compromise. (noun)
a middle state.
Danny's entire existence is a compromise. He knows this intrinsically, and without thought; half ghost, half human. Equal in their incompleteness.
Every aspect about him reflects this, and he is somewhat in fear of it; even though he knows it intrinsically, he still thinks about his unnaturalness in his state of being— particularly on his human side, of course.
Danny lays awake some nights thinking when will they know? When will they notice?
When will they notice my anatomy? he considers frightfully, dreading a misplaced thrum of his core or an x-ray revealing his too-light bones.
When will they find that my temperature is colder than any human's should be? is one that plagues him when he first notices his now always clammy skin and ice-hands, and continues to plague him through narrowly avoided physicals.
When will they notice my "eating" habits? Danny wonders as he discreetly pours concentrated atmospheric ectoplasm from his parent's experiments over his food to give his ghost half its due. It needs ectoplasm to sustain itself; most ghosts got that from simple atmospheric gas that permeated the Zone, but alas the mortal realm had no such thing— and thus, Danny found himself skimming from his parents various ectoplasmic fuel sources for his nutritional requirements. He just is thankful they haven't noticed any missing, and consequently haven't begun asking questions.
When will they notice my slow heartbeat? Danny considers as he feels it thud slowly in his chest, supplied by equally slow breaths.
And, thinking of, when will they notice my blood? It is what allows a partially anaerobic existence; less air when he is a human, none when he is a ghost. Worryingly and very noticeably, it is flecked with sparkling, glowing green— and when he is Phantom, the toxic color has glints of red. Danny is suspiciously fast at bandaging any minor scrapes, meticulously cleaning any blood left behind— Amity Park is weird enough, and Danny has the weird parents excuse, so nobody questions it.
On the darker nights, he wonders if someone will notice it through Phantom, not Fenton. Nobody has really gotten close to guess at this, but if they did, well… Danny can imagine it would be an unwilling closeness that resulted in discovery made under unfavorable conditions (to put it lightly).
Similar to his human side, his ghost side had noticeable internal differences— like the blood, and the fact that Danny had human internal organs (albeit soaked in green) whereas other ghosts were mere jelly internally.
He didn't like thinking too much about how someone would find that out without an x-ray. It made the molecule-by-molecule threat echo in his head overwhelmingly.
Some nights these thoughts flit over his mind with bare touches, wings of dark butterflies. Others, they latch on, shadowy and grasping, keeping him up and panicking.
But… he can't do much about it anyways. So most nights of that thoughtful torment simply end with him packing it all up in the morning, putting those too-deep thoughts in boxes and continuing on.
compromise. (verb)
accept standards that are lower than is desirable.