Chapter Text
Dan had always known he was different. He’d known since he was young. The light around him had always been so bright, and warm, and welcoming. It had beckoned him to come play, formed on his hands in a bright yellow orb, and soared through the sky as he’d chased it. As a child, he’d run through the park without a care in the world.
The lights had been there for as long as Dan could remember.
As a child, he’d wanted nothing to do but play. The shiny light had been so intriguing, and when he did play with it, he could feel it pulsing throughout his body, filling his body with warmth and happiness until giggles were escaping his lips as streaks of light that rested against his arms and legs, moving around his body as though they were trying to take flight.
Dan hadn’t really understand how or why the light was there, and as he’d grown up, he hadn’t understood why all of the other kids had run up to him in excitement one day on the playground, asking him all kinds of questions that had seemed so strange. “Why can you do that?” or “wow that’s so cool!” they had said, and Dan had been happy, the warmth from deep inside of him radiating out in front of him, circling his new found friends as they attempted to reach out and touch it, the smiles on their faces reflecting Dan’s own. That had made him feel special.
So at first, Dan hadn’t known why his mother had screamed, or why it had been so loud and startling. The warmth around Dan’s body had disappeared, the light vanishing as his mother stood in front of him, frozen. He’d been able to see her crying, tears flowing down her cheeks, and he hadn’t understood.
“Daniel, you can’t do that. That's not- you are never to use that, thing in front of anyone again, understood?”
From that day forward, Dan’s parents explained over and over again why he couldn’t use his powers, why it wasn’t normal and how kid’s weren’t actually supposed to do the things they saw in cartoons or in movies, that Dan wasn’t supposed to be able to create light, that he wasn’t supposed to see it shine so brightly.
But it hadn’t made any sense to young Dan, because how could something so beautiful, something that made his friends happy and smile and laugh, be so wrong? How could something that Dan had seen his whole life, be bad?
He loved the light.
So he’d nodded, because his parents couldn’t know what he did when they weren’t around. They didn’t see that he didn’t need a torch to read his story books at night, so that he could stay up late when it was past his bedtime, or how he played with the flickers in his palms in the bathtub, chasing them around like the most beautiful fish in the soapy water.
Then one day, Dan didn’t feel so happy.
He can remember when it all started to change, when everything that had once been fun and perfect suddenly wasn’t, when the heat started radiating under his skin, swirling around so uncomfortably that Dan wanted to scream. He can remember the light forming on his hands unwillingly, the heat so unbearable that it forced itself out.
The kids around him at the time thought it was cool, that he was giving them a show like he had so long ago, but Dan was scared, and his parents were watching on in horror, his father marching over to cover it up, yelling Dan’s name.
Suddenly, the light shot out, a longer, stronger beam than Dan had ever been able to create before, and there was a blinding ring, a loud crack, and the tree that had shielded them was suddenly falling down.
The kids screamed, scrambling in all directions. Dan was frozen in fear, his eyes wide as he watched the branch fall towards him, ready to collapse on top of him, hurt him in ways he couldn't yet comprehend. He’d braced himself with a scream, tears rolling down his cheeks, but the impact he’d been expecting never came.
When he opened his eyes again, he was in his father's arms, shielded completely. His brown hair had been stuck to the wetness on his face, and he’d been hiccuping so loudly as he’d crooked his neck to the side, his father lying beside him howling in pain, tree branch pinning him down to the ground.
There was yelling. Dan heard his mother screaming his dad’s name as she helped pull the branch up off of him.
It was in that moment that Dan had realised, maybe not being normal wasn’t such a good thing.
And for the first time in his life, Dan had come to hate the light.
-
There are moments where Dan feels like everything's okay, when his parents don’t smother him and school isn’t as bad as it seems. There are days when the sun shines and it looks down on Dan with a radiant warmth that feel like kisses, but there are other days where control isn’t on Dan’s side, and he has to stay so focused that he isn’t able to do anything at all, days where his parents have to remind him that he needs to be careful, and more importantly why he needs to be careful.
Those days are harder than the others. Those are the days when Dan spends his time reading during lunch break, wishing that he could be one of his characters instead, the ones who make abnormal seem special, magical. The ones where the story has a happy ending and their differences are valued, accepted. Helpful.
Dan’s sitting at the back of one of his classes as usual, in the far corner of the room near the window, when everything starts to change.
It’s raining, dreary and miserable outside. The pitter patter is comforting though, drowning out the voices of the class. Dan’s notebook is mostly empty, doodles filling up more of the pages then actual words. He’s staring contently out the window when he hears a call of his name.
“Daniel?” his teacher half-shouts, and his head snaps up, eyes that had previously been unfocused now staring at the teacher in front of the class. She looks irritated, as if she’s called Dan’s name multiple times now without answer, and she’s sick of waiting.
Dan bites his lip, glancing at his fellow classmates for some sort of sign as to what the teacher had actually been talking about, and takes notices of the page of the girl sitting closest to him. It’s changed, and Dan quickly moves his own to the right page, a few off from where they had previously been reading.
“Sorry, I- got distracted.”
The teacher looks at him pointedly. “Then how about you come and write Pip’s inner monologue about his apprenticeship up on the board?”
Dan feels himself panic, then. Not only does he not want to, but he doesn’t know what monologue his teacher is talking about at all, and he glances at the girl beside him for help. She inconspicuously points at the sentence his teacher wants him to write on the board, and Dan sighs, nerves and stress leaving him just that little bit.
Thank god not everyone in his class are grade A dicks.
He has shitty handwriting, a curse from being left handed. It doesn’t help that today is a particularly bad day. Dan can feel a slight warmth prickling at his skin, reacting to his feelings. He wills himself to breathe, pushing himself up from his desk, and making his way towards the front of the room.
He writes the paragraph quickly, the need and want to get back to his seat and back into control much greater than trying to perfect his t’s.
"There have been occasions in my later life (I suppose as in most lives) when I have felt for a time as if a thick curtain had fallen on all its interest and romance, to shut me out from anything save dull endurance any more. Never has that curtain dropped so heavy and blank, as when my way in life lay stretched out straight before me through the newly-entered road of apprenticeship to Joe."
Dan puts down the marker, turns away pleased, his seat in sight. The blonde girl from before smiles at him encouragingly - he owes her a huge thank you - and he can feel the warmth begin to trickle away.
He’s going to be okay.
Breathing out a sigh of relief, Dan briefly closes his eyes as he takes one more step towards his chair, and then he opens them again, smiles briefly at the student who’d helped him, hoping to come off grateful, and turns away. For half a second, Dan sees the guy sitting beside him get a smug look, eyes glistening with something Dan doesn’t know, and then, he finds out just what that is.
Suddenly, a backpack is in front of him, and before he knows it, Dan trips, his shoe getting caught on the bag as he takes the steps forwards. He falls down, crashing into the desk to his right. His head hits the corner, a flash of white hot pain shooting straight to his head, and then he feels it - the humiliation rushing upon him as quickly as the stabbing pain in his head.
He feels hot, but he can’t focus. The sensation overwhelms him, pain and fear mixing together. And he knows, he knows.
The light erupts from his body in a bright burst. A single, long flash of warm light drowning out all vision in the room.
A scream comes piercing from his right. Dan hears his classmates scrambling away from him before he sees it. Panic tightens his chest. He’s unable to breath as he watches his classmates press against the wall. They stare in shock, one dropping to the ground as though her legs have given out.
Dan doesn’t breathe, air caught in his throat as he scrambles to his feet. His hips bump against the table beside him. He flings forward, towards the door quicker than he ever thought imaginable. He runs, through the corridors, and he doesn’t stop running until the houses all blur past him, and his feet give out from underneath him.
--
By the time Dan get’s home, his clothes are dripping wet, and as he stands outside his front door, hand hanging loosely on the doorknob, he knows that his parents already know. There’s no way his parent’s don’t already know. There are a million missed calls on his phone already, and Dan is terrified, because he doesn't know what’s about to come. He swallows, turning the doorknob slowly as he attempts to make no noise. He prays the hinge squeak is drowned out by the thunderstorm happening around him.
It’s not.
Dan takes one cautious step inside, and he hears his mum before he sees her.
“Dan?” she questions. She appears from behind the lounge room wall, pulling him into a tight hug within a mere few seconds. He wants to cry, let more tears out, because he fucked up. He ruined everything and now everyone knows.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, voice thick. He embraces his mum, clinging onto her in a way he hasn’t for a long time. He despises how smothering his parents are, how they watch his every move and remind him constantly that he has to be careful, but he doesn’t hate it more than he hates himself at that moment.
He stands there for a few moments in silence, his mother gently muttering that it’s okay. It’s not okay, Dan knows it, they all know it. There’s a part of him that wishes it was, that he can pretend nothing happened and that things will be okay. They aren’t though. They are going to have to move, there is no way they can all stay here now.
“Come on,” his mother states after a few moments. She nudges at his arms, telling him to follow her as she heads towards the lounge. Dan does, head dropped low. No doubt his father will be in there too, waiting to tell him what the plan is.
“Daniel?”
Dan freezes on the spot, eyes locked on the two men that are sitting on the sofa. They are casually dressed, arms folded in their laps. Dan takes a step back, panic resurfacing for the upmost time that day.
“What’s going on?” he asks, attempting to keep the fear from his voice. His mother takes a few steps back so she is almost by his side. Dan flinches as her arm reaches out. Her hand retracts, a worried look surfacing on her face.
“The words out about your incident at school, honey,” his mother explains. Her hands straighten out her skirt, a nervous fidgeting habit that has also been passed down to Dan. “These men are from a school, a school for individuals with gifts as yourself! They teach kids with your type of abilities how to use them. It could be good for you Daniel, to learn some control.”
“And what?” Dan retorts, his voice dripping with hatred. “You want me to go to some government school where they can run experiments on me? Fuck that. No way.”
He can feel his abilities prickling beneath his skin defensively.
“It’s not like that, if you’d let them explain-”
“No way,” there is venom dripping in Dan voice, as he takes another step back, shoulder hitting the door archway.
“If you wouldn’t mind Dan, I’d like to show you something.”
The man on the right hand side of the couch speaks. It sounds friendly, inviting, and it only makes Dan disbelieve him more. The man raises his hand, fingers pointing towards the cups in front of him. The coffee table shakes, before it slowly rises into the air, floating several meters above the ground.
Dan’s eyes go wide, disbelief as to what he is seeing. “You- you can. You have...”
“Telekinesis. At least that is its technical name,” the man comments. “Basically the ability to levitate objects.”
His mother chimes in, an encouraging smile on her face. “See, Dan. There are other’s out there just like you. An entire school worth! Where other kids have gone through the same thing you have.”
Dan is filled with both relief and disbelief. The fact that there are others out there like him, living human beings with unique abilities, that he isn’t alone, he isn’t the freak he was always made out to be, changes everything. He can feel an invisible weight suddenly lift off of his shoulders, and for the first time in his life, he feels like he can truly breathe.
“They’ve all gone through similar experiences to you, Dan. Unique abilities that can turn out of control without the proper practice and skill. We teach these things; guidance, learning, and self-awareness. Teachers and classes to better understand who you are and where your abilities came from. We offer guidance, and most of all, one day complete control over your powers.”
The words repeat in Dan’s mind, in a loop. Control over his abilities. No more anger or panic, no more spinning out of control. No more fear.
“We’re here to offer you a place at the Nova Institute for the Exceptionally Gifted and Talented.”