Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etcetera, are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Title: Freefall.
Rating: Mature.
Fandom: Danny Phantom.
Summary: "Admittedly, I don't have any excuses for treating you the way I did, son."
Warnings: AU. Mental illness and discussion of self-injury.
Notes: I became really discouraged from writing this fanfiction not only because of technical issues but because of the weirdest review I've ever received in my time on this website. But, I've elected to ignore that "review" and use my reaction as a means of inspiration. This fic is coming to a close soon, and I'm very happy with my own work and the positive reaction coming from it. Thank you, readers, for your support and I hope you enjoy the latest chapter.
Chapter Eleven
Okay
Humans are strange creatures. Ghosts were strange creatures. Halfas were, obviously, strange creatures. Halfas embodied both everything and nothing of the two previous species, such as a human's emotions and a ghost's temperament. Humans were just as likely to cause major damage as ghosts did. It's amazing Danny didn't cause any damage either to himself or others earlier. That it took almost a year and a half for everything to come to this.
The blade was cold to the touch in his hand, after being in his core for hours now. At three in the morning, in the darkness of his bedroom, Danny stared at the thin piece of silver on the palm of his hand.
In middle school, there were plenty of rumors of kids hurting themselves with blades like these. Danny could even remember a few girls walking down the halls with long, dark sleeves, with hints of those scars coming from under them. He remembers being twelve, and wondering how much pain would someone be in to hurt themselves like that.
Danny picked up the thin blade and held it between his fingers. He looked down at his right arm, bare of any scars and bruises. Would he hurt himself now? How far could he cut? How deep? Would it leave a scar?
Knock, knock.
Danny gasped and threw the blade to his waste basket, his fists clenching as another knock came to the door.
"Danny?" His dad.
"Uh. Come in."
His dad opened the door, dressed in pajamas and holding two steaming mugs. "I made hot chocolate."
Danny cracked a smile, and watched his dad sit down on the foot of his bed. He accepted one of the mugs, holding onto the cup and letting it warm his perpetually cold hands.
Jack stared at his drink, then spoke. "Admittedly, I don't have any excuses for treating you the way I did, son."
"It's fine, Dad-"
"No, Danny, it's not." Jack sighed. "I don't have any excuses for ignoring you and your sister. I don't have any excuses for hunting you down. Even if I didn't know you were Phantom, you were considered a hero by a lot of people, and the people shouldn't hunt down their heroes. I am your father. I should've supported you."
Jack shook his head, his hair a mess. "Instead, all I've done is made you afraid of me. And I am sorry."
Danny stared at his father, taking note of the man's slumped shoulders and lowered chin. He can remember his sister's ramblings of child psychology and forgiveness. Of wariness and clearing your mind.
"I accept your apology." Danny murmured, watching his father stare up at him in surprise. "But, that doesn't mean I'll forgive you so quickly. Dad, you scared me. You scared me so much, because I've been hearing about you dissecting and destroying ghosts since I knew what that meant, and I was suddenly a ghost. I got so scared."
"I would never hurt my son."
"You threatened me."
"I-"
"You've been threatening me before you knew I was Phantom. And I was scared to ever tell you I was the town's new ghost hero because of those threats. And when you grabbed me after I told Mom and you I was a ghost, I knew I couldn't trust you. Dad. I am scared. I am scared of you and Mom. A sorry isn't going to get rid of that."
Danny placed his mug on the bedside table, and leaned down to grab the blade from the waste basket.
He showed it to his father, watching the man's face go from weary to horrified. "I found this blade, and I am so willing use it on myself because I feel terrible. I've been feeling terrible for months. I've been feeling terrible because of the things I've seen and felt. And I am trying not to hurt myself."
Danny turned and actively threw the blade into the trash can. He took in a shaky breath. "Things need to change, Dad. I want to tell you everything of what I'm feeling, but you have to be willing to listen to me. Can you be?"
"Yes, Danny."
"I'm not asking you to stop hunting ghosts indefinitely. I wouldn't ask you to do that, because you've been hunting ghosts longer than I've been alive. What I'm asking you to do is to make time to listen to me. I'm asking you to try to understand me. Because, maybe, you can understand what I'm going through better than I can."
"…I'm starting to feel bad again. My brain feels like it's slipping out of my head, and floating away. After crying yesterday, I felt better. But now, I feel tired and numb. I feel like I'm just sitting here with no purpose and no point, and I am scared. I am scared because I can't seem to get a hold of myself anymore. And all the other fears and worries are just making it harder to get a hold of myself. I don't know what to do anymore, Dad. What else to feel. I'm just scared."
Jack sighed and turned to face his son. He opened his arms a little, and watched as his son scuffled over to him. The man wrapped his arms around his son tightly. His son was willing to be hugged by him, which was a small victory.
"I'm here, Danny. I won't ever hurt you again. I'll be here for you. I promise, son."
They're okay. They will be okay. They will.