Will you ever preserve, will you ever exhume? (Will you ever watch petals shed from flowers in bloom?)
Buttercup_ghost
Danny's head hurts—a pounding little ditty playing in his ears, as his eyes shift in and out of focus. There was ectoplasm flowing from his side as he stumbled, his hand awkwardly putting pressure on the wound. It hurt, but he didn't want to go to sam or tucker for help– it would worry them, he was sure. Last time he was injured this bad, they flipped. He doesn't want to see them panic again, but he needs medical attention. He didn't really have many options, he knew; going to his parents was out of the question, even if they did help him—an impossible thought, really—they would view him as a test subject of sorts, his whole stay with them would be riddled with anxiety. Best case scenario? They make him feel even more inhuman than he already feels. He can't exactly go to the hospital, really, either. There'd be too many questions, it would cause to much anxiety in the town, knowing their hero could get injured as such. He might even break the tentative trust they have on him. But there were some who never doubted his intentions; the popular kids, mainly. He didn't really like that thought; he'd much rather handle this by himself, but he wasn't so stubborn to deny that he couldn't. Hey, maybe it will even knock down their idolizing and dependency on him, right?
That being said, Danny really really didn't want to do this.
He supposes he could go to any jock or popular kid, star seems intelligent despite her attempts at hiding it, and apparently quian is quite pleasant—but, embarrassing to admit, those two were out of the question. He didn't know where they lived, unlike with dash and Paulina—he still remembers when she went to the dance with him, remembers when he went to dashes house for a party, foolishly selling ectoplasmic infected junk at a garage sale. He remembers saving her from a dragon sam roaring shallow girl!—which he didn't believe, by the way, no one was truly shallow—still remembers the row of teddy bears in dashes room—even he needed comfort.
So he knew how to get to their houses.
And only their houses.
Fuck.
He went to Paulina; unlike dash, she didn't push him into lockers daily; they only thing she did was hurl insults sometimes, but they didn't really have much effect on him usually. After all, he was far crueler to himself than Paulina could ever be.
When he got there, she was patting some kind of cream on her face.
It was scary, if he was honest, how much she cared about her looks. He had heard what spectra said about them, how she feed into their fears; somehow, in Paulina's mind, being ugly meant you'd be alone. It was a sad thought, really, how she felt this way, why she felt this way– Danny could only take guesses, and it wasn't his place to pry.
He had a crush on her, he supposes, back in his first year—it was a selfish crush, for she felt safe, normal. She wasn't the ones who fought alongside him, who got injured at five am, who sent him into a panic attack because what if they're not alright? What if they die? She was completely removed from his ghost powers, she didn't witness his screams, didn't suggest he go in, didn't carry the guilt—she was normal, maybe. Except, she wasn't, because no one's truly normal, in the end—she still had faults, and feelings, and insecurities just like everyone else. The thing with him and Paulina, was that he didn't want to see that—he was only interested in using her to make him feel normal. Once Danny had realized this, he felt awful.
