Life was fragile, as were the threads conecting each and every person, some woven on purpose, some pulled in on accident. A single step in the wrong direction and the fabric of friendship could tear, rip even, strings loosening and people falling past any safety nets.

Sometimes, Danny had that dream, one he kept to himself in fear of stumbling over it.

In this dream, Danny opened his eyes to see the stars, or maybe not the stars, just stars. He could never recognize any constellations. They sparkled beautifully, shining on his face - they were glowing for each other. He tried to reach up, tried to touch them and feel their energy, but they kept moving, switching places and racing each other and him.

Until he used his flight, shooting up and cupping one of the shining spots in his hands, its light still visible through his fingers. Without warning, a cracking sound rang through the endless room, followed by visible lines starting from his hands and spreading to the surrounding stars, connecting them all in a web of suspension. If he moved, everything would fall apart.

And suddenly Danny saw. Every star, each small light, was a life. In his hands, he held his own, but if he let go, he would abandon so many more.

If he let go, thousands of lives would shatter like glass.

(Danny wasn't important, but the threads were.)