Hey. I came up with this one-shot when I was listening to 'SING' by My Chemical Romance. Apparently, its a really good song which lyrics definitely go out for Danny in this one. Technically, if you've heard the song you'd understand, the chorus means that Danny 'sings' his frustration out in a different way than singing. :P Lol I suck at explaining :P xD
Disclaimer: I hate this thing. -.- I don't freaking own Danny Phantom '-.-'
Slam.
Crack.
Thump.
Squeak.
Pound.
Slam.
Crack.
Thump.
Squeak.
Pound.
It was the same routine every time. A never-ending cycle.
Slam.
Crack.
Thump.
Squeak.
Pound.
He supposes this was for the best. Letting this frustration bottle up inside him wasn't healthy for anyone. Especially for someone with his kind of – abilities.
Slam.
Crack.
Thump.
Squeak.
Pound.
It was always the same order. One fist; followed by a close other. Then following, a side-kick, a squeal crying from his worn-out basketball shoes and then a round-house kick that left him panting heavily. He didn't even stop when his lungs burned with fire. The sweat shining brightly in the yellow-dimmed lights.
Slam.
Crack.
Thump.
Squeak.
Pound.
Another cycle, another stinging wound. The sweat licked the wounds furiously, stinging brightly before dimming down into the background. There were more days like these than before. Danny remembered that these days before were usually about three or four times a year.
But soon enough now it was almost every day.
Slam.
Crack.
Thump.
Squeak.
Pound.
He started coming here more a few weeks ago. It was the best way for him to carry his anger and frustration out. The boxing bag was worn out and old-looking, it's rope hanging down heavily from the close ceiling. It cringed and squeaked when he was silent.
Dust was everywhere. On the floor, clouds of them fall heavily every time Danny pounded the stuffed bag. No one had used this place for years. Making it the perfect place to get angry in.
Here, no one could see him. Here, no one could see his raw anger. No one could see the monster he'd turn into when he was angry. No one could see his ghost side burn with great intensity every time he fell out of control.
Slam.
Crack.
Thump.
Squeak.
Pound.
Staying calm was more of a challenge these days. Danny couldn't remember the last time he was feeling remotely happy or mildly amused. It was all mostly a blur, this memory blank from his anger. Registering wasn't a memo scrapped into Danny's brain. All he cared about was now. Never before or after.
It was the moment that was here he cared about.
Slam.
Crack.
Thump.
Squeak.
Pound.
Every day he'd see them together. Smiling brightly at one another, not caring about anything but the happiness they possessed.
Selfish fuckers. Danny swore heavily every time the image popped up. Who gave them the right to show their happiness to the world? When there were ones who never had it. Or had lost them.
It burned in his mind. It was bitter these days. Danny wasn't the happy-go-lucky kid that he was before. Everything was gone. He'd lost her. He'd lost his best friend. He's lost his Sam.
Slam.
Crack.
Thump.
Squeak.
Pound.
He wished that the punching bag was her stupid boyfriends face.
Days went on and everything was harder to get on with. He wasn't able to look at things brightly before. Days were getting harder to come by. And every time she'd blind him with her beauty, he'd close his eyes bitterly remembering she was already taken by some other guy. She was already taken away from someone else. He so badly wanted to kill everything.
He wanted to rip everything apart. He wanted out.
Slam.
Crack.
Thump.
Squeak.
POUND.
Thinking about the situation just fuelled the already furiously burning fire. He'd burn with more adrenaline through his veins. He'd go faster and faster, tearing apart the bag second by second. Then finally, the bag would break and Danny would have to get the bag replaced.
This was his tenth bag.
He'd try and go easy this time. But it was hard when things in his life were going so crap. Nothing was good anymore.
He had no purpose in life.
Slam.
Crack.
Thump.
Squeak.
Pound.
Only Tucker knew where he went during these times.
This family were kept in the dark about this. If they knew what kind of anger he's been possessing he was sure that Jazz would go off into this psychological blabber about him having to tell Sam about this – and he was sure his parents would just assume he was being overshadowed by some bloodthirsty ghost. Or at least, his dad would think that. His mom usually just went with the flow.
And Sam? She wasn't even an option.
If only she knew what kind of torture he had to go through for her every day. If only she knew how much pain his heart felt every time he was with her. Of how many times he'd almost grabbed her and made her his, right there and then.
Slam.
Crack.
Thump.
Squeak.
Pound.
But for now, Danny just wanted to fight. He just wanted to punch his anger out. No more thinking now Danny. It's time to blow off some steam and try not to get yourself killed this time.
And he was being serious. There were times when he'd go too far and almost kill himself in the process. He'd have to thank Tucker a lot for snapping him out of it. He was sure there were more scars from his mindless punching then ghost-hunting.
Danny breathed in sharply and carried on pounding the bag in the small yellow-lit room. It was an abandoned boxing gym. And everything was still intact so he was free to use whenever he felt he wanted to.
Such as times like these.
Slam.
Crack.
Thump.
Squeak.
Pound.
Slam.
Crack.
Thump.
Squeak.
Pound.
Slam.
Crack.
Thump.
Squeak.
Pound.
Slam.
Crack.
Thump.
Squeak.
Pound.
"You know that it's bad to keep doing this." a voice drifted from the small entrance area above.
Danny didn't even bother looking up. He carried on pounding, feeling the disapproving stare Tucker was giving him with his forest-green eyes. His forehead slick with sweat. Blowing his hair out of his way, he started to pound even harder on the bag.
"And who said...that you were going...to tell me what to...do?" Danny gasped gruffly as he punched and kicked the boxing bag. His ice-blue eyes piercing with fury and fire.
Slam.
Crack.
Thump.
Squeak.
Pound.
Tucker walked towards Danny. His shoes lightly tapping on the hard earth as he grew near enough for Danny to see him from the corner of his eye.
"You have to tell her man." He said quietly.
The only sounds were Danny's laboured breathing and the sounds of him slamming the life out of the boxing bag.
"No..." Danny growled. His punches came more elaborate and rough. His muscles aching brightly, begging him to stop. But he didn't. He couldn't and he didn't want to.
"She has the right to know Danny." Tucker insisted.
"I said no, Tucker." He said simply, pounding the bag even more furiously.
"You can't keep on torturing yourself like this! I refuse to stand by any longer and let you kill yourself. Just tell her and get this all over with dude." He pleaded.
Danny stopped pounding and snuck a widened glance at Tucker. His eyes still bright and angry. His expression was furious. He breathed heavily and calmly managed to not punch Tucker instead. He swallowed down his dry throat and replied hastily.
"She has what she needs. I don't need to tell her anything." And continued pounding as if he had never been stopped in the first place.
Slam.
Crack.
Thump.
Squeak.
Pound.
Tucker sighed at his friend's stubbornness. This was getting way out of hand. He hated seeing him like this. Ever since Sam started dating, Danny's been going out of his way of any kind to murder something. And ever since finding this place, he's practically been living here.
It was worrying him too much. His best friends were hardly hanging out with him or each other anymore. Sam was always with her boyfriend while Danny was trying to destroy the living snot out of this boxing bag. They hardly even went ghost-hunting anymore.
It was as if they didn't even know each other. Like they were strangers.
Slam.
Crack.
Thump.
Squeak.
Pound.
Tucker knew that pleading or try to reason with Danny wasn't going to work. So he'd have to resolve to drastic and possibly life-threatening measures.
Slam.
Crack.
Thump.
Squeak.
Pound.
"Look Danny. If you don't tell her, then I – I will." He stated firmly.
Danny froze suddenly and then snapped his eyes at Tucker. His face was stubborn and half afraid. After his shock wore off, Danny growled. His eyes glowed his murderous glowing ghostly green as he glared at his best friend.
"You don't have the nerve Foley." Danny hissed.
Tucker trembled lightly at his eyes but he didn't back down. If he wasn't going to confront his friend now, then Danny would be forever stuck in this sickening cycle.
"No. I will tell her." He crossed his arms defensively.
"Look at what a snitch you've become into." Danny sneered.
Tucker knew that Danny was only hurting him because of his threat. He was actually scared of Tucker. Tucker knew that Danny was horrified of confrontation. He learnt that the hard way back in eighth grade.
"It's better than killing myself every time I get mad." Tucker scoffed.
Danny grew shocked at his words. He didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say. He stood there like a motionless dummy, not doing anything, pondering the thought of just going ghost to escape this.
Tucker sighed at his best friend. He'd really sunk in deep, hadn't he?
Danny wasn't even himself anymore.
"Please Danny. Please stop doing this to yourself. It kills me. It kills me to see you like this. And I know if – if Sam saw you like this...just tell her Danny. Just tell her already. It's been going on long enough!" Tucker said grabbing his shoulders, shaking him.
Danny shrugged his hands away and carried on pounding the groaning bag. "I said no Tucker. Was there wax in your ears the first time? I'm never telling her. She already has everything that she needs." His voice was monotone. His face was impassive. It felt good to know what to say and do.
Tucker sighed greatly. He was losing his best friend. He was losing his best friend so quickly it was hard to keep up with the change. He needed to do something. He had to do something. He had to make Sam see reason. He had to tell her.
Sam had a right to know.
"Don't bother...trying...she...loves...him. She told me...herself." Danny punched harder with every word, and winced at the word 'love'.
Tucker's eyes widened at his sentence. He couldn't be saying the truth. He couldn't be. Sam couldn't love Elliot! She loved Danny!
Slam.
Crack.
Thump.
Squeak.
Pound.
"It's...true..." Danny stated. The sounds of his heart beating furiously in his chest. He was breaking all over again. He wasn't sure he could handle it. "It's...too...late..."
Tucker wasn't able to say anything as he watched his friend punch and kick. Billions of thoughts scrambled around his head and he was very tempted to voice them. Only he knew that it was hopeless. Telling anything to Danny about Sam was hopeless. Danny was gone. He wasn't going to come back.
Sighing, Tucker turned away sadly before re-tracing his steps to the entrance. He was leaving. He was giving up. He wasn't going to do anything anymore. This was his last attempt on trying to bring Danny back. But he realized that he was too late. He should have tried earlier to do something. He should have tried to help earlier. He couldn't do anything anymore. Tucker couldn't do anything now.
"It's never too late Danny." He whispered to him as he left.
The click of the door signalled Danny that Tucker was finally gone and out of earshot. Throwing his boxing gloves out of his hands, Danny collapsed into the hard earth. His back pressed up against the wall. He shoved in head into his hands and proceeded to think over what Tucker had told him.
Maybe he should listen to Tucker. Maybe he should give it a chance...
It's too late to do anything. Things are in too deep and pulling them out now would only leave harsh wounds. Whispered his ghost self.
Danny sighed and slammed his fist onto the ground. The impact shaking the whole floor. Arguing with himself was hopeless. And quietly, as if he was a robot, Danny slipped his gloves back on to start another slam session. It was too late to stop him now. He was too late to do anything. Sometimes, being too late did happen.
Sam was getting married tomorrow. And all Danny could do was stare, as well as try to be supportive like a best friend should.
Best fucking friends, Danny mused bitterly as the boxing bag came toppling onto the floor with a slamming crash.
If only we were more.
How was that? Was it good or bad? Tell me anyways!
Please review!
Luvs Twikadevra