Angst Week Day 2: Obsession/Instincts


Subconscious

He stared at his phone again. No alert, ping, or message was visible. With a frown on his face, he unlocked the screen and went back to the group chat, trying to check if the app had somehow "eaten" the push notification that should've been delivered announcing any new message.

He tried refreshing it; still nothing.

Then he checked the last time Sam and Tucker had been online; three and four minutes ago, respectively.

Had they even received his message? Yes, two minutes ago. It still went unread. Even when they all knew they should always pay close attention to their phones in case there was an emergency.

He closed the app to change back to the phone's calculator but found himself staring at the reopened chat again. He closed it again in frustration.

The blue pen, with the cap broken out of stress, tapped rhythmically on the notebook in front of him. He couldn't concentrate on the letters dancing in front of his eyes. Not unless he got an answer soon. They knew how he worried all the time. Why would neither of them check their chats?

But what if they were in danger? What if some of his rogues had gone after them and they couldn't type anything back? What if—

The phone buzzed in his hands at the same time a loud notification was heard.

He never had the sound on. It was usually a bad idea if he needed to be quiet while invisible, so how did— at what point, during his repetitive check of the group chat, had hechanged the phone's volume? Despite his relief, that last detail raised a major red flag.

Danny: guys i'm stuck with #12

Danny: not sure i wrote the question right

3 unread messages —

Tuck: dw man, lemme take a pic

Tuck: [image]

Tuck: need more help?

Danny opened the picture of the math homework due the next day. His eyes were trying to read the words but his mind was reeling at the recent realization.

He had done it again. He had given into his obsession.

Breathe… in… and out… in… and out…

He hated when it sneaked up on him in such subtle ways that went unnoticed for who knew how long. When it hid as a part of an everyday activity or as a random gesture no one would pay attention to until it became too obvious to ignore.

It was getting worse as he became used to his powers and being a ghost soon came as natural as being human. It had started with a nagging feeling resting in his core. His ghostly core. Telling him to keep everyone safe, which could be very useful and motivating while beating up the ghosts terrorizing his town. But then, it became like an earworm telling him to do tedious or repetitive tasks to make sure he could prevent future harm.

Did I close the portal? The earworm would repeat in his head until he went down to the lab at least twice at night just to make sure the metal doors were correctly shut (and even going as far as locking them again with his fingerprint, just for good measure).

Did I bring the thermos? He would find himself wondering while carrying his backpack at school, then reaching to its zippers every few minutes to make sure it was still closed and keeping the container in place.

Or sometimes it manifested like a dull alert at the back of his skull, making him feel tense, like something was about to happen, despite consciously knowing he had a handy ghost sense that could free him from those worries. But sometimes that feeling would make him ignore that comforting power altogether as he ended up refreshing his apps constantly, just to make sure he got the latest local news updates and confirm there weren't any ghosts attacking out of his range.

It was annoying at best but dangerous at worst. Not to his development or his attention during fights, but his own sanity and his relationship with others. His friends, his family, his teachers, and classmates...

He kept getting weird glances from Sam & Tuck whenever he did something unusual. Sure, being unusual was now part of his new normal, but there were some tiny changes in attitude or behavior that didn't seem to correlate to getting ghost powers. Like when he did a mental check of the doors, windows, and emergency exits as soon as they walked into a room, keeping his attention elsewhere even at familiar locations. Or whenever he took them on another hour of patrol after everything had gone quiet, realizing too late he was just double-checking there weren't any missing spooks left. So, he tried to pay more attention to those new habits to avoid the concerned looks he got from them.

Still, his efforts weren't enough as others around him began calling him out for little things. People who had no idea what his life was really like and made bold and unrelated assumptions.

If he was lucky to be awake in English class, Mr. Lancer would take his constant glance at the windows as a sign of wanting to get out of the classroom, earning him an unwarranted "and no, Mr. Fenton, you may not leave to the bathroom if you're considering it."

Dash and Kwan would call him a paranoid wimp for always turning to look over his shoulder while walking in the hallway, taking those momentary distractions to try to scare him or make him trip (something his senses were alert enough to avoid; at least most of the time).

The cheerleaders had started rumors about him having a girlfriend those times he would constantly check his phone. Others said he probably had something dangerous in his backpack and that's why he kept it close.

The reminder by strangers of how much he slipped into "obsessive ghost mode" at school was very painful. But not any worse than when it came from those who did know about his extracurricular activities.

Tucker and Sam noticing were one thing. They often understood and gave him space to sort things out unless they saw him struggle, or become a jerk, or make some really bad decision. But Jazz? No, that was a whole other can of worms that hurt his stomach just thinking about it.

Jazz was… Jazz. The self-proclaimed psychologist of the Fenton family but also half of the angsty teenagers at school. She noticed a few weeks ago, after she told him to knock it off when he constantly changed channels on the TV only to go back to the news broadcast he only just left two seconds before. He didn't react well that time, staring in shock at the remote as if it had burned him instead of giving her a customary snide remark. She noticed his shock and didn't let him off the hook when he tried to downplay it. Instead, she figured it was just some anxiety from always having to stay alert of new attacks.

He didn't feel compelled to correct her.

His sister, despite how observant she usually was, had never considered ghost obsessions as something real. It's not like she hadn't heard the half-cooked theories their parents had shared over the years, but she reasoned that what everyone classified as an obsession was not possible when confronted with Danny's rogues' gallery, citing how they often evolved in their methods and looked for ways to innovate. "Take Skulker, for example," she had said once, "he enjoys hunting to a disturbing level, but he's shown to stop and change targets if he has different motivations. See? Ghosts who wilt if they neglect their obsessions are totally not a thing."

Danny figured she just wanted certainty, peace of mind. So, she had to build a solid theory on the matter in her terms so she wouldn't have to worry about what it would imply for a half-ghost like him.

Truth is, she didn't know what she was talking about. No one did. Not the ghosts he casually tried to consult who never gave the topic much of a thought, nor the books Sam had taken out for research purposes on an unrelated topic that somehow had a dubious chapter on his latest concerns. Not his parents, who wouldn't change their assumptions on ghosts after feeling their old biases confirmed with each ghost attack.

Not knowing for sure or at least where to start getting answers was terrifying. How unhealthy was it really to half-ghosts like him?

Yeah, no, asking Vlad was off the table unless he wanted his mind messed up with.

So he had to figure it out alone, carrying the dead weight of this discovery on his already heavy shoulders.

He still wasn't sure how this obsession began to develop. Was it entirely a ghost thing? Was it also a superhero thing? Or was he predisposed as a Fenton? He knew his family was a bit obsessive. His dad and Jazz often showcased it more, so there was something maybe inherited or at least learned. His dad would always blame ghosts for anything bad going on, even when there was no indication of paranormal activity. Jazz was always very thorough with her school work and entirely focused on her psychobabble, despite being told to back off.

So, was this something normal but only heightened by his ghostly nature?

He had no doubts about the ghost part, even if his parents or the other alleged paranormal experts hadn't reached a conclusive theory on ghost obsessions. Even if his friends had casually asked about the topic and he dismissed it with a snort or a sarcastic remark before changing the subject.

The spectral involvement in this new aspect of him was confirmed once he realized his core would buzz happily if he completed any of these new tedious tasks. Or after he felt his chest constrict in annoyance whenever he got called clueless during a fight, after he missed obvious clues or signals that would make him replay the whole fight in his head over and over again.

Or when he hyper-fixated on those mistakes as Phantom and thought of strategies to change them even when they had already happened long ago.

The latter was the most painful wake-up call of all, once he realized he always kept the Nasty Sauce container as part of his routine patrol. Or when he noticed how often he visited Clockwork just to make sure that particular thermos was still safe under his care, taking also the chance to ask if there was any new development (read: threat) in the timeline because of him.

When he became aware of how often this happened, Danny was terrified of the implications. Would this mean he would compulsively make sure everyone was safe for the rest of his life? What about beyond it? Would his core hurt if he neglected the need to fulfill these tasks? Would he be prone to outside triggers, such as words or phrases to avoid? While the ancient ghost provided no definite answer when Danny asked, he did reassure him everything would be fine if he stopped bottling it.

But what did that even mean? Bottling up his obsession? Or his feelings about it? Both? Would his friends and sister look at him the same if he gave in or simply told them? Would they see him as something broken? As something… inhuman? Lesser than?

No, keep it to yourself. No one wants to know about all the nasty, ghostly stuff longing to ooze to the surface to frighten those around you.

What broke the ectoplasmic camel's back, in the end, was a heated conversation with Jazz about boundaries, once she learned from Sam about how he kept following her and a boy named Gregor during their dates.

They had been in his room, his sister barging in to ask what had happened and lecturing him on what was so wrong about the whole situation. He tried to defend his actions, but he felt cornered and worried. Extremely worried that he had done it again. He hadn't even realized why he was doing it until Sam yelled at him to back off.

His obsession didn't just nudge him to take care of possible ghost threats. It had now prompted him to protect other aspects of their lives.

A need to protect himself from losing one of his best friends.

To protect Sam from heartbreak.

Where did the obsession end? How much more would it grow? How did he stop the earworm, the nagging feeling, the subconscious routines, or the repetitive tasks?

"Danny, this is not healthy for you or anyone," the redhead explained, hurting him in ways she couldn't possibly understand. "It's great that you've finally figured out your feelings for Sam, but you can't just go—"

"It's not like that, okay!?" he yelled in a sudden outburst, tears threatening to fill his eyes. His green eyes, he just realized, fueling more his frustration. Reminding him of how abnormal he had become. A ghost trying too hard to pass as an ordinary teenage boy.

He sat on his bed, closing his eyes to try to calm his ghostly side into submission. Did that ever work? Was he really in control? Or was this attempt at reigning in his spectral impulses something similar to a predator humoring its prey before devouring it whole?

Jazz soon followed his example, sitting by his side with a hand on his shoulder. It was all he needed to break the dam and start crying, somehow ending up with his face on her shoulder, a warm hug keeping him from crumbling further.

"I can't help it," he said between sobs. "I've tried, trust me, but it's just so hard to stop."

He was sure if he could see her face, she would give him that curious frown that meant she felt stumped and didn't like not understanding what was going on.

"What's hard to stop, little brother?" she managed to say in the most soothing voice she could muster after being so incensed by the previous discussion.

Danny pressed his eyes shut harder. He wanted to tell her everything. He needed someone to understand, to tell him he wasn't going crazy. That his actions were completely normal.

"My… my…"

Fuck! He couldn't do it. He couldn't tell her. What if she just dismissed it? She didn't believe in ghost obsessions. She wouldn't understand even if he tried to explain in great detail how much it hurt to feel these intrusive thoughts and actions taking over his everyday activities. Hurting his relationship with those he loved. Benefiting his ghost side when a fight came. What if this hurt them?

What if this hurt him beyond repair?

He wouldn't be able to take it. He wouldn't be able to deal with their condescendence or their disdain. Seeing them walk around eggshells. To feel anything less than their friend or brother. To admit being anything less than human.

They had always thought he was a kid with ghost powers, not an eldritch abomination with his life between two worlds.

"Your what, Danny?" she prompted more lovingly, almost pleading with him to let her in.

He couldn't do it.

He couldn't do it.

He had to protect them.

He had to protect himself.

So he lied, like a coward. He admitted to some made-up heartbreak after seeing Sam happy with someone else. And he bullshitted his way out of the conversation by agreeing with Jazz he would talk about his feelings to Sam whenever he was ready. Not now, obviously, since there was still this Gregor dude around.

Yeah, teenage love was easier to admit than ectoplasmic-based obsessions.

Even if he continued to obsess over his phone notifications or stalked his friends like a jealous boyfriend. Or kept taking a look at his surroundings like a seasoned cop. Or even when he still carried out the dozen menial tasks that pegged him as an underachieving student, a distracted son, a paranoid loser, or a traumatized friend and brother.

Those labels were a thousand times better.

At least that way he could still be seen as human. Flawed but still terribly human.