Selfish
Danny wants to sleep.
He wants to roll over in his bed and ignore the chill down his spine and the vapor pouring from his mouth.
He hasn't had any decent sleep in weeks, and he is tired, so tired of waking up at— he checks his clock— 2:43 in the morning to deal with ghosts.
He scrunches his eyes shut, burrowing into the warmth of the covers.
It's probably just the Box Ghost.
Danny wonders if it would really be that bad to be selfish, just for once.
The vat explodes, it explodes and tears his family and friends apart, it explodes and the fire engulfs everyone he loves in an instant, it explodes and all he can do is watch—
Laughter, terrible and insane and full of hate, bubbling from the chest adorned with his symbol—
"I'm still here. I still exist. That means you still turn into me."
His eyes shoot open, and he shudders with his ghost sense.
He wants to sleep.
Instead he phases out of the covers, floating himself to his feet as he stares out the window, stares and does his best to push back the sights and sounds and smells of the day he was selfish and everything almost fell apart.
"I'm going ghost," he mutters to himself.
A bright flash of light.
He flies out the window.