Danny spent the entire weekend in his room, either writing in his journal or lying comatose in bed, staring into nothingness.
Jazz came in a few times to try to get him to eat something or to try to get him to talk to her, but he only laid on his side and stared a hole into the wall. Finally, on Sunday, she came up to his room with his favorite cookies and a cup of hot chocolate, and set them on his nightstand and sat down on his bed, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Danny," she said in a gentle but firm voice. "Just tell me what you're feeling."
Danny was silent for a few moments, then he swallowed hard. "...I feel like my insides have been ripped out," he replied quietly. "I feel so...bad." Jazz blinked back tears. Her brother must've really liked this Andrew guy. Part of her wanted to find this guy and kick his ass for hurting her baby brother; the other part wanted to coax her brother to try to move on. After all, the first major heartbreak hurt the worst.
"It'll be okay, Danny," she said softly. "...It'll hurt for awhile...but the hurt will go away eventually." She tucked her hands under Danny's side and lifted him up ('Damn, he's grown a lot...') to sit up against his headboard, then gave him the plate of cookies. "You havent eaten anything in almost two days. At least eat the cookies."
Danny listlessly picked one up and bit into it. He chewed, swallowed, then put the cookie down on the plate and closed his eyes as tears ran down his face. Jazz set the plate aside and pulled him into a hug. At last, she thought. He was finally letting it out.
Starting Monday, Danny threw himself into his studies with even more vigor than ever. Keeping his mind busy made the pain hurt less.
Sam and Tucker were worried about him; he never talked unless it was to answer a teacher's questions, spent lunch hour in the school library, and didnt even wait for his friends after school anymore to rush home and lock himself away in his room.
He passed his exams easily, but unlike before, he took no pleasure in it. They were empty victories for him. All that was left was his Creative Writing poem on raw emotion. When his teacher called him up to read it aloud, he didnt have a piece of paper with him; instead, he had his journal in his hand. He flipped it open and pushed his hair away from his eyes as he ignored the people in the classroom to read his entry. "This is a poem about regret," he said in monotone, then sighed and began reading.
"I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house
That dont bother me
I can take a few tears now and then just to let them out
I'm not afraid to cry
Every once and awhile
Even though
Going on
With you gone
Still upsets me
There are days
Every now
And again
I pretend I'm okay
But that's not what gets me
What hurts the most
Was being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was trying to do
It's hard to deal with the pain of losing you everywhere I go
But I'm doing it
It's hard to force that smile when I see our old friends and I'm alone
Still harder getting up
Getting dressed
Living with
This regret
But I know
If I could do it over
I would trade
Give away
All the words
That I saved in my heart
That I left unspoken
What hurts the most
Was being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And notseeing that loving you
Is what I was trying to do"
Danny finished reading and walked back to his desk, putting his journal away and resting his head on his hand, not noticing that his Creative Writing teacher had tears running down her face.
She kept him after class and asked him to sit down across from her desk.
"Danny, I want to discuss your poem today," she said, folding her hands on her desk." She watched the young man shift around a little almost indifferently. She had noticed his sudden change in his behavior; before this week, Danny had been making an honest effort to try to understand creative writing, but his work had been...mediocre, at best. But he still tried. But this week, he seemed distant from everything. He wasnt really taking care of himself, she had noticed. His hair, which was normally tied back, was hanging loose around his face. He was quiet, and didnt join in with the other students. She had seen him many times alone in the library, curled up on himself studying and ignoring everything around him. And that poem...she had heard the dispair in his voice; the hurt of loss. Something had to have happened sometime during the weekend; most likely heartbreak. "Danny, your poem was...sadly beautiful. It was simple, but it spoke so much in its simplicity. That poem deserves a solid A+, but...I want to talk to you about what it meant."
Ah, at last a reaction. One of Danny's baby-blue eyes was visible through that curtain of hair in his face, looking at her. Mrs. Yenny gave him a sad look. "...Did something happen over the weekend...to make you write that?" Danny was still for a moment, then he nodded. She sighed and shook her head. "...It's terrible that your best work comes from your worst of times." She took a candy jar out of her desk and pushed it to his side. It was her tradition; for every A she handed out, that student got to choose a candy from her jar. 'Sugar helps the creativity process,' she always said. 'Explains how children are so creative.'
Danny stared at the jar for a moment before choosing a sour green apple Blow-Pop and putting it in his mouth almost sullenly.
"But I want you to know that I would rather see you enthusiastic about Creative Writing and be terrible at it, than see you like this and you're good at it," she continued. "Dont sacrifice your happiness for anything, alright, Danny?"
Danny nodded, still not looking any better, and got up to leave. "Just a moment, Danny." He paused, and Mrs. Yenny walked up behind him and pulled his hair back into a ponytail with a rubber band. "There. Now it wont get in your eyes." She gave him a smile, then turned back to her desk and handed him another sucker.
"...Mrs. Yenny?" She looked up in surprise when Danny actually spoke up. Danny shifted his backpack to his other shoulder. "...Have you ever had your heart broken?"
She blinked, then gave him a sad smile. "Many times," she replied, then held up her left hand, showing him her wedding ring. "But it does pass with the right person."
Danny nodded, then walked out of her classroom.
...Maybe...some time with his friends at the cafe wouldnt hurt, he thought.
Back in the Ghost Zone, Ghostwriter was furiously typing away on his laptop, going on almost a week with no rest. He was avidly ignoring the pleas of his library to take a rest, read a book, or, hey, here's an idea-APOLOGIZE TO DANNY. He ignored it all in favor of the slasher novel he was writing, putting all of his anger and rage into it. So far in the story, eleven people had all died in horrible ways because they had wronged the killer. It was gory. It was nightmarish.
...It was completely not him. Still, it was something to vent with. He kept typing, completely oblivious to the Master of Time that had appeared in his library.
"Ghostwriter," Clockworks said. Ghostwriter ignored him.
"Ghostwriter." Too busy making this stupid kid die by strangulation...
"ANDY."
"MY NAME'S NOT-!" He finally looked up, scowling when he saw Clockwork. "...What do you want?" he demaneded, going back to his computer. Clockwork frowned and with a quick wave of his hand, froze the computer program.
"I came to tell you what a fool you were," he said, tapping his Time Scepter with his finger. "Ghostwriter...Andrew...you made a terrible mistake."
"Mistake?" Ghostwriter shouted, standing up from his desk. "MISTAKE! The only MISTAKE I made, Clockwork, was listening to YOU!" He tugged at his scarf angrily. "I trusted you! I trusted...that BOY!...with my feelings! And HOW does he repay me! He RUINS one of my BOOKS!" The library began to quake slightly at his fury.
Clockwork sighed, shaking his head. "It was an accident, Andrew," he said calmly. "Something beyond his control. You would know that if you would just listen to him."
"I dont want to SEE or HEAR from that little rat again!" the 'Writer growled, crossing his arms. "After all I did for him, he lets one of MY books get ruined! It's unforgivable!"
"The only 'unforgivable' thing I see here is you," Clockwork replied. "You dont know just how much you've hurt Daniel with your actions." His voice turned hard. "You put a book before a good relationship with a good person; something even your library does not condone." To emphasise his point, the library did indeed seem to send out a chastising compulsion. "You've been alone for too long, Andrew, and if you dont fix this, you will CONTINUE to be alone."
Ghostwriter didnt answer; he continued to stare away from Clockwork, a stubborn resolve on his face. Clockwork sighed.
"Mope if you must," he said. "But do me a favor and go to the Christmas Truce party this year." He turned to leave. "If it's Daniel you're worried about, he wont be there this year." Right before he vanished, he paused. "...And if it makes you feel any better," he said on a last sad note, "Daniel is miserable." He vanished.
Ghostwriter stood alone in the quiet library for awhile longer before sitting back down and going back to his writing...
...Only to find that Clockworks' time-freezing spell was still on his computer.
Yes, I am aware that Danny's poem is not orginal; the words are lyrics from the song "What Hurts the Most", but let's just say for the sake of not giving a shit that he wrote them, ja?
