The late bell had only just rung when the three friends slid into their seats in History class that morning. There was an unnatural silence hanging over the room, leaving each student rooted upright with grim expressions on their faces, staring straight ahead with resolute dedication. No mobile phones were to been heard, and no one was even trying to take advantage of the silence by sneaking in a few more minutes sleep. Perhaps most unnerving of all, however, was the fact that every student had their textbooks out and notepads at the ready. Sam, Danny and Tucker shared uncertain glances with each other before pulling out their books and following suit. Not a sound was to be heard.
The tension in the air was broken only a few minutes later when the door swung open. The students held their breath.
There was a pause, then, a small woman bearing a clipboard scurried in and made her way to the back of the classroom where a solitary chair was situated. There was a collective sigh and the students slumped their shoulder in relief.
Only a few moments later, the door swung open once again and Mr. Lancer strode in, clutching on to a briefcase. "Let's have a quiz!" he announced. "Question one."
He set the briefcase down on the table and turned to the face the classroom. "Identify the main concerns addressed during the Hundred Days of The New Deal."
He watched the students snap out of their stupefied daze and jolt into action, scrambling to tear sheets out of their notepads and hasten to answer the question. Lancer didn't wait long, briskly unlatching the briefcase and pulling out his lectures.
"Question two," he barked without looking up. "Compare and contrast the conscription policies of the First and Second World War."
Danny gritted his teeth and tried to steady his hand while numerous facts, dates, and other unrecognizable bits of trivia he'd absorbed throughout the semester flashed in his mind. Tucker was hunched low over his desk to the right of him, his tongue poking out and his brow furrowed in concentration as he hurried to list down his answers. Danny's eyes slid over to the left where he saw Sam, her face a mask of terror and her pencil unmoving in her tight grip.
"Question three," Lancer voice rang out. "Describe the outcome of the Battle of Antietam and its relevance today."
Danny turned his attention back to the paper in front of him sharply. Unlike the rest of the students who who were furiously trying to jot their responses down as fast as possible, his own answer sheet remained steadfastly blank. Danny's mind raced; what did he know about the Battle of Antietam? It sounded foreign … European, perhaps. Or maybe Latin. Was America ever in a way with the Latin community? He thought back to the previous question. Conscription – he didn't even know what word meant.
"Question four—"
No time to question himself. With a mental shrug, Danny hunched his posture and began to write as fast as he could. The Battle of Antietam – it didn't sound modern, and it definitely didn't have anything to do with Vietnam from the sounds of it; the only other option he could think of was the First World War. What did he know about World War I? He knew America fought Germany then too. Who else was involved? Spain? Did the U.S. ever cross paths with Spain?
"And question five…"
Danny's head jerked up in shock. He hadn't even heard the previous question!
"List the benefits of trade policies and the effect they have on international relations between member countries."
Danny ducked his head down just in time as he felt Lancer survey the rows of students imperiously. He closed his eyes and evened out his breathing. Okay, trade policies … that was easy; America was in a trade policy, wasn't it? What was it called? And who were involved? China? That would be beneficial, wouldn't it? He pressed his pencil against the paper and tried to recall the lecture they'd had on the topic. What did Lancer say?
Out of the recesses of his mind, a single word drifted out. "Tariffs," he recalled Lancer mentioning. One of the benefits of entering into a trade policy was … reduced tariffs!
"Time's up!" Lancer declared. "Put your pencils down, and pass your papers along to the front of the class so that they can be collected." Before Danny could react, a hand reached over and snatched up his blank piece of paper.
"Wait!" Danny cried desperately, but silenced himself when he caught sight of Lancer swiveling his head to glare at him. There was nothing for it; Danny's shoulders slumped in disappointment, and he morosely took the sheets of paper that came floating his way and passed it along the queue.
Once the stacks of papers had been collected and all shuffling died down, Lancer stated, "The answers will be passed around the classroom in random order. While I tell you the answers, you will mark your classmate's answers, and then return your sheet to its respective owner – quietly," he reminded.
There was a murmur of assent as the slips of paper were distributed throughout the room. Danny was gratified to see that he wasn't the only one who had failed to answer all the questions, though Nathan did actually manage to write something down. Half-listening to Lancer recite the answers, Danny found himself wondering what Dash was up to right then. While he was sitting here enduring Lancer's History quizzes, Dash was having Math on the other side of the building with Paulina and Kwan.
Danny's grip tightened around his pencil when he thought of Kwan. For so long he had been convinced the Asian boy had been innocent in all this; the tragic outcome of what could happen when you get caught in the crossfire. Now the image of him sitting in class, sitting next to Dash, pretending he was so innocent – it revolted him; it burned him; had him seething down to his very bones.
So entrenched in his thoughts was he that Danny didn't notice his hand begin to emit a dangerous green glow, smoldering the pencil trapped within his fingers into scant ashes, until Tucker knocked his foot against Danny's own soiled sneakers urgently. Danny whipped his head over to glare at him, only to catch Tucker's warning gaze. Realizing what he'd done, Danny blushed and swept the remaining fragments of his pencil off the table. Tucker dug into his backpack and handed another one over.
Lancer was speaking again, instructing the students to return the answer sheets they had to their respective owners. "Remain seated and simply pass it along so that it can find its way back. You know how it works. After all," a sardonic smile crossed Lancer's lips, "you've all had plenty of experience passing notes in my class before."
Panicked, Danny stared down at Nathan's sheet of paper and tried to recall the answers Lancer had provided, but drew only blanks. He stole a glance over at Nathan waiting patiently for his answers to return to his desk. Danny shrugged. Nathan would never know who his marker was. Besides, Danny reasoned as he proceeded to blindly tick off each question, Nathan was smart; his responses were probably right anyway.
He tossed the paper over to Tucker to pass along, and drummed his fingers on the table until a stack of papers came his way for him to flip through, which Danny did more to avoid Lancer's suspicion than anything else. He knew there was no point in expecting anything of his own blank answer sheet; he hadn't even written his name on it, after all.
None of the papers in his hand belonged to him though, so he passed them over to Tucker to browse through. No sooner had Danny passed along the first stack did he find another pile dropping on his desk. Sighing, he started running his fingers through this stack too.
Lancer watched the students working methodically with a disinterested expression. Keeping his face purposely blank, he said nonchalantly, "Question one."
The class froze.
"But we haven't finished yet!" Tucker protested in a shrill voice.
"Mister Foley, by this time, I believe that you of all people should be familiar with the concept of multi-tasking," came Lancer's icy reply. To the class, he continued, "Outline the causes that contributed to the onset of the Panic Of 1873 within the United States."
Hands flew in the air as the students scrambled to tear out new sheets of paper, their previous task of passing answers around abandoned. Danny practically shoved the pile he had been going through off his desk and racked his brain. 1873 – what was going on at the time? America had been founded some hundred years prior, he knew that much; he also knew that it was too early for World War I. So that meant that the major issue of the time had to be … the Civil War?
Danny furrowed his brow. The timeline fit well enough, but what were the causes that led to a panic? He knew that America had been divided between the Union and Confederate States. So perhaps everybody had been panicked about losing. He knew he panicked often enough over it. But which side lost? Danny chewed on his lip and tried to recall the details of the war.
"Question two."
Oh crap.
"Briefly expand upon the key points of the Louisiana Purchase."
Danny ran his fingers through his hair in frustration and tried to dig up everything he knew on the subject. Within hardly any time at all, Lancer had moved on to the next question, forcing Danny to abandon his thought processes in favor of keeping up. Finally, the bald man came to an end, and gestured for everyone to hand their answers in and repeat the cycle of marking and redistributing the results back, watching them passively for a few moments before softly stating, "Question one."
A chorus of audible groans rose in the air as the students prepared themselves for another barrage of questions. Danny watched out of the side of his eye as Sam pulled back her leg and gave Mikey, who was seated in front f her, a solid kick to the calf, prompting him to lurch forward and shoot his arm into the air. "M – Mister Lancer?"
Lancer turned bored eyes over to the whining teen. "Problem, Mister Fordham?"
"Er…" Mikey looked abashed by the sudden bout of attention the class was giving him. While Lancer's eyes challenged the boy to raise an objection, the others silently pleaded with their student representative to save them from their torment. "It's just that…" he ducked his head, "well, do you – do you think this is the best way for us to prepare for our exams next week?"
"As a matter of fact, Mister Fordham, I consider this to be a wonderful opportunity for all of you to assess your standing within this class," Lancer said airily. "Without being able to gauge your grasp of the material thus far, exactly how do you plan to prepare yourselves for your finals?"
Mikey, it appeared, had no answer prepared. Taking advantage of the boy's silence, Lancer turned his attention back on the students. "Discuss the motivations that led John Adams to seek peace with France."
And so it went for the remainder of the hour, with Lancer subjecting the class to round after round of rapid-fire questions with barely a moment for them to catch their breath. Halfway through, it became obvious that Lancer's idea of having the students mark each other's answers was no longer feasible. By the time the class came to a close, the floor was littered with scraps of paper. Danny's hand was caught in a painful cramp he feared would never fade away.
"I hope," Lancer announced over the sound of pencils falling away from exhausted grips and clattering on tabletops, "that this has been, if nothing else, an eye-opening experience of the work you have ahead of you. Good luck on your upcoming exams and I hope to see all of you at graduation." His eyes roamed the sea of faces critically before landing on Danny. "All of you."
Packing up his briefcase, Lancer pivoted, and marched out the door.
A heavy silence reigned as the class collectively took a minute to gather their senses together, unsteadily gathering their quizzes where they lay on the floor and carefully putting them away for later use.
"Well," Danny tried to sound supportive as the three of them exited the room, "at least we'll be really prepared for the questions in the exam now."
Sam snorted. "Prepared – I wouldn't be surprised if Lancer came out with completely different questions in the exam just to spite us."
Their next class was Chemistry. While a typically lackluster class – Danny had been excited for it on the first day until he realized mixing chemicals together was nowhere near as interesting as he'd hoped – the students were doing their best to pay attention, what with this being their last week of classes. Danny tried his best to keep up, but when the words on the board began ceding their way to symbols, and finally, squiggles, he tossed down his pen in favor of burying his head in his hands.
"This has been the worst," he groaned to Sam and Tucker as they drifted through the hallways after. "What do we have next?"
"Literature," Sam stated grimly. They bade goodbye to Tucker, who was due in Spanish. "How was it?" he would ask them later when they reconvened for lunch.
"I found it okay enough," Sam shrugged. "Danny, on the other hand…"
Danny speared through his porkchop viciously. "I don't want to talk about it," he muttered.
"Don't worry, Danny," Sam consoled. "They're making it seem hard on purpose in order to scare us. The exams will be fine if you spend this week studying for it. I was thinking that we could meet up at my place, the kitchen is already stocked with more food than we can manage…" she continued to ramble on, but Danny wasn't paying attention anymore. He glanced up from his tray, and his eyes automatically searched out the popular kids' table, the rowdiest one in the room. He found, to his pleasant surprise, that Dash was already watching him, biting into his sandwich and ignoring the hordes of people that surrounded him. Danny felt himself blush and straightened up his slouch. Dash deposited the remainder of his sandwich and stood up, sauntering past confidently.
"…and at night we can move on to Calculus," Sam was still talking, stopping only when Danny pushed his seat back and stood up. "Danny?"
"I'll be right back," Danny responded stiffly.
"Where's he going?" Sam questioned as she watched him walk away. Tucker merely shrugged and bit into his lunch.
The hallway was completely deserted by the time Danny rounded the corner, and he couldn't help but feel a smidgen of disappointment to find Dash was nowhere in sight. Regardless, he kept walking, certain that Dash had been signaling him to follow his lead at the lunchroom.
Danny was so preoccupied trying to spy Dash's form through the darkened windows of each classroom that he was taken by surprise when a muscular pair of arms gripped his own bony shoulders and dragged him backwards, forcing a squeak to escape his throat. Before he knew what was happening, he found himself ensconced in darkness with a warm body pressed up against him.
"Hi," Dash breathed into his ear.
Danny turned around as he felt the other boy's grip loosen, wrapping his arms around Dash and feeling Dash's arms encircle his waist. Danny angled his head and tipped forward, and their lips met in a heated kiss. Dash's hold on him tightened as they shifted, moving so that Danny found himself pressed against the wall with the other boy's fingers scrabbling underneath the hem of his shirt to caress the skin. Danny let out a contented murmur and practically melted, parting his legs enough for Dash's thigh to fit between them.
Deepening the kiss, relishing the feel of Dash's soft lips brushing against his own, Danny found his own hands fumbling to make contact with heated flesh, rubbing against the jock's fantastic muscles. When finally they broke away, both boys were panting heavily.
"Missed you," Danny whispered into the darkness.
He could see Dash's sapphire orbs burning through the haze of black, drawing closer and disappearing entirely as his lips claimed Danny's in another possessive kiss.
"Missed you too," he whispered against Danny's lips.
The two lovers remained there in their private little alcove, indulging in sweet kisses of reunion until the sound of chattering students reached their ears. Regretfully, they detached themselves against each other, trying to will their bodies to calm down. "Let's just stay here," Dash murmured, nipping at the shell of Danny's ear before dipping down to lave attention upon his neck. Danny let out a little moan and giggled from the stimulation.
"I want to," he said. "I … really want to…" his words drifted off as Dash pulled him flush against him once more, bumping their jean-clad erections together.
"How are you feeling?" Danny asked suddenly. "After … Prom Night, I mean?"
"Hmm?" Dash grunted, distracted by his quest to map out every available inch of Danny's skin he could find. "I told you, Prom Night was perfect."
Danny chuckled. "Yeah, well, I know that – I was talking about your … you know," he broke off, feeling suddenly shy.
Dash, in response, wiggled his rump as though to test its sensitivity. "You know," Danny could see the whites of his teeth flash in a satisfied grin, "I think it's just about ready for a repeat performance."
Danny couldn't help grinning at that either. Sometimes, he mused, Dash Baxter was just far too cute to resist. So he stayed, hardly noticing that the sounds of the hallways had ceased, hardly caring, hardly thinking, his entire world consisting only of the way Dash felt and the way Dash smelled right there in their private little alcove.
"Where were you?" Sam demanded as soon as they bell rang and they were released from classes. Tucker fell in step with them, casting curious eyes on Danny as well.
Try as he might, Danny was simply unable to dredge up any form of regret about the way the afternoon had gone. He had returned to his classes eventually, having skipped one entirely in favor of remaining with Dash, and by the time the two of them had made their way out of the small closet they'd hidden themselves away in, they had missed most of remaining period anyway.
Now, however, he was faced with the inevitable task of explaining his whereabouts. "Um…" Danny rubbed at the nape of his neck in discomfort.
"Was it that ghost attack that happened after lunch?" Tucker spoke up suddenly. "I read about it on my PDA," he explained when Sam turned to him in confusion.
"There was a ghost attack?" Sam turned wide eyes on him.
"Uh, yeah," Danny said mechanically. "Just … you know, a random thing, I guess. No big."
"You mean they weren't after Vlad's ghost half?"
"No," Danny said, then immediately regretted it. "I mean, I don't know – it couldn't speak. Just roar."
He caught Tucker's eye, giving a grateful smile. Tucker nodded in acknowledgement.
"Would you look at that?" Sam came to a sudden stop, her attention focused on something. Danny leaned over to look, and found himself looking out over the wide field where the football team was practicing. "That is so dumb. We have exams next week, and they're still making the team play?"
Tucker shrugged. "Nothing wrong with getting a little exercise – unless we're talking about me, that is."
"Yeah, but the season's not even on. It's pointless," Sam reasoned. "They should be at home studying right now. Speaking of which—" she latched on to either boy's wrists and pulled them away from the scene, "so should we."
So they headed over to Sam's house and spent the day burying their heads in their textbooks and quizzing each other on various bits of trivia. By the time they stopped for the night, Danny felt as though his brain was dangerously close to popping out of his skull. And yet, no matter how much he wanted it, no matter how much he begged for it, sleep eluded him for most of the night. He spent most of the night lying in bed staring up at the ceiling and wondering about the situation with Kwan. He'd meant to keep an eye out on the other boy, but aside from a short glimpse of him in the cafeteria, and then later on the football pitch, hadn't come across the other boy. He would have to try again tomorrow.
The holiday mood set by Prom Night had been quickly and surely dispelled, as evidenced the following morning when Danny stepped through the double doors to find the hallways crowded with students reading intensely and jotting down quick notes while waiting for class to begin. Sam was no different, so intent on her work that she didn't even look up as Danny approached. Tucker, however, appeared to be far more relaxed, browsing the Internet using his PDA.
"We'll see how far that stupid thing takes you when you fail your exams and have to give up college to work at the Nasty Burger," Sam said crossly when Danny brought it up.
Tucker merely yawned. "Chill, Sam. Finals are going to be cake; they know the seniors just goof off all year. They'll make the papers easy because they can't afford to fail everyone."
"That doesn't even make sense, Tucker!" Sam exploded, finally tearing her eyes away from her notebook to glare at him. Tucker shrugged.
"It does if you think about it."
Danny's attention was called away suddenly when he spotted Kwan rounding the corner while holding hands with Star. Danny held up a hand, effectively silencing the bickering duo. "Cover for me," he instructed, leaning back casually against the row of green lockers. Sam and Tucker were immediately at his side, blocking him from sight as they pressed their bodies close together. Danny quickly turned intangible and shot through the barriers of Sam and Tucker's frames, aiming dead ahead for Kwan. Closing his eyes tight, he prepared to invade the other boy's body.
Kwan stopped dead in his tracks as Danny took a moment to fit himself comfortably in his bones. He wiggled his fingers, pleased to find Kwan's fingers wiggling in response. As his eyesight adjusted, Danny knew Kwan's own eyes must have been illuminating green.
There didn't seem to be anything suspicious – Danny tried his best to sense out a secondary presence within the body, some sign that the boy was being held hostage within his own body, but … nothing.
Danny's eyes widened when he found himself enveloped by a sudden pressure. It was as if a fishing line had hooked itself into his very core and was trying to reel him in. He let out a strangled gasp, trying to fight it, but the pressure merely grew stronger. Danny felt suffocated, as if Kwan's ribs were closing in on him and bearing down. A distressing feeling of claustrophobia overcame him, and suddenly, Danny wanted nothing more than to get out of there.
His wish was soon granted as the pressure around him grew too strong to fight, and he found himself forcibly ejected, hurtling backwards beyond muscles and tendons, and into a brightly-lit hallway once more. He landed on the linoleum floor with a jerky grunt, the force of his expulsion turning him tangible once more.
Danny shook his head to clear away the fog in his mind, and drew in a breath as Kwan rotated slowly on the spot to cast dark, impenetrable eyes on Danny where he sat. The two boys stared at each other in silence for a long moment; Star stood dumbly to the side, her hand still tangled limply in Kwan's. Sam and Tucker rushed to his side, pulling him to stand upright. Kwan watched all this with a cold, unmoving disposition.
The chatter around the immediate vicinity had died off completely. All eyes were now on their little group. Realizing this, Kwan finally broke the hold he had Danny locked in to grip Star's hand once more and stalk away. The three of them watched the couple disappear into the throng before relaxing their stance.
"What was that about?" Tucker wasted no time in asking. The murmur of voices around them gradually resumed once more.
"I – I don't know," Danny stammered, shaking loose of Sam's concerned hold, as though she thought he needed to be propped up. "I was barely even in there for a minute before he – he…" Danny's voice trailed off.
"What?" Sam prompted.
Dazedly, his vision swimming, Danny finished, "I think … he forced me out."
Silence greeted this statement. The three of them stared on at the space where Kwan and Star had been standing, and Danny knew that they were each wondering the same thing. How was it possible?
Danny spent the remainder of the morning moving through a haze. As far as he was concerned the teachers may as well have been speaking on mute. He noticed the worried looks Sam and Tucker routinely shot his way, but they seemed to understand that he was in no mood to be coddled, and he appreciated the fact that they were trying to give him some space.
The mystery with Kwan had deepened further. Never had Danny encountered a human who was able to reject being possessed with such ferocity; it was an entirely new experience for him to have gone through. And yet, Kwan had, once again, come off as clean when Danny had tried to sense a secondary presence.
It simply didn't make sense.
"Danny."
Danny blinked out of his stupor and glanced up. Sam and Tucker were standing over him.
"Get up. Class is over."
Danny stared at them blankly, then turned his head to see the rest of the class filing out in pairs of twos and threes. A nasty snicker was heard in the background. "Fen-turd."
"Oh," Danny said stupidly. He got to his feet and reached to collect his books, stopping short when he noticed them lying in their unopened state. He slapped a palm to his head.
"Oh, man. Don't tell me I left them closed like that all period."
Sam and Tucker shared uneasy looks.
"Uh, yeah," Sam said. "You did."
"And I'm sorry to say," Tucker added grimly, "everybody saw."
"Oh, God."
"We tried to say something," Sam said uncertainly. "But the teacher kept looking your way and we didn't want to risk getting caught."
Danny shook his head miserably, and snatched up his books. "So what have we got next?" he ground out.
"Lunch."
Danny stared at them incredulously. "We've got lunch?"
Tucker quirked his eyebrow. "What's the matter with you? I know you zoned out during revision, but don't you at least remember walking to different classrooms?"
"No," Danny exclaimed. "Ugh – this whole thing is killing me. I can't believe we've got exams in a week! I'm barely functioning as it is."
"Danny, you need to get a grip," Sam scolded. "Now is not the time to freak out. You said Kwan was clean right? That's all you need to know. At least for now, you should concentrate on getting your work done."
Danny listened to her words and nodded resolutely. Sam was right – this mystery with Kwan wasn't going anywhere; if he made certain to keep an eye out, it shouldn't be too difficult to devote some time revising.
"But then, if the ghosts are attacking again…" Sam said uncertainly. "They were quiet a while back, weren't they?"
"Uh, yeah," Danny said uncertainly. It wasn't that there hadn't been any activity with ghosts whatsoever, he just hadn't been keeping them in the loop about it – he had made no mention of Poindexter after that night he had tried to verbalize what happened to Tucker; and then there was that horrible incident with Kitty…
"What happened that other day in the Ghost Zone anyway?" Sam asked, oblivious to his thoughts. "You were gone for so long. And you didn't want to talk about it at all afterwards."
Danny didn't answer her immediately. His mind flashed back to the evening at hand; how he had gone to Nocturne, convinced him to help, made a deal with the devil; the things he saw that night – the way this ethereal beast sewn together by the celestial beings themselves had scooped down and carried to him the souls of two men; a lifetime of despondence in exchange for an eternity of peace.
"Nothing," he whispered.
The cafeteria was bustling with a long queue already forming. Studying was hungry work it seemed. Danny himself had no appetite.
"I'll just get a soda," he informed the other two, steering off to the vending machine.
He had only just deposited his coins into the slot when a gaggle of jocks clad in letterman jackets came by his direction. Danny felt a powerful shoulder bang painfully against his, sending him stumbling back a bit. The jocks laughed as they passed by. "Good one, dude," one congratulated.
Danny turned to glare at the group, clutching at his arm. The one who had bumped into him turned to look back, his fine blond hair back, his blue eyes shining and earnest, and a fond grin on his face. Danny felt his irritation disappear and found himself returning Dash's smile. His hand, having originally intended to soothe away the sting with sharp rubbing, now instead caressed the area, tingling with warmth rather than pain now that he had seen that angelic face beaming at him.
His eyes drifted round until they landed on the sight of Tucker in the lunch line giving the group of jocks a dirty look. Danny quickly selected his drink of choice and hurried to find them a table.
By the time Sam and Tucker joined him, the popular table was already filled to quota and bustling with action as usual. Danny noted that Star sat on Paulina's right as usual, yet the two of them were strangely distant from one another. Star focused her attention mostly on Kwan, who was sitting across her doing the same. While Star nibbled at her sandwich sporadically, Kwan's food lay untouched, his entire being focused on Star's eyes; his face held only an unnerving mix of intensity and devotion.
Paulina was politely ignoring them both; in fact, she had her face turned pointedly away, paying no heed to the cheerleaders that sat on her right gossiping noisily, and angling her haughty posture to the jocks that sat to her left. Across from her was Dash. Danny had a much better view of the boy's face from his position than usual due to Paulina's angling.
"So how are things going on with you and Paulina?" Danny questioned.
"Yeah, did you send her a consolation bouquet?" Tucker asked snidely.
"I was going to get on that right after I sent one to Eleanor, actually," Sam said breezily, giving Tucker an easy smile. "I thought she'd need cheering up more."
Danny smirked. It wasn't so long ago that Sam had been chewing him out for getting close to Dash herself. Funny how the popular crowd could get you caught up in their world so easily.
His vision turned back to the popular table, and Danny found himself once again startled to find Dash staring openly at him. The blond boy had ignored his food in favor for propping his head upon his fist, staring at Danny with open adoration. Noticing that the object of his attentions had noticed him, a slow flirty smile dragged its way across Dash's lips.
Danny burst into a large grin and bowed his head to hide it away. Sam was too busy inspecting her veggie sandwich for any traces of meat to notice, but Tucker was looking his way with a puzzled expression on his face, Danny found when he looked back up. Danny quickly uncapped his soda bottle and took a long swig in order to compose himself.
They sat in silence for a long while, Tucker slowly chewing his food and Sam munching on a spare shred of lettuce. Danny clutched on to his soda bottle but drank only intermittently. His eyes hardly strayed from Dash's face. Dash was doing an admirable job of blocking out the chaos happening around him; nothing stole his attention away from blatantly tracing every bit of Danny's face with his eyes.
Finally, Dash pushed his chair back and tossed out the half-uneaten food in his tray before making his way out the cafeteria. Danny steadily counted to a hundred, then pushed his chair back too.
The hallways were, once again, distressingly deserted by the time he made it out the cafeteria under the pretense of going to the bathroom. Danny quickened his pace, retracing his steps from the previous day back to the broom closet, fumbling with the doorknob.
As soon as the door closed behind him, he was pulled into Dash's embrace. Danny was prepared for it, tilting his head and melding their mouths together, their tongues dancing and sliding with every peck.
Dash shoved Danny roughly against the wall, one hand pillowing the boy's head from contact. The concrete was cold, but it didn't matter to Danny with Dash flush against him, rubbing their waists together. Danny let out a low moan as he felt Dash give one powerful thrust, jabbing at him in just the right place.
Their fingers flew together, reaching to undo buttons and unzip trousers, fingers tangling together along the way until finally they were granted sweet relief. Almost simultaneously, their hard, dripping pricks pushed through the confines of their undone jeans to slap wetly against each other. Dash bore himself heavier on Danny, hardly giving them enough room to breathe in between the sloppy energetic rounds of kisses.
Dash's hand was sure and steady when it wrapped around Danny's shaft, giving him a row of firm, fluid tugs. Danny arched his back and pressed his pelvis up in the direction of the welcome warmth. His own fingers hastened to take hold of Dash's member, taking a moment to slide down and cup the boy's full, round balls. He gave Dash's cock a squeeze, eliciting an appreciative gasp from the blond's lips.
Dash bent at the knees, lowering his stance to get to Danny's neck, nipping at the tender flesh there. Danny gave a gurgle of pleasure and quickened his pace.
The increased stimulation on Dash's cock had a direct effect on the boy's reaction, causing him to let out a keening noise and lurch against Danny's slippery shaft, his own fingers increasing the pressure ever so slightly so that Danny was responding with grunts of his own.
Just when he thought he couldn't get much higher, Danny was subjected to the sensation of Dash's finger over the top of his cockhead, using the lube found gathering there to rapidly circle the pad of his thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Danny whimpered and suckled on Dash's tongue, his hand going slack around the rigid member as he reached the point of no return. Jerking his head back and relishing the dangerous graze of Dash's teeth against his naked flesh, Danny let out a strangled cry and burst, coating his lover's hand with a copious load.
Danny sank boneless against the wall, held upright mostly thanks to Dash's arms still cradling him close. He could hear Dash give a pleased sound and place dainty kisses along his jawline. "Was it good for you?" he murmured, pressing lips softly on his earlobe.
"The best," Danny's head was still spinning. He gave Dash a dirty smile and reached once more for the still erect member. "Let me make it good for you."
He gave a couple of experimental strokes before wiggling out of Dash's hold and sinking deftly to his knees, placing one palm flat against the curve of Dash's hip to steady himself. Looking up at Dash coyly, Danny pushed his tongue out to brush at the head of Dash's quivering dick. Dash sucked in a sharp intake of breath, eyes rolling back in pleasure and anticipation. Danny swirled his tongue, getting acclimated to the still-foreign taste. Then, he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around the glans.
"Motherf—" Dash burst out, giving a small shudder than ran all the way down to his calves. Danny only smiled in response.
"Danny—" Dash panted as the smaller boy darted his tongue around the head again. Danny found himself getting unexpectedly flushed at the sound of his name escaping Dash's mouth that way. He shoved forward, regaining his balance and adjusting his posture as he took even more of Dash's cock into his throat, and then, when he finally got far enough to the point he was sure he'd choke if he took anymore, Danny closed his eyes and began to suck.
Dash let out a long yowl up above him, throwing his head back and pressing his hands up against the low ceiling to anchor himself, and Danny felt a rush of accomplishment having gotten such a big result out of his efforts. He worked his throat muscles to pump Dash's cock for all it was worth. His head was stationary, buried in Dash's crotch, the boy's blond pubic hair prickling at his nose Before long Danny found himself competing with the need to breathe; not wanting to pull off and ruin all the work his ministrations had done, he closed his eyes and tried to focus on sucking in air without choking on the dick in his mouth.
He took in a steady breath, and instantly the musk of Dash's crotch, that powerful male scent, shot through his nostrils and perfumed his mind. Pleasantly surprised by the odor, Danny inhaled a bigger gulp, his throat working messily to allow some air to pass on through. It hit him like an aphrodisiac, and he drew himself closer to Dash, his knees sliding up the last few centimeters to close the distance between them, suddenly overtaken by the urge to try his level best to try and take in all that Dash had to offer.
Dash's fingers moved to caress the hair on Danny's head in gentle encouragement as Danny worked wildly to fit more of the blond's cock down his throat, relaxing his muscles and sliding down slowly. He reminded himself to keep stimulating Dash with his tongue, easy to ignore when consumed with the task of deep-throating for the first time, but Danny had done a lot of research on the subject over the years.
Through his lowered eyelashes, Danny noticed that Dash's balls had pulled up significantly throughout all this; the skin had become wrinkled and darker, rather than the satisfying handful Danny had found them to be earlier on. Keeping his mouth as moist and well-lubricated as possible to keep Dash's focus, Danny discreetly slipped one palm away from where it had been resting on Dash's hip to place his index finger at the base of his balls and gently, almost too gently, ran it along the thatch of skin.
That was all it took. Dash's hips thrust forward, practically embedding his cock within the soft velvet of Danny's throat, and, with a muffled cry, erupted into Danny's waiting mouth.
Danny's throat muscles worked furiously now to swallow the load as fast as it came, his tongue wiggling underneath the heavy weight of Dash's thick cock in attempt to garner a taste of the cum that was spurting down his esophagus. Dash kept his pelvis pressed against Danny's cheekbones for several long moments as he slowly weaned himself back to reality, before finally slumping backwards and sliding down against the wall behind him to join Danny in a heap upon the floor.
The two boys lay there in comfortable silence, not embraced in each others arms, but bundled close together for sheer lack of space. Danny found himself resting his head on Dash's heaving chest as they both waited to regain their breath. "That … was …" Dash started.
"Yeah," Danny finished for him, a small smile on his face.
Dash wrapped his arm around Danny's shoulders and tilted his chin up for a kiss.
When they were able to pull themselves away, they pulled themselves to their feet unsteadily, trying shakily to make themselves look more presentable – not that they could see very well; the broom closet was impenetrably dark.
"How long do you think we've been in here?" Danny asked, thinking suddenly of how they had missed two periods the previous day to make out.
"Not long," Dash said, throwing his letterman jacket back on and dusting off his black tee. "I don't think lunch is over yet."
"I hope you're right," Danny made a vain attempt to straighten out his hair. Dash turned the knob and swung the door open.
"Don't worry," he teased, "you've still got plenty of time to zone out in class under the teacher's nose."
"Oh, God," Danny bemoaned, stepping back out into the light. "Does the whole school know by now?"
Whatever Dash was going to say, Danny never got to hear it. The two of them froze when they caught sight of Tucker standing out in the hallway, his expression blank. There was a long moment of silence.
"I checked the bathrooms," Tucker said finally. "You weren't there."
When enough time passed that it became evident that Danny would have to speak, he stammered gruffly, "Tuck – Tuck, what are you doing here?"
"Sam asked me to check what was taking so long," Tucker replied flatly. "She thought something might have happened."
Danny couldn't think of what to say, so he cleared his throat emphatically to stall instead. Dash took a step forward, a threatening look on his face, but for once Tucker didn't cower. Danny reached out to stop him, their fingers brushing lightly. Dash paused.
"Paulina must be wondering where you are too," Danny said quietly. He raised his eyes to stare at Dash, who returned his solemn gaze with a troubled one. Danny's eyes said go, I'll handle it, so Dash skulked past Tucker's form, their arms almost scraping together menacingly. Tucker turned his attention back to Danny.
"Tucker, I—"
"Danny, what's going on?" Tucker was clearly in no mood to play games.
"Okay, let's talk somewhere else," Danny grasped on to Tucker's arm and pulled him into an empty classroom. Tucker didn't resist. Danny turned and closed the door firmly behind them.
"Are you gay?" Tucker asked.
Danny bristled, his back still facing Tucker. He felt halfway torn between hysteria and madness. Of course Tucker would come right out and say it – he'd just heard his friend making some very questionable noises in a broom closet with another boy – this wasn't some Lifetime movie where everybody danced around the issue.
"No." He turned to face him. "I mean, not that way – I mean…"
"No – yes – what?" Tucker repeated.
"I – I don't know."
"How can you not know?" Tucker demanded loudly. This wasn't the shrill voice of complaint Danny was used to hearing from his friend; Tucker's voice boomed and resonated off the walls to hang in the air even after the sound faded. "Danny, all those things I heard – what the fuck were you doing in there with Dash?"
Without warning, Tucker suddenly lunged at him, hands outstretched. Danny could only open his mouth in a silent yell of shock when Tucker grabbed him roughly by the scruff of his shirt. "Are you overshadowed? Are you?" He began shaking Danny roughly.
"Tu-u-u-u-u-ck!" Danny protested as his head wobbled up and down on his shoulders. "Stop it – I am not overshadowed!" he pushed the other boy off him.
"Then what the hell are you doing?" Tucker cried. "Danny, were you having sex in school?" his voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "Have you completely lost your mind?"
"Look – Tucker—" Danny snapped, "—lay off alright? It's complicated."
"Complicated – Danny, you hate Dash, remember?" Tucker barked. "The guy who spent making every day of your life miserable – the guy who gave you so many bruises you stopped keeping track You might be friends with him now, but what the fuck did he do to make you have sex with him?"
"Will you shut up – please!" Danny gritted out urgently, eyes darting side to side as though expecting the entire student body to come storming in on them right there. Tucker fell silent, waiting for Danny to pick up the conversation.
"Look," Danny tried to reduce his voice to a soothing tone. "I know it's a big shock – believe me, I know—"
"How long has this been going on, Danny?" Tucker asked, having apparently changed his mind and wanted to pick up the lead again.
"I don't know, a few weeks?" Danny surmised. "Months?"
"Months," Tucker echoed. His voice was shaking with the force of barely-suppressed rage. "You started hanging out with Dash in February – it's not even May!"
"This isn't how you think it is, Tucker!" Danny roared, completely frustrated. "Will you just shut up and let me speak!"
They settled into a cold silence. Both boys were glaring at each other and breathing heavily, as though having just physically sparred. Both sets of ears were reverberating from the volume of their argument. They knew they would have to keep their anger in check or risk drawing unwanted attention.
"Dash and I – we started getting close," Danny started in a wavering tone. "We didn't want anything to do with each other at first … but then things started changing. It happened around the time of Paulina's party."
"But Danny," Tucker beseeched, "you – like – girls, remember? What about Paulina, what about Sam? You can't tell me all that was a lie."
"It wasn't a lie," Danny said. "I just – if only I could put it in words." He had realized while trying that his story rang hollow when he tried to condense the rollercoaster of emotions that had led him to this point. "Dash and I – we didn't expect things to happen this way."
"So all those times that he came over to your place…" Tucker rambled. "Even those times when Sam and I stayed over? And when Jazz…?"
"No!" Danny yelped. "God, no – what do you take us for?"
"Danny, you were just doing it in the broom closet," Tucker hissed.
His eyes widened with realization. "He's the one you were with on Prom Night, wasn't he?"
Danny turned steely eyes on his friend. No matter how hard Tucker was taking it, he refused to feel regret over a single thing that had happened on Prom Night. "Yes," he said resolutely.
The fight seemed to drain out of Tucker's body suddenly; his shoulder slumped down and his rigid posture gave way.
"And Tuck," Danny knew the other boy deserved to hear this, "Dash knows."
When he raised his eyes up to look at his friend, he saw Tucker staring at him in an unfathomable mix of amazement, disbelief, terror and betrayal.
"He knows?" Tucker whispered. In a louder voice, he asked, "But how?"
"I…" Danny let out a little puff of air, feeling suddenly unprotected; "I showed him."
The shocked expression on Tucker's face faded and gave way to outrage. "You showed him?" he cried, appalled. "Danny, how could you do that?"
"It's nothing like that, Tucker," Danny pleaded with his friend to listen. "Dash is a good guy. I trust him."
"It's not a matter of trust here, Danny!" Tucker tossed his hands into the air. "Don't you realize the danger you've put him in? Look around – the government is all over town trying to find you; Kwan found out about you, and look what happened to him!" Tucker shook his head. "How could you bring another person into this?"
"It's not the way you think," Danny said. "Tuck, if you knew what it was like with him, you would understand."
Shaking his head once again, Tucker reached down into one of the pockets of his cargo shorts and tossed something on the desk that stood between him and Danny. Danny picked it up and examined it, unfolding the glossy paper and feeling the blood drain from his face as he stared at the black-and-white photograph in his hands. It illustrated, in graphic detail, an image of him outside his house, stooping on the patio on his knees while Dash loomed over him, face scrunched in an explicit display of ecstasy. Danny felt his throat constrict.
"Wh – where did you get this?"
Tucker's stance was matter-of-fact. "I knocked over a stack of these in the van," he said. "While I was putting them back together, I found the pictures of Kwan. I kept this because I didn't … I didn't understand.
"Why else do you think I told Sam that story about a ghost fight when she asked where you went off to yesterday?" he concluded bitterly.
Danny didn't know what to say. That day had been a mistake. Emotions had been running high, he had wanted to spite these intruders and Skulker and every other ghost that had targeted him throughout this ordeal; and now he was paying the price.
"The Photoron-109x is motion-sensitive," Tucker informed him. "As soon as anything crosses its lens it starts snapping. Danny," he said incredulously, "you weren't even trying to be discreet."
Danny's voice was gravelly when he tried to rasp out some response, but the words never made it far beyond his lips. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the evidence he held in his hand. The Guys in White had more of these – a lot more. He crumpled the photograph into a ball and squeezed the edges in his hand tight.
Tucker was staring at him like he didn't even know him. Striding past, he pushed the door to the classroom open and walked out without a single glance back.
Danny was still rooted and holding onto the crumpled mess in his hand when the bell rang signaling the end of lunch.
Tucker didn't share any classes with them in the afternoon period that day, but it was still uncomfortable for Danny to sit next to Sam, working oblivious to him the next table over. He made sure to leave his schoolbooks open, and sporadically doodled on the paper in order to give off the impression he was paying attention by taking down notes, but he couldn't have cared less about what the teachers around him had to say.
When the final bell rung, Danny haphazardly tossed his books into his bag and walked out.
"Whoa, tiger," Sam called after him, running to catch up. "I don't think anyone even got the chance to get up from their seats before you were out."
"Sorry," Danny muttered. "Just wanted to get out of there, that's all."
"Well, don't let it get you down. Remember: just keep focused. Block out everything that doesn't need your attention right now."
"Mister Fenton?" The two of them turned around to find a short, squat woman running after them. "Mister Lancer has asked me to let you know he would like to see you in his office, Mister Fenton."
Danny shared an uneasy look with Sam.
"Go on," he encouraged. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Bidding her goodbye, he made his way down the opposite corridor to the vice-principal's office and knocked.
"Come in."
Danny twisted the knob, and slowly opened the door."
"Ah, come in Mister Fenton."
"You wanted to see me, sir?"
"I was expecting you, yes. Have a seat, Mister Fenton."
Danny eyed the shabby chair placed opposite Lancer and gingerly sat down. The lights were off in Mr. Lancer's office, and the blinds on the window were down, but not shut, so sunlight patterned the wall and cast shadows. An overhead ceiling fan was rotating gently, keeping the room airy. Lancer was leaning back in his chair, hands tucked behind his head, a serene smile on his face. It was a light summer's day and Lancer was certainly enjoying himself. Danny watched him warily.
"So, it's the final week of the semester," Lancer began nonchalantly, "and I am anxious to know, Fenton, how you have found your semester so far."
"Um," Danny's mind was drawing a blank. "It's been okay, I guess."
"Mister Connor tells me you haven't been by to see him in a while."
Danny only shrugged. "I trust this means you feel that you have managed to get a handle on the issues we addressed when assigning you your Peer Support mentor."
"Who, Dash?" Danny raised, mostly as an act of defiance. Lancer only smiled.
"Yes, Dash," he amended. "He has been strangely tight-lipped regarding your case."
"Oh, good," Danny couldn't help himself from saying, "at least someone understands the meaning of confidentiality."
"Mister Fenton." The tone warned Danny to reel in the reckless attitude he was currently indulging. Lancer propped himself upright and leaned forward with a hard look in his eye. "I cleared this block of time when I could be marking papers so that I may be able to speak with you, and I only have a half-hour to do this in before I am due at the school newspaper, so if we could be frank, it would save me a lot of effort."
"Yes, sir," Danny said obediently.
"Excellent. I had a meeting with a certain teacher of yours who had the unpleasant task of informing me that you appeared to be entirely disinterested and uncommitted to your studies, and I simply must say, Mister Fenton, that at this point I find incidences like these to be nothing short of distressful," Mr. Lancer emphasized. "I'm not quite sure how else I can put it, Mister Fenton, but these exams are of the utmost importance for you. I recommend you start sorting out your priorities as soon as possible."
Danny stared at him, feeling worn beyond belief. This was quite possibly the most exhausting day of his entire life. His eyes slid over to the stack of paperwork Lancer had bundled neatly to one corner of his desk.
"How do you do it, Mister Lancer?" he asked softly. A well of emotion started prickling through the back of his eyes.
"How do you go from teaching five classes a day, to managing clubs and societies, to all the other stuff that you have to do as vice-principal?"
Lancer seemed unprepared for this new direction the lecture had taken and pulled back somewhat, allowing for more breathing room between them.
"Well," Lancer blinked, "It's simply the way things are, Fenton. Things need doing, therefore I do them. It's an outlook I've spent my entire life cultivating."
"But don't you ever feel like it gets too much?" Danny rasped. "Like – no matter what you do, anything at all, you still can't make life go the way you want it to?"
Lancer gave a quirk of his lips. "You have the benefit of seeing me only as I am now, Mister Fenton. I assure you I've had to find my pace in life just like everybody does." The determined glint returned to his eye as he inspected the forlorn young man seated in front of him. "But what was most important was that I knew that if nothing else, I could always count on myself, my grit, my determination to improve myself and to carve out my own path in life."
"But what if you can't?" the dark-haired boy pressed in anguish. "What if no matter how hard you try and try, you're meant only for one fate?"
"I don't believe that, Mister Fenton," Lancer said calmly. "I believe that we are all given the chances we need to make our achievements in life. No matter where you are from, no matter what you find doing, there is always room to progress forward."
"You're a fine one to say so," Danny said suddenly. He knew he ought to regret it, ought to keep his mouth civil, but Lancer had insisted on chipping away at the veneer he'd hidden himself under, and now the dam was spewing with no way to stop. "After all the times you've played favorites with the jocks – the way you always given them a free pass just because they're on the football team—" the sour images he'd embedded into his mind of how Lancer spoke quietly with Dash at the Nasty Burger, not the way a teacher does to a student, but a parent to a child, a mentor to a protégé came unbidden; Lancer had never shown such personal interest in anybody else before; "—you really think you can talk about being given a chance?"
Lancer did not shrink away from the accusations. "I quite believe I do, Mister Fenton," he preached. "Do you really believe that if I were to show a higher level of regard towards one student, it would be undeserved?" That stopped Danny's ranting. "Think about it, Mister Fenton," Lancer chided, pulling himself up straighter in his chair, "you came into Casper High the very same year as Dash Baxter; had the same opportunities to make a name for yourselves, to leave an mark on this school's memory. If you do not find yourselves on equal footing now the way that you were on equal footing then, whose shoulders does the fault rest on?"
The middle-aged teacher rolled his chair away from the table and proceeded over to the window to raise the blinds, allowing for greater sunlight to stream through the small office. "I understand harboring regrets, Mister Fenton," he stated not unkindly. "I understand looking back on the years and wishing you had done more for yourself." He turned around to face the young student again. "That is why I believe there is always a way; if you have the desire of self-betterment, the opportunities will come along. Maybe they aren't as sizable now as they could have been," he allowed, "but the fact that they will always come along – that's what fair."
Danny didn't reply, but it was obvious that Lancer's message had sunk in; the boy's breathing had mellowed, his previously aggravated stance had cooled, and he was looking out the window where happy, chattering students were milling about having fun, with a thoughtful look on his face. They were silent for a moment longer, then Lancer reached down and scooped up his briefcase, a signal that it was time to wrap up.
"If there's nothing else, Mister Fenton," he prodded, to which Danny shook his head no, and the boy got to his feet, nodded mutely, and glided out.
Danny was still in a stupor by the time he arrived home. He undid his backpack from where it slung over his shoulder and dropped it heavily on the couch before going to the bathroom. The events of the entire day had left him feeling grimy, but when he stepped up to the sink and stared at his weary expression underneath the pale lighting, he somehow couldn't find the ability to turn on the tap and spray his face with cold water like he'd meant to.
His head felt as though it were filled with cotton; his mind felt blocked, as though he were holding the memory of today at bay, not wanting to examine them until he was ready.
Danny pushed the door to his bedroom open lethargically and plodded in, the sound of his footsteps muffled by his socks. Without thinking about it, he reached inside his cupboard to detach the secret compartment he had stalled there years ago, and pulled out a simple black box with a large button on it, bringing the container that held Vlad's ghost half close for inspection, rotating it around his palm as though it held the secrets of the world in its depths.
As he passed by his computer, he noticed that it was glowing the alert of a new notification. He had received a message while at school, and clicked to view it.
Have you even considered the fact that he's best friends with Kwan?
Numbly, Danny cancelled the window, and stumbled into his chair, eyes open but not seeing anything. He may have sat there maybe for a minute, maybe for an hour, but he did not rouse until he heard a banging coming from downstairs.
Curious, Danny left his seat to plod downstairs, making sure to keep the Plasmius soul back in its hiding place beforehand. The banging sound was coming from the front door, and it wasn't fading away; whoever was out there was certainly persistent. Danny clenched his fingers into a fist and turned the doorknob to swing the door open.
Dash stared down at him impassively. Both boys stood there, at the foot of the threshold, looking at each other and saying nothing.
"What are you doing here?"
"I had to come see you."
"Dash, I don't know—"
"I skipped out on football practice for our game this week without even talking to Coach," Dash stated. "I had to be with you."
"You have a game this week?" Danny frowned.
"Coach insisted we hold one, we're training every day for it," Dash said blithely. "But it doesn't matter."
They had slowly been inching closer to one another as they spoke. "Tucker didn't take it well, he thinks we're being too reckless—"
"I don't care," Dash dismissed, placing his hands around Danny's waist and staring into his eyes all the more intently. "I told you before: no more games. I want to be with you."
Danny didn't have to return the words. They lips met in a searing kiss full of promise and passion. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Danny knew that camera was taking pictures of them again, but it was all irrelevant now. He pulled away from Dash, and clasped the bigger boy's fingers in his own. "Come in."
Dash took the invitation, slipping past Danny's frame to enter the living room, and Danny, sparing one last look at the nondescript white truck parked across the street, shut the door behind him.
Author's Note: I'm really kicking myself for not updating this fic for so long. I had it all planned out that I would be able to post three chapters within a week of each other before the year came to a close, and it all went out the window. I am going to try to get one more chapter out by Christmas Eve for you guys.
This chapter was REALLY hard to write. It's been a while since I had a chapter that focused on more than just one day, but I'm pleased with the way it came out, even if it took forever to shape. I find that in a lot of fiction, canonically straight characters are given ambivalent sexual orientations in order to make way for the slash, and while I do think it's enjoyable and a convenient way to write a fic, I admit it's not very realistic. I have tried to make Dash and Danny's relationship have a bit of a dream-like quality to Danny, a surreal occurrence that suddenly took center stage in his life before he even realized it, something that brings him pure happiness and is a bit unexplainable to him as well; Tucker's reaction, in contrast, is more reality-based, an inability to understand how a straight man could suddenly have such a fluid sexuality, a desire to want to understand but cannot because it simply doesn't make sense by the normal rules of the game. I thought it was a more interesting way to approach the issue of coming out rather than going down the homophobia route.
I'd really love to get your reactions on this chapter due to all the little different things going on in it. It's a bit of a rollercoaster ride, this update. I had to go through a lot of different emotions to get it the way I wanted it, and I'd like to see how that went over. Thank you everybody, new readers and old, for sharing your thoughts with me on my art. I appreciate it more than you will ever know.