Chapter Text
The Fenton boy had always been a bit strange. In his defense, he came from a family of absolute lunatics, anyone in town would attest to that. But he’d been relatively normal, all things considered, before his freshman year of high school.
He was notably absent for a week, out of the blue, his parents said he’d been in a ‘ghost related accident’, and that they needed to ‘observe him in case of possession.’
And for a while, there were a few who believed the boy was genuinely possessed. Classmates noticed some odd behavior, his attendance suffered, and most of all, there was now something unmistakably off about Daniel Fenton.
It was his English teacher who first noticed something major, something other than the strange feeling that Fenton brought to a room, not that he’d mentioned it to anyone until one of his colleagues had spoken up, but Danny had fallen asleep in class one day- a common occurrence. Common enough that Lancer had become accustomed to shaking the boy awake discreetly while walking around the room. He didn’t appreciate students napping during his lectures but it was clear Fenton wasn’t dozing because of any kind of disinterest. Lancer knew how to spot a child with mild to severe insomnia, so he’d let the boy get some semblance of rest until something important came up, at which point he’d wake Danny up.
But one day, Lancer had placed his hand on Danny’s back to rouse him, only to jerk back. The boy was ice cold. Corpse cold. Lancer shook off the thought and went to try and wake Danny once again, when he realized the boy wasn’t breathing. He’d had one of the other students about to dial 9-1-1, and Danny moved onto the ground so he could search for a pulse before the boy’s eyes shot open like he'd been slapped. The lights had given his eyes an odd green sheen, and Only Lancer saw the way he twitched once before settling, pretending to yawn.
“What’s goin’ on?” Danny asked, drowsy and casual, as he sat up. “Shoot, did I fall asleep? Sorry Mr. Lancer-”
“Catcher in the Rye -,” Lancer interrupted, shaking his head and giving the formerly unconscious boy some space. “You weren’t breathing- should we call your parents?”
“He has uh- sleep apnea!” Samantha Manson cut in. “It’s when you stop breathing when you’re sleeping, it’s super common, it’s caused by-”
“I’m aware of sleep apnea, Ms. Manson,” Lancer replied. The Fenton boy seemed adamantly fine, and Lancer didn't want to touch what he'd noticed with a ten foot pole. He dusted off his khakis and stood to address the class. “Everything is alright, class. Back in your seats. And Mr. Fenton, maybe avoid giving us all a scare like that next time you fall asleep in my class.”
Danny had the decency to look sheepish, and Lancer returned to his lecture. Pointedly ignoring the fact that the Fenton Boy had not had a pulse. He supposed he could afford to let the boy sleep more often in his class.
The strangeness only seemed to grow more potent, as time went on. The staff knew the boy had been a target for bullies, growing up. He was an easy mark, especially after he’d begun to go by Daniel- well, Danny. But eventually, Dash Baxter claimed the Fenton boy as his prime target, and it became a more stereotypical kind of bullying, the kind most short, nerdy boys underwent, especially ones with mad scientists for parents.
After his alleged accident, things lightened up for a bit. Dash was hesitant to wail on someone enough to land them in a hospital, and he was doing his own assessment of his favorite punching bag before he was willing to return to his regular routine of shoving Danny into lockers.
But things soon went back to normal, as normal as things could be at Casper High. Danny seemed to be fine enough with the return to routine, avoiding Dash as much as possible when he was in a mood that gave him a proclivity for tripping Danny down the hall. If Dash went a little easier on him after what happened in Mr. Lancer’s class- or when the bags under his eyes were heavy like he hadn’t slept for days, that was Dash’s business.
It was on one of those days, when Fenton looked like he had the weight of the world on his puny shoulder that it happened.
Dash hadn’t even intended on tormenting his usual mark, he was on his way to practice and didn’t have time to stop and mock. He was the last person in the hallway, running in a hurry, and accidentally clipped Fenton’s shoulder as he rounded a corner.
It was immediately like ice had been dropped down his shirt, and Dash skidded to a stop, chest heaving. He couldn’t move- and there was this awful static filling the air- filling his head. Why couldn’t he move!?
The hall was suddenly freezing, and Dash wore he could see frost creeping out from under Fenton's shoe. His breath came in small puffs of white steam, but Danny didn't seem to noticed the cold at all. He didn't see any clouds coming from in front of Danny's mouth either. Was the other boy's chest moving at all? He seemed unnaturally still. Dash blinked hard, like a rabbit caught in a dog's mouth. He felt the strange need to cry, but swallowed the lump in his throat and looked Danny in the eye.
Fenton’s eyes were a piercing, toxic green that swirled in ways that eyes shouldn’t. His pupils were like pools of nothing in the center of that impossible green. They sucked in light like black holes and seemed to shake slightly. His eyes looked too big on his face- or no, it was like Fenton was too big for his own body, and his eyes were the only part that matched.. He looked like a puppet being controlled by something much larger and much more dangerous. It made Dash’s head hurt just to think about.
He still looked tired, though. It was that thought that allowed Dash to speak.
“Sorry Fenturd, I um- I can’t smack you around right now, I’m late for practice,” Dash choked out. His voice broke several times, and he didn’t think he could manage another sentence. He hoped those weren’t his last words- and wasn’t that an odd thought to have? Danny blinked, and he was the same tired nerd that Dash had been bullying for years. Sized right, eyes blue. The static was gone, and Dash's ears were left ringing- but he felt his limbs regain feeling. The hallway seemed uncomfortably warm compared to the frigid temperatures from seconds ago.
“Alright Dash, I’ll pencil you in for later,” Danny joked, rolling normal blue eyes. Normal. Dash laughed, high pitched and hysterical, and turned on his heel and ran without another word. He felt Fenton’s eyes- the unmistakably green ones- on him the whole way to practice.
He left Danny alone for a whole week, and after that he was sure even Danny could tell his attempts were out of habit more than anything. He was glad Danny didn’t mention it.