danny fitzgerald ; district 7 cbd3 fin

"No, no. Call me Fitz now," He pushes his fingers through hair meticulously styled to seem unkempt, cocky grin rest on his lips without conviction. It's Fitz because Daniel is a dreadfully dull name and Danny is the child with bloody knees and lips, missing two front teeth after riding his bike down a hill had somehow turned into falling down it. Fitz doesn't feel like that kid anymore so he can't be Danny.

There's this hollow place inside of him where he stores all the things he doesn't want to think about. He can't feel it so he doesn't really mind it, even if it means he's never had a friend that really knew him. He's good at making them think they do, though, that's the whole point.

Fitz wants all eyes on him but doesn't want to be seen.

The only thing left of his father is Fitz's first name. His mother's wealth is old and suffocating, the kind that comes with strictness and pride; so Fitz was expected to bear their family's prestige as opposed to his father's commonwealth lineage. His mother doesn't like to talk about him, but as far as Fitz can tell he was kind until he was dead.

Miranda is nothing like her late husband. Her words are cold and clipped. Her love is the money tied to their name, so it is old and suffocating and comes with far too much strictness and pride. She's given Fitz everything he could ever want, a guaranteed job after he graduates the private academy she's putting him through.

He should thank her but he's never felt particularly grateful.

If he's honest, he doesn't want to think about it.