TRIGGER WARNING: DEATH
TWO WEEKS LATER
I don't know what is happening to me, but I can feel my heartbeat slowing down more and more. I stopped breathing five minutes ago. I can't move. Then, I realized what was going on: I'm slowly dying.
"Wait… is that… Danny? Oh, shit. It is Danny! Danny, wake up…"
Heavy footsteps that sounded like running and a panicked voice halted next to me, somehow piercing its way through my unconscious brain. I couldn't figure out who the voice belonged to, because it sounded very muffled. I was losing hearing. The air was cold—too cold, actually. It didn't feel like I was in my room, either. It felt like I was actually outside. Where the hell was I?
"Oh, fuck... he's not waking up… and dude, I'm not getting a pulse." The voice remarked, sounding quite scared and nervous. "Damnit, Danny! Wake up, wake up!"
"Oh, shit… where's Dash when you need him?!" Another voice exclaimed.
Suddenly, I couldn't feel anything anymore. Not the air, not the unidentified person's touch, and not even pain. All I could feel was my heart slowing down even faster. What happened?
"I don't know, man! We just found Danny unconscious! We've got to figure out how to wake him up, and fast!"
"Sean, think about it. It's 10:30 in the morning. Neither one of us have seen Danny since last week. Now, all of a sudden, we stumble across him on the track around the football field, BLOODIED and NEARING DEATH, with a massive bruise on his head and a brutal looking scar like someone tried to slash his face? Not only that, but he's not breathing!"
The voices, even more muffled, belong to my two best friends: Mikey and Sean. But what are they talking about? A scar on my face? Again, what the hell happened? I don't know, but my body is shutting down. I'm not sure if I'm going to make it.
"Danny, come on, man. Please wake up." Sean repeated, his voice sounding as if he was terrified. "Mikey! Where's Dash?!"
"He's coming now. Jesus, man. What the fuck happened to Danny?"
"I don't know! Call 9-1-1! NOW!"
And sure enough, I could very faintly hear Dash scream my name. If you ask me, I think he's too late. "Danny!"
I hadn't seen Dash since I left out for class this morning. He was still asleep when I left. His fingers ran over my face, then quickly retracted. He knew something was wrong.
"Guys… he's not breathing. He's not moving. And..." His voice got low. "There's… there's no pulse."
Sean and Mikey were quiet.
"No. No, no, no." Dash started to get emotional. "Not you. Please, Danny… not again..."
In the very depths of my brain, I can hear Dash pleading and crying for me to be alive. I'm trying, Dash. I wanted to tell him that I was fighting, but that didn't last long, as my brain began to shut down.
Even though I'm slowly slipping faster and faster, in that same area of my mind, I can hear Dash. He was screaming. His cries of pain and heartbreak were all too real.
Mikey had called 911 when Sean told him to, and within sixty seconds, I was loaded onto a stretcher. Luckily, the paramedics were okay with the guys riding in the ambulance with me. I could feel my heart beat one more time before it stopped. You would think that as a ghost kid, I can't possibly die, right? Wrong. I'm still a human at the end of the day. But right as it stopped, Dash's pained voice whispered something to me.
"I love you."
I should've been dead. But… I can feel my heartbeat again. I can feel everything. All I wanted to do was make sure I could, at the very least, open my eyes. Sure enough, I slowly did.
"Where… where am I?"
I woke up in a cold room. As my eyes shifted around the room, I saw an IV stuck in my hand, and a vital signs monitor that displayed my heartbeat, oxygen saturation, body temperature, and respiratory rate. Dash, Sean, and Mikey were nowhere to be seen. My eyes took some time to adjust to the room, but I soon realized where I was: a hospital. Just then, a doctor came in. "You're awake…" He spoke in a calm tone, but his eyes told a different story.
"What… happened to me?" I asked.
"Mr. Fenton, you were brought in this morning. Around 10:45 AM. You were bloodied, battered, bruised, and unresponsive. You, uh… you were pronounced deceased as a result of your many injuries at 11:00 AM." The doctor explained, trying to stay calm.
My heart froze. "Dead…?"
"Yes. And then five minutes later, you came back. No CPR was done, and no shock was needed. Your heart just… started slowly beating again on its own. You were fighting to come back, Mr. Fenton. Truly a remarkable, yet harrowing case, if I've ever seen one."
That's when it clicked in my head Dash. Oh, my god. Dash! "Is my… is my boyfriend here? And my friends?"
The doctor, still attempting to keep his composure, continued. "Yes. Your friends and your partner have been here since you were brought in."
"Please bring them in." I muttered, trying to reposition myself, but couldn't. Everything hurts.
"Wait. Before I do, you should know something. Your... your partner didn't receive the news well."
I immediately started to panic, because flashing in my head, I could see Dash—his perfect Prince Charming smile, his amazing and chiseled features, and his charismatic yet undeniable love—screaming, crying, and crashing out when he found out. "Please… bring them in. I need to see them." I said a little louder, pain etched all in my voice.
The doctor nodded and turned to the door. "I'll go get them. But, do take it easy, Mr. Fenton. You've been through more than one human can handle."
As he stepped out, the silence returned—thick, buzzing with the echo of something unreal.
I had actually died. And somehow... came back.
And as I heard the doorknob twist, I started to tell myself that if Dash was on the other side of that door, I wasn't leaving again.
Not now. Not ever.
"Dash." Mikey said quietly.
"Hmmm?" He answered back, not taking his head out of his hands.
"The doctor's here."
Dash slowly lifted his head, eyes burning red.
"Gentlemen, follow me." The doctor spoke only three words.
Sean and Mikey waited for Dash to move first, and when he did, they were right behind him. "Is he alive?" Sean whispered to Mikey.
"We're about to find out." Mikey replied.
As the doctor opened the door and walked in, a wave of excitement and relief washed over my body. Through half-closed eyes, I could see that Sean was smiling from ear to ear. Mikey was, as well. And Dash? Well…
Dash walked in first—no hesitation, no fear—just a storm brewing behind his eyes. Sean and Mikey followed, both looking like they hadn't slept in days. Dash's clothes were rumpled, his hoodie pulled halfway over his head like he couldn't decide if he wanted to be seen or hide from the world completely. The moment he saw me sitting up, eyes open, something in him cracked. He crossed the room in seconds, gripping the side of the bed like he was anchoring himself. His eyes scanned every inch of me—my face, my arms, my chest like he was trying to prove I was really here.
"Hey..." I said, and my voice trembled.
"My baby boy." He replied in a shaky voice. Then he pulled me in, gentle but urgent, burying his face into my shoulder like if he let go, I'd vanish again. I let him. I needed it just as much.
"I have to be honest, gentlemen. Your friend here, Mr. Fenton, is a resilient kid. We watched him fight to come back. By God, he fought so much. I only hope you all see what I see: a warrior and a survivor."
Hours had passed, and I was resting. The nurse had come in to check my vitals periodically, and I was good for the most part. She just needed one of the three guys to make sure I was still in stable condition while she was out of the room. Dash was seated right beside me, eyes closed and head resting on the bed frame. Sean was seated near the door, and Mikey was seated by the wall. They each took turns checking my vitals, which is good considering both Mikey and Sean are studying healthcare.
Dash opened his eyes, and after stretching for a minute, he sat up and leaned over to me. "Hé, mon beau petit garçon. Comment te sens-tu?"
I yawned. "Hé, Dash. Je vais... euh, je vais bien." I replied quietly.
"You guys speak French?" Mikey inquired.
"Yeah, we've been taking French classes for years." Dash smiled slightly before turning back to me. "So, the doctor came while you were asleep and told us what your injuries are. Aside from the scar on your face, you sustained a bruised nose and a concussion."
"You also have three broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder that the ER managed to put back into place, along with bruises on your back and torso." Sean continued.
"The doctor also told us that you had copious amounts of blood loss, which not only made you unconscious, but is what ultimately killed you. How? Well, there was a nasty cut in your forehead that required several stitches to close." Mikey added.
"And… what also killed you was blunt force trauma to the chest. It's believed that whatever hit you took knocked the wind out of you so much to the point where your… your heart just slowed down… until it stopped." Dash's voice grew colder. "You have some defensive wounds on your hands and lacerations on your arms, but—" He stopped.
I waited for him to continue, feeling my eyes burning.
"I held you in my arms on the track. I panicked while trying to find your pulse, but… I was too late. I saw them pull you in. I saw the doctors trying to bring you back. And then I heard them say the time."
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to.
"I felt it, Dash…" I whispered, eyes stinging. "I remember... letting go."
Silence filled the room like smoke.
"But the doctor told me that my heart restarted on its own. He'd never seen that before." I looked Dash in his eyes. Right in that moment, I saw every thought running through his mind. "You brought me back, Dash."
"I didn't do anything..." He muttered, voice raw with emotion. "I thought I lost you. I thought—" He stopped again, tears running down his face. "It felt like someone ripped my heart out and set it on fire."
Without thinking, I reached for his hand. And this time, he let me take it. "Dash…" I started, feeling my own tears coming, and I wasn't going to stop them from coming down.
Dash didn't let go of my hand. Not for a second.
His grip was warm, but trembling, like he was still afraid I might disappear again if he blinked. His thumb brushed the inside of my palm, slow and shaky, tracing over a scar I barely remember getting.
I looked at him. Really looked.
The tough guy mask—the one he wore so well, the one I remember so vividly from both middle school and high school—was officially gone. Shattered. His usual vibrant—and sometimes icy—blue eyes were bloodshot, eyelids heavy with the weight of everything he hadn't said. His jaw clenched like he was trying to keep himself from breaking into pieces in front of me.
"Dash..." I said, barely above a whisper.
That was all it took.
His breath hitched, and then he sat down hard on the edge of the bed, his other hand cradling my face like he wasn't sure I was real.
"I thought I lost you…" He said again, quieter now, like he was saying it to himself.
"You didn't. I'm right here."
"No, you don't get it, Danny." Dash said, and his voice cracked again. "They pulled me aside specifically. Told me you didn't make it. I—God, Danny, I felt it. Like my chest caved in. Like I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. I thought... I thought everything was over."
His hand dropped to my chest, resting right over my heart. His palm was splayed across the bandages like he was trying to feel the beat, to be sure it was really there.
And it was. Steady. Alive.
"For those fifteen minutes, Danny... I didn't know who I was without you. All I kept thinking about was the dumb shit I never said. The small fights. All the times I could've held you longer and respected you but I didn't."
I felt tears begin streaming down my face. "Dash…"
"I couldn't lose you, Danny. I can't lose you." He breathed heavily, forehead pressing lightly to mine, crying his heart out. "Not after everything. Not after what we survived. Not after I finally got to love you out loud."
His voice broke on the last word, and that was it for me. The tears came, hot and relentless, spilling down my cheeks as I reached up to cup the back of his neck and hold him there.
We stayed like that for a long moment. Sean and Mikey watched on in silent support and heartbreak. No doubt I had them two freaked out as well. I mean, they were the ones who found me, so I know they're mentally scarred. However, this moment is for me and Dash.
"You scared me… scared me so much…" Dash muttered, loud enough for me to hear. "I thought I'd never get you back."
"You didn't lose me." I whispered. "You never will."
He pulled back just enough to look at me, his thumb wiping away a tear that was right on my scar. Then he kissed me—not hard, not like he needed to prove anything. Just soft. Slow. Like a promise. "Danny…"
"I… I love you, too, Dash. Always and forever."
DASH POV
It's been two weeks since I last saw Kwan. Two weeks since I single–handedly took him down. And it's been one week since I looked at the love of my life, unresponsive on the track near the football field, drenched in blood.
It's been one week since he died in my arms.
One. Week.
It's been seven days.
Every minute since then, I've seen that scar on his cheek—a thin, pale moon crescent just below his right eye—and remembered the first time I saw it.
Junior year. High school.
The week after opening week for the season. When I got promoted to captain of the team. When everything changed.
I remember the way Danny avoided my eyes in the locker room during gym class. At the time, we still didn't really like each other, but even I knew my limits with the kid. But after homecoming week, something changed about Danny. The way he flinched when Kwan slapped him on the back in the locker room after gym was borderline fear. The way he never told anyone what really happened to him.
But I knew.
God, I knew.
I just didn't want to believe it.
Didn't want to admit that the guy I'd grown up with—the guy who shared my first beer at age fifteen, my first fight at age six, my first win at age seven—was capable of something that sick, that violent, that disgusting.
And now?
Now there's no more pretending.
Because the scar Danny has on his face—the one that split open again after this latest attack—is exactly where it was back then.
Same shape. Same angle. Same story I told myself back then when Kwan said Danny must've tripped in the locker room.
But Danny doesn't trip. Danny doesn't fall.
People push him.
And now, that same scar, torn right back open, told me the one truth I wish I never had to face:
It was Kwan.
It's always been Kwan.
The same Kwan who hazed him in junior year. The same one who cornered him in that same fucking locker room and stole something from Danny that he'll never get back. The same Kwan who kept popping up every time Danny started to stand a little taller.
And worst of all—the same Kwan who used to be my brother.
My right hand. My teammate. My best friend.
I let him near Danny. I let my former best friend hurt him.
Again.
I can't forgive that. Not him. And definitely not myself.
I've gone through every memory like a reel stuck on repeat. All the moments I ignored the way Kwan looked at Danny. All the nights I chose not to notice the bruises. All the laughs we shared while Danny was probably curled up somewhere, trying to survive.
And now? Now I'm supposed to let him walk around campus like he didn't almost finish what he started back in high school?
Hell. No.
Because this time, I saw it. This time, I know.
And this time… Danny died.
Even if it was only for fifteen minutes, Kwan took him from me.
So yeah—revenge isn't just on my mind.
It owns me now.
I'm done playing nice. Done hiding behind morals and warnings and "what ifs."
This isn't a game anymore. This is retribution. This is karma.
And the next time Kwan looks me in the eye, I hope he sees what he created. I hope he realizes that he didn't just turn his back on his best friend—
He made an enemy.
And enemies like me?
We don't stop.
Not until there's nothing left of the person who has hurt the one person I love more than anything else in this world.
Danny survived.
But Kwan?
He's not walking away from this.
Not alive.
