Chapter Text
The first thing the ghost boy saw when he opened his eyes was a cloudy gray sky.
It was beautiful to the boy, and he stared up at the different shades of gray, blinking in awe.
The sky was always beautiful, but it was so much better to watch on clear nights, where the stars shone so bright you felt like you could touch them, and the boy could rant about constellations to-
To-
The boy groaned and clutched his head as a headache flared to life behind his eyes, pounding in time with his heartbeat.
There was a face in his memory, the sound of warm laughter, but it was slipping from his mind like sand through an hour glass.
Come on
D̶̡̡̦̠̯̪̟̰̯̲̠͐̇͑͌̓̈́̿̓̅͝͠ǎ̶̰̻̞͍̀̏̕͝ņ̵̛̦̦͎͍̾̑̈́̈́̇̆̋̄̆̿̕n̵̛͔͐̍̋̔̍̂͆̑̈̔͝ẙ̷̢̢̯̹̻̮̖̮̼̐͝
, remember-
The ghost boy felt his hands cover his eyes in a pathetic attempt to keep the light out, or maybe push his brain back in from where it felt like it was going to push through his eyes.
It took a few minutes until the boy felt like he could sit up without hurling, and when he did he could feel himself sway a bit, not quite connected to reality.
The ghost boy was half trapped in his thoughts, and a panic overwhelmed him when he tried to recall just who hit him to make his head pound this hard, coming to the bone chilling realization he couldn’t remember his name-
The boy reached and reached for a single memory, a single clue to who he was-
And he found nothing but overwhelming pain and bile rising in his throat, hot and sticky.
His breaths were quick and he felt like his lungs were filled with too much air and not enough all at the same time-
He turned on his side and heaved, every nerve in his body lighting up with fire and pain-
And he felt his arms collapse under him, only barely able to push himself to the side so he didn’t land face first in the puddle of bile he left.
The ghost boy laid there for a bit more, waiting until his headache had faded to a dull throb, before trying to stand up again.
He finally made his way to his feet, shaky as a baby deer on new legs.
The boy wasn’t sure what it was, but something inside him told him to rise higher, and the boy looked down at his feet in awe as he began to float.
“That’s,” the boy paused as he talked to himself, his raw throat making his voice hoarse. “Probably not normal.”
The boy didn’t complain too much though, he found floating far less nauseating than trying to stumble his way along.
The boy was also happy he found this new, strange ability when he looked around him and realized he had been laying on a rooftop, and that without flying he probably would have been stuck.
He felt himself glide forward, easily cutting through the air.
He put on a burst of speed as he flew out from over the rooftop, looking around at the sprawling city around him, admiring the tall brown gray skyscrapers that he wove through, letting a little giggle out at the pure freedom he felt from his spot in the sky.
The feeling of cold wind on his face calmed the fire under his skin, and the boy preened at the way the wind tousled his hair.
When passing by a window on the side of one of the skyscrapers, the flying boy stilled for a moment, looking at the slightly warped reflection of what he assumed was himself.
Pure white hair was the first thing that drew his attention, floating around his head in a way that could almost be described as ethereal.
The pure white hair contrasted the dark matte black bodysuit that covered most of his body, only leaving his hands, neck, and feet untouched, but those were covered with a dull white fabric that seemed to be made of the same material.
A white gloved hand softly touched the strange symbol on the center of the boys chest, which looked like a strange combination between a capital D and a capital P.
The whole ensemble reminded the boy of some kind of superhero, but he could feel himself balk as soon as he thought the word.
Finally, the boys eyes met his own in the mirror, the bright, almost fluorescent green the only splash of color on his body outside of the sickly tan looking skin of his face.
No name miraculously popped into the boys head now that he knew what he looked like, but he could feel recognition tickle the back of his mind.
Looking at his reflection had vaguely sobered up the ghost boy, and even though he didn’t know who he was, the boy decided to at least find out where he was.
He flew lower, trying to hug the sides of buildings so he would be less visible, searching for anything that could tip him off as to where he was.
He slowed when he saw a tall building, caution making his body tense up a bit as he observed the police cars and people in uniforms around it.
While he would have preferred to avoid the police, (something twitchy inside of him wanted to turn tail and run in the opposite direction at the thought of being around people who worked for The Government) they probably had their city name somewhere visible around the police station.
The boy spotted a sign on the top of the building and flew a bit closer, reading the sign that declared this building a home for the officers below him.
The boys eyebrows furrowed, and he frowned at the lack of recognition the name brought to mind.
“That’s one problem solved, but where the hell is Blüdhaven?”