hurt but at least now there was no chance someone would see and find out his secret. Especially Dash. Ancients, if Dash was the first to find out his secret, Sam and Tucker would murder him.

Dash was quiet for a moment and Danny relished in the silence. Only another minute before they made it to the nurse’s office and he could get away from the Jock.

Danny almost didn't hear his response. “My grandma’s hands looked like that, just before she died.” The words stopped him dead in his tracks, body tensing as fear gripped him. It was too close to the truth and the thought that someone might figure it out scared him. He tracked Dash’s every movement as he turned to stand in front of him, fight or flight activated and ready to punch, run, or both at a moment’s notice. 

“Fenton, are you okay?” Dash asked, voice soft as he held eye contact. The obvious concern caused Danny’s blood to boil, a scowl twisting his lips.

“You of all people don’t get to worry about me,” he hissed, words dripping with anger. “You made my life a living hell for years but now just ‘cause my hand looks a little messed up you think you can suddenly care about how I’m doing? No, you don’t have the right to pretend to be a decent person just ‘cause you feel bad, Dash.”

He shoved passed him, dislodging the hand that grabbed his arm and taking off down the hall. Turning a corner, he barely thought as he ducked into a locked janitor’s closet, listening as footsteps ran past before slowly fading with distance. His anger quickly faded, body slumping against the wall as he sank to the ground. In the dark, he could see the light glow from his aura leaking through, illuminating the small space. How long until it was noticeable in the daylight? Would he be able to hide it? What if someone found out? Curling into the fetal position, he waited for the wave of dread to pass. The bell signaling the end of class chimed but he did not move, not until school had ended and the sun was setting and he finally felt right again in his own skin.

-

Word had spread among the ghosts that he was dying. Danny had feared it would lead to more attacks, his enemies taking advantage of the situation to wreak havoc in his home, but nothing of the sort had happened. He was given a reprieve, ghosts only appearing to offer their condolences, some even volunteering to help him settle unfinished business to make his passing easier. Skulker taking care of any errant ghosts, Pointdexter helping him with his homework, Lunch Lady cooking his meals, Ember singing him lullabies as Nocturne wove good dreams and chased away the nightmares. The truce wouldn’t last forever, something everyone was fully aware of, but who was he to not accept their help and pampering? The ghost of dreams mentioned something about getting in his good graces before the ceremony, but what he meant by it, Danny did not understand.

Even Dani had visited, the night spent stargazing on the roof as she talked of her travels, plans made for Danny to tag along in the future. It was long overdue. She didn’t stay for long, but promised to stay in the area if he needed her, flying off after a tight hug goodbye.

The most surprising guest, however, had shown up earlier that night, even if they were on better terms now. Plasmius had appeared at his window, wanting to confirm the rumors for himself. He couldn’t decipher the emotions that crossed Vlad’s face when he said yes. Debating whether or not to tell the man of his fate as a halfa for only a moment, Danny invited the older hybrid to one of the rattling docks by the lake, sitting in silence for a long time. In the darkness of the night, Danny’s human form shined as brightly as his ghost’s.

Vlad waited, giving him time to organize his thoughts and muster up the courage. Once the first word fell he couldn’t stop, everything Clockwork had told him spilling from his lips. And after the words ran dry, they sat there longer, enjoying the quiet spring night until the sky started to turn a dusty grey, sunrise not far away.

Finally, Vlad broke the silence. “You seem rather calm about all this, little badger.” There was no mirth in his voice, face schooled into a neutral expression as he processed the information.

“I’ve just had time to come to terms with it is all,” Danny replied, shrugging in response, the black fabric of his jumpsuit easily visible in the movement. “You should’ve seen me when I first found out,” he chuckled, wry smile tugging his lips.

“You shouldn’t have to have come to terms with it, Daniel,” he growled, anger clear in his tone and expression. With a deep breath to keep himself calm, he continued, “You should be looking towards your future, not… not this.”

“What future?” Danny snorted, bending his wrist back and forth and watching one hand trail behind the other, fully aware that Vlad was watching it too. “It’s not like I had good enough grades to get into college. Ancients, I’m not sure I even would’ve passed some of my classes without help from Pointdexter.” He quieted, voice going soft as he stared at the ever lightening sky. “And I couldn’t leave my town for long; the thought alone is nauseating.”

Silence settled over them once again before Danny stood, popping his joints and giving a yawn. “Well, I should head home and try to at least get in a nap.” He transformed, tossing a wave over his shoulder and getting ready to leave.

Vlad’s next words stopped him cold.

“What about your parents?” The thought alone caused him to sink back down to a crouch, arms wrapping around his legs as he buried his face in his knees. “We both know you won’t be able to get close to them as Phantom, and among the townsfolk they are one of the more determined groups to capture you.”

“I don’t want to think about it,” he whispered, the thought alone painful. He was going to miss his mom’s forehead kisses and Dad’s bear hugs, knowing that unless a miracle happened, the last ones would come soon enough. “What… what if something happens to them and I’m not there to protect them? What if they get hurt and I’m on the wrong side of the shield and can’t get to them in time?” He curled up tighter, shoulders beginning to shake. “What if they hate me?”

Vlad placed a tentative hand on Danny’s shoulder, trying his best to comfort the boy. He was silent for a few moments, before releasing a loud sigh. “Snickerdoodles, I'm sure I’m going to regret this immediately,” he whispered before, in a louder voice, said, “Daniel, what if I offered to help keep watch over your family? Skulker seemed rather adamant about offering help to make a passing easier, and this is within my abilities, even if I can’t stand your father most of the time.”

Danny blinked owlishly at him before his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “This isn’t just a plan to get with my mom, right?”

Vlad rolled his eyes. “No, Daniel. While I have no qualms about romancing my dear Maddie, I realize this is something only I can do to help, even if you have always been the biggest thorn in my side.” Vlad gave him a small smile, eyes shining with sincerity. “I promise to protect your family in your stead, little badger.”

Danny wiped at his eyes, giving a smile in return.

“Maybe now you’ll have more friends besides your cat and Skulker, fruitloop.”

“Why you little—”

His laugh echoed in the morning hours, brighter than it had been in a long time.

-

“Dude, you okay? You’ve barely touched your burger.” The concern in Tucker’s voice was palpable, brows furrowed and lips turned downwards, fingers curling as he resisted reaching out for Danny’s hand.

He waved them off, sinking into the booth, energy drained as he fought to keep his human and ghost hands aligned. “I’m fine, it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“Are you sure? Because you look dead on your feet right now and I don’t want to have to explain to your parents why we had to carry you home. Again.” Danny almost laughed at Sam’s phrasing, instead giving his friends a smile that he hoped was reassuring. He didn’t deserve them and he’d miss them so much when he left.

“I’m okay guys, really. It’s probably just a cold mixed with the stress from finals and dealing with my parents trying to plan my graduation party.” They both seemed to be placated by the lie and relaxed, even if only slightly, as conversation devolved into party planning and complaining about their parents. Danny should really give Jazz a call, see how she was managing with her own finals.

Reaching forward, he grabbed a few fries off his plate, popping them into his mouth as his friends took over the conversation. Tucker was trying to convince her to rent a bouncy house, Sam shooting down every point he brought up with a smirk and raised eyebrow. They all knew she was going to do it anyways, even if only to spite her mother.

The food churned in his stomach, cramps forcing him to hide a wince as nausea quickly reared its head. Hoping it would pass quickly, he rested his head on one arm, the other wrapping around his middle.

His stomach was warm.

-

“Our hearts go out to the Fentons this morning. Late last night, the body of now identified 18 year old Daniel James Fenton was found a few miles outside of town. Authorities say the high schooler had vanished from his residence some time after midnight three days ago and was reported missing by his parents the next morning, his phone, wallet, and a note left behind. There has been no word yet on the cause of death, experts still stumped by the case, but foul play is not suspected. If you have any information, please call the number on your screen.”

A bundle of flowers sat on the Fenton’s doorstep, baby blue ribbon holding the small bouquet together. Mums and daisies, some daffodils and a few morning glories, a couple hyacinth and even a spider lily, all surrounded by forget me nots. And tucked inside was a note, messy handwriting all but unreadable except to those who’d seen it hundred of times before.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I love and miss you guys so much, so please don’t blame yourselves. This wasn’t your fault. But I want you guys to promise me you’re not going to try and make some crazy invention to bring me back, please. I’m happier this way. You remember those pictures I showed you of the night sky in Death Valley? It’s so much better in person, but even that doesn’t compare to the view I get from the thermosphere. I wish I could show you guys, you’d love it

I left Jazz’s note with Bearbert so she should see it soon and give you a call. Or maybe she already has, who knows, I can’t see the future. Tucker and Sam got their own notes too so they might stop by, and you can show them this one too if you want, I don’t mind

See you, love you, miss you, and goodbye

Your son, 

Her dad had answered some of her questions, in the beginning, before showing her how to look up the answers online, reassuring her that she had exceeded his expectations in the knowledge she retained from her source.

That she had made him proud.

It was all she ever wanted.

-

She'd followed her dad through his lab, glancing around at the neatly filed papers, freshly cleaned tables, and large tanks filled with glowing green ectoplasm. She fully expected another motor control test—the nth one in her week-long existence—but her father surprised her as he led her to a small desk over in the corner instead, a stack of booklets piled high on its surface and a box of freshly sharpened pencils sitting off to the side.

"Sit, my dear." He pulled out the chair for her and she sat as he instructed, eyeing the thick stack of papers in front of her as he pushed her chair back in.

"These are standardized tests for the American education system that I want you to finish. That way I can see which categories need improvement. After all, no child of mine will be anything less than excellent when it comes to their studies."

She grabbed the offered pencil, opening up the packets to the first page and glancing over the instructions. "So it's sorta like the C.A.T. right?"

"Ah, I'm afraid I don't know that one, my dear."

"Oh, well it's, um, I think..." She furrowed her brows, trying to recall everything she knew about the C.A.T. but only those three letters came to mind. "Nevermind, it's nothing," she said, filing away the term to look up later as she brushed her hair out of her eyes and started on the first question, hoping to find out why it felt so important to her.

But first, she had to do well and make her daddy proud.

-

Danielle ran the brush through her hair a final time, letting out a hiss as it caught on the tangled knot that only seemed to grow.

The thought of just leaving it as it was had crossed her mind, but...

"You're a Masters, Danielle, and a Masters doesn't leave things half finished."

Extracting the brush from her mess of hair and placing it on her nightstand, Danielle slipped out her room and into the hall, padding across the hardwood and stopping in front of the large double doors of her dad's bedroom.

So much nicer than the cabin she'd woken up in.

Knocking on the solid dark wood, she waited for a few moments before hearing an exasperated 'come in', the door silently gliding open as she stepped inside.

Her dad, still dressed in his silk pajamas, finished making his bed before glancing at her, letting out a sigh as he spotted the brush in her hand. "Again, Danielle?"

She resisted the urge to scuff her foot across the floor and look away, knowing she'd get a light scolding for the behavior. Instead, she nodded her head, trailing after him into his ensuite bathroom. Like every morning before, she stood off to the side, watching as he pulled a comb from one of the vanity drawers before kneeling behind her and patiently working out every tangle, starting from the bottom and working his way up until not a single knot remained.

“There,” he said, running the comb through a final time before giving a yawn, stretching as he stood. “Now, my dear, I believe we both need to finish getting ready for the day. After all, a Masters doesn’t lounge around in their pajamas all day when there’s work to be done.”

Danielle nodded, giving him a quick hug with a ‘thanks daddy’ before making her way back to her own room, resisting the urge to sprint down the hall and burn off the excess energy built up from standing still so long.

“No running in the house, my dear, that’s what the yard is for. After all, we wouldn’t want you to break something.”

Closing the door behind her, Danielle walked over to her dresser and pulled out whatever clothing she touched first—a light blue blouse and black shorts—changing quickly before grabbing her hairbrush off the nightstand and running it through a few times, just to be safe. Wouldn’t want it to get tangled again after her dad had just spent so long fixing it.

Finished with her task, she made her way back to her dad’s room, standing next to him in the bathroom after being given permission to enter. He glanced at her in the mirror as he straightened the collar of his suit, raising an eyebrow as she ran her fingers through her hair. “Did you need something, Danielle? And if you’re going to ask me to try and braid your hair, I think we both remember how poorly that went last time.”

She shook her head, smiling up at him. “No daddy, just wanted to see if you were almost ready.” She watched as he returned his attention to his mirror, brushing out his hair before grabbing a hair tie off the counter and pulling it into his signature low ponytail. She couldn’t have a braid, but maybe…

Picking up an elastic band herself, she scrunched her face in concentration as she pulled her hair back, expression quickly changing to a pout as she finished. It looked nothing like her dad’s, uneven tightness throughout, strands of hair falling out around her face, and sitting low and to the side with small loops of hair sticking out from the band.

Hearing a sigh, she looked to her dad, seeing a small smile on his face as he crouched next to her, comb in hand. “Watch closely, my dear,” he said, pulling the tie from her hair. He went slow, brushing her hair back and holding it in place with one hand, noticing the loose strands and hesitating only a moment before using the teeth to pull her bangs free. Then with a few quick movements, he pulled her hair through the tie once, twice, three times, before letting go. “How’s that, my dear?”

Danielle beamed.

Turning and burying her head in his chest, she hugged him tight. “Thanks daddy,” she said, voice muffled, waiting a second, two, before she felt arms wrap loosely around her. It only lasted a moment before he patted her back and pulled away, but that didn’t matter. She knew her dad was awkward with physical affection, after all.

He stood, seeming to contemplate something for a moment before holding out the comb to her, the smile on his face almost warm. “I believe you have more use for this than me, my dear. But that also means you can’t rely on me to help you every morning.” Danielle nodded vigorously, taking the extended gift before holding it close to her chest. “Now, go put that in your room then meet me in the kitchen so we can figure out what we want to eat. Sound like a plan?”

“Yep,” she chirped, not able to hold back as she ran out his room back to her own, giggling as he yelled after her. For once, she didn’t worry about breaking the rules.

“Young lady! What have I told you about running in the halls?! Also you better have brushed your teeth!”

-

Danielle stood at the top of the stairs to her dad’s lab, debating as her stomach grumbled. Outside, the sun was just starting to dip below the horizon. He said he was busy and not to bother him, but… With another loud growl, her mind was made up as she began her slow descent.

If she hadn’t eaten, she doubted he had as well.

It didn’t take long to spot him, stationed in front of a table adorned with vials and curly glass tubes. Making her way over, she kept her footsteps light so as not to disturb him, coming up right behind him. “Daddy.”

He jumped, letting out a hissed ‘butter biscuits’ as the tube he was holding spilled a few drops. It steamed as they hit the table, eating a small hole through the metal. “What is it, Danielle?” he bit out, placing what he was working on in one of those spinny machines, starting it before turning to her and sending her a glare.

She shrunk under his gaze, biting her cheek as she looked away. “I’m hungry,” she mumbled, the sentence punctuated by another growl of her stomach.

There was a sigh before he mumbled, "I suppose it is rather late. Run back upstairs while I finish up, my dear, then we'll decide on dinner." She nodded, not making eye contact as she turned away before beginning her climb back up the stairs, making her way to the kitchen. Grabbing the takeout menus from one of the drawer's, she sat at the breakfast bar, waiting.

Not even 10 minutes later her father entered the room, lab coat replaced with his everyday suit. Walking over to her, he shuffled the menus around as he looked over their options. "Most of these places should be closed by now, but with a single call I can persuade them to reopen their kitchens for a final order. Now, my dear, what are you in the mood for?"

Danielle sorted through the menus, debating her options. Her stomach grumbled again, loud in the otherwise quiet mansion. Something quick then.

A colorful pamphlet caught her eye, buried under the more professional menus. Pulling it out, she looked it over, mouth already beginning to water as she looked at the half dozen pictures on the front.

Her dad raised an eyebrow as she passed him the menu. "Pizza? Are you sure you don't want to go with something a little more refined? Or at least not from some chain restaurant?"

She shrunk slightly at his tone, fingers tugging at the ponytail she'd tied herself that morning. "I just wanted to know what it tasted like... My mind's telling me it's good, but I wanted to decide that for myself."

"Pizza it is then." Danielle blinked owlishly up at him, surprise coloring her features. He chuffed at her reaction. "Come now, Danielle, I'm not unreasonable. You just simply want to compare your experience with the residual memories you inherited. And I must admit this chain  is one of the better ones." He leaned against the counter, handing back the menu for her to look over. “That, and the realization that you have yet to try pizza is rather flabbergasting to say the least.”

Something about his tone was almost wistful, small smile playing on his lips. A memory, but of what, she didn't know. Her dad didn't like talking about his past so she learned not to ask.

Glancing over the menu, she mulled over her options. She didn't know what most of the toppings tasted like, but... "I know what I want."

Danielle pointed at her choices, her dad raising an eyebrow as he pulled out his phone, listening as he rattled off her order. "Yes, I would like a medium pizza with bacon, spinach, black olives and—" he glanced at her, eyebrow raised.

"And pineapple."

"And pineapple," he finished, brows slightly furrowed. He was silent for a moment, before nodding. "Yes, that'll be a—" Danielle tugged on his sleeve, cutting him off. "Just a moment." He turned his attention to her once again, exasperation coloring his tone. "Yes, my dear?"

"Aren't you getting anything, daddy?" She knew he was adamant that no snacks were kept in his lab where they could easily be contaminated. And with how little he ate during breakfast, he had to be hungry by now.

She watched as his expression flitted between various emotions before he sighed. "I'd like to add a large pepperoni pizza as well." She smiled up at him, listening as he finished up the order before flipping his phone shut.

"It'll be here in 25 minutes, likely sooner if they realized who I am based on my address. Now my dear, how about you get washed up for dinner while I set the table."

She did as she was told before standing at the window, watching for the headlights signaling their food had arrived. At the first sign of headlights she called for her dad. "Foods here!" It took another two minutes until there was a knock on the door and Danielle listened to the stammering of the delivery driver as her dad paid. Then the door was shut and she bolted to the kitchen, taking her place at the table.

Her dad laughed. "Someone's excited." She only nodded, watching him place the boxes on the table before dishing out the food. It smelled amazing.

But when the plate was set in front of her, she looked at it in confusion. How… how was she supposed to eat it? Her dad had scolded her for eating spaghetti using her fingers before, but she also knew people ate burgers without silverware, so which...?

She watched as her dad began to roll his pizza before he stopped, lips turning down at the corners. A beat. "Let me grab us some forks." Standing, he walked to the kitchen, returning moments later with the utensils in hand.

Handing one to her, he took his seat back at the head of the table, cutting his pizza into bite sized chunks. She followed suit.

With a single bite, pizza immediately jumped to being her favorite food. It was sooooo good. She quickly finished off her slice, grabbing another. Her dad chuckled. "I take it you like it?" She nodded, mouth full.

"I will admit this was a good idea, Danielle," he praised, taking a bite of his own pizza. "And it's been far too long since I've had pizza myself."

Danielle polished off her second slice, silently eyeing her dad's pizza. She had her own and it was really good, but she'd never had pepperoni before...

"Would you like to try a slice, my dear?" Her dad chuckled at the way she froze for a moment, eyes wide before she chirped out an excited 'yes daddy'.

He pushed the box towards her, watching as she quickly swiped a slice. "Take as much as you want, my dear. While I hadn't realized how hungry I was, I doubt I'll be able to finish it myself." Three more made it to her plate.

While the pepperoni wasn’t  as good as her pizza, it was still delicious.

Piercing one of the larger pieces with her fork, she’d only gotten it halfway to her mouth before it slipped off, landing unceremoniously in her lap. Her lips turned down into a pout, mourning the loss of the multiple pieces of pepperoni and, to a lesser degree, her yellow shirt. “Oh, butter biscuits.” The words fell from her lips, quiet and unintentional.

Her dad burst out laughing.

The sudden loud noise startled her, jumping slightly as her attention was ripped away from her fallen food, blinking in surprise as he leaned forward, the hand over his face doing nothing to quiet his laughter. She’d… she’d never heard him laugh so loud before, much less for so long. A chuckle maybe, here and there, but nothing that caused his shoulders to shake or quick, resulted in gasping breaths from a lack of air. He wiped moisture from his eyes, a wide smile on his face.

She couldn’t resist.

She joined in.

-

“Pizza’s here,” Sam called, walking into the room balancing four boxes of pizza, quickly handing them out. “We’ve got Tucker’s extra meaty meat lovers—” she handed him the top box, wrinkling her nose slightly in distaste, “my superior cauliflower crust spinach-tomato-basil-pesto—” the box was placed gently in her spot, “and whatever cursed combination you two got.”

Danny quipped out a ‘don’t knock it till you try it Sam’ as he took his pizza, Ellie following suit. Bacon, spinach, black olives and pineapple, yum. She’d only been mildly surprised her and Danny liked the same kind of toppings, laughing as his friends groaned at both the revelation and Danny’s cheering.

She hadn’t expected her return to Amity Park without the threat of literally turning into a puddle to warrant a celebration, but she wasn’t complaining. It was her first warm meal in who knew how many months that wasn’t also stolen. Placing the open pizza box in front of her, she looked around in mild confusion, realizing no plates or plasticware had come with it. Her brow furrowed. How was she…?

“You good?” Danny asked, picking up a slice with his hands and eating crust first, ignoring Tucker’s call to ‘just eat pizza like a normal person’. Well, maybe not ignore, the boy quick to roll his pizza up before taking a second bite much to Tucker’s obvious displeasure.

“Yeah,” Ellie said after a moment, tentatively picking up her own slice, copying Danny as she took a bite of the crust. It was odd after spending so long cutting it into chunks, but the crust always  had  been her favorite part, even if eating it first made it harder to hold. Maybe she'd roll it after the crust was all gone...

“Ugh, not another one,” Sam groaned, sticking her tongue out as Danny did the same.

“Y’know,” Tucker started, already finished with his first slice, “I can really see the family resemblance between you guys. Is all your extended family such weird eaters?”

“Oh, I guess I forgot to tell you guys. Ellie’s not my cousin, she’s my clone.”

“WHAT?!”

 Val continued her trek, surrounded by the call of birds and the skittering of animals in the brush. By all definitions the afternoon was peaceful, but still she held tension in her shoulders, muscles taut and senses on high alert, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

Some rustling in the bushes got closer and she slowed, looking in the direction of the sound out of the corner of her eye.

 There was the call of challenge from the girl, the exact words lost to time, but the boy's blue eyes lit up in mischief, smiling wide in response as he nodded before the two took off into the woods surrounding the path, laughs echoing off the trees.

 Movement caught Val’s eye and she turned, watching as a fox stepped out from the forest and onto the path, stark white coat standing out against the green. It took a seat on the mossy stone, tilting its head as it stared up at her. For a moment, the forest was silent and even the breeze seemed to still. The creature’s gaze unnerved Valerie, its eyes too blue to be natural. Too knowing. Too human.

The fox let out a sharp bark—short, high pitched, reminding Val of a small yappy dog. They stared at each other, neither moving.

 They wound through the trees, ducking under branches as the forest grew thicker. The light grew dimmer the deeper they traveled, the foliage above growing denser and greener as they went. Both ignored the small voice in their heads, warning them to turn back, that this place wasn’t safe. Neither listened and continued on, not noticing the forest had gone silent.

 Valerie clenched her fist, glaring at the thing before her, ready to defend herself if need be. Her mind was screaming at her, telling her this was no ordinary fox, that it was a creature—a monster—that wouldn’t hesitate to kill her if it so pleased. She knew what monsters like it could do to a person, had witnessed it first hand more than once.

Around her wrist, her bracelet grew warm.

 The two broke into a clearing, gasping laughs echoing eerily off the surrounding trees. Glancing around, the girl’s brows furrowed, confusion coloring her face. “Hey, where are we?” She didn’t recognize the area, even though the two of them had extensively explored the woods in their free time.

She turned to her companion, only to notice him staring ahead, eyes wide and body tense. Following his gaze, her mouth opened in awe at the immaculate trail of torii gates that stood at the far end of the clearing, a winding stone path flowing beneath them.

 The fox gave another bark, almost as if in warning.

 “Wanna see where it leads?” Val grinned at him, bouncing on her heels with an itch to explore. The confusion from earlier had faded, replaced by excitement and a strange sense of comfort, quieting the red flags her mind was noticing.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Valerie…” the boy trailed off, apprehension clear in his expression as he stared at the gates.

“What, are you scared or something Danny?” His eyes snapped towards her at the remark, scowl twisting his lips as he gave her a half-hearted glare and grumbled out a quiet ‘I’m not scared’.

Glancing between her and the gates, the tension slowly drained from his shoulders and he tossed her a smirk before taking off down the path, calling out over his shoulder, “Race you!”

She laughed as she chased after him. “Hey, that’s cheating!”

 Grinding her teeth, Val waited, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. A beat. Two.

The fox grinned at her, head tossing back in a wheezing laugh, and all at once the sounds of the forest came rushing back. She flinched, squeezing her eyes shut against her better judgment, hands flying to cover her ears from the sudden assault of noise.

Taking less than a second to adjust, she opened her eyes and brought her fists in front of her, ready to attack. But the fox was gone, its exit as silent as the forest had been, no trace of its existence left behind.

 Valerie chased after Danny, unable to catch up to the lithe boy, her surroundings growing darker and darker as she ran. Glancing around, she caught sight of red flowers beyond the tall ends of the torii gates. Slowing her gait until she was at a standstill, she furrowed her brows, trying to place the flowers that she knew she knew. Her eyes trailed the long spider-like tendrils reaching upwards from the stem and it clicked into place.

Spider lilies.

 Val waited a moment, listening for any sign of the fox’s return. Minutes passed before she cautiously continued up the stairs, eyes darting around, on the lookout for any sign of danger. Her skin crawled with the feeling of being watched.

 The comfort from earlier disappeared in an instant, dread taking its place.

 Finally reaching the top, she glanced around at the abandoned shrine. The building had fallen into disrepair, locals too afraid to visit after word got out of all the people that had gone missing, mostly children. Even Valerie herself had only begun visiting recently, her daddy not letting her near the place for fear she’d be spirited away as well. Like she had almost been as a child.

 “Valerie, run!” That was Danny. Her eyes snapped away from the flowers towards the sound, watching as he barreled towards her, cut on his cheek dripping red down his face.

Red like the torii gates.

Red like the spider lilies.

 But she was an adult now, and this time she knew how to defend herself.

Glancing around, she took note of the lack of weeds and moss on the stone, a big difference from the stairs she’d just climbed. It even looked recently swept, so she knew he was nearby. Not like he was ever not. He was her only companion here ever since she’d started visiting again, and it was only with begrudging acceptance that he was too quick to hit did she tolerate his company.

“And here I was thinking you’d taken my advice for once and stopped visiting.” The voice came from above and behind her and she whirl around, fixing a glare at the figure lounging on an overhanging tree branch.

 She was shoved from behind as Danny pushed her to move, legs catching the momentum as they both ran back the way they came, the path seeming to stretch on in front of them. Sounds grew louder behind them: growling, chittering, groaning, skittering, howling, unintelligible whispering. Fear clutched her heart as she willed her legs to move faster.

 He smirked down at her, mischief in his green eyes. His dark haori fluttered in the wind, contrasting the light colored kimono and hakama he wore, crossed right over left as always. If she didn’t know how much of a dick he could be, she’d probably be in awe. White hair caught in the breeze, ears perked towards her like she was the only thing he cared to pay attention to in the world, seven tails tipped with green draped over the bark.

But she did know he could be a snarky little asshole so instead she just scowled up at him. “Like I’d ever listen to you, Fox.” She crossed her arms as she glared at him, watching as he let out an inhuman laugh before he descended from the branch, landing so light and graceful it reaffirmed his appearance wasn’t the only thing inhuman about him.

 “Watch out!” She was pushed to the side, just out of reach from being grabbed by something, spindly limbs too long to be human. Still, not far enough as its long talon-like fingers dragged across her upper arm, opening up large cuts in her skin. The rancorous noise behind them grew louder as her blood flowed.

She stumbled for only a moment before Danny was there, pushing her along as they fled.

 “Such a stubborn human.” He pulled a fan from his sleeve, opening it to cover the bottom half of his face. But Val still knew he was smirking at her, amused. The bastard was just being coy.

Yeah, no.

Quickly turning around, Valerie made her way back to the stairs she’d come from. The squawk she heard caused a smile to pull at her lips but she quickly schooled her expression, turning back towards the kitsune. The poise he’d held earlier was gone, instead replaced by a ruffled flusteredness as he made his way over.

“C’mon, you just got here. Why don’t you stay a bit? Please?” he whined, reaching for her arm but she moved out of the way, turning and throwing a punch in his direction instead.

 Her legs were growing tired, lungs drawing in gasping breaths as she ran. She had been running for too long; they should have already exited the torii gates and been back at the path by now. Her fear built, wondering if the stretch before them would ever end as it twisted and turned in ways she was sure it hadn’t earlier. Behind her, Danny’s own breath rattled in his chest and she reached an arm back to grab him and make sure he didn’t fall behind.

She’d never forgive herself if that happened.

 He easily dodged her attack, holding his arms up in mock surrender as he took a step back. Too slow again.

“Want some tea? I can grab you some tea. I’ll need to heat up the water but that shouldn’t take too long.”

They went through the steps of their song and dance. She’d arrive, he’d do something to piss her off, then offer her something when she turned to leave. She doesn’t accept—never will, and they both know this—but still she’ll stay anyway.

“And risk you burning the place down? No thanks.” Brushing past him, she made her way over to the old broom she’d spotted earlier, preparing to sweep away any debris he’d missed.

 She couldn’t speak, breath stolen from her lungs and exhaustion pulling at her steps. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to wipe them away, smearing blood on her face instead. The sounds were getting louder. The monsters were close.

They turned a final corner and ahead, Valerie could finally see the exit. They were almost there.

 While he wasn’t the best company, Val did appreciate how he helped the time fly by with his constant chatter—even if he did get a bit snarky or worse, make bad puns. And having a second set of hands never hurt.

In fact, sometimes it was almost nice, especially in moments where the conversation lulled. She didn’t know what he got out of helping her clean up the shrine—he’d even started doing it when she wasn’t around if her earlier observations were anything to go by—but she appreciated it nonetheless. Not that she’d let him know that.

“I’m just saying, you’d think tourists would realize the shrine isn’t exactly open the second they saw the state of the stairs but noooooo. I’ve gotta try to herd them back down before they start getting nosy and poking around. Don’t they know it’s rude to enter someone else’s home without permission?”

“I could say the same thing about you, Fox,” she replied absentmindedly, running the back of her hand across her forehead as she finally finished clearing out the last of the weeds that had encroached on the edge of the shrine. She didn’t miss the hollow chuckle he gave in response.

 Danny wrenched his wrist from her grip, shoving her forward as he called after her. She used the momentum to her advantage, stepping past the gate and into the night air.

 The sun was beginning to sink low on the horizon, sky just starting to turn a mix of orange and pinks. Night would fall soon and while she was not afraid of the dark, something about this place had always unnerved her the second the sun was fully set. Even as a child, she felt like she was being watched by something lurking in the forest around her, just out of sight. Because as night fell, so too did an unnatural hush fall over the mountain.

Even the fox boy grew weary as night approached, always trying to get her to leave so she’d be safe at the bottom of the steps by the time it hit. And the few times she wouldn’t have made it down in time, he’d insisted on her staying the night, fear leaking into his voice as he spoke.

She refused to chance it if it got too late after the last time, the first and only time she'd heard noise come from the moonlit woods. The fox boy hadn't left her side until she was at the edge of town that night.

 There was movement to her side, and she just barely caught sight of a blur of white as the wind picked up and a cry echoed through the air. Heart hammering in her chest, she kept going.

 As if one cue, he spoke up. “Hey Red, it’s starting to get a little late. You should probably head out soon.”

“Yeah yeah.” She waved him off, going over to where she’d placed her bag near the empty pond. Retrieving it, she walked over to the living quarters, bracing herself as she slid open the door. No wall of dust greeted her. So he was cleaning the place up. Walking inside she navigated the halls before coming to a small room, fully aware of her white shadow trailing behind her, though he made no sound.

 She didn’t look back as she left the clearing and dashed into the treeline, weaving through the trees and tracing her way back to the path on a route that had been different not even an hour ago. The noises from the monsters chasing her had stopped but she did not slow, heartbeat loud in her ears and ignoring the pull of branches in her hair or feeling of thorns on her skin. The dense canopy grew thinner, night sky visible between the leaves.

Finally seeing a break in the treeline, Valerie gave one final burst of energy.

 Stepping inside, she made her way over to the small cabinet in the corner, grabbing a cloth from her bag to wipe off any dust that had settled before taking a seat on the cushion in front of it. Her gaze traveled to the picture resting on the shelf. A young boy with messy black hair and bright blue eyes. Danny.

Reaching again into her bag, Val placed a napkin and cream bun on the shelf—one of Danny’s favorites.

The Fentons had encouraged her to sit at the small shrine with them as they talked to Danny about their day, placing food on the shelf whenever they made too much. Her therapist said it sometimes helped people cope with the loss, a way to keep their loved one close to them. Valerie never spoke, preferring to sit in silence with her thoughts instead, a habit she kept to this day.

Even when the Fentons moved away, they offered the picture of Danny to her, but she declined, saying it didn’t feel right to move him.

She’ll never forget the image of Jack smiling down at her, eyes red-rimmed and usual rambunctiousness tamed as he told her he’ll leave it here for her so it’ll be there whenever she needed it.

 Breaking through and onto the path, she bent doubled over as she tried to catch her breath, throwing a smile over her shoulder.

Danny wasn’t there.

She waited, breath caught in her throat as she listened over the roaring in her ears for any sound to indicate he was behind her and just out of sight.

Silence.

 Even after years of not being allowed to visit and the place falling into disrepair, Val still kept up the habit. The first time she’d walked through those doors—each footstep creating a plume of dust as she went—and sat down before the photo, placing her leftover lunch before it, she felt a little bit of the guilt fade away.

Guilt for being the reason they were there in the first place. For not being able to save him. For being the one to make it out.

 Her legs gave out beneath her as she collapsed to the ground, hiccuping sobs resounding in the night. Distantly she heard the sound of voices, curling into a ball as she shook in despair, eyes unable to leave the patch of trees she’d just come through.

He wasn’t there. He wasn’t there. Where was he?

 A shuffle sounded from behind her and Valerie’s expression darkened.

She’d heard stories from the town elders. Stories of the pure white fox that was seen around the shrine and guided lost travelers to safety. A protector, a guardian. She only hoped the kitsune behind her felt as guilty about not being able to save Danny as she did.

She had never seen him enter the room, so maybe he did.

 Beams of light swept over her form before there came the sound of shouting. Arms wrapped tightly around her, trapping her in a warm hug that she didn’t have the energy to fight. A moment later and her mind registered the smell of her father’s cologne.

Her daddy. He was crying.

But she couldn’t hug him back—couldn’t tell him she was alright—because Danny was still out there somewhere. Somewhere she’d left him. Left him behind.

A blanket was draped over her shoulders—by whom, she didn’t know, unable to look away.

Some adults followed her stare, making their way into the woods she had crashed through. What felt like hours passed before they returned empty handed.

No no no nO NO!

Tears poured from her eyes as she buried her face in her father’s shoulder, sobs wracking her body as reality crashed down around her, draining her of the little energy she had left until she was silent, too exhausted to make a noise.

 Quietly she rose and left the room, neither making a sound as she approached the stairs. It was later than she normally left, but she knew there was still enough time before it got dark.

Placing her foot on the top step, she paused when a voice called out to her. “Be careful on your way home tonight.” She looked back at him, his form backlit by the setting sun. But even then she could tell he was watching her like he sometimes did, eyes trained on the old scar hidden under her sleeve. He never spoke to her after she paid her respects—one of the reasons she did so just before getting ready to leave. It was nice sometimes, talking to someone without the need to pretend to be something she’s not.

She rolled her eyes in return, trying to dispel the tense air around him. “Don’t worry Fox, I know how to take care of myself.” Turning back around, she threw a hand up in a wave, continuing down the steps even when he spoke again.

“Oh, and Red—”

 Adults fussed around her, wiping away the blood and grime that clung to her hair and skin, asking questions about what had happened and where she’d gone. At some point, someone cleaned and dressed the wound on her shoulder. But Valerie herself was numb to her surroundings, barely able to understand the words that flowed over her. The events of the past hour—days? Someone said it had been days? Had she really been gone so long?—settled in her mind. A cool breeze kicked up, bringing the promise of winter weather soon.

She pulled the blanket tighter around herself, Danny’s last words to her playing on repeat in her head.

Jordam felt the shame bubbling inside her as she picked herself up off the ground, sword just out a reach from where her dad knocked it out of her hands after she'd pestered him into sparring. She'd been bothering him all day, she knew that, but the sad look in his eyes was more noticeable that usual today and she— she just wanted to cheer him up somehow. At his weary sigh she ducked her head, stubbornly refusing to let any tears form as self hatred and guilt mixed with what she was already feeling.

"Jordam, please, not today." He wasn't even looking at her, glancing off to the side like he often did when it was just the two of them.

The hollowness she'd always felt panged in her chest, a missing piece she had never known but all the more apparent in moments like these. She wasn't even worth his attention.

Had she ever been? Her siblings liked to claim she was the favorite, but Jordam knew better; her dad rarely looked at her without his gaze drifting to the side. What he was looking for, she didn't know, but she could see the heartbreak it left behind.

She tried to cheer him up—realms she tried—but she could never chase away the sadness in his eyes. Was she not good enough for him? The thought was like ice to her core. She looked up to him, wanting to be just like him when she grew up, but everything she did never seemed to be enough. She just wanted to be enough.

"Then when?!" She watched through teary eyes as his attention snapped towards her, caught off guard by her tone. "Every time you say not today but 'today' never comes."

Her dad held his hands out in front of him in an effort to placate her, a sad smile on his face that just made the emotions swirling inside her worse. "Daddy's just tired today Jordam, we can spar tomorrow."

"NO!" She stomped her foot, fists clenched at her sides as her frustration built. He didn't get it! "That's not what I meant! Every time I try to cheer you up, you just brush me aside without even looking at me! You never look at me! It's like everything I do is never good enough!" The tears are falling but at this point she doesn't care, emotions boiling over. "All I wanna do is help! Am I really that much of a disappointment that you can't stand the sight of me without being sad? Do you really hate me that much?"

She could no longer see past the tears in her eyes, hands rubbing her face in a futile attempt to wipe them away. She choked on a sob, voice wavering as she continued, "Maybe you'd be happier if I didn't exist—"

Whatever else Jordam was going to say was cut off as Levi wrapped her in a bone crushing hug. "Don't say that— please don't say that I— I can't— I can't lose you too. I can't. Not my strong little girl, not my Jordam, not like Fe—" He cut himself off, burying his face in her hair as he wept, holding her close as she cried into his chest.

Phantom buried his head in his arms, curled into a ball and tucked away in the corner of a dead end alley, hidden from view by a large dumpster. He'd heard Danny calling for him earlier—how could he not? He hadn't even gone far in the first place, not even a block over, but when he heard the rapid approach of footsteps, he only curled up more.

He was a coward, unable to face his friend. Not yet. He hadn't even meant to get angry but it had snuck up on him, only made worse by the guilt he still carried. Danny hadn't deserved that.

Jazz would tell him he should talk to someone, not bottle up the guilt and anger and sadness, let himself mourn (mourn who? His father? His dad? His childhood? Himself?). But how could he? Jazz herself was still a child—so young compared to him—and he knew their parents would rather he leave and never come back, especially if they found out what he did.

Repressing your emotions isn't healthy and oh his inner Jazz was getting good. But still the risk was too great. He— he couldn't be alone again. Not again. Even if Danny and Jazz and Sam and Tucker would be better off without him, he was selfish and couldn't let them go.

He missed his parents; they always knew how to cheer him up and make the bad feelings go away. His dad talking him through it, untying his jumbled thoughts one by one until they were manageable. His father letting him into his lap and holding him close, letting him cry into his chest as he hummed and stroked his hair. Both willing to drop everything until he felt better.

He pulled his legs closer, hunching his shoulders as he choked back a sob. He just wanted them back.

But they were gone and he'd never see them again. His father locked away by Phantom's own hand and his dad locking himself away after, leaving him behind alone with a duty too heavy to bear.

Phantom had no idea how long he sat there, curled into a ball, but long enough that the sobs slowed into sniffles.

Clattering down the alley caught his attention and his head shot up, scanning the area. A moment, two, then a black cat slinked out from behind a trash can, eyeing him quizzically as it approached. Slowly as to not startle the creature, Phantom brought a hand out, rubbing his fingers together to try and coax if closer.

The cat watched him for a moment before giving a quick meow and approaching, clearly not afraid of him and oh, Phantom could hear them purring. Poor thing must have been abandoned just like him. Holding his hand out, he waited as the cat inspected the appendage, a small smile pulling at his lips.

He remembered taking care of the stray cats around the castle, sneaking leftovers from the kitchen whenever he had the chance. On one memorable occasion, he smuggled a mama cat and her litter into his room, scrambling to hide them when his dads came to check on him.

Looking back, they probably weren’t fooled by his excuse that he wasn’t feeling well, cat hair all down his front.

His patience paid off when the cat moved closer, closing their eyes as they headbutted up into his palm.

They passed through.

Instantly their ears went back, tail puffed as they narrowed their eyes with a growl before taking off back down the alley. But Phantom paid them no mind, too focused on the dread and fear building in his stomach.

Maybe, maybe it was just a fluke? Yeah, that was it, there’s no way he could—

His arm was partially phased through the wall; he hadn’t even noticed.

His panic skyrocketed.

What—

Why was—

How could—

Danny.

Something was wrong.

Like a rocket he shot up, rounding the corner at the mouth to see if he could spot the raven haired boy. Nothing. Did he loop back around to where they split up? Did he decide to check the main roads? Did he give up and go home? Where did he  go ?

Feeling a pull in his gut, Phantom turned, gazing down the branching path he hadn’t come from earlier. If he only heard Danny run past once then...

Phantom didn’t give it a second thought as he zipped down the alley, stopping at every intersection for only a moment before following his gut as he called for his friend. Worry and terror built every time he clipped through a wall or trash can or corner in his haste; where  was he?

White caught his attention as he passed an intersection, quickly coming to a halt as he backtracked. What he saw made his stomach drop: a boy collapsed on the ground, white shirt standing out against the surrounding greys and browns. Phantom smelled blood.

“Danny!” He was at his side in an instant, hand reaching out to try and shake him before he froze. What if— what if he just passed through? Just the thought was paralyzing and Phantom hated himself as he pulled his hand back, too afraid to find out if his fears were reality. “Danny please, wake up!”

He was still breathing, but any comfort found in that was quickly chased away at the memory of Phantom standing above his own body, watching himself breathe evenly. Was Danny...? Phantom glanced around him—dreading the possibility of seeing the boy look so like himself—but the alley was empty.

Maybe, maybe he was okay then. He had to be. He had to.

Phantom couldn’t lose anyone else.

“Please, don’t leave me too.” He placed his hands on the ground in front of him as he leaned over Danny, tears streaming from his eyes as he sobbed. “I don’t want to be alone again.”

---

Muted. That was the only way Danny could describe it as he laid there, unable to so much as move a finger. Touch, hearing, his own thoughts, everything—as if he was experiencing the world through someone else, firmly stuck in the back seat. His panic from earlier was gone, replaced by a calm detachment. It was so… dreamlike, the pressure of the concrete beneath him barely keeping him grounded. He almost wanted to fall asleep there, let himself sink into unawareness and just… float away. But he could not close his eyes, unable to even look away from the spot he’d been staring at for who knows how long. His eyes could blink and his chest could move and his heart could beat, but any voluntary movement was out of reach.

His awareness fluctuated, consciousness barely hanging on in some moments and in others slipping away entirely.

There was a noise, close or far off, he couldn’t tell. He listened, unable to make out what it was, sounds too distorted in his current state. It felt like he was underwater. But then the sound was louder and clearer and someone— Phantom, Phantom was calling for him and he sounded so scared. A tightness he hadn’t noticed before released from around his chest and the world came rushing back, drowning him as he slipped under.

  “Please don’t die.”

Danny groggily opened his eyes—when had they closed?—as his senses slowly returned. Pinpricks of cold littered his cheeks, new spots blooming every few seconds. He tried to move his arm—reach up and wipe away the cold—but he barely lifted his wrist before a wave of exhaustion hit.

Hey, at least that was progress from earlier.

“Please, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Phantom.

Danny looked towards the voice, barely able to see him out of the corner of his eye. He was crying. He sounded afraid.

Feeling like he was moving through molasses, Danny reached a hand out, placing it over Phantom’s curled fist. He heard his breath catch in his throat, watching as his eyes shot open. Blue met green and with all his strength, Danny used his other arm to push himself into a sitting position, grounding his teeth and fighting off the wave of vertigo that came with it.

He tried to speak—to tease him and try to lighten the mood—but Danny’s vocal cords weren’t responding to his commands. Instead he smiled, squeezing their hands as Phantom stared at him wide eyed. He glanced between Danny, their hands, and back, bottom lip starting to tremble. Danny barely stopped them from falling over when Phantom enveloped him in a hug, his form shaking as he held him close.

“Phantom?” Danny’s voice was gravelly, confusion evident in his tone.

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault. Please don’t hate me. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Slowly, the pieces came together. Whatever that feeling was earlier, it was bad, and something about it scared Phantom. Phantom, who loved Halloween and horror movies. Who fought off magical creatures with bravado. Who brushed off Danny’s parents’ threats as if they were no big deal. The only time he’d seen him scared before was when Danny was in danger and…

Oh.

Reaching an arm up, Danny wrapped it around his friend and held him close as he wept, rubbing circles on his back as he waited for the tears to run out.

“Lord Clockwork, if I may have a moment of your time.” The wretched creature turned to look at them, confusion and apprehension clear on their face. His hair was in a simple plait, no doubt the work of their great King. How his Majesty could stand the presence of such an insufferable, conniving ghost, the Order would never understand.

They watched as the time ghost schooled his expression into one of indifference, an eyebrow quirked upwards. “I didn’t realize those in the Order were capable of traveling alone. To what do I owe the pleasure, oh single Observant?”

Internally, they were seething. How dare this vile thing speak to them in such a way. If they had not seduced their King, he would be bowing to them, begging for forgiveness for their miserable existence. But they did not let their irritation show. It was a well known fact the miscreant was wary of the Observants, in part due to them not having expressions he could easily read, so they had removed their cape and loosened their robe beforehand, doing their best to exaggerate their body language: ghostly tail flowing rhythmically, shoulders relaxed, arms swaying at their side. All in an effort to lull the temperamental ghost before them into a false sense of security. Even if it does violate dozens of rules within the Order and makes their skin crawl to do so; they had been given permission so as to complete their great task.

“Lord Clockwork, I heard that you were looking for a gift for our great King— ” they watched as a fond smile wormed its way onto Clockwork’s face at the mention of King Pariah, shoulders relaxing as he brought a hand up to stroke their braid, “and I believe I may have found a suitable present.” They bobbed their head in false excitement, hushed voice growing louder as they spoke.

Suspicion still clear on his face, Clockwork nodded their head and watched as they rummaged in their sleeve a bit before pulling out a small box, already talking as they presented it to them. “I’ve heard word of the stories you tell of the humans, Lord Clockwork. Many of us have, although the others would not admit to being curious about the tales you hold. But one of them stuck with me.” They opened the lid, watching as Clockwork moved to get a closer look, wonder in his eyes. They were too easy to read. “The way humans show affection for another by gifting a ring.”

They watched as he carefully lifted the box from their hand as if afraid it might bite them. When it did not, they pulled the ring from its slot and inspected it in the light, rotating it around to admire the craftsmanship. The words Yours for Eternity were engraved around the band, and they watched as a serene smile pulled at his lips.

By the Order, it took every ounce of control not to narrow their eye in glee, watching as the magic from the ring drained them of their suspicion, as was its design. No wearer of the ring would question the Observants, allowing them to do as they pleased, loyalty growing the longer it was worn and harder to break if removed. The magic being infused with the metal prevented its detection, so all Clockwork saw was a ring of pure silver.

They kept talking, trying to expel the excess energy they received as the weight of their duty lifted from their shoulders, watching the plan become one step closer to completion. “I found the concept to be alien yet intriguing—truly it is my favorite story I’ve heard told—and when I came across this, I thought it must be fate. And, well, I didn’t want to be presumptuous, my Lord, but I thought you might appreciate my findings. I came across a talented metalworker in my travels across the zone; their specialty was infusing a calming aura into their works.”

Clockwork sent them a look, suspicion growing once again. How stupid could they be to let that slip? The menace cared for the King in their own twisted way, their protectiveness of him nearly enough to warrant calling it a secondary Obsession. Of course he would become unsettled knowing the ring was magic.

“Does it now? And for what reason did you decide to choose this ring?” Pull it back a bit, they could do this. They were chosen for their cunning and conniving nature after all, almost on par with Clockwork themself.

Fiddling with their hands, they looked down to avoid eye contact, voice hushed once more. “Word has it the King has been stressed, my Lord. I wanted to help him, our Great Uniter, in any way I could. Even if it involved a bit of magic, although I had no intention of deceiving you or our King.” They peaked up at him, watching his reaction. They seemed to debate the lie, placing the ring back into the box and clicking the lid shut.

“Thank you for your honesty; such a rare trait in Observants these days. I take it knowledge of the spell diminishes its effects?”

“Yes, my Lord, but not by much.” The stupid thing would be worthless if that were the case. What was the point of controlling someone if the spell could be so easily broken?

“Very well. Now, I must take my leave before King Pariah comes searching for me. Wouldn’t want you to be caught breaking the rules of the Order, now would we?” Clockwork winked at them, and they forced a giggle as Clockwork continued on their way, the box held firmly in their grasp.

“Thank you, my Lord,” they called out after them, this time no lie to be found in their statement. With a final wave, they turned around and dashed back to their superiors, intent on telling them of their success. And if they moved faster than the rules allowed, well, what was one more broken rule?

The next time they saw their great King, in all his regal glory, the snake was at his side and a silver ring around his finger.

"Asshole," he muttered, crossing his arms and leaning back against the brick as he waited. Eventually Phantom's laughter died down and he righted himself in the air, lazily floating just off the ground in the way he knew irritated Danny. Wasn't his fault his friend was short even if they were the same height.

"You done?" Danny groused, grabbing Phantom's forearm and pulling him down until they were eye level again.

Phantom just sent him a bright grin in return, settling against the wall next to Danny, body turned to face his friend. "For now." Danny rolled his eyes. "But really, it's not that bad. Give it a week and everyone will forget."

"Oh really? Remind me, who's been going to school longer here? 'Cause last I checked it wasn't the floaty asshole."

Phantom stuck his tongue out at him—Danny returned the gesture—before continuing. "I'm serious. Your mom gave you your lunch during the school safety assembly, so what? It’s not the end of the world." He knew how… forgetful Danny’s parents could be, so wrapped up in their work that they barely noticed the happenings in the world around them. Being overbearing seemed to be how they tried to make up for it.

They reminded him of his dad sometimes, holed away in his study as he poured over tomes. His father would send him in first before following close behind, a plate of food in his hand; with a kiss on the cheek he’d hand it to his husband after he’d been thoroughly distracted. Sometimes his dad would leave his study for the day, other times he’d let Phantom curl up on his lap as he continued reading, his father’s humming putting the boy to sleep.

Danny pushed off the wall, beginning to pace in the enclosed space, frustration leaking into his voice. "She could've waited until it was over! Not make me get up from my seat and walk all the way to the stage and grab it!"

"Would you have stuck around if she had?" Phantom interrupted, arching an eyebrow as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Danny deflated slightly, steps slowing. "Well, no, but that isn't the point."

"Would you rather her not bring your lunch then?"

"No—" he mumbled, clearly pouting as he avoided eye contact.

"Then what's the issue?” Hand pressed against his chest, he pitched his voice up, trying to imitate the school’s gossip queen. “Oh noooooo, Danny Fenton's mom made sure he got his lunch after he forgot to grab it when he left this morning. Soooooooo embarrassing."

Foot stomping the ground as he turned to face Phantom and arms animated at his sides as he spoke, Danny snapped back, "Because she could've dropped it off in the office! She could've given it to Jazz for me to grab later! Something that wasn't having me walk in front of the entire school to get it! And I tripped!" He said it like it was the worst thing ever, as if his clumsiness was their fault.

Phantom couldn’t help but snort as the corner of his lip quirked upward. "Hey, at least you didn't actually fall or something. Then you'd be the kid whose mom put a bandaid on his knee in front of the entire student body. That you'd never live down."

Danny buried his face in his hands as if the mental image alone was too much. "Oh realms, she would. Ugh why do my parents have to be so, so." He waved a hand in front of him, at a loss for how exactly to describe how his mother acted today.

"Parental?" A glare.

"You don't understand. Like, why couldn't they just be normal people or something?"

"Oh, you mean not monster hunters, so you could go live a normal human life?" He couldn’t keep the bite out of his words, irritation spiking. Yeah, Danny could’ve lived a completely normal life—no magical creatures, no unicorn blood, no Phantom. 100% normal, leaving Phantom to drift aimlessly, unable to interact with the world. Glad to know what he really thought.

"I didn't mean it like that, you know I didn't," Danny tried to placate, knowing he’d hit a nerve.

"Yeah, sure," he scoffed, turning his head before pushing off the wall and floating upward, ready to be done with the conversation.

"I'm serious! I just—I wish they were less eccentric sometimes. They can just be so much and they either don't know or don't care about how much they embarrass me.” He spoke like embarrassing parents were the worst thing in the world, as if he wouldn’t miss it in the future when they were dead and gone and all he could do was reminisce about the past.

Phantom did. He missed when his dad teased him about stumbling over a spell ‘cause he couldn’t get the words to flow properly off his tongue, or when he’d fall asleep sitting on the arm of a chair only to jolt awake when he began to fall. His father having all the pages and squires gathered around them as they sparred, not holding back as he kicked his ass before critiquing his form. When he’d catch Phantom skipping out on studying to train, lifting him in the air by his leg and carrying him all the way to his tutors, not caring who all saw. Both of them teasing him the time he tried to pretend he hadn’t snuck out and stayed up all night, insisting he was awake at breakfast before falling asleep with his face in his food not moments later.

He missed it—missed them—so much sometimes and would do anything to get them back, even if they could be embarrassing. Anything.

Lost in the past, Phantom airily replied, “They’re parents; that’s basically their job.”

“Why are you even standing up for them?!” Danny snapped, jolting Phantom out of his thoughts with the hostility in his words. “Just the other day one of their prototypes went off and almost took off Jazz’s head then blasted a hole through the wall! And yet I was the one that scrubbed the scorch marks off their neighbor’s house and picked up the debris from the yard. Or when dad was so distracted by what we were having for dinner that he forgot to secure the lock and we ended up with a faerie infestation at school that I got in trouble for.

“They’re beyond embarrassing and I always seem to be with one stuck with cleaning up their mess!”

Phantom opened his mouth, ready to agree that yeah, they weren’t the best parents by any means, but he knew Danny still loved them and if they acted like different people then they wouldn’t really be Danny’s parents. But Danny didn’t give him the chance to interject, continuing on with a rant Phantom was certain had been building for a long time.

“Also, you don’t know what it’s like to be constantly compared to someone else! To have everybody judge you just because of who you’re related to. Everyday people see me as that clumsy stupid Fenton kid with the weird parents and super smart sister! I just want people to see me as Danny, so is it too much to ask that they for once in their life act like normal parents?”

He clenched his fist, irritation boiling over. He didn’t understand? Danny was the one who didn’t understand. The whispers, the forced smiles and calculating eyes, the kindness that was only surface deep. Danny didn’t know how it felt to overhear day after day the whispers that claimed he wasn’t strong enough—wasn’t good enough—to fill his father’s shoes, that he wasn’t worthy of his title as heir to the throne. To hear people talk behind his back, saying Pariah was just taking pity on the small urchin he’d found, that the only reason he was fond of him was because Phantom looked like the King’s mage. That maybe he was the mage’s son, and that it was all a ploy to usurp the throne and gain power.

Even children avoided him when finding out who he was, mothers whisking them away when they saw their child’s new playmate. Worse were the ones who later told him they never wanted to see him again, fear in their eyes and head filled with the rumors of children going missing after offending the young prince. Lies, but no amount of talking would convince them otherwise. The rumors ran too deep.

Everyone knew him as the Prince, as the King’s heir, the tiny skinny child who couldn’t handle a sword until he was nearly a teen. But not Phantom, never Phantom.

All he had were his parents, who were by all means too busy to watch a child but did it regardless. Even if they were embarrassing and weird and not normal, that didn’t matter. Because they cared. Because they loved him and he loved them too but now they were gone and he missed them and he just wanted them back. “At least you have parents!” Silence filled the alleyway in the wake of his outburst and it took a moment before the reality of what he’d said sank in.

Tears pricked his eyes and Phantom covered his mouth, form wavering, unbelieving of what he’d just said. He didn’t— he hadn’t— he never talked about his past outside of vague details. Because Danny was too kind not to worry, not to want to help him. But Phantom didn’t want that because he wasn’t deserving of it. How could he look Danny in the eye and tell him how he missed his dads so much it hurt when knowing that he was the one who sealed his father away, that he was the reason his dad went into seclusion to try and break the curse the king had fallen to. He abandoned his duties as heir, watching over his father’s resting place to prevent anyone from meddling and either killing his father or waking him up.

He knew what unicorn blood could do yet couldn’t resist the temptation to try it.

His life was one fuck up after another and he couldn’t bare to see Danny treat him differently if he knew what Phantom was really like. He didn’t want to lose his first true friend.

“Phantom?” Danny was looking up at him—when had Phantom floated so high?—with concern in his gaze. He couldn’t— he needed— he wasn’t ready.

Phantom released his already loose control of his appearance and disappeared, ignoring Danny’s call of “wait—” and doing the only thing he knew how to do.

He ran.

---

Danny weaved between alleys and main roads, searching for any clue as to where his friend might have gone. He had never seen Phantom so upset and just the thought made Danny’s heart ache, an uncomfortable pressure building and building the more he looked.

Where was he? He’d never strayed too far from Danny’s side before, preferring to stay nearby and ramble on about anything and everything. He’d always wondered if there was a reason for it or if Phantom just liked the sound of his own voice sometimes. But the hurt, the loneliness he’d seen on Phantom’s face when he’d shouted felt like a slap. He’d known Phantom was old, but he’d never considered just how long he’d been detached from the world, unable to interact with anything—a silent watcher. How that could have hurt him.

A thought wormed its way into Danny’s head and he felt his heart stutter, hand gripping his chest. Did he leave people behind? Did he have parents who missed him, who spent years looking for their son that never returned? His gut churned. Did he leave behind a body for them to bury?

Sweat dripped from his forehead, breaths coming in labored gasps. He took a step and stumbled, arm shooting out to catch himself on the wall, brick biting into his palm.

Something— something was wrong. Phantom, had to find Phantom. Had to—

Another step and Danny’s legs gave out beneath him, a haze filling his mind. He barely felt the sting of concrete when he landed, mind detached from his surroundings. He couldn’t move, body no longer responding to his commands, eyes gazing blankly at the wall.

Phantom—

Needed—

Find—

Valerie dug her heel into the shoulder of the ghost beneath her, blaster trained on the center of his chest—right where his core should be. Her body thrummed with energy, triumph flowing through her veins and senses sharpening at the pained gasp that slipped from his lips. He was completely at her mercy.

Lips twisted into a sneer, the voice in her head purred at her, malice dripping from every word. Take the shot. Get revenge. Kill him.

Oh she would, but first she'd savor this victory. The feeling was intoxicating, finally finding relief for an itch that had been growing and growing and growing. Every time she'd caught Phantom off guard, landed a lucky shot, caused him to recoil away in what she hoped was fear, it had scratched at it. But it was never enough to satisfy her. Not until now.

A single shot from this distance would destroy an average ghost—a fact she had confirmed over and over—and even strong ones wouldn't get away without permanent damage. A second shot was usually enough to finish them off.

It's what they deserved for trespassing on her territory, her town.

How many would it take before the ghost that had ruined her life was only a puddle of ectoplasm? She couldn't wait to find out.

"Val, please," Phantom begged, and oh how she enjoyed that sound. But the sound of him choking when she stepped on his throat was even better.

It was euphoric, this desire coursing through her that was so inhuman, it would have terrified the Valerie from not even a year ago. Now she reveled in it, this feeling that had been slowly growing stronger and stronger ever since her suit had been upgraded. A tiny, rational, human part of her mind told her to stop, told her to let Phantom go, but she was quick to squash it.

Her finger tightened around the trigger.

Hazy ectoplasmic green eyes stared up at her in a mixture of fear and confusion, head wound leaking the same sickly neon that all ghosts shared. He placed a hand on her leg, not strong enough to push her away in his current state.

Please, he mouthed, focus quickly fading as more green pooled on the ground.

She pulled the trigger.

A portal, larger than the one he and Maddie and Jack had worked on during his college years and—if his calculations were corrected—fully functional. It had been his goal for so long—the only thing keeping him going some days, as he stole and manipulated his way to this moment, gathering the funds and resources he needed to make their his dream a reality and silencing anyone who threatened to get in his way. It had been a grueling task maintaining the calm and poised facade he had developed to dissuade suspicion of his intentions. Every word carefully crafted, every movement planned, every contract scrutinized for even the slightest possibility of a loophole.

Every nosy reporter who dug too deep “persuaded” to investigate his competition, revealing scandals orchestrated by Vlad’s own hand.

And after the days filled with navigating high society were the sleepless nights spent going over their his notes and trying to make sense of the loopy cursive and the chicken scratch; the tiny diagrams and drawings in the margins; the calculations and jumps to conclusions that seemed to have no connections to each other.

His degree had been neither in engineering nor physics that was them, always them, it’s why they worked so well together and had gotten so close but there was nothing money couldn’t buy. Reading and rereading thick tomes passing as the latest textbooks, he paved a solid foundation of knowledge that only grew over time until he could connect the dots and reason his way through leaps in logic that had puzzled him previously.

But that wasn’t the hardest part, the hardest part was seeing the coffee stains and little doodles and Jack’s tangents and Maddie’s corrections and the blood blood blood.

Soon, he would be the first to find definitive proof that ghosts exist, gather readings from the other side, and get an answer to the age-old question of if there’s life after death.

And maybe, just maybe, he’d find someone to help him learn more about the ghostly abilities he struggled to get under control in the years since the accident betrayal incident. Possibly find beings like himself that straddled life and death. The thought alone made him giddy with excitement.

Maybe there was a cure, something to turn him fully human again so he could finally face them and the guilt he saw in their eyes.

Finger stilled on the button to start the machine, he took a grounding breath he didn’t need. This was it, the moment of truth. Anticipation brimming, he pressed it and watched as a swirling green filled the once empty center. It flickered and fizzed before holding steady, a hum emitting from the machine or the portal itself, Vlad didn’t know.

He did it, it worked. It worked!

Euphoria rushed through him and the unnatural hum in his chest intensified, smile pulling at his lips as he ran a hand through greasy white hair, the dark bags under his eyes standing out against his pale skin—for once not hidden under makeup. A laugh bubbled up in his throat, tears building in his eyes as the relief that it worked hit him. He did it, they did it, they really did it!

Vlad spun around, their names on his tongue, before the realization hit and the joy seeped from his bones.

He was alone, had been alone for years now. Left behind as they moved on with their lives he heard they had a daughter now with a son on the way, tossing him aside the second he was out of sight. Abandoned. Unwanted. Unloved.

Deflating, he rubbed at his face, trying to ignore the anger that was beginning to boil beneath his skin. Anger at them for leaving. Anger at Jack for the incident. Anger at himself for believing, even if only for a moment, that they were still within his reach. Angry that he might have—that he was—that he lo—

He ground his palms into his eyes, pushing aside that line of thinking. The few tears that escaped burned trails down his cheeks, too hot to be natural. Too hot to be human.

Grinding his teeth, he pulled on the heat in the center of his chest and felt it wash over him, skin burning reminiscent of the incident all those years ago. He’d grown used to the temporary pain that came with shifting forms, senses dulled to the heat after all this time.

Hovering before the portal, bathing in its green glow, Vlad steeled himself. He would find answers to his questions. Would show the world that had mocked him, mocked them, that they were right. That Jack Fenton, Madeline Walker, and Vladimir Masters were right.

He didn’t waste another second before flying into the swirling green.

But he wouldn’t find his answers—not all of them. Not the important ones. No mentor, no cure. Just mocking whispers that demanded more proof of his findings and laughed at him behind his back.

Maddie let out a pleased hum as she came down from her climax, exhaustion settling into her bones as Jack pressed kisses to her neck from his spot beside her.

He nipped at her skin and a tired giggle bubbled up her throat, placing a hand on his bare chest as she gently pushed him back. "Jack, let me rest for a few minutes. I'm not as young as I used to be."

"Sorry, Mads," he mumbled, capturing her lips in a kiss.

Before it could deepen, Maddie felt their third bedmate shift from where he was still comfortably nestled between her legs. Jack pulled away, instead sending them a honeysweet smile as he ran his fingers through long tangled silver hair.

Maddie watched as Vlad Masters melted at her husband's touch, pressing his head up into his hand as his eyes closed. She was still... apprehensive about the man. He had been uncomfortably forward in his advances, and more than one she had thought about hitting him with the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick. Not to mention the whole ghost thing, but...

But her husband's had always been smitten with the halfa and Vlad had apologized to all of them for his actions. She hadn't forgiven him—possibly never will—but she knew he was trying to change, could see it in so many of his small interactions with her family.

She gently tugged on the leash in her hand, the movement pulling at the collar around his neck and drawing his attention towards her, half lidded eyes opening and still clouded over from pleasure.

Okay, seeing him like this—at her mercy and willing to follow her every command—also helped. He was good with his mouth and more than willing to play along with some of her fantasies. And she was no stranger to sex without strings. Harriet could attest to that fact.

But sometimes the old Vlad would shine through, the man she knew in college that still had stars in his eyes and believed the world to be good. How many jagged edges did they need to wear down before the man she admired came back? Or did that version suffocate under the anger and grief years ago, only bits and pieces remaining?

She cautiously brought her other hand up to join her husband's in his hair, carding her fingers through it and gently scratching just behind his ears.

Oh.

He was purring.

They both knew just how much Vlad disliked his ghostly traits bleeding into his human form, so the fact he felt comfortable and relaxed enough to start purring...

Maddie felt her heart melt just a bit.

She watched as her husband sent him a smile filled with so much love and devotion, she wondered if his love for the man ever even faded during the 20 years of silence? Knowing Jack, probably not.

He removed his hand from his hair, instead running his fingers down his back as the other gently cradled one of his hands, uncurling his fingers and placing gentle kisses to the pads there that Vlad was usually so self conscious about.

He purred louder—louder than Maddie had ever heard from him before—and nuzzled back into her thighs. Oh that felt...

She let out a pleased moan, hand tightening on the leash. She'd gotten her break, and based on the hungry look in Jack's eye as he gently dragged his fingers down Vlad's back, he was more than ready too, the quiet keen from Vlad only adding to his growing hardon.

Maddie tugged at the leash, drawing Vlad's attention from where he'd begun placing kisses to her skin. Holding his chin in place, she made sure she had his full attention before her own wolfish smile curled her lips.

"Ready for another round?"

-

The second and third times were much the same; his consciousness barely able to cling to awareness for more than a few seconds. Hearing the same muttering voices as before, he felt his mind stir briefly before slipping back under.

-

However, the fourth time things began to change. His mind managed to shake off the deep fog, and awoke to the same weightlessness he’d come to recognize, the same bright lights, the same distorted noises; all things that he couldn’t quite comprehend. Summoning his limited energy, his heavy eyelids fluttered open and he took his first look at the world.

It was blurry; tinted green.

His brow furrowed. What was green?

He didn’t understand where this knowledge came from; mind producing the word without a clear point of origin.

Movement caught his attention, pulling him out of his mind. Shadows— people, his mind supplied—rushed around; the warped sounds increasing as they scrambled.

“Sir! The subject appears to be awake!”

“Status?”

“Oxygen levels and blood pressure stable.”

“No signs of cellular decay.”

“The ectoplasmic to fluid ratio appears to have zero negative effect.”

One of the figures walked forward, a blur of white and brown. It bent down, eyes meeting his own, but still too blurry to be clear.

“Hope this one can hold itself together then.”

His eyes darted around, new instincts screaming at him to not allow a single shadow out of his sight. The noise levels rose as more and more of the white blurs scattered around. It was so much—too much; his mind trying to keep up with the unfamiliar and oh so new sensory inputs bombarding him.

“Subject’s heart rate is spiking! Sir! Destabilization risk rapidly increased to 37%.”

“Sedate it, agent! If all we have to show for our effort is another puddle of slime the Commander will have our heads!”

“Yes sir, injecting sedative.”

He felt fuzzy as the green surrounding him pulsed brightly—turning a vivid neon before he faded back into the darkness.

-

“The subject appears to be conscious again, sir...”

He wasn’t sure how long he had been unconscious, but the thing that roused him made his face scrunch up in confusion…or was it disgust? He could taste something...bitter? The word came from nowhere, but it felt right, somehow. Something was bitter, but not unbearably so. The new sensory input probably had way more to do with waking him than the taste itself had.

He tried to open his eyes once again, but the next words stopped him cold. A sense of...something rushing up his body like a chill.

“Put it back under, we don’t want to risk any complications at this late of a stage.”

He understood. Somehow his brain linked the sounds to words with meanings, slotting them into his mind like a puzzle he didn’t know he had the answers to.

He understood, but his mind was still slow to grasp what they meant. Any attempt to try and string the meanings together into something that made sense was brought to a halt by a pulse of light before he was yet again pulled back under the haze of unconsciousness. But for the first time, he was looking forward to waking up again.

-

The cycle repeated. Drift into consciousness, listen to what the figures were saying, maybe even discover some new sense or word before he was sedated and the process began anew.

Although the green tint still persisted, his vision had cleared somewhat. Eyes now able to see, every person that crossed his field of view was unique yet similar. Each wore long light green coats, those with longer hair had it tied up and out of the way, and many wore glasses. They all had one thing in common though; dark bruising shadows under their eyes.

Strange…

The (shadow?....no that was a person...) person that caught his eye most was the one referred to as Sir. Their lab coat was rumpled, long brown hair wrapped in a messy bun. Their most noticeable feature was the muddy brown squares always seeming to slide down their nose that did nothing to hide the dark circles bruising their eyes.

He’d figured this was probably the person in charge. He also thought they should probably be the one sleeping instead of him. He didn’t understand why he thought these things.

During his stretches of awareness in the cyclical dance of sleeping and waking, he realized a few things. One; his word comprehension had improved leaps and bounds, mind no longer lagging behind as he listened in on the chatter around him. Two, he had more knowledge about the world than he knew to do with, words and tastes and concepts he couldn’t place an origin to flitted about in his mind. It was strange to him, but he didn’t understand why. 

According to the scientists whose bags were almost as deep as Sir’s, he should be ready for the “final check” within the week, “so long as no more complications arise”. He didn’t know what that meant, but he’d overheard them talking about a procedure. He was to be kept awake for longer and longer durations as they monitored his vitals, all to ensure there would be no issues.

Even with this knowledge, waking up to the green tint—the light and color that always surrounded him (ectoplasmic fluid he’d heard someone say)—being drained from the world around him was jarring. It made him feel a slight twist in his chest, and he didn’t know why.

He blinked, once...twice, and then the feeling of weightlessness left him.

He fell.

The instant his feet touched the ground, his arms shot out to try and steady himself. He collided with a clear barrier—glass? He was in a tube—doing nothing as his legs gave out from under him. Thick liquid bubbled up his throat, his body thrown into a coughing fit as lungs worked to expel the bitter green goo from his airways. After a few tense moments of wheezing, he finally was able to take in greedy lungfuls of air. He was still adjusting to the shift in perspective, and had to close his eyes when a warm clear liquid—water, perhaps?—started spraying him from above. He heard his breathing rattle his chest as he felt the shower wash away the last of the green solution he’d been submerged in.

In, out. He wondered why he hadn’t needed to breathe before. In. Out. The water surrounded him in a strange sort of comfort, the ectoplasm in his...room? was all he’d ever known. After what felt like hours the water shut off. He opened his eyes, blinking away any lingering droplets out of his lashes. He saw the strange people standing before him.

The coats weren’t green, they were white .

Everything, it seemed, was white. From the spotless floors and walls to the shiny tables and chairs and even the computers. Everything was a blinding white. He thought it strange, but didn’t know why. He missed green. The only specks of colors were the people themselves—the scientists, his mind told him.

The sound of hissing shocked him from his thoughts, the mechanical clicking louder than anything he could ever remember hearing. A chill breeze ghosted over his skin from behind as he snapped his head to look over his shoulder, and his mind registered what had once been a room constantly enveloped in shadows was currently as bright as the lab in front of him.

But that wasn’t what caught his attention most. No. Along the wall of the room there were several more pods exactly like the one he was in. Most were empty but a few seemed to be filled with the same green he’d been held in. He blinked a few more times. Those containers... he looked carefully and could just barely make out vague humanoid shapes of varying sizes submerged within.

He didn’t have any time to think before two people in white hazmat suits stood tall before him, their forms blocking the other pods from his line of sight. With stiff movements, they lifted him up and out, gently carrying him to the singular piece of furniture in the room: a tall white bench. They set him down carefully, as if he might shatter with the slightest breeze, quick to place small white squares on his forehead. They repeated this with his wrists, chest—most everywhere on his thin body. He wanted to lean into the contact, but before he could even comprehend what was happening, they pulled away. A large holographic screen appeared beside them, filled with so many numbers and symbols and lines that it made his head swim.

“Vital signs seem stable. Heart rate is holding steady.”

He looked at them, blinking in the bright light of the room, still trying to decipher the information. He startled for a moment as one of the hazmats carefully gripped his chin, tilting it up towards their faces. They produced a strange metal tube and swept a blinding light across his eyes. He tried to pull away, blinking rapidly, but the grip held strong.

“Photopupillary reflex is good.” A snapping sound by his ear made him try to jerk his head, unable to break the strong grip. “As is its response to auditory stimulation,” they said with a sigh, finally letting go of his chin with a glare towards the other hazmat.

He turned his head quickly to try and keep both of them in his field of vision, wary of what they would do if he took his eyes off of them for a moment. His worry was broken after what seemed minutes when one of the hazmats finally spoke again.

“Alright, I need you to nod twice if you can understand me,” said the one who snapped by his ear earlier. There was a moment of hesitation before he complied, turning most of his attention towards them. He couldn’t see the figure’s smile, but their eyes—warm and brown—crinkled in happiness, crows feet more pronounced than before. 

Next to them, the other hazmat—he thought they had hazel eyes—seemed to be taking notes.

“That’s wonderful. Now, we’ve got a few questions for you as well as some sensory and motor control tests we need you to do for us. Think you can do that?” He nodded hesitantly. “Perfect,” the person responded with a smile in their voice.

-

He was directed to lean back until he was laying flat on the bench, his exhausted body still not used to the continuous movement, let alone being awake for so long. He grimaced after he’d collapsed not three steps into a walk around the room; a test to gauge balance and fine motor skills. He felt a tugging, squeezing sensation in his chest, not wanting to disappoint, but Brown-eyes just laughed and told him it was fine, setting him back down on the bench.

They instructed him to follow a finger left to right, another test of holding his arms up and outstretched for a count of ten. That one was harder than he’d thought, arms shaking after only a moment. Deep breathing was another thing they wanted to test, and his heartbeat. He thought he had one at least? He followed the instructions and felt himself tiring further, a small yawn slipping out of his mouth.

“Well, aside from suboptimal muscle mass, low stamina, and some minor dexterity issues, your test results were good—Great even! Miles better than we expected, in all honesty.” Hazel-eyes removed the white patches from his body while Brown-eyes talked to him, praise in their voice. He saw as the lines of the strange screen went flat and the numbers dropped to zero. Brown-eyes continued, “Now I’m sure you’re tired so w-”

There was the click as the door unlocked, followed by an airy woosh. Both hazmats stood up, ramrod straight, looking to the entrance. He felt cold, a shiver finding its way down his slight frame. Brown-eyes was the one to respond first. “Sir, we were just finishing up the testing.” 

He followed their gazes, his eyes widening as Sir walked into the room with an air of authority and a heavy step. Their coat was also pure white, no longer stained with a green tinge from the ectoplasm. Their bun had more fly-aways than usual, but what really caught his attention was their glasses—no longer were they a muddy brown but rather a bright, bold, fire engine red. Their dark circles seemed more pronounced too. They looked tired. 

“You can leave then,” Sir called with a wave of his hand. Instantly the two were rushing out the door, leaving him alone with Sir. He watched as they circled around him, their icy blue eyes sending a rush of...something through him. He felt like he was being analyzed, a calculating glare hungrily staring at all the data he could provide...

He liked Brown-eyes better, he decided.

“Its muscle tone is minimal, suggesting inadequate strength, with a minor twitch in the left hand, but that is not unusual… Some cosmetic defects present, but that can be overlooked for now...” They spoke aloud but he understood the words weren’t directed towards him. Sir circled around him like a predator with its prey for a moment longer before speaking with a slight grin. “Overall, acceptable.” Coming to a stop in front of him, Sir held their arms behind their back, standing tall and proud. “Usually we’d wait before testing vocal patterns and supernatural abilities, but I already have the commander breathing down my neck, so we need to hurry things along.” Another grin. Their eyes didn’t match their smile like Brown-eyes’ did.

A nod to indicate he was listening, signalling Sir to continue. “Now, ask me any questions you’d like and I will do my utmost best to answer.” The light reflected dangerously off their glasses.

Any questions? Any at all? So many flooded his mind. Who are you? Where am I? Why are there more tanks filled with green stuff? How long have I been asleep? The questions kept rolling, overlapping, and turning into a jumbled mess of chaos, but one stood out among the rest. One he figured needed answered before all others.

A question he felt like he’d choke on if he didn’t ask it.

“Who,” he cleared his throat, voice soft as he spoke his first words, “who am I?”

Sir scoffed, blue eyes sharp as they looked down on him. “Not a who, a what .” Pinned by their gaze, his mind absorbed the new information. “Experiment number 31. Classification: Clone.” A wide smile stretched their lips.

He gave a weak nod as the meaning sank in. A what. Not a person, but a clone, a copy. Inhuman, a thing, a tool. A part of him fought against those words, but it was small and easily quieted. 

He felt a firm tug on the tape, sending him off balanced as he crashed forward, skidding across the ground before being pulled into its grip.

In an instant, its claws sunk into his chest. He felt his ribs snap as liquid bubbled up his lungs and into the back of his mouth, the taste of iron coating his tongue. And in one swift movement, the beast's serrated teeth tore into the flesh of his right side.

He opened his mouth in a silent scream.

Searing pain ripped through him, static filling his ears as he lost focus, unable to think about anything else. He was scarcely aware as his body was tossed through the air, only of his throbbing side as he landed in a crumpled heap on the ground.

The sound of explosions broke through the static as a voice boomed, "Hanta! Get the hell out of here!"

Bakugou.

More explosions resounded throughout the area as Sero took a gasping breath, more red liquid dribbling passed his lips. Blood pooled around him as he fell into a coughing fit, body shaking as a chill seeped into his bones.

Shakily lifting his head, he saw Bakugou standing between him and the monster, palms crackling threateningly. He tried to move, to get away like the explosive blond had told him to, but more pain shot through him and he collapsed back on the ground, cradling his shredded arm to his chest.

A fog blanketed his mind as tears rolled down his cheeks. More blasts reverberated throughout the area as he clutched the bitten appendage closer to himself, breathing becoming shallower.

It hurt. Everything hurt.

Make it stop.

"Somebody get Hanta!"

"I got him, I got him!" There was the sound of footsteps before a figure crouched before him, then a quiet, "Holy shit..."

He felt the figure gently grab his sides, moving him upright. Sero couldn't help the hiss that slipped passed his lips, more blood dripping down his chin. With effort, he tried to focus on the figure in front of him, mind fuzzy.

"Ka... K–Kaminari?" he slurred out, confused.

"Y–yea–"—a sob—"Yeah, it's– it's me, Sero. It's me. I got you." The fear was palpable in the blond's voice as he sent him a broken smile, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

He wrapped Sero's good arm around his shoulders, hoisting him up as they made their way away from the creature. Every movement sent another spike of pain through Sero as his head started to spin, leaning his full weight on the smaller boy and shuffling along beside him.

Darkness encroached on his vision as nausea settled in his stomach, Sero no longer able to lift his head.

Lowering Sero's body and resting him against a tree, Kaminari was no longer able to quell the panic that was beginning to take hold. "Oh my God. No, no, please. Th–there's... There's– there's so much, I– I can't!"

He felt the boy prod at his wounds as his heavy eyes slipped shut.

A shake.

"... –ro, pl–please, I..."

"... –ing to stop the bl–..."

A loud screech.

"... –nari!"

Sero's eyes cracked open, the world a blur of colors around him. His head rested on his shoulder, too heavy to moved as he watched a blurry yellow figure rush forward to a dark mass. They met in the middle, and then:

"Maximum discharge!"

A thunderous boom resounded and Sero's ears rang, blocking out all other noise. Electricity crackled along his skin, more pain radiating from his side as his limbs involuntarily twitched, nose and throat burning from the smell that now sat heavy in the air.

Something grabbed him, pain raking up his side and whiting out his mind, body too heavy to move. The pain only increased with the sudden pressure on his side.

Make it stop.

Please.

And then the weight was gone as an invisible force pressed down on his arms and legs. Almost like...

Almost like he was being held down.

Why was he being held down?

Panic swelled in his chest, body urging him to move. Get away. Find out what was happening.

Another burst of pain as something tightened around his arm.

His body felt like lead, and even minuscule arm movement or a simple twitch of his fingers was a Herculean task, leaving him drained. Turning his head so his cheek was no longer pressed into the ground, the fog that filled his mind slowly began to recede, bringing with it pain that threatened to drag him back under until he was teetering on unconsciousness once more.

Ears still ringing, he forced his eyes open, squinting against the light that caused his head to throb. Everything was just blotches of color, vision unable to focus as he lay there, trying to parse together what was going on around him.

Pink.

Red.

White and more red.

What...?

Something was pushed into his mouth, sitting heavy on his tongue and preventing him from biting down. A moment later, there was a touch to his forehead and the feeling of fingers carding through his hair, soothing the fear before it could further latch its claws onto his mind.

All too soon the feeling was gone and once again his arm was being held down, this time his fingers being held in an almost crushing grip.

Sero jolted upwards, muffled cries of agony tearing from his throat as his arm burned. He screwed his eyes shut as tears streamed down his cheeks, biting down on the gag and feeling nausea crawling up his throat as an acrid smell filled the air.

Help please help make it stop make it stop it hurts someone help it hurts make it stop please make it stop it hurts so much.

He sobbed, mind blank aside from hurt as he writhed on the ground. Everything instinct was telling him to move, get out of the hold pinning him to the ground, curl up and cry and hold his arm close and stop the pain.

Stop stop please stop it hurts it hurts so bad stop please why are you hurting me?

And after an eternity, it was over.

His body collapsed, tension draining from him as his chest heaved with every breath, irritating his scratchy throat as he swallowed the blood building in his mouth. With each exhale he let out a groan, black spots dancing in his vision and threatening to pull him under. To render him unconscious and unaware of the pain. To finally bring relief to his suffering.

A light weight settled itself on his chest, radiating warmth and chasing the away the cold that was slowly consuming him. His hand was squeezed tight, and then—

Snap.

A tormented scream ripped through the air, head flung back as the fabric in his mouth did little to stifle the noise. And then fire was coursing through his veins, the stench of burnt flesh nauseating as it hung like a thick cloud around him.

He took gasping breaths, unable to fill his lungs as chills ran down his spine. It felt like he was suffocating, panic taking hold as his visioned darkened. Heart pounding in his chest, his mind grew fuzzy as everything around him began to fade.

Within moments he was pulled under, slipping into unconsciousness.

Used my personal experiences as reference for the loss of consciousness and extreme rapid drop in blood pressure. As for the blood loss from an injury, I just went what fit with the story ‘cause that’s like the opposite of what I experienced

A bark of laughter drew his attention to the small group dancing where couches and a table once resided, eyes instantly finding Mirio. He wore a wide grin that was almost blinding when Kawaguchi hip checked him with a smirk on their face, before giving him a light shove when he didn't even stumble. More laughter could be heard over the music as Kawaguchi's face turned a light pink and they stuck their tongue out at their classmates before swatting Mirio on the chest when he joined in.

Tamaki couldn't help but smile as he watched them, watched Mirio ruffle Kawaguchi's hair, watched his classmates joke and tease them both, watched as they all seem to gravitate around Mirio with his bright smiles and magnetic personality.

Not for the first time, Tamaki thought 'sun' was the perfect descriptor for Mirio.

"Hey, hey, Amajiki! What're you doing over here?"

Tamaki jumped, whipping his head to the side to face Hadou only to lean back when he realized just how close she actually was. A short distance behind her was Haya carrying a plate piled high with snacks, looking at her with an exasperated smile.

"Um..." Tamaki could feel the eyes of his classmates on him, curious about the cause of Hadou's sudden outburst. All he wanted to do was sink into the floor because even after three years, being watched by his classmates still caused a surge of anxiety.

Hadou didn't give him a chance to properly respond before more questions were thrown his way. "Are you enjoying the party? Don't you wanna join in? What're you looking at, anyway?" She cast a quick glance to the group in front of the TV before turning her attention back to him. Tamaki didn't like that look in her eyes. He could already feel a blush crawling up his neck.

"Staring at Toogata again." The way she said it wasn't a question and she didn't give him a chance to even open his mouth to deny it before her onslaught of questions continued. "Why don't you go over there and talk to him? Are you too nervous? Do you want me to get his attention instead?"

There was a beat of silence as if she was waiting for an answer, but Tamaki was too tongue tied to respond. In the next second, Hadou raised one of her drink-filled hands—waving it slightly and Tamaki's afraid it's gonna spill—and called out, "Hey, Too-!"

Tamaki had never been more grateful to Haya than in that moment. "Hey, Nejire, didn't you wanna watch a movie in my dorm tonight?" She's wrapped her free hand loosely around Hadou's wrist, easily drawing her attention away from Tamaki.

He didn't hear the ensuing conversation, eyes darting around to his classmates. Thankfully, the music was loud enough that she hadn't caught everyone's attention, but Tamaki still saw some of them looking his way, sending small smiles with the occasional giggle. They knew him well enough to know not to stare, but that didn't stop his ears from burning.

He turned his attention to the group near the TV and his eyes met Kawaguchi's. Oh. They sent him a smirk and a wink and Tamaki's face was on fire. In that moment, he truly envied Mirio's Quirk, doing his best to make himself appear smaller.

He watched as they elbowed Mirio to get his attention, nodding in his direction before leaning in to whisper something, their smirk only growing wider. A flush rose to his cheeks as he excused himself from the group and made his way to the corner that Tamaki pressed himself into.

"Ah, Hadou, Haya, enjoying the party?" Tamaki's eyes darted to the side, only just remembering that the two were still there.

"We were just heading out, actually. It's movie night," Haya said, her free arm now wrapped around Hadou's waist. "You can join us if you want, Toogata."

"Maybe next time." He grinned at them as he slotted himself at Tamaki's side, throwing an arm over his shoulder and pulling him close. It had the desired effect as Tamaki felt the tension drain out of him, leaning heavily against Mirio's side as his body went lax.

"Are you sure? Yuuyu's making popcorn! And Sensei said we could stay up late tonight so we were gonna watch a bunch of Disney movies. What's your favorite Disney movie, Toogata?"

"The Little Mermaid," he stated simply, used to Hadou's constant questions. One handing was rubbing small circles into the skin of Tamaki's shoulder and he could feel his eyes grow heavy, exhausted both from the intense training that day and socialization.

"Let's go, Nejire." Haya squeezed her waist, and the look she sent the chatty girl was fond, expression softening. Love was the only way he could describe it, and he wondered if that's how he looked when he was certain no one's watching. To them, Haya asked, "Next week? We could turn it into a double date if you want."

She sent him a wink and Tamaki's cheeks were on fire, just barely smothering the urge to hide his face. He felt Mirio's embarrassed chuckle before he chirped out a 'sure!', bidding them both a goodnight as they watched the two walk to the elevator leading to the girls' dorms. He didn't miss the quick kiss Haya pressed to Hadou's lips or the small smile they shared, and a warm feeling filled him knowing that his friends were happy.

"Hey." Mirio shook him just enough to get his attention. Tamaki looked up, his gaze questioning as Mirio sent him one of his soft smiles before continuing, "You can head back to your room if you want. I know large groups make you nervous and tire you out."

He hummed, contemplating his options before shaking his head. But he couldn't help the yawn that escaped him or how he shifted to rest more of his weight against the blond at his side until his head was almost resting on his shoulder. He felt the rumble in his chest as he laughed, arm going to rest around his waist to keep him stable. "You should head to bed, Tamaki."

"What about you?" He moved his head so he was looking him in the eyes, gaze questioning.

"I was going to stay a bit longer," he started, tightening his hold at Tamaki's dejected noise. "But how about we meet up later tonight? I have a surprise planned for you." Mirio's eyes lit up and he couldn't help the curiosity that filled him, mumbling out a quiet 'alright'.

"I'll stop by later to get you. Until then, get some rest." Tamaki watched as he tilted his head down, their lips getting closer and closer, until the smaller boy felt a swell of panic and buried his face in Mirio's shoulder.

Lips instead pressed into his hair in a soft kiss. He gritted his teeth, wishing his nerves didn't tie his stomach into knots at just the thought of him and Mirio publicly displaying their affection besides hugs and the occasional hand holding. He wanted to, he truly did, but every time he chickened out. It was frustrating.

After a hug and a quiet 'see you tonight', Tamaki made his way towards the elevator leading to his dorm, shoulders hunched and head down. He wanted to stay but Mirio was right; he felt drained. What he didn't understand was what the blond had planned. Contemplating, Tamaki stepped inside when the doors slid open, before pressing the button for his floor.

It would be late by the time he left the party, so a movie was out of the question. And they were far past the point where they asked if they could sleep together; now there was simply the request for one to move over and then a quick goodnight before they fell asleep.

Stepping off at his floor, he made his way into his room, locking the door behind him and collapsing on his bed. Mirio would be able to get in anyway, and they each had a change of clothes and spare uniform for whenever they slept over.

With a deep sigh, he curled up under the blanket, not bothering to remove his clothes. Whatever Mirio had planned, he'd find out later. And with that thought, his heavy eyes slipped shut, falling into a light slumber.

"Hey, Tamaki, wake up." He felt something gently shake his shoulder, rousing him from sleep. Opening bleary eyes, he gave a loud yawn, stretching before turning his attention to the figure sitting on his bed. Mirio gave him a soft smile, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. "Wake up, sleepyhead."

Sitting up, he tried his best to rub the sleep from his eyes, leaning his body against the blond and snuggling into his shirt. "Hey." His voice was gravelly and it'd be another few minutes before he was fully awake. "Wha' time 's it?" Another yawn.

A quiet laugh. "Just after 1 am."

He blinked up at him, his sleep-addled mind slow to comprehend the words. "Why're you still up?" he slurred, but he could feel himself waking up as confusion turned to concern. "Have you slept at all?"

Mirio just shook his head, standing up and pulling Tamaki with him. "I had to get the surprise ready." Hands moved to adjust his sleep-rumpled appearance, straightening his shirt and trying to tame his messy bedhead. The taller boy placed a kiss to his temple, holding him close.

Tamaki let out a content hum, turning his body and capturing his boyfriend's lips with his own, letting his fingers card through blond locks. He felt Mirio's hands slide to his waist, pressing swirls into his skin.

Tamaki couldn't say that he'd mind just skipping the surprise and staying like this.

Minutes passed like this, the two lazily kissing in the dark, but all too soon Mirio pulled away leaving Tamaki chasing his lips. The blond couldn't help but chuckle, extracting his arms from around his waist and instead lacing their fingers together, pulling him towards the door.

The walk to the elevator was quiet, the darkness blanketing the air around them so that even their breathing seemed loud to Tamaki's ears. Stepping through the doors, he watched as his boyfriend pressed the button to the common room before hands slid over his eyes and breath ghosted his ear. "No peeking."

A smile pulled at his lips, leaning back into the sturdy body behind him, and he let out a quiet hum to signal his compliance. The quiet ding of the elevator resounded throughout the night as Mirio guided him to what he could only assume was the common room. Even behind the hands, he could tell it was dark, leaving him only more confused. What surprise could he possibly have in a dark common room?

Once again he felt his breath on his ear and had to suppress a shiver. "On the count of three, open your eyes." He could feel his smile when he nodded. "Ready?"

"One." Mirio leaned away just enough to separate any contact between them aside from his hands, leaving him to stand on his own.

"Two." His hands pulled away, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze before they retracted completely.

"Three." Tamaki opened his eyes, blinking as they adjusted to his surroundings.

Candles.

The flickering warmth of the flames softly illuminated the room, casting a warm glow. He counted maybe a dozen of them scattered throughout the space, just enough to allow them to walk around without bumping into things. A handful of snacks covered the table as well as his and Mirio's favorite drinks, and he wondered just how much thought went into this surprise.

Turning around, he was about to question why Mirio went through all this trouble but his words died on his lips. A flower was held out to him, it's yellow petals almost a gold in the orange light.

A sunflower.

Tamaki's eyes flickered towards Mirio, questioning. Even in the dim light, he could see the blush painting his cheeks, embarrassment evident. But not once did he break eye contact.

Extending a shaky hand, Tamaki closed his fingers around the stem before warm palms wrapped around them to steady him. And before the question's even out of his mouth, Mirio is talking, words quiet but sincere. "I wanted to throw you a party. You weren't able to join in earlier, and we've all been through so much and so much had changed just in the past month. So tonight was supposed to give everyone a chance to relax and have fun.

"But you didn't get that chance, even though you deserved it. You've come so far, Tamaki. You're strong, kind, determined, and already a great hero. And I wanted to throw a party to celebrate that, just for you. And you don't need to be nervous because tonight it's just us. Only us."

Mirio released his hand and he slowly brought the flower to his chest, breaking eye contact as he gazed at the petals and glanced around the room. All this...for him? Just because he couldn't join in at the party?

He could feel his eyes begin to burn, glancing back to his closest friend.

One step.

Two steps.

He pressed himself against him, arms wrapped around his neck and pulling him into a deep kiss. They were alone, and he didn't need to worry about being caught. But even then, he wasn't sure he'd care if they were. All that mattered was the body pressed against his. The lips that seemed to slot perfectly together. The candles that cast a warm glow over everything. The flower in his hand.

They pulled apart, breathless with flushed cheeks and swollen lips and Tamaki couldn't help but think how perfect it all was as they gazed into each other's eyes.

"I love you." The words tumbled from Mirio's lips, barely a murmur in the night as his eyes widened at the slip. Tamaki felt heat rise to his cheeks as he buried his face into his neck, breathing in his scent and trying to calm his pounding heart.

Never mind, this was what perfect was.

He could feel the rumble in his chest as Mirio laughed, feel his breath as he nosed his hair before moving his lips to his ear once again. "I have one last surprise for you." He pulled back, placing a swift peck on his nose and taking the sunflower from his hand. Setting it carefully down on one of the coffee tables, he picked something up and pointed it towards the TV, soft music soon drifting into the room.

Tamaki couldn't help but stare as Mirio placed the remote back on the table before turning around and giving a deep bow, one arm extended towards him. "May I have this dance?"

A laugh bubbled up his throat—matched by one of Mirio's own—as his took the outreached hand. "Yes, you may." He tugged on his hand, pulling him in close and Tamaki couldn't look away. He was radiant, drawing him in with every smile, every laugh, every lock of their gaze.

His sun's eyes only for him.

"Hey, Mirio, I..." he trailed off, his voice failing him on three simple words that held so much meaning. The blond watched him, gaze fond, and the words died in his throat. He hugged him close, hiding his face in his neck as he warbled out a quiet 'thanks'.

"I know, Tamaki, I know," he whispered into his hair, holding him in his arms and rubbing lazy circles into his skin. And after a few moments, they extracted themselves from each other, taking each other's hands and laughing and dancing to the music.

It was silly and their moves didn't match the beat, but Tamaki wouldn't trade it for the world.

And if he silently whispered 'I love you' throughout the night, that was neither here nor there.

In Hanakotoba, the Japanese language of flowers, the meanings associated with sunflowers are 'passionate love,' 'radiance' and one 'only having eyes' for the flower's recipient

I feel like this is OOC but take it anyways.

And hopefully I'll finish part 2 here soon because I've been looking forward to it since I outlined this fic. As a hint, there will be a lot of hurt/comfort in the next chapter. So I hope you like angst :)

John’s dad was overbearing for sure, always there when John needed him as well as when he didn’t, but he seemed really sincere when he told John he loved him and that he was proud of him. And John did enjoy pulling pranks on his father although it often backfired, leaving John embarassed and usually humiliated.

But with Dave, Bro was just never... there. He was around most of the time, just not where Dave could see him. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought a poltergeist or some shit was haunting him with how stuff would always move around and doors would open and slam shut and lights would turn on and off, all the while Dave would only see a shadow on occasion moving throughout the house, a blur that his eyes could barely follow.

But even though he barely saw the fucker, Dave always got the feeling that Bro was watching him, keeping tabs on what he did, scaring the shit out of him when he got the chance. And when he wasn’t being a creepy, puppet-obsessed, invisible asshole, he was dragging him into strifes, knocking him down only to drag him back up, rinse and repeat.

It made him stronger, physically, but he was paranoid that he’d get dragged into another strife at any moment without warning. He hated fighting, he hated the sound of metal on metal, and he hated how, no matter how hard he tried, he just wasn’t good enough to beat him, to win. He was still weak and he hated it.

His only solace was that Bro generally left him alone when he was messaging his friends; he still felt like he was being watched, but at least he wouldn’t randomly be dragged into strifes at the drop of a dime.

Maybe, just maybe, Bro would leave him alone long enough so he could play a game with his friends in peace.

---

Dave had been on the meteor for a while now--1 year, 48 days, 7 hours, 29 minutes, 40, 41, 42, 43--and he had done his best to push thoughts of his life before the game out of his mind; not the ones about his friends and conversations they had and jokes they shared, but rather about his home life and the (few) plans he had for the future and even his hobbies.

Dwelling on his old life--before he was a semi-immortal god, before he had to worry about stable timelines, before one of his top priorities was keeping himself and his friends from getting killed, before that fateful day he decided to play a game that ripped him from the world he knew and threw him into a world of war and survival and magic and powers and blood and fighting and dying and reviving, before the rug was ripped out from under him--always caused a pain to make itself known in his chest.

Almost everyone he knew--his neighbors, the people at the chinese restaurant, anyone he ever saw or talked to, even the random strangers he saw on the street--were all dead. He was one of four remaining humans from his world, two of which were so, so far away. No word, no contact (they could be dead for all Dave knew, although, with Rose’s reassurance that they were completely fine, he quickly pushed that thought out of his mind whenever it reared its ugly head), just the hope that they were both safe and sound, and the wish that, one day, they’d get to meet up in a dreambubble instead of having to wait for the three years to pass--1 year, 10 months, 2 days, 16 hours, 26 mins, 41, 40, 39, 38, 37...

He had to stop thinking about it. With the habit he’d formed of talking to himself, it would only be a matter of time before someone learned that he couldn’t get over that his world was gone and that he was counting down the seconds until the three years were up and he’d get to see his bros again. Jade Harley and John Egbert, names now mainly mentioned in passing as they both faded from the forefront of everyone’s minds.

Even Dave himself had forgotten about the two ectosiblings; they were still there in the back of his mind but sometimes he’d just...forget they ever existed. Of course, he’d then feel like absolute shit for forgetting some of the best friends he’d ever had, but Rose assured him that it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing for him to do, and that instead it was probably good for him to move on and not dwell on it as much.

Even Karkat and the Mayor agreed with her and, well, he couldn’t argue with the mayor.

---

He’s not sure when it happened, but he finally allowed all thoughts of Jade and John slip from his mind and didn’t bring them front and center whenever he thought of them in passing. They were just two close friends he’d had as a kid, simple as that.

And, as time wore on, he stopped thinking of them all together and they slowly faded away. Eventually, even the countdown stopped ticking away in his head. He had moved on.

---

But no matter how it started, one thing lead to another and now they were often found tangled up on a bed or couch or, on one memorable occasion, in all the pillows and blankets from the spare dorms that came together to build a formidable pillow fort. It was Kaminari's and Ashido's idea, and they received a thorough scolding from Iida and promised to never do it again.

Currently, they were curled up on Kaminari's bed; Sero at the bottom of the pile, resting on his stomach and taking a quick nap; Kaminari tucked under his arm as Kirishima watched him play Pokemon over his shoulder from his position sprawled across Sero's back; and Bakugou and Ashido were back to back on Sero's other side, Bakugou using Kirishima's back as a place to set his school work as Ashido typed away on her phone, reclined back and forcing Bakugou into a hunched position.

A comfortable silence filled the room, only broken by the occasional scritch of pencil on paper, tap of a button, or light snore. It felt peaceful, something that was getting increasingly harder to achieve as the days wore on.

A few moments later, a gurgling sound shattered the quiet and Kirishima couldn't help the way his cheeks flushed.

"Sounds like someone's hungry," Kaminari joked, sending the redhead a teasing smile.

Setting down his half finished homework, Bakugou stretched and leaned back, forcing Ashido to curl into a ball and ignoring her disgruntled whining. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Almost 9," Ashido replied to the explosive blond, her pout audible.

"So who's making dinner?" Kaminari asked before a grin twisted his lips and he quickly called out, "Not it!"

"Not it!" "Not it." Kirishima and Ashido were not far behind and Bakugou couldn't help the tired groan that escaped him.

"I'll do it. 'Sides, who knows what you fuckers would try to pass off as food?" Climbing off the bed, he stretched his arms above his head and rolled his neck, letting out a quiet hum as his joints popped.

"And I'm making miso so I better not hear any complaints from the peanut gallery, got it?" At the sounds of agreement, he placed a hand on Sero's waist, shaking him in an effort to wake him.

"Hey Elbow Tape, get up. You're helping me with dinner."

The tape hero let out a groan, slowly sitting up much to the disappointment of everyone else on the bed. "'M up, 'm up." A yawn escaped him as he got to his feet, sending Bakugou a tired smile as the blond rolled his eyes before leaving the room, Sero not far behind.

The three remaining students curled up once again, Kirishima with an arm around Kaminari's waist, both of their heads resting in Ashido's lap as the all watched Kaminari continue his game.

Sero rested a hand on Bakugou's hip, keeping the boy steady as he leaned against him and waited for the soup to finish. Another yawn escaped the smaller boy and Sero couldn't help the small chuckle that bubbled out of his chest.

Bakugou scowled, elbowing him but there was no real force behind the display.

"Grab some bowls and spoons." His voice was quiet, in heavy contrast with his normal loud way of speaking. But Sero did as he was asked, grabbing enough for the five of them. A brief glance at Bakugou sent a spike of worry running through his veins as he lifted the still hot pot with only his bare hands, but the rational part of his mind told him he was fine. After all, Bakugou's hands were calloused and used to heat after over 10 years of near daily explosions.

Few words were exchanged as they headed back up to Kaminari's room—pot and bowls in hand—Sero close by in case Bakugou felt the need to lean on him, his free hand on his hip to keep him steady.

After they'd finished off the miso soup and their dirty dishes were stacked by the door to be taken out later, Kaminari decided to fire up one of his consoles, sitting on his bed and starting Twilight Princess over for the nth time.

Ashido and Kirishima were sitting on the floor, the redhead draped bonelessly against her as his eyes darted between the TV and the mobile game on her phone. She's focused, brow furrowed in concentration and he tightened the arms around her waist as if in encouragement.

One misplaced tap and she groaned and dropped her phone, frustration obvious. Kirishima nosed her hair as she slumped against him, taking one wrist into his hand and drawing soothing circles.

Sero's reclined against the wall, only half paying attention to the game on the TV. A lazy smile pulled at his lips as his gaze drifted over the four others in the room before returning back to the screen, fondness obvious in his eyes.

And Bakugou...

"Move, Sparky." Kaminari didn't even get the chance to save his game before Bakugou shoved him to the bed and sat on his chest, eliciting a squawk from the electric hero. He tried to shove him off but all he got in return was a handful of swats as Bakugou made himself comfortable and rested against the headboard, starting once again on his school work.

Resigned to his fate, Kaminari groaned, glancing around him to try and find something to occupy his time until Bakugou decided that he wasn't the most comfortable chair.

His eyes landed on Ashido watching him from the floor, a smirk twisting her face with mirth.

Oh no.

"Wait! Ashi-"

"Cuddle pile!" With that, she all but vaulted onto the bed, tackling Bakugou as a harsh 'what the fuck-' escaped his lips before the air was pushed from his lungs.

Sero and Kirishima weren't far behind, jumping onto the pile as well as the three traitors' laughs filled the room.

"The fuck was that for, Raccoon Eyes?" He glared at her, the look on his face promising murder; but it was soon replaced by annoyance as he glared at Kaminari's hand as he patted him on the shoulder.

"Can you guys move? I can't breathe." He punctuated this with a gasp, struggling to wiggle out from under them but thoroughly stuck.

Giving him sheepish apologies, they crawled off of him, instead taking up space on the other end of the bed. Bakugou let out a quiet 'fucking idiots' before he shifted and gave him the sweet sweet freedom and air he craved.

He took deep breaths, gaze shifting between all of them in indignation. "You could've kill me, you know." The three laughed at his dramatics, and even Bakugou gave a small chuckle as a smile pulled at Kaminari's lips.

Carefully this time, they tangled themselves together until it was difficult to tell where one ended and another began, relaxing as a comfortable silence filled the room once more

Kaminari didn't know what time it was; all he was aware of was his knuckles rapping on a door. The corridor was dark, the other students having fallen asleep long ago.

He knocked again.

There was the soft pad of footsteps before the door in front of him opened, revealing an exhausted Bakugou. With only a quick look at him, he sighed before opening the door wider and allowing the other blond to enter his room.

Kaminari darted to his mattress, curling under the blankets before Bakugou even closed his door. More soft footsteps that stopped at the edge of the bed before another sigh resounded throughout the room. "Move over, Pichu."

Kaminari did as he was asked, shifting until the was just enough room for Bakugou to slip under the covers as well.

An arm draped itself across his waist before he felt himself get pulled closer to the body behind him, a smile tugging at his lips as his eyes grew heavy.

"Sleep well, Kaminari."

He didn't rouse from any dreams for the rest of the night.

They're not sure how it all started, but one way or another they became accustomed to the constant touches.

The tangled limbs.

The feeling of warm bodies pressed against their sides.

Somehow managed to write this in less than 12 hours without any sleep in the last 36. I’m pretty proud with how it turned out, all things considered

Also, you can pry physically affectionate Bakusquad from my cold, dead hands

Endeavor on the ground, bloodied and broken.

The building falling to the streets below, cut clean in half by that Nomu's power.

Innocent civilian screaming in fear as the nightmarish scene took place around them, Hawks pushing himself to get them all out of harm's way.

He buried his face in his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to push the memories that plagued him out of his mind. He just needed a few hours of blissful sleep, just enough to stave off the sleep deprivation caused by sleepless nights, recurring nightmares, and memories that replayed over and over whenever the world was too quiet.

"So why exactly were there no casualties today, hm?"

Dabi's words mocked him.  He could still envision that smug smile that pulled at his lips; the relaxed slouch of his shoulders with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans; the irritating tilt of his head as he watched Hawks with those sharp blue eyes.

Everything about him exuded confidence, the living embodiment of the cat that caught the canary. But instead of being merciful and giving it a quick death, he was drawing out its suffering. Teasing it. Showing it the tantalizing freedom it longed for but making it abundantly clear that he could kill it in an instant if he wanted.

Even with a feather that killed grey Nomus in an instant pointed at his throat, Dabi was unafraid. He knew Hawks wouldn't double cross him; not because he trusted him--not even close--but because he knew that he was stronger. If Hawks even tried to fight, Dabi would win, able to kill him in the blink of an eye if he so chose.

Hawks knew that, and Dabi knew Hawks knew that. His Quirk was more suited for rescuing and helping others, especially when all he had left were the small fluffy feathers at the base of his wings and the singular flight feather he'd held at the villain's neck. That didn't make the urge to punch that smug, infuriating smirk off his face any less appealing though.

But deep down, he knew that if he was to truly gain their trust and be accepted into the League of Villains, he couldn't save everyone. He had to let civilians die, couldn't provide support to heroes who needed it. He had to sit back and do nothing when disaster struck, and it went against everything he believed in, down to the very core of his being.

How many people were going to be hurt because of his inaction? How many families were going to be broken because he couldn't, wouldn't help? By the end of this, how much blood was going to be on his hands because he stood by instead of doing something.

In the dark of the night, unbeknownst to the rest of the world, Hawks' mind began to conjure gruesome scenes. Dozens, if not hundreds, of innocent civilian lying in pools of blood--limbs twisted at odd angles, dark purple bruises littering their skin, gouges in their flesh that showed the white of bone--their lifeless eyes staring into his soul as if asking why? His breath quickened, a quiet litany of 'it's not real, it's not real, you're just tired, it's not real' spilling from his lips.

He drew his legs to his chest, a strangled sob escaping him. He reached back to grasp the small feathers of his stubby wings, wishing more than anything to wrap himself up in them to try and block out everything. Opening his eyes did nothing to dispel the images he saw, his teeth catching his bottom lip and biting hard enough to draw blood.

The pain did little to ground him as, in his mind's eye, the bodies began to shift--some he knew, some he didn't--until he stood on what seemed to be a mountain of remains. Endeavor, Miruko, Tsukuyomi, dozens of heroes he knew were mangled at his feet.

He struggled to breathe, gasping for air but unable to fill his lungs. He felt like he was going to be sick, the room getting darker as the edges of his vision began to blur. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that he'd pass out soon enough.

He could see himself, covered in blood as he stood among the corpses, his remaining flight feather in his hand and drenched in a dark red liquid. "You did this," his traitorous mind whispered to him. "They're dead because of you."

"No, no, no," he whimpered.

At the bottom of the pile stood a person that looked like he belonged with the rest of the dead. Burned flesh, black hair, and piercing blue eyes that paralyzed him, rooting him in place.

Dabi.

Hawks couldn't see his expression but knew he was proud. Proud of him. Proud of him for killing so many. Proud of him for becoming a proper villain.

A buzzing filled the air as the bodies seemed to shift, moving out from under his feet. Next he knew, he was falling, falling, falling, the pile swallowing him whole. Darkness surrounded him, the buzzing getting louder and louder-

His leg jerked, pulling him roughly back into consciousness as his eyes flew open, a layer of cold sweat coating his body and sending shivers down his spine. His panting filled the room, the only nose aside from the buzzing of his phone in it's place on the bedside table. His eyes flitted around the room, searching for blood, bodies, anything resembling his nightmare, but everything was back to normal.

A shaky sigh escaped his lips as he felt his body relax into the mattress. Everything was okay.

After a few moments to allow himself to calm down, he turned his attention to his phone, still vibrating on the wooden surface. For a brief second, it went quiet as silence encased the room before it started back up again.

Hawks groaned; whoever was calling was insistent and probably wouldn't give up anytime soon. Reaching a hand out, he grabbed the device, pressing the answer button without looking at the screen and moving it to his ear.

"Hello?" His voice was groggy, the sleep and traces of panic evident from that single word.

Silence met him and before he could trying calling out again, the line went dead.

His sleep addled mind tried to process what just happened as he slowly pulled the phone back to look at the screen; squinting against the harsh light as it lit up the room, his eyes focused on the notification on the lock screen.

3 missed calls from a restricted number.

His phone buzzed in his hand as another notification popped up; A text from a restricted number containing a string of numbers. Unlocking his phone to view the message, he let out a tired sigh, running a hand along his face.

Coordinates and a time.

"I'll be in touch, Hawks."

Dabi's words echoed in his mind as he plugged the coordinates into maps before swiftly deleting the text and call logs. His back gave an audible pop as he stood, walking over to his dresser and throwing on a change of clothes.

He had just over 30 minutes to get to the outside of town. Pulling on a jacket, careful to keep his hood up, he made his way to the street below.

It was going to be close, but, well, he wasn't one to disappoint.

First thing I’ve finished in 4 years! Woo! My muse straight up died and only shows up for a hundred words nowadays so sorry if this is rough; it left in the middle and I had to power through. I also may or may not finish the second part of this. If I do, I’ll add a link here and you can be sure it’ll be filled with plenty of Dabi/Hawks goodness. Until then!