She didn't care. Didn't care that the rain was cold and bitter, didn't care that her bare feet were sinking into the freezing mud, and didn't care about the looks of disgust that she was getting, even as she stood over his grave with shaking hands.
He wouldn't have cared. He wouldn't have. She knew that, and that was the only thing that kept her from stripping off her sopping clothes in respect for him. Because even though the other mourners were looking at her with daggers in their eyes, Sam knew that Danny wouldn't have cared that she hadn't worn black.
He wouldn't have cared that she had ignored all that the priest had said, in favour of gripping Tucker's hand to the point that he lost all feeling. He wouldn't have cared that she hadn't spoken to her parents since the accident, nor would he have cared that she was hardly the prettiest thing, standing in the rain in an almost see-through white dress.
Because Danny knew her. He had known that Sam was her own person, and he had known that she would grieve in her own way. So while everyone around her walked slowly past her to the grave, in their black attire that practically reeked of death and despair, and placed a single chrysanthemum his headstone, Sam had other plans.
She had walked down the street in the icy rain, barefooted and messy-haired. The graveyard had not been far, but by the time she had gotten there, her feet were blue with the cold. The thought made her smile.
Blue.
Blue was the colour of the rose she had placed on his grave, at the very end, on top of the insignificant chrysanthemums.
Blue, like his eyes, and green...like his eyes.
The thought made a laugh bubble up inside her, but when it was released, it sounded more like a sob. Her shoulders shook, but she wouldn't cry. Not until the people around her were gone.
Murmured words were spoken, and the guests slowly left, leaving the grave site empty but for herself, Tucker, and the family behind them that was short one member.
Danny.
He had been the light of their lives...and like a light, he was easily extinguished. It had been simple, easy. He had fallen asleep one night after a particularly hard battle against Skulker, and he hadn't woken up.
His sheets had been stained an awful red-green in the morning when Jazz had found him, much too pale, and much too still.
Maddie and Jack had been devastated, and even more so when they had realized just who they had been hunting for the past three years. Jazz hadn't spoken a word since the initial screaming, and Tucker hadn't smiled.
Their light was gone.
Sam finally let the tears fall, and she crumpled into the mud with a wail that echoed the sorrow she felt in her heart. She hadn't told him. All those years, she had loved him more than life itself, and she hadn't told him.
And now she never would.
Sam felt arms go around her, and soon she was encircled in warmth as the mismatched family of Danny Fenton wept.
Sam's eyes were growing heavy, and the cold was beginning to seep into her bones. She had barely shifted when a soft voice broke through the silence.
"Why white?"
Jazz's voice was hoarse with tears, but the question was heard by all. Sam let out a watery chuckle.
/What's your favourite colour, Danny?"\\\\\
/Mm?\\\\
/Your favourite colour, what is it?\\\\\
/White.\\\\\
/White? Why?\\\\\
/Because...\\\\\\
"It's the colour of angels." Sam said softly. The colour of Danny. "Black is...black is..." she choked, and fell silent.
No one said anything else, the days moved on.
And Sam never wore black again.
Kinda drabble-ish, and quite frankly, i don't really like this one, but whatever. People liked it on DA, so i thought that i'd try and make a series on FF. Yeah. Gonna try different styles of writing with the other colours. For sure.
I dont really care if you review or not...
