Actions

Work Header

To Love

Work Text:

It was silent.

Danny belatedly realized that. It made sense. After all, he was in space.

Space, huh? He has always wanted to be an astronaut. He never really grew out of that phase. Learning more and more about the planets, the solar systems, galaxies, universe, anything and everything in it. It was somewhat therapeutic, knowing that we all amount to nothing, that our actions don’t matter, that not every little fuck up will destroy the world.

That was a lie.

….

It was silent.

Usually, that would be much needed and very much appreciated. Usually, he would’ve yearned for this, would’ve paid to have some peace and quiet. It isn’t usually. Usually, he would’ve caught up on sleep, without the ghosts rampaging outside, without the late-night clanging of his parents’ invention, without the thunderstorms that would come ever so often.

He could’ve eaten his lunch in peace. Without the yelling of students, without the squeaking of the sneakers on the too dirty floor tiles. Without the obnoxious laugh of people, too loud, too squeaky, too fake. Without the clanging of spoons and fork on plates, their loud munching accompanied afterward.

He could’ve paid more attention in class. Without the sound of chalk grating on the board. Without the not-so-subtle chewing of someone’s gum. Without the clicking of someone’s pen. Without the tapping of someone’s shoes. Without the sounds that were too loud in a too silent room.

He could’ve enjoyed Christmas.

He should feel grateful, he knows he should. The yells aren’t ringing around the room anymore, the guns aren’t pointed towards him anymore, the footsteps aren’t too loud, too close, too dangerous. They aren’t there anymore. The banging of the doors doesn’t sound so painfully loud anymore. Doesn’t hear them yell bloody murder at him anymore. Doesn’t hear the Fenton GAV chasing after him anymore. He’s safe.

He knows he should be grateful. He’s safe now, out in space. He’s peaceful here, he loves space (right?), he loves it here. No one’s bothering him, no more deadlines looming over him, no more disappointed looks towards him, no more danger threatening, no more anything.

He should be grateful for the silence, but right now it just feels suffocating.

He misses Sam and Tucker, he misses their laughs, he misses playing games with them, he misses their playful banter. He misses Jazz, he misses making fun of her, he misses her rants, he misses her kisses on his head no matter how childish it was, he misses her. He took them for granted, he took the sounds that filled his life for granted, he never knew how much of his life was filled with those sounds, he never knew how much it filled him with life, he didn’t know how much those sounds made him feel alive.

But he can’t go back, they made that clear. They made it clear that he’s not a Fenton anymore. That he’s not their son anymore. That he never was.

And not for the first time, he wondered what it would be like if he never stepped into that portal.

He would’ve been normal, he would’ve been a model student like Jazz (she wouldn’t feel like she’s failing him as a sister), he would’ve had more fun with Sam and Tucker (no more weight on their shoulder, no more bruises on their bodies), his biggest problem would be Dash (it should’ve hurt, it shouldn’t be nothing, it should’ve hurt, should’ve been the most pain he could tolerate), he would’ve made Mr. Lancer proud (he wouldn’t have given up on him like everyone else), he would’ve still had time to love space (when did he stop?).

His parents would have loved him.

Not for the first time, he wondered what would have happened if he died again. Sometimes he thinks that he would’ve passed on peacefully and leave this all behind, sometimes he thinks that he’d continue on as Phantom like nothing ever happened, sometimes he’d hoped he’d become a different ghost. A ghost with a space obsession, a ghost doing what they love, a ghost with no burden, a ghost with no ties to the living people.

He closed his eyes and felt the familiar tingling wash throughout his body, he let them. It was nice. He relaxed as the white light encased him. He didn’t open his eyes again.

He hopes he can come to love space again.