Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The moment Johnny feels the flaming beam fall on him, he’s convinced it’s over. He yells for Dallas, or Ponyboy, or anyone at all. He had always talked about dying, and always complained about living, but he realized that a mere sixteen years shouldn’t cut it. Not when Pony and Johnny made all of these silly plans to run away together to the countryside. Whatever that meant.

He blinks and he’s in an ambulance. He blinks again and he’s in the hospital. When he sees the light he thinks maybe he’s seeing God. He hasn’t been to church in a few months, but he thinks that maybe God would be nicer than the Soc’s, more forgiving than them too. It turns out to just be the fluorescent hospital lights though, and he thinks the pure adrenaline is what kept him alive.

He’s brought into the hospital to deal with his severe burns and his back getting crushed, and with the little chatter he’s heard while in and out of consciousness, it was supposed to be a miracle if he survived a month. Much less a year, or for a full fledged life. So when he wakes up for a more extended period of time, he asks a nice nurse to write a message for him, just in case. The gist is that Johnny doesn’t want Ponyboy to waste his time on the bad things in the world, and to focus more on the sunsets, and fresh green, and gold. He wants Ponyboy to be as true to himself as he can possibly be, and be proud of who he is.

Johnny has the nurse stick it in between pages of his and Pony’s new copy of Gone With the Wind.

He doesn’t end up giving Ponyboy the book back.

At the month mark for being in the hospital, he’s ready to be done. He’d either like to leave, or croak. After a surgery that his parents definitely will not be paying for and blistered and sore skin, he’s finally able to be turned over onto his back again. He didn’t hurt at first, his nerves being screwed up by the burns on his arms and legs and shoulders, and the doc says he’s probably going to have some pain for the rest of his life. However long that’ll be. He gets visits from the gang almost daily; Dallas the most often.

Johnny doesn’t really understand why Dallas hangs around him so much. He likes it, sure, but he’s confused why someone as tough as Dallas would have a soft spot for someone like him. Johnny knew he was an easy target for getting jumped, and rarely opened his mouth to say anything. He learned not to say anything when the Socs came at him, and he learned not to say anything when his parents were fighting. Two-bit called him a lost puppy that has been kicked too many times. Johnny doesn’t get why Dallas isn’t the one to kick him.

He enjoy’s Dallas’ company though. A lot of the time they don’t say anything. Dallas visits him and just quietly pulls up a chair next to the hospital bed that Johnny feels like he’s been rotting in since the day he got here. Johnny thinks Dallas just likes to come to remind himself that Johnny is still breathing. Maybe not quite living again yet, but breathing. Thinking.

Johnny’s done a lot of thinking while he’s been here. Mainly about how Ponyboy’s visits have become less frequent, even if they are best friends. Ponyboy will give him updates about their conscience when he visits. Johnny’s name has miraculously been cleared, on account of the fact that Cherry testified against Bob, and for his and Ponyboy’s self defense. Johnny think that’s weird. There isn’t much to update about anymore, yet Ponyboy always has something to say, even if his visits are becoming fewer and further between.

Johnny likes that about Pony. Johnny enjoys listening to him talk, regardless of whether or not he understands what he’s talking about. He finds it very endearing.

Ponyboy recited a poem one evening at the church. That’s another thing Johnny had been thinking about. He thought it was a little silly that Pony remembered the entire thing but admitted he didn’t know what it meant. Johnny has thought about it enough, and even if he isn’t the most book smart, he thinks that being “gold” is like being a kid. You can’t always be a kid, but it relates to life in the way that a lot of people have grown up too fast. There is so much trouble and sadness in the world, especially in Tulsa, but embracing the good is how it stays gold.

Johnny also likes the way Pony watches sunsets. Sunsets are like the peace of life, and how it’s such a sure thing. The sun will always rise and set, and it reminds Johnny that life goes on. His time at the church made him think of all of the things there are to live for. The small things. Johnny admires the way that Ponyboy dreams. Johnny knows Darry and Dally and the rest of the gang don’t understand it. Maybe that’s the one thing he and Sodapop have in common. Ponyboy’s always talking about how well Soda understands him, and Johnny is glad he has someone in his life that truly understands him to the very core, even if Johnny tries to replicate that. He also appreciates that even though everyone might not understand it, Pony continues to dig movies and sunsets and books.

Johnny registers Dallas coming into his hospital room and pulling up a chair. They exist together in silence for a few minutes before Johnny asks, “Hey man, do you know what Ponyboy has been up to? He used to visit every day, but it’s been a few days now since I’ve seen him… and at least two days before the last time I did.”

“He’s been out doin’ stuff with the redhead broad.” Dallas says, simple as that.

“Cherry?”

“Right.” Dallas shrugs, and Johnny hums.

“I don’t know if I like her like that.” Ponyboy says, as he and Johnny sit on the rugged wood floor of the church together.

“What do you mean? You said she was good looking,” Johnny teases lightly.

“Sure I did, but even so, she’d never want to cross the line from the west side to the east.”

“You never know, man. She seemed pretty feisty when she was talking to Bob at the drive in. She seems tough, Pony.”

Ponyboy just shrugs. “Twobit told me not to trust those Soc girls.”

“You never know, man. You never know.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes after that, the breeze biting and the sounds of trees swaying as the background noise.

Johnny glanced over at Ponyboy, his hair now bleach blonde and awful short. Johnny doesn’t think being a barber is his calling. He also doesn’t think short blonde hair is Pony’s calling either.

Soon enough Ponyboy moves to their stash of things and grabs a cigarette from the box. He lights it, but offers Johnny the first drag. “Want some?” Ponyboy asks, aware they should share everything when they can so that the rations last.

“Ah, sure.” Johnny says, and takes the cigarette from pony, placing it between his lips and taking a drag.

Johnny notices as Ponyboy’s eyes drift to his chapped lips around the cigarette. Johnny hands the cigarette back to pony and blows out the smoke, trying his best to make rings, but failing. He’s been trying to figure out how to do tricks with the smoke like Dally does. He certainly has the time to learn at least. They sit, continuing to listen to the birds and the wind, being content in each other’s presence.

“Hey Ponyboy?” Johnny starts, and continues once he hears a hum from Ponyboy. “I’m sorry.”

“What? What do you mean you’re sorry?”

“Well, I just mean… I’m sorry for putting you through this. It’s not fair to you.” Johnny says, his eyes downcast, and he brings his hand up to bite on his fingernails even though they’ve already bled from how short they are.

“Johnny, don’t talk like that. Maybe if I hadn’t insisted we run away we wouldn’t be in this mess. Maybe if I had used my head for once-”

“Pony-”

“No, Johnnycakes. I feel like death just follows me everywhere. Like it’s just waiting at my door and calling in the house for me or something. I mean, I didn’t even like Bob- I hated him, but it’s truly my fault. First my parents, because I forgot the damned frosting for Darry and now Bob because I forgot what time I had to be home. I’m careless Johnny. This ain’t your fault, it’s mine.”

“You weren’t the one who stabbed him Ponyboy. Even though I was trying to save you, it’s my fault,” Johnny pushes. “What was I even thinking having a thirteen year old kid come along and hide with me? I’m an hood like Dallas now Pony, I don’t want that for you.”

“I’m fourteen,” Pony argues. “I’ve been fourteen for a month and I’m in this just as much as you are.”

Johnny steals back the cigarette from between Ponyboy’s fingers. They let the words spoken simmer in the air before Johnny speaks up again, “I don’t believe that, by the way.”

Ponyboy turns to face toward Johnny, leaning against the wall of the church, his jeans collecting a layer of dirt. “Huh?”

“Well- I just- I don’t know man. You’re talking in your poetic way again, your uh…”

Johnny tries to remember the poet’s name.

“You’re speaking in your ‘Robert Frost’ right now, Pony. There ain’t no death cloud that follows you around, and even if there was, I wouldn’t give a damn.” Johnny grabs one of Pony’s hands, “Y’know how I was talking about wanting to kill myself back in the lot?”

Ponyboy nods, eyes finding Johnny’s.

“I don’t think if feel like that anymore, Pony. I guess you just made me realize that there is more to the world than trouble, y’know?”

Johnny thinks back to how Ponyboy claimed he didn’t like Cherry like that. Things change, he guesses.

He also thinks back to their conversation in the empty lot frequently.

Before everything happened, he didn’t think there was ever going to be a way out of the violence. Out of Tulsa. Not from where he started, his dad beating his mom and his mom beating Johnny. His life started that way, so how would it be any different when even on the streets he’d find Socs jumping boys left and right.

He remembers back to the lot when Ponyboy would tell him how much the gang would miss him if he ended it all, and it gave him the perspective that there is friendship and love there. Johnny didn’t say it then, but he would go wherever Pony goes. And even if death goes too, Johnny will stay with him.

Johnny lays there, and soon enough asks Dallas if he knows when Johnny can leave. Probably not too soon though, because Johnny is still wrapped in bandages from head to toe.

“Doc won’t say.” Dally says, “I don’t think you’re going to be able to walk too well again though.”

Johnny hums in acknowledgment. He knew that already, and he’s prepared to be in pain everyday too.

“Will we still hang out even when I can’t move very fast?” Johnny asks Dallas.

“Sure man. We’ll go wherever you want.” Dallas says, and Johnny can tell he means it. “You’re like a brother to me man. Just because your back is hurt doesn’t mean our friendship will be hurt. I would die for you man, like my own flesh and blood.”

Johnny nods as best he can, tiredly. He always is nowadays, but that’s healing he supposes.

Dallas notices nd says, “It’s okay man, go to sleep.”

Johnny sighs, appreciating that Dallas can read him. He closes his eyes and drifts off.

Chapter Text

It’s Friday, which means everyone is at the double drive-in. This includes Ponyboy and Cherry. He’s spent the whole day with her, and it’s been nice.

When Ponyboy got out of the hospital a day or two after the fire, him and Darry finally sat down and had a talk to attempt to get along. Soda said he always feels caught in the middle, and they agreed that they didn’t want to make Soda feel like he’s in the middle of a tug of war.

So they all sat in the living room and hashed it out. Ponyboy agreed to manage his time better, as long as Darry gave him more time to manage. Ponyboy made it clear to Darry that he’s growing up, and wants more time to just be a kid rather than all work all the time. He also recognizes though, that school is important. To Darry and even himself.

Ponyboy gets more time during the week to do stuff outside of the house, but only so long he keeps his grades decent. And Darry trusts that he’ll balance his time wisely and to ask for help if he needs it.

So, with this extra time, he’s been hanging out with Cherry Valance. Which also took Darry a bit to warm up to. Ponyboy hanging out with a Soc. Ponyboy would guess that his older brother is maybe lukewarm, about it, but he promised to back off, so he did.

Even though she’s older than he is, he feels like she understands him, and the way he thinks being “just a greaser” is all that he is.

They had a great conversation at the drive in before everything went down. They both feel like they don’t belong into their groups, and they both acknowledge that they look at the same sunset. Neither of them like violence and they have to pretend to conform. It’s kind of a reprieve from all of the Soc’s jumping him all the time, and it feels like he could talk to Cherry about everything.

They pick their spots and Ponyboy offers to go get popcorn and Pepsi’s from the concessions (With the spending money Darry gave him). Cherry just nods, and off he goes.

He wonders how Johnny is doing. He’d go visit, but Cherry still insists that she can’t see him because he killed her boyfriend. That confuses Ponyboy though, because she had broken up with him before that happened. He shrugs. He feels a little bad for blowing off his best friend who is legitimately in the hospital fighting for his life, but it’s good to have Cherry by his side.

Ponyboy gets popcorn and Pepsi’s and returns to Cherry, getting back just in time for the movie to start. He sits next to her, handing her a popcorn and her drink. She immediately leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder, her hair tickling his neck. Ponyboy lets her rest her head there.

Part of him thinks it’s nice because it reminds him of how Johnny and him would huddle together on extra cold nights in the church. Johnny would lay his head on his shoulder and wrap his arms around him to help Pony warm up. Ponyboy was always cold.

The other part of him is reminded of how he forgot to bring a jacket again. Ponyboy has been doing better about using his head, he swears it, but he forgot his coat again just this once. Feeling Cherry’s body heat and the fiery scent of her perfume warmed him in a way.

Cherry’s perfume smelled like Christmas. Ponyboy thought it was a little goofy that she’d wear perfume like that all year round, but he figured they’re just goofy enough for each other. The perfume smells like plums and cinnamon and maybe a hint of cranberry. It reminds Ponyboy of the Christmas before his parents died. Even if they weren’t the most extravagant and exuberant, they were his family’s. He misses that.

Ponyboy feels bad that everything about Cherry reminds him of someone else. Everything except the hair. Two-bit has red hair, but Two-bit and Cherry ain’t the same.

The movie ends and everyone starts to file out of the drive in. Ponyboy and Cherry throw their garbage away— in actual trash cans, unlike a lot of others— and start to walk back to Cherry’s car.

After little outings with Cherry, she always drives him home. He feels a little bad about it, not being able to treat her like a lady should be treated, but he’s a little young to drive, and hasn’t been behind the wheel more than twice.

One time was with Dally. He had been given permission to borrow Buck Merril’s tuff car for the day and wanted to take Pony and Johnny to a diner to get milkshakes. Pony had begged him to let him drive it around the block, and Dallas let him. Nobody was harmed and neither was the car.

The second time, Soda let Pony drive the pickup truck the Curtis family has, and it was different than the tuff red car Dally had borrowed. It had weird quirks that needed to be fiddled with, but at least it ran. They didn’t have the money to buy a new one, so Ponyboy was just glad Soda and Steve would work on it for free if they needed it. Soda had supervised a longer driving session. They drove to Ponyboy’s school and back. Once again because Pony had begged Soda and Darry to take it for a spin. Ponyboy knew Darry wouldn’t want to supervise, and figured Soda would be the brother that would micromanage the least.

So, since Ponyboy can’t drive, Cherry is the one that drives them places. It’s kind of fun though, being driven in a Socy car by a pretty Soc girl. The windows are partially rolled down, and Ponyboy feels a breeze against his uncovered arms. They drive in comfortable silence until Cherry pulls up in front of his house. She parks the car and kills the engine, turning to look at Ponyboy, her hair picking up some moonlight through the car windows.

She smiles at Ponyboy and says, “Y’know Ponyboy, I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you better in these few weeks.”

Ponyboy feels a blush rise on his cheeks. “I’ve enjoyed this a lot too, Cherry,” He says.

He usually just thanks Cherry for the nice time and gets out of the car at this point, but he can tell she doesn’t want this exchange to end yet. They sit in silence before Cherry starts to giggle a little.

“What?” Ponyboy asks, his smile becoming a little wider.

He can’t really see her face in the darkness, but he can hear the smile in her voice when she replies, “Well I was just thinking about how I feel like I could talk to you all night, but I also like that we can just sit and be quiet Y’know? Bob would always try to fill silence with something.”

Ponyboy’s smile fades a little bit at the mention of Bob. Cherry mentions him sometimes, and Ponyboy gets it. She tells him about how Bob was always there when she didn’t have anyone else, and how he was fun (when he wasn’t drunk). It was always a little awkward to Ponyboy.

“Yeah I get it.” Ponyboy says, and shifts his gaze to look out the window, the lights still on in the living room. He was sure Darry and Soda were up waiting for him.

“Hey, Ponyboy?”

“Hmm?” Ponyboy hums and turns his head to find Cherry a little closer than she was before.

He finds himself subtly shifting further away. They sit in more silence before Ponyboy leans in toward her too. He can see the reflection in her eyes shift as she glances down at his lips for a second, and he smiles before leaning in to plant his lips on hers in a short and soft kiss.

She smiles into the brief meeting of their lips. Ponyboy registers that her lips are soft, and not chapped like Johnny’s oughta be. His lips were always chapped or cracked as they’d wrap themselves around a cigarette or a milkshake straw.

Both Pony’s and Cherry’s hands stay respectfully in their own laps as they share a few kisses. Ponyboy wonders if she liked kissing him better than she liked kissing Bob. He knows that that’s such a weird thing to think, though. Frankly it’s none of his business just how experienced she is, but it makes him pull away. He was thinking too much to even properly enjoy his first kiss. Or kisses, he guesses. She leans in for one last kiss to say goodbye, and he’s not so sure he really wants to anymore, but he’s really enjoyed his time and enjoys her company. He kisses her one last time before thanking her for driving him back home, and thanking her for the fun date.

“Bye Ponyboy!” She shouts after him when he gets out of the car, and waits for him to be safely in the house.

He can feel that his cheeks are a little hot, as he walks into the house. He distantly hears Cherry’s car start back up and she drives down the street back over to her side of town. He unlaces his Converse and sets them by the door on the mat.

“Hey Pone” Soda says from the couch, where he’s watching tv.

Darry puts down his book on the side table and asks, “How was the drive in?”

“It was real nice,” Pony says, his cheeks still pink from the kisses. He moves over to the couch and lifts Soda’s lounging legs so he can sit down and lets them flop back into place.

“Yall had fun?” Soda’s attention leaving the television. He smirks a little when he sees faint lipstick marks on Ponyboy’s lips. “Looks like you did.” Soda teases.

Ponyboy’s cheeks redden even more and he wipes his lips, lipstick coming off onto the back of his hand. He didn’t even think to wipe it off.

“Whatever man.” Ponyboy playfully rolls his eyes.

Darry stands from the arm chair and moves over to the couch to flop on top of them both. Soda and Ponyboy let out yelps when they’re knocked with Darry’s knees and elbows.

They laugh as they try to push Darry off of them, Soda turning off the tv and finally getting their older brother onto the floor. Soda jumps up and starts wrestling with Darry. There’s laughter filling the house as Ponyboy watches the two playfully tussle on the ground.

He’s missed being able to just have fun with his brothers. It’s getting late and he knows Darry has work in the morning, and he’s sure Soda will work sometime tomorrow too, but he pushes it to the back of his mind as he joins the dog pile on the floor.

They wrestle for a little while longer before Darry stands up and dusts off his pants. “We oughta get to bed. I got work in the mornin’.”

Soda groans but gets up from the floor too. Pony follows and they all say their goodnights to each other.

Once the door to their shared bedroom had closed all the way, Sodapop is immediately on Ponyboy with questions about his night.

“Y’all obviously had fun” Soda giggles.

“We just went to the movies and then just kissed a little in the car. Don’t be weird.” Ponyboy says, but knows Soda is going to let out another giggle like a gossiping schoolgirl.

“You ever kissed anyone before?” Soda asks.

“Nah.” Ponyboy says, “And I don’t really know if I want to kiss anyone again.”

“Oh sure you will!” Soda laughs and starts to get ready for bed, changing from his dark wash jeans into some old shorts and taking off his shirt. “It only gets more fun from there.”

“Alright Soda, pack it up.” Pony rolls his eyes, but a grin breaks on his face.

Ponyboy changes into his own clothes for bed, a sweatshirt and sweatpants. Soda always ran too hot, and Ponyboy was always too cold.

“I’ll have school to focus on again anyway. I won’t have time to think about girls and cars all the time like you do.”

“I was gonna ask you about that,” Soda starts, sliding into bed and getting cozy. “What’s fourth quarter looking like for you?”

The fourth quarter of school was starting on Monday. By the time the trial was done and everything was cleared up, Ponyboy had a week to write a grade saving essay for Mr. Symes. He wrote about his experience in the church and tried to make it as scholarly and coherent as he could, but deep down he wasn’t satisfied with it. He left some things out, but he didn’t feel the need to share them.

“Uh well, I think I might try out for the fourth quarter play or something. They’re always looking for more guys to do it.” Ponyboy says.

“What about track practice? You can get scholarships for that stuff. Darry got some money for football way back when.” Soda says.

Ponyboy knows the ‘way back when’ wasn’t even two years ago. Darry doesn’t talk about that much.

“I don’t think the practices are on the same days, and the track meets aren’t on the show dates.” Ponyboy insists. He thinks maybe it would be fun to be someone he’s not for a little bit. To play a character.

“Sure. Sounds fun.” Soda says, and encouraging smile on his face.

Ponyboy knows the rest of the gang wouldn’t find it fun or tuff. He knows Soda means it though. He always does. Ponyboy settles in for bed, oddly, not really feeling like reading tonight. He leans over to turn off his bedside lamp and Sodapop follows suit, shutting his off too. 

They lay in silence, Ponyboy on the right side of the bed, furthest from the door. Ponyboy sleeps on his back at the edge of the bed. Soda doesn’t give him much choice. Ponyboy always wakes up and the blankets are either on the floor or burying him, having been kicked off of Soda in the middle of the night. Soda always wakes up on his stomach, positioned almost like a starfish and taking up the whole damn bed.

They lay in silence for a few minutes before Soda sleepily yawns, “I don’t work tomorrow actually, and I was thinking of visiting Johnny. Wanna come with?”

“Yeah that sounds good. What time are you thinking?” Ponyboy says, but he doesn’t get a response.

Soda is fast asleep by the time Ponyboy says anything. Ponyboy lays there staring at the ceiling in the darkness. His nightmares haven’t gotten any better. They used to be about his parents and his stupid mistake with the birthday cake, and now they’re about Johnny and Bob. He wakes up most mornings with sweat rolling down his face and his heart racing. If he thinks about stuff like that too much before he goes to bed he’s knows he’ll have some sort of dream about it.

So instead, he tries to think about the nice ranch house he and Johnny imagined.

“You know I’ve gotta do something, man. I’ll- I’ll kill myself or something.”

“No, Johnny you can’t do that.” Ponyboy’s eyebrows raise in shock.

“Well I gotta get out of here. I can’t live like this anymore.” Johnny has his head rested on his knees.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s so clear no one wants me here. All I want is for any sort of approval from my Ma and Pa, but they only hit me or ignore me. The Soc’s are nasty for no reason, and I can’t keep living scared all the time, man. I’m not even living then, just surviving. Sometimes it just feels like it isn’t worth all the hubbub.” Johnny says, lifting his head up.

Johnny’s face still looks a little scuffed from the run-in with the Soc’s weeks ago, the gash on his face finally healing. They sit in silence after that, Ponyboy noticing how Johnny’s posture is closed off, whether from being scared or embarrassed or just trying to keep warm. Ponyboy hums thoughtfully. Sure, he’s thought about wanting to leave Tulsa for college, but he doesn’t think he’s ever thought about hurting himself or killing himself.

“The gang thinks you’re tuff. We’d miss you if you weren’t here.” He says, trying his best to comfort Johnny.

“I guess.” Johnny pauses. “You got a cigarette?”

“Yeah.” Ponyboy says, and doesn’t hesitate to hand a cigarette and a light over to him.

Maybe it’ll make him feel better in the moment? They sit in more silence as Johnny smokes, the lot empty as ever. Ponyboy moves to lean against a log next to Johnny. He can tell that Johnny relaxes a little bit at having Ponyboy just that little bit closer.

“There’s oughta be someplace where there ain’t Greasers and Soc’s right? I mean, the countryside ain’t got that. I don’t think,” Ponyboy starts. “I read books about that sometimes. Well, a lot of it is dumb and all lovey dovey, but they do  take place in the country. With all blue skies and vast fields. Sounds sweet doesn’t it? I’d like to go somewhere like that someday.”

Johnny hums and leans back against the log next to Ponyboy.

“Would you take me with you if you ever tried to get outta here?” Johnny asks, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“Of course I would, Johnny. I’d take you anywhere you’d want.” Ponyboy smiles.

Johnny takes his cigarette and holds it in front of Ponyboy for him to take a hit. Ponyboy wraps his lips around the cigarette and inhales, locking eyes with Johnny. The moon reflects in Johnny’s eyes and Ponyboy can see how he blushes. Johnny averts his gaze and Ponyboy does too, giving Johnny back the cigarette. They sit against the log together, content in each other’s presence.

“We could just run away and get a ranch house in the countryside. We could watch the sunset every night like you like to, Ponyboy. We could have a garden to grow vegetables and flowers to spruce up the land.” Johnny imagines, just liking a little escape from the real world for a bit. “We could get some horses and have Soda and Dally come visit to ride them sometimes. We could even name one Mickey Mouse for Soda. I know how you wish you could’ve bought that horse back for him.”

Ponyboy lets a melancholy sigh leave his lips. He remembers how hard Soda had cried once Mickey Mouse got sold. That was his horse. He was probably more heartbroken about that damn horse than about Sandy moving away. Even though he doesn’t ride much anymore, he still wears their dad’s old cowboy boots just to remember the Mickey by. He had outgrown his old pair of cowboy boots so he started wearing their dad’s.

“I’d let you read me some of your storybooks too.”

“Yeah? You’d listen to that?”

“Sure I would. I’d even let you explain the deeper meaning of stuff or the… uh… literal devices? Even if I don’t get it right away.”

“Literary devices, like simile and paradox, but yes.” Ponyboy says, his smile returning now.

“And I don’t even care if we’re still piss poor. We could feel accomplished in something after planting our vegetables and fruits and we could even have chickens to get eggs and all that in the morning.”

“That sounds really nice, Johnny. We could just get up and go. Just be whoever the hell we want to be without anyone beating you up ‘cause they don’t want you there.” Ponyboy says, and watches as the ember of Johnny’s cigarette finally fades away into smoke.

Johnny drops the cigarette on the ground and grinds his heel on it to make sure it’s fully out. They huddle close together as the night grows colder, and in the back of his mind Ponyboy knows he should get home, but he doesn’t even know what time it is and his eyelids feel so heavy…

Ponyboy likes to imagine what that would truly be like sometimes. He vaguely remembers sarcastically asking Johnny, “Do I look like a farm boy to you?” when Johnny insisted that he pretend to be just that when asking for directions to Jay Mountain. He can picture it though, maybe in a years time when his hair is less blonde and back to his tuff darker hair, he could be laying outside staring up at the stars with Johnny after a long day of horseback riding or upkeep at the farm. They wouldn’t have to worry about greasing their hair all the time, and they could be comfortable in flannels and jeans and unkempt shoes because they’d have no one to impress. No reason to look tough all the time with leather and boots. He can imagine finally finishing Gone With the Wind after what might be months of waiting for Johnny to get healthy to the point where he isn’t always sleeping. They’d sit on the couch and eat dinner while Ponyboy reads, and hopefully Johnny will still find it as entertaining as he did back in the church.

Ponyboy can’t even look at bologna the same anymore. He can’t get the everlasting chill out of his bones or the smell of hydrogen peroxide out of his nose. But he can still feel the way he had felt free, even if they were running from the law. He felt free to say whatever he wanted and to just be  with his favorite person in the whole wide world. Shit sucked, but he tries his best to hold onto that good feeling while he falls asleep to the steady rhythm of Sodapop’s snoring.

Chapter Text

Johnny wakes up the next morning when a nurse tells him it’s time to change his bandages for the day. He doesn’t want to get any sort of infection. A second nurse comes in to assist in helping him sit up, keeping his spine in as neutral of a position it can be. It’s painful, and he lets out a few more curses than he’d like to admit. It’s started to hurt less and less every day, but still. He doesn’t open his mouth very often, but he thinks this warrants it. The nurse holding him upright is named Susie, and the other is named Carol. He knows they’re just doing their job, but he can’t help but despise them a little right now.

Susie holds him while Carol unwraps his bandages. They’ve healed somewhat, but he’ll have scars there forever; the large patches of lighter skin, the fleshy pink hue contrasting his naturally tan complexion. He’s been on antibiotics the entire time he’s been here, and he’s been getting fluids replenished when needed.

Susie and Carol move around him in their coordinated dance they’ve been doing since day one. Once Carol is done with his arms, she moves to unwrap the areas on his back. The burns on his back aren’t nearly as bad, but he knows he’ll have scars there too. They change the bandages on his neck and legs and finish soon enough, carefully readjusting the pillow that has been placed beneath his knees. They say it’s to keep him more comfortable, and to keep unnecessary pressure off of his back. He feels pretty uncomfortable though, trying not to move too much, and sometimes laying in his own sweat from the warm Tulsa evenings so long they have to change his bandages twice. The gown somehow doesn't do much to air out his skin.

They lay him back down, and he feels hopeless. He knows he’s not going to be able to walk again, and he’s going to constantly be in pain.

He dreads the thought of having to go back to his house when he gets back from the hospital. He doesn’t think he’d have a means to get out of the house if he needed to, with his condition and all.

He thinks that maybe if he prays hard enough, God would let him move easier in the afterlife, or on the ranch if he ever gets there. The god he used to worship every Sunday would probably let that happen. Back when everything was good, or at least as good as it could be with greasers like himself and Ponyboy and the rest of the gang. It was one of the only places that they didn’t immediately get weird looks from Soc’s. Well, the adults never looked at them as much as the kids their age did.

Johnny remembers what the first time he went to church was like.

He had come over to the Curtis house after an excessively bad fight between his parents. He had gone to the kitchen to try to get something to eat but was chased out by his mother for “taking more than he’s given,” She had said. That was really the only place he knew where to go except for the empty lot, but it was a little cold for that, and he hadn’t even grabbed his shoes on the way out of the house.

A drenched Johnny Cade stood on the Curtis’ doorstep and knocked three times. He knows the door is unlocked just in case, but he feels a little weird just walking in. Mrs. Curtis comes to the door in her pajamas and hair curlers, and a frown is immediately shown on her face at the sight of him. His striped shirt is soaked, and his jeans are pretty damn close to being soaked too, his socks are muddy.

“Oh, Johnny, come in here.” She says, voice soft and welcoming.

He nods and takes off his socks as to not track mud all over their house.

“Ponyboy is in bed, and should be sleeping, but I doubt he is. You can go ahead and peek in if you want… Oh! And visit Sodapop before you do. Tell him you need to borrow some of his clothes. We don’t want you to catch a cold!” She says, taking in Johnny’s soggy figure.

Even if Johnny’s parents were terrible to him, he still loved them. Mrs. Curtis seems like the kind of mother you could love and like too. Her warm smile always complimented by her golden curls. She always wore soft fabrics because Ponyboy said she was itchy to hug once when he was seven. She didn’t wear that Socy looking sweater again. So she wears what’s comfortable even if they didn’t always match, welcoming hugs from whoever needed them at any time. She was one of the only people who kept Dallas’ head on straight. Or as straight as it could be. She’d comfort him even if he didn’t always readily ask for it, and would talk him down from doing dumb things.

Mr. Curtis was similar. Somewhat of a bookworm when he could be, but he worked most of the time. He was always nice when Johnny saw him though.

He visits Sodapop and Darry’s room, poking his head in the door. The lights are still on and Soda and Darry are playing a game of cards. The creak of the door causes both of them to tilt their heads towards the door. Darry was wearing a green sweater and pajama pants, while Soda was just wearing a pair of shorts. The then 17 year old, Darry, shoots him an acknowledging nod that soon turns into a concerned expression at the sight of Johnny drenched.

“What happened?” He asks and sets down his cards. “Soda, get Johnny something to change into, Ponyboy’s clothes would be too small.”

Johnny just shrugs and watches as Sodapop walks over to the dresser and pulls out a sweatshirt and shorts.

“They might be a little big, but you gotta get out of those wet clothes,” He says, and hands Johnny the garments.

Johnny was smaller even for a thirteen year old. As proven by the earlier events, he didn’t get much more than he was given in his household. Which wasn’t much.

“Thank you.” Johnny says, and accepts the clothes.

He leaves, and makes his way to the bathroom. He flicks the light on and closes the door, where he sheds his clothes with a splat hitting the tile floor. He wrings out his soaked clothes into the bathtub and hangs them over the edge hoping they’ll be dry by tomorrow morning. He dries off his dark hair with a spare towel and dresses into the borrowed shorts and sweatshirt.

Soda was right, they’re a tad big for him, but Johnny doesn’t mind. They’re more cozy that way.

Johnny exits the bathroom, making sure to turn off the light. He walks to Ponyboy’s bedroom, only a glimmer of light coming through the sliver of space underneath the door. Johnny pushes the door open, and sees Ponyboy reading a book, flashlight in hand. His face immediately breaks into a smile when he sees his best friend.

An 11 year old Ponyboy who had just lost not one, but two teeth, said with a lisp, “What are you doing here Johnny? Come sit down.”

Ponyboy pats the blankets on his bed and turns on the bedside lamp, setting his book down. Johnny climbs onto the bed and immediately sinks into the mattress.

“You look tired. What happened?”

“My folks chased me out again. I just wanted something to eat.” Johnny says, frowning.

“Do you want something here? We got cake!” Ponyboy offers, knowing all of his friends like his mom’s chocolate cake.

“I think I’m alright now. Thanks though, man.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah I’m sure. I lost my appetite.”

“Okay.” Pony says, matching Johnny’s frown. “I see Soda gave you some clothes to wear though. That’s good!”

Johnny just hums. He appreciates how hospitable Ponyboy’s family is every time he runs over here. He feels kind of bad though.

“Don’t quit reading on my behalf though. And if you’d rather I bunk on the couch that’s okay.” Johnny says, not wanting to seem like a burden.

“Nah, I should go to bed anyway we have church in the morning. And no way are you sleeping on the couch! My bed is big enough for the both of us. Besides, I’ve never made you bunk on the couch before, have I?” Pony says, a shocked look on his face.

Johnny had forgotten that tomorrow is Sunday. The Curtis family goes to church at 8 in the morning on Sundays. Johnny’s never been. His family isn’t really into that stuff.

“Oh yeah. I can get out of your hair before you leave tomorrow morning.”

“You could come with if you want. I’m sure Soda wouldn’t mind lending you some jeans and a shirt.” Ponyboy says with a toothless grin

“Maybe.” Johnny says.

After a few more minutes Ponyboy snuggles under the covers, and urges Johnny to do the same. He switches off the lamp, and says goodnight to his best friend.

The next morning, Pony’s mom and dad piled everyone into the Ford truck the best they could, and drove to the church. Pony was sitting on Darry’s lap, holding onto the upholstery of the front seats. Johnny is pushed up snug against the car door, but he doesn’t mind. He’d rather be here than with his folks.

Johnny’s never been to church in his 13 years of living, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever go back.

He was asked if he wanted to go with by Mr. Curtis, and Johnny took him up on the offer purely for the reason that he didn’t want to go home yet. So, Sodapop lent him a pair of nice jeans (that were slightly too large) and a nicer plaid shirt (also slightly too big). Sodapop really did spring up like a weed this year, and he was sure to keep growing. He was probably going to be just as tall as Darry. He also lent Johnny a pair of his old shoes to wear for the day.

Once they got to church they all hopped out of the truck. Johnny felt a little out of his element, and didn’t expect to understand much of the sermon. The Curtis family and Johnny walk up the few stairs into the church and find a seat towards the back. Most of the people are dressed like how he’s seen kids from the west side dress. Lots of sweaters and button ups and madras shirts and nice khaki or dress pants on the chilly Sunday morning. Ponyboy told Johnny that the people from the East typically sat closer to the back, which he found weird. Wouldn’t it be easier to see and hear in the front?

The speaker welcomes and thanks everyone for coming before delving into the story of Moses and the Pharaoh, a part of the Book of Exodus. He talks about how the Pharaoh had taken the Israeli as slaves because of their immigrant nature, and a lady had sent a baby boy down the Nile river. God had explained to Moses that the Pharaoh’s heart will be come hardened.

Johnny didn’t really know what that meant. He quietly looks over at Ponyboy who is sitting quietly listening to the speaker explain how God would test Egypt with different series of plagues to harden Pharaoh’s heart. Johnny then looks to Sodapop whose leg is bouncing up and down and is picking at a loose thread on his shirt as he listens. Darry is sitting quietly with Mr. and Mrs. Curtis.

Johnny listens to how in response to each wave of plagues Moses says that Pharaoh should let the Israeli people go. Just as Pharaoh had sent the first born Israeli sons to be drowned in the Nile river, God will diminish the Egyptian first borns with the final plague. The escape from this death however, is the blood of the lamb.

Johnny’s heard of Passover before. He’s just never realized this is what it came from. The houses that had the lamb’s blood on the doorframe evaded the plague and the first born sons were spared. The Pharaoh’s son was not, and this brought the Pharaoh to eventually let the Israeli slaves go. As the Israeli people are leaving Egypt, the Pharaoh changes his mind and chases after them with their army for a final battle that ultimately leads to Pharaoh’s demise.

Johnny quits listening when he hears how the Israeli people say how much better it was in Egypt, and how they miss it.

The speaker announces that they’ll pick up the story next Sunday after everyone has stood to sing a few times, and the speaker had gone into some deeper analysis and communion. Everyone rises including Johnny, and exits the church.

Part of Johnny thinks that story reminds him of his father a little bit. Not directly correlated obviously, but he wonders if it would take losing Johnny for his father to stop hitting his mother. He doubts it though. Dally says that Johnny’s parents don’t give a hang about him, and he knows he’s right but he doesn’t want to believe it. Not all the time at least.

He also thinks back to the Israeli people and how they thought Egypt was better for a period of time, and he couldn’t fathom going back to his house. He wasn’t a slave but he certainly wasn’t treated too hot.

He really does not want to go back there.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as he hears loud voices in the hallway. Johnny doesn’t even need to strain his ears to know those voices. Sodapop and Two-bit. What he doesn’t expect though, is to see Ponyboy walking in before them.

“Hey, guys!” He exclaims, excited to see them, Ponyboy most of all though.

“Hey, Johnny.” Ponyboy says, a soft expression on his face.

Johnny knows it’s hard for Ponyboy to see him like this. He’s talked to Ponyboy about it, and Ponyboy wishes he’d used his head a bit more before running into that church, knowing Johnny would be right on his heels. Johnny wishes he’d come visit more though. He’s seen more of Steve than he has his best friend, and that’s saying something.

“How’s this little man been, huh?” Two-bit asks, pulling up a chair beside the hospital bed.

“About the same as always. Tired, bored, and in pain.” Johnny sighs.

Ponyboy’s soft look drops into one of concern, but Johnny is quick to add, “It’s really not that bad. I’m not in pain all the time.”

They all know that’s a lie. It doesn’t even help Ponyboy fix the screwed up expression on his face. Johnny hadn’t been able to feel much from the middle of his back and below for the first couple of weeks. Now, when he does feel anything, it’s usually sharp pins and needles in his legs.

Soda’s gaze drops to the floor, “You don’t have to pretend, Johnny. We all think you were real tough to save those kids. We all think you still are. I mean, you gotta be tough to keep hanging in there. So it’s alright to be real with us, savvy?”

“Savvy,” Johnny says. “What have you guys been up to? I haven’t seen you in a while, man.” He says this, the last remark aimed toward Ponyboy.

“I don’t know, I mean I’m trying to catch up on school. I finished that paper for English-”

“Tell Johnny about what else you’ve been up to.” Sodapop says with wiggly eyebrows.

“Oh?” Is all that leaves Johnny’s mouth.

Two-bit lets out something akin to a screech when Ponyboy says, “I had my first kiss last night.”

“Really?” Johnny asks, a small smile on his face.

“Yeah. Y’know how I’ve been going out with Cherry Valance right? The Soc?”

“Yeah I remember.” Johnny says.

Johnny didn’t really remember that. He wasn’t ever officially told that Ponyboy was even hanging out with her again. So he did like Cherry like that. Johnny wonders if Ponyboy knew all along that he had big kid feelings about her. Maybe he just didn’t tell Johnny because he didn’t want him to be jealous that Pony got himself a broad.

“How’s that been?” Johnny finds himself asking, his eyebrows furrowing without his say so.

“It’s been real nice. At least most of the time. She’s still grieving Bob, which makes sense and all, but she’ll bring him up at odd times. I wish I could come by more but she still says she can’t come visit you.”

“Ah I get it. I stabbed her high school sweetheart. No hard feelings,” Johnny says, his smile faded a little bit. “But first kiss, huh? That’s cool.”

“Yeah it was.” Ponyboy says, noticing that Johnny’s smile wasn’t nearly as bright as it was when he walked in the room.

“It only gets better from there Pone.” Two-bit says, echoing Sodapop’s words from last night.

Johnny groans, understanding what Two means. “Alright man.”

Two-bit only laughs at that, throwing his head back. Ponyboy and Johnny lock eyes, before rolling them simultaneously at Twobit’s laughter. They both snicker to themselves anyway. There’s some silence after this.

Johnny shifts his gaze away from Ponyboy toward the ceiling. He chews the inside of his cheek, and he doesn’t know what he’s feeling. He was excited that Ponyboy had actually came to visit him for the first time in a while, but Pony basically confirmed he won’t be around as often as he’d like. That’s okay though, he should spend time with his…girlfriend? Johnny had a sneaking suspicion even on Jay Mountain that Ponyboy thought Cherry was pretty. Who wouldn’t? She’s smart and definitely easy on the eyes. She’s older than he is, and probably has more perspective on the world than any greaser girl Pony’s age. He can bet that they talk about sunsets and everything. Johnny knows he’s probably not the only one Ponyboy does that with anymore.

Thats why he’s confused. Obviously he’s happy for Ponyboy, but he doesn’t understand why his expression can only manage slightly upturned lips and squinted eyes. Not the excited and elated squinted eyes either. The squinted eyes you get when you’re staring at the bright reflection of the sun off some heated car metal.

He tries to quickly pinpoint the feeling, but he’s a greaser, and he’s been told he needs to be tough because nothing can get to you that way. So he doesn’t know. He doesn’t think it’s jealously, because the only person he’s ever been truly jealous of is Dallas Winston and sure, he might find Cherry pretty, but he doesn’t like her like that. Doesn’t want to kiss her. Is it because Ponyboy had his first kiss before he did? He doesn’t think that’s it either. He doesn’t even know what to think, so he quits thinking.

Instead, he listens to Ponyboy talk about his classes at school, and upcoming auditions for the school play. He listens to Sodapop talk about a rude customer at the DX who argued and didn’t want to pay the full price for the repairs Steve did on his car. He listens to Two-bit explain how the latest rodeo went for Dallas, and how exhilarating it had been to watch, like it is every time. He nods along as best he can to what everyone is saying.

Soon enough it’s lunch time, and Sodapop offers to get Johnny something to eat from the Dairy Queen.

“Uh sure. Thank you,” Johnny says.

“Pony, are you staying here or do you want to come with to pick up some food?”

“I’ll come with.” Ponyboy says. The promise to be back makes Johnny anticipate their return already.

Johnny says goodbye to Twobit and Sodapop and Ponyboy, and eagerly waits for them to return with food that is better than the stuff at the hospital.

Johnny doesn’t think that should be too hard. Food’s food, and he’ll eat what he can get, but the food here sucks. So he waits.

Chapter Text

Ponyboy and Soda have to push Twobit’s car to get it rolling every single time it’s used. This time is no different. They open the passenger and back doors to prepare for Ponyboy and Soda to come running and quickly slip into their seats. They push Twobit’s car while Twobit’s foot presses the gas pedal and the engine roars to life. The car sputters and finally starts driving down the road. Ponyboy and Sodapop run until they’ve caught up with the car and slide into their seats, slamming the doors.

The drive to the Dairy Queen is about 15 minutes, and in that time Johnny is the sole subject of conversation for Soda and Twobit.

“Johnny’s looking better since I last saw him a few days ago,” Twobit says as he pulls onto the main road to the Dairy Queen.

“Yeah I’m sure even a few days makes a big difference when it’s coming back from something like that. I can’t imagine how bored he gets. I could never sit still long enough to heal.” Soda says.

“Yeah, I mean I don’t really know what he could do other than stare at the ceiling. I don’t think I’ve seen him move around very much on his own.”

“You’d think he’d read that book I got him…Up with the tide… or whatever”

“Gone With The Wind, I think… right Pony?” Sodapop clarifies.

Ponyboy doesn’t answer. He’s only half listening to the conversation as we watches people outside go by in a blur, the car flying past.

“Hey, Pony.” Soda tries. “Ponyboy.”

Ponyboy can’t help but feel a little guilty about how infrequently he visits Johnny. Seeing a smile break on his face when he entered the room had been everything Pony had been missing and more in his days away. And agreeing with Twobit, it did seem like it could get awful boring in that room. There’s some wallpaper on the walls, but there are only so many times that you can count the amount of times you see the color green.

Ponyboy startles when the car quickly jerks so a stop, smacking his forehead against the front seats.

“What the hell?” Ponyboy says, peering over through the windshield and not seeing any sudden traffic or a stop sign. Twobit must have wanted to get his attention. “Sorry, what were you sayin?”

“That book, it’s called Gone With The Wind, right?” Soda continues.

“Yeah.”

“Well I got him that book. That oughta keep him a little busy.” Twobit says.

The book. That just makes him feel even more guilty. That was their thing. They had gotten almost all the way through that lengthy book in the five days they were at the church.

Ponyboy knew Johnny liked it better when Ponyboy read to him. Johnny may be a junior in high school, but he couldn’t read real well. He’d have to read a paragraph over and over to understand it, only to realize he’d read some of the words wrong so it made no sense. Ponyboy would have to check over all of his handwritten English homework to make sure things were spelled correctly. Ponyboy thinks Johnny’s problem might be the way he doesn’t really believe in himself. Not when it comes to school at least. Him and Soda are the same in that way.

So Ponyboy had read to him in the church. Ponyboy would grin or laugh when Johnny made a particularly silly comment or quip, and would gladly reread a section over if Johnny needed to hear it again to really try to make the movie in his mind to match the words.

He guarantees Johnny hadn’t made any sort of additional dent in the book. Whether that be because he couldn’t or didn’t want to, Ponyboy didn’t know. But Ponyboy should be the one to read to him, and he wasn’t there. He didn’t visit much anymore and it’s just hitting him now that he’d missed his best friend so, so much.

He understands Cherry’s hesitance to visit Johnny—who is he kidding—Cherry’s refusal to see Johnny. He really does. Bob was one of the only people there for her when her mother would tell her to lose weight or her father would be so stressed out from work that he’d come home and immediately pop open a bottle of beer. He had mentioned it to Darry once, how her issues didn’t seem nearly as bad as the hand they were dealt.

Darrel Shayne Curtis hates Soc’s. That has been made very clear. It confuses Ponyboy a little bit though, because not even two years ago was his older brother borderline Soc. He used to always say things like Cherry does, about how things really are rough all over. He used to say that it wasn’t very fair to compare family issues between classes, because in some cases the good isn’t quite enough to outweigh the bad, no matter who’s bad or good it is. He’s given up on that logic, and when Ponyboy mentioned it to him while they were washing dishes one night he said that it was a load of bullshit.

“You ever end up going to go visit Johnny again, Pony? I’m sure he misses you an awful lot.” Darry says.

“Uh… no. I haven’t.”

“You might want to do that. I’m sure he’s getting lonely.”

“Haven’t Steve and Dally and Soda been visiting him?”

“Sure, but you’re his best friend. He rarely opens up that much to anyone, just you and Dallas.”

“Yeah I guess” Ponyboy shrugs. “Cherry doesn’t want to visit him though, which makes sense, I mean even though Bob has flaws he was the only one who was there for her through all her stuff. Most of her friends don’t actually care.”

“That’s so bullshit,” Ponyboy hears Darry mutter under his breath. “You know you don’t have to follow her every word all the time right? You hated Bob. We hated Bob. What are you talking about.” He says louder.

Ponyboy rolls his eyes. He knows this’ll lead to an argument, but he says it anyway, “That’s real rich coming from you, huh? You basically turned Soc on us, and left the gang behind for Paul Holden.”

It’s almost like Darry can’t choose between anger and defeat. He sets down the plate he was scrubbing and wipes his hands on a towel.

“Ponyboy. That was a long time ago, I thought you’d have gotten ove-”

“That was two years ago and you know it. You’d go to all of those parties with your football friends.”

Ponyboy doesn’t mention how he knew Darry went with Paul and his Soc friends one time to jump a freshman greaser who was on his way home from the nightly double. He might not have helped hold the boy down, or landed a fist on that boy, but he didn’t step in either. Ponyboy and Johnny had been walking back from their own outing to the nightly double, and had caught a glimpse of the group of Soc’s. Darry was always the tallest and broadest one out of his friends.

“And I dropped all of that so that you and Soda wouldn’t get sent away to a boys home.” Darry says, and takes a deep breath, returning to washing the dishes. “I thought we talked all of this through, Ponyboy. I thought you finally understood how hard I break my back everyday and work and at home so that we can have the things we do.” 

“Just say you don’t like Cherry, it’s fine.” Ponyboy grumbles, returning to drying the dish that Darry hands him.

“When have I ever implied that I don’t like her?” Darry asks, scrubbing a little harder at a plastic cup.

“I just don’t get it Darrel. What’s your deal with Soc’s.” And it’s a statement. More bitchy than he meant it to be, Ponyboy admits.

“What’s your deal with them, Ponyboy? I thought we were in agreement about them.”

“Whatever.”

“Watch your tone please, little buddy.”

They don’t say anything to each other for a little while. Darry finishes scrubbing off the last fork and Ponyboy dries it. They wipe their hands off on the towel and Ponyboy moves to leave the kitchen.

“Pony?”

Ponyboy turns around, humming.

“Cherry is a nice girl. I just know that Johnny misses you.”

Ponyboy stands there for a second before nodding and turning to go back to his and Soda’s room.

“Uh… five cheeseburgers, hold the pickles on one of those, and then three Pepsis and a seven up.” Twobit says when he pulls up to the window of the Dairy Queen drive through.

“Wait! Johnny uh… Johnny likes the barbecue sandwiches.” Ponyboy says, pulled out of his thoughts.

“Okay, Four cheeseburgers and a barbecue sandwich. The rest can stay the same. Still no pickles on one of em though.”

Twobit hands over the money and the worker puts in the order and walks away for what must not be longer than two minutes before returning with the order, passing the beverages over first and then the bag of food.

“Thank you ma’am” Sodapop says, leaning over Twobit to thank the worker.

“Sure.” The bored looking girl says.

They drive away and back toward the hospital. Ponyboy holds the bag of food and watches the buildings go by, letting the heat of the burgers warm his knees.

They pull back into the parking lot, and get out of the car. Twobit opens the door for them all and they make the way back up to the second floor.

By the time they get there, Carol is standing next to Johnny, helping to hold him up as he sits, keeping his back in as neutral of a position as it can be. Ponyboy accepts the grin Johnny shoots the trio when they return. Ponyboy unpacks their loot, setting the barbecue sandwich next to Johnny on the white and starchy blanket. He sets the Seven Up on the table by his bedside too.

They all take their seats again, and Ponyboy watches as Johnny carefully unwraps the sandwich, trusting Carole to hold him up. They all eat in relative silence. Ponyboy hadn’t noticed how hungry he was. Ponyboy holds one of his pickles in from of Sodapop’s face, watching as Soda grimaces and moves away. Johnny laughs at their antics and takes small and slow bites of hit own food. Soda doesn’t like pickles very much. Ponyboy and Johnny don’t understand that though. They both would eat all the pickles in the world if they could.

Ponyboy picks up the cup of Seven Up and holds the straw to Johnny’s mouth. He lets Johnny take a large sip, washing down the rest of his sandwich and sets it back down on the table.

“When are the auditions for the show, Ponyboy?” Johnny asks quietly.

“Should be this week I think.” Ponyboy says. “This Thursday? I think they want to get the cast list out by the weekend.”

“What’s the show?”

“Arsenic And Old Lace.”

“Oh! That one with uh… Cary Grant?”

“Yes, but the stage version.”

“Well ain’t that tuff?” Johnny says, and lets Carole lower him back so he can lay down again. “Do you have a certain character you’d want to be?”

“Nah, I’ve never done this whole acting thing before. Even if I did want to play Mortimer I wouldn’t be any good.”

“Nah you’re good at lying so that should be good for acting too.”

“What did Ponyboy lie about?” Soda teases. 

“Nothing soda” Ponyboy says, because he hadn’t.

Twobit and Sodapop stand from their chairs and push the chairs toward the wall again. Ponyboy picks up the wrapper and empty cup that was sitting beside Johnny.

“Well, you’ll have to tell me about how the audition goes.” Johnny says.

“I will. I promise.”

Johnny’s lips for a thin line, and Ponyboy knows he doesn’t entirely believe him.

“I know you will.” Johnny says.

They all make their way out the door, and Ponyboy feels Johnny’s eyes boring into his back as he walks down the hallway.

Chapter Text

As predicted, Ponyboy didn’t come back on Thursday to tell Johnny about how his audition went. He didn’t come on Friday, or Saturday, or Sunday either. It was like a game of telephone when it came to Ponyboy’s life. Dally for one, had come to visit Johnny that Friday, and told him all that he knew, but what he knew had come from Darry. Ponyboy was at the drive in with Cherry for their weekly Friday night date.

Apparently, according to Darry, according to Dallas, Ponyboy’s audition went really well. He was called back for the roles of Jonathan and Einstein, which Johnny thought was funny because even though they work together, they’re two entirely different characters. One is legitimately a serial killer who changes his appearance via plastic surgery done by the other, while the other is a little awkward, definitely bullyable, and… German?

Maybe bullyable isn’t the correct word, but Einstein definitely gets bullied by Jonathan.

“Hmm,” Johnny hums when Dallas explains how Ponyboy actually did end up getting the role of Jonathan Brewster. “Do you think it’s because he’s a greaser?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you think they made a greaser the serial killer for a reason?” Johnny asks Dallas.

“Could’ve I guess.” Dallas says, and Johnny knows Dally isn’t familiar with the story of Arsenic and Old Lace.

They sit in silence for a few minutes before Dallas asks, “Does it bother you at all?”

“Does what?”

“The way that Ponyboy is going out with The Soc?”

Dallas had quit using Cherry’s name at some point. She was just ‘The Soc’ now. Johnny felt a little bad for her. Maybe. Not really all that bad.

“Not really I guess.” Johnny says.

“Don’t give me that, man. I’d be pissed as all shit if my best friend, my brother, was ditching me for some broad.”

Johnny didn’t like the was Dally said that. He couldn’t pinpoint why though. Dal talked like that all the time.

“Maybe he’s just sick of me after all that time in the church?”

“Nah.” Dallas says, and it’s final. Ponyboy was not sick of Johnny.

“How do you know that though?”

“I bet he’s just excited that he’s got a pretty girl into him. Glory, if a broad like Sylvia ever came up to me again I wouldn’t turn her down. Hell I’d even put on my Sunday best so she could bring me home to her daddy.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

“You’re right. I don’t have any Sunday clothes. I sure as hell wouldn’t turn her down though.”

Johnny glances impatiently at Dallas, eye twitching slightly. They sit in silence again.

It’s Johnny who breaks the silence this time, and he knows he’s taking a risk. “Hey Dal?” He asks, and Dally offers a hum in response. “Why did you keep going back?”

“Huh?”

“Why did you keep going back to Sylvia? I mean, after she two timed you… more than two times…”

“Well shit, man.” Dallas sighs, and readjusts in the chair he’s sitting in next to Johnny’s bedside.

He doesn’t answer for a few seconds. Then, he shrugs. “Sometimes it felt like she was the only one who could keep up with me, yknow?” Johnny hums as an indication to keep going. “I don’t know. She was tuff, witty, stubborn, smart, hot,” Dally lists off.

Johnny knows Dallas would never say he loved her. Not to her face and certainly wouldn't admit that to anyone else. But Johnny’s also only heard him say that many positive things about two other people. Himself and Ponyboy, and if Johnny and Ponyboy were loved by him (even if he didn’t outright say the words), then surely Sylvia was too. Maybe the kind of love they shared really could go unsaid. Something they know about and accept but doesn’t need to be vocalized. Johnny thinks maybe it was like that for them at some point.

On some off chances, Dally and Sylvia would go on dates with Soda and Sandy and Steve and Evie.

Sandy was real sweet for a greaser girl. Her blonde hair was never overly styled, her lipstick wasn’t too bright, and her clothes weren’t too showy. That was rare, finding a greaser girl who wasn’t showy and crude to the point of being trashy. Sandy was nice and seemingly perfect for Soda until she moved away. That had crushed him.

Trashy was hot to some folks, but Evie and Sylvia didn’t quite get there. Both of their complexions were tanner than Sandy’s, who was pale as a sheet. Their curly brown hair was punctuated by their red lipstick, Sylvia’s deeper than Evie’s. They were both a bit curvier, but their styles were different. Evie would adorn herself in dresses like Sandy, and Sylvia would wear jeans and tighter shirts and flashy earrings that she stole from consignment stores. Johnny thought earrings looked tuff.

Dallas’ St Christopher necklace always hung between her breasts to let everyone know which hood she belonged to, but she clearly didn’t want to belong to only Dallas. She must have used her deep brown eyes and pretty smile to pick up other guys when Dallas was locked up in the cooler.

Sylvia had even tried to come onto Johnny while Dallas was away. He had put an end to that right away. Johnny could admit she was a looker though.

Johnny vaguely remembers overhearing conversations between Sodapop, Steve, and Dallas about how their girls were in bed. He didn’t listen in much after that. He didn’t need to hear those things.

Johnny can’t help but think that maybe that’s what Ponyboy wants. Someone he could bring home to his brothers. A nice and sweet girl that would offer to cook dinner, wash the dishes, and fold the laundry. Cherry wears baby blue and pastel pink with all of her cardigans and pleats and frilly socks and pearl earrings, and she’s just so feminine. Cherry seems good for Ponyboy, but Johnny isn’t sure she’d want to do all of the homely and ‘womanly’ chores that come with femininity. He doesn’t think he’d want to either if he was a chick. Johnny’s not a broad though, so he doesn’t have to worry about it.

Johnny was granted doctor’s permission to try to sit up by himself now, his sentence inching closer to the end. Johnny’s being dramatic. Dallas would argue that nothing could be worse for Johnny than a sentence in jail or in prison. He feels for the kid though.

Johnny pulls himself up, using the abs he doesn’t really have, and sits, wincing a little. Some tingles zap down to his toes, but he figures he’ll have to just deal with that for a while if not the rest of his life.

The doctor said he could be out of here by next Friday, Johnny having been kept longer to account for the burns as well. Maybe Johnny could go out with Dallas or the gang to the movies when he got out of here.

When he got out of here. Where was he supposed to stay?

“We should talk to Darrel about that.” Dallas says, and Johnny hadn’t realized he’d asked the question out loud.

Johnny tries turning his neck to look at Dally, his muscles feeling almost…stale? Stale from restriction and disuse.

“Yeah. I just don’t even know how these hospital bills are going to get payed. I doubt my parents have given me or these bills a thought once I told my mom I didn’t want to see her when I first got here.”

Dallas scoots to the edge of the chair, and leans closer to Johnny to whisper, “Don’t worry about the bills, man. I’ll talk to Darry and Twobit so we can figure something out. If I have to pick up some more bootlegging jobs for Buck, that’s fine. I’ll get the money. On my word, man.”

“Shepard might not be too happy about you taking his jobs.” Johnny smiles.

“Fuck Shepard.” Dally spits.

Dallas and Tim’s relationship confuses Johnny. He’s sure it confuses everyone. Tim and Dallas aren’t really friends, but they’re always looking out for each other. Yet sometimes it feels like they hate each other.

Maybe they’re like the gallant southern men from Gone With the Wind. Johnny had compared Dally to one back in the church. Maybe it was like a ‘this town ain’t big enough for the two of us’ but deep down they know Tulsa wouldn’t be Tulsa without Dallas Winston and Tim Shepard.

Johnny smiles at the thought of Dally and Tim decked out in chaps and shirts with fringe. They could wear boots like Soda does and wear the funny hats.

Dallas’ eyebrow raises at Johnny’s sudden grin, but he lets it go.

Johnny sits, thinking for a moment. “Can you do something for me?” He asks Dallas.

“Sure, man. Anything.” Dallas says, looking serious.

“So I’ve been thinking,” Johnny starts. That’s all he really could do, laying in the hospital bed for hours on end. He didn’t want to read without Ponyboy, and he only had so many people to talk to. Steve always talked about cars, Darry about work, Twobit about blondes, Sodapop about anything and everything (he never stopped talking, and as nice as Soda is Johnny wishes he would sometimes), and Ponyboy doesn’t really visit. Dallas lets Johnny lead conversations for the most part, and is more than happy to take a moment and just be quiet. But Johnny’s been thinking. “I want you to pierce my ears.”

Dallas’ eyebrows furrow, and his eyes narrow. “Yeah?” He asks, but doesn’t say much more than that.

“I mean, I’ve always thought they looked real tuff. And I told myself that if I ever died I’d want to look tuff in the casket.” Johnny explains. Dallas’ eyebrows furrow impossibly harder. “For a while there it wasn’t sounding like I’d make it out of here, with my back and burns and all. And even though I don’t think I’m going to die here anymore I still want to.”

“What, you want to look like a Soc girl?”

“Well- no- but”

“Yeah. Okay.” Dallas says, having some questions now about this, but he doesn’t want Johnny to close up on him. He just nods with a contemplative look on his face. “Yeah, I’ll do it.”

“Really?” Johnny asks.

“Sure, man.”

Before Johnny had gotten beaten to a pulp by Bob and his gang, Johnny, Dallas, and Sylvia took a trip to the west side of town. Normally, Johnny wouldn’t think this is a good idea, but Soc’s are terrified of Dallas. So they decided to take a little walk around the Soccy part of town, bumming around in the more expensive stores and walking into restaurants to steal toothpicks and peppermints.

They had walked into a clothing store that had all different kinds of dresses; perfect, pleated, checkered dresses and cardigans and button up shirts and bracelets and necklaces and rings. Johnny doesn’t think he’s ever been in a room with this much expensive stuff. Maybe it was actually that expensive, but it was definitely a chunk of change for greasers. He’s lucky if he can get a new pair of shoes every two years.

They get a few looks as they enter the store, and Johnny knows this is just Dallas’ way of humoring Sylvia. Dallas doesn’t like shopping, even if it’s just window shopping, and Johnny had learned from a young age that wanting was only a way to dissatisfaction. So he tried not to want. Material items at least.

Sylvia looks around the store, and walks around a little bit, before landing in the small jewelry section toward the back. Johnny and Dallas had followed her wherever she wanted to go, and Johnny noticed how she couldn’t take her eyes off of a pair of earrings. They were gold, dangly earrings that had large pearls on the end. They were pretty, but they definitely didn’t seem like they’d belong on Sylvia. They belonged on a Soc girl, not a greaser.

They continued to walk around the store, but Sylvia always made her way back to those earrings. Johnny and Dallas didn’t know why. If she liked them that’s fine, but they just didn’t seem like something Sylvia would like. At all.

Johnny and Dallas glance at each other and then their gazes catch Sylvias. Dallas nods, and Johnny knows they’re speaking in a language that’s completely their own even if it isn’t vocal.

Now, Johnny isn’t adverse to stealing, but he doesn’t ever really like to do it for himself or by himself. Ponyboy always described him as the most law abiding of the bunch and Johnny’s sure others would describe him that way too.

Johnny knows the look in Sylvias eyes. It’s the same one Dallas gets when he knows he’ll win a rodeo, even if he knows he’ll get hurt. It’s determination, but there’s something deeper tied to it. Johnny’s not quite sure what that thing is. The look in Sylvia’s eyes keeps him curious though. There must be a reason that dives further than surface that she wants—needs—those earrings.

So, as uneasy as Johnny is feeling about this, he decides right then that he’ll help. He knows Sylvia could’ve and would’ve been just fine stealing on her own, but he feels a calling to help her.

Johnny tugs on the leather of Dally’s jacket and drags him toward the front of the store near the only worker seemingly working that day.

Johnny has also been described as a kicked puppy, so he puts the puppy dog eyes to good use and thinks of the worst possible thing that comes to mind.

Johnny Cade doesn’t cry. It’s been drilled into him that he is never to cry, so he thinks about the very person who would always tell him not to. His mother. It seems like a fatherly thing, to tell your sobbing son to shut his trap, but it was always his mother.

She wasn’t nearly as bad when he was little. Even when Johnny was in elementary school she hadn’t played a finger on him. His mama used to make lunches for him to take to school. She’d pack a pb&j, apple slices, and chips everyday with juice and a not saying how much she loved him. If you asked Johnny at the time, he’d say she was the best mom anyone could ever ask for.

They had lived comfortably in the middle class for years until his Pops lost his job. Johnny was in sixth grade when his family packed up their belongings and moved from Oklahoma City to a quaint house in Tulsa. His dad had never gotten a job that payed quite as well as his other one.

They had comfortably lived for around three months before all of their money went down the drain as Johnny’s dad started gambling as something akin to a coping mechanism. With gambling came the alcohol. His father started drinking, presumably to try to slow his rapidly and negatively thinking brain down, (if Twobit’s reasoning is anything to go by). His mother decided she didn’t want to be “miserable” anymore either so she took up drinking too.

It became less and less of a rare occurrence and more of a constant. She’d forget to pack him a lunch for school and they didn’t have any money they wanted to give him for hot lunch anymore. It all went to bets and booze. The cute house’s blue paint started to chip, and the grass started to become overgrown. The inside of the house became cluttered, most of the time with bottles and cans littering the carpeted floor of the living room.

Johnny vividly remembers the first time his mother laid a hand on him. He had come home from school with a failed reading quiz, and had needed a parent signature of acknowledgement on it. Johnny had showed her the paper, and he was called a plethora of names. Before he knew it he had a stinging cheek and tears in his eyes.

He had never been too great a reader, but his parents hadn’t seemed to care much as long as he was having fun and happy. Johnny can still smell the alcohol in her breath as he remembers the way she screamed at him, only to tell him to quit his crying.

Johnny tried. He really did, but his failed efforts were only met with another hard slap across the face. Little did Johnny know, a cycle had started. The bruises on his own face always somehow managed to match the ones on his mama’s face…

Either way, Johnny pulls out all the stops, using his younger looking figure to appear like a child as Dallas looks at him with wide eyes, awkwardly trying to console him. Dallas has to steel his expression as he tells Johnny to calm down.

The act is over when Sylvia comes back to the front of the store and starts playing mom, comforting Johnny as they walk out of the store together. Dallas follows and starts cackling, the sound sharp against the quiet Soc streets.

Johnny had asked Sylvia about why she wanted those earrings specifically a week later. She had said she wanted to feel pretty, but if you asked any guy in all of Tulsa they’d say she was more than.

But Johnny got the feeling she wanted to feel pretty like a Soc girl. The kind of pretty that came with innocence that wasn’t seen on the east side. Wasn’t lived on the east side.

Cherry’s ears were pierced, and maybe Johnny didn’t realize it yet, but was that the reason he wanted his own earrings? If it was what Pony liked, he’d do it. He just wants his best friend back.

Chapter Text

Dallas leaves the hospital and runs back to Buck’s to grab his mother’s old sewing kit, and a pair of Sylvia’s stud earrings that he kept. Dallas feels uneasy about something for the first time in a long time. He rummages through the nightstand he’s been borrowing for the small container with  sewing needles that is buried beneath boxes of Winston cigarettes, a bunch of dollar bills, maybe a few joints of weed, condoms, and Little Women.

Does he read very often? No, but his momma liked the book so he’s slowly trying to get through it.

He finds what he’s looking for and rushes downstairs to the T-bird. He puts the car into gear and rolls out of Buck’s parking lot, hoping to get back to the hospital with enough time before visiting hours are over.

Dallas bites his nails as he drives. He only does that when he’s nervous, which isn’t often, but he isn’t entirely sure why he’s nervous now. Sure, he hasn’t pierced anyone’s ears before, and he isn’t particularly stoked about how Johnny’ll get extra unneeded attention with the earrings, and he doesn’t want to be the one making Johnny wince in pain as the definitely inadequately cleaned needle and earrings are shoved through his earlobes, but those are just a few minor things.

He stops by the cafeteria’s ice box when he returns to the hospital. He fills a plastic cup with ice cubes in hopes that maybe the ice will lessen the pain for his buddy.

He’s been here long enough that he knows exactly where Johnny’s room is, and brushes past the nurses who try to direct him there. Johnny’s room is on the second floor and three rooms down from the stairwell and elevator. Dallas pounds on the door one time before he enters.

Johnny had laid back down, but pushes himself back up slowly, into a sitting position when Dallas walks back in. Dallas takes in the look of concentration on the younger boy’s face as he works the unused muscles again. Dally pulls up the stingily padded chair he’s gotten a lot of use out of this past month. He takes the sewing kit and earrings out of his jacket pocket and takes a deep breath, setting them on the table next to Johnny’s bedside. 

Dally pauses, taking in how Johnny’s holding himself, but he can’t tell whether or not the younger boy is tense because of his back or because he’s nervous. Why does Dally seem more jittery and nervous than Johnny himself?

“You’re sure you wanna do this, man?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“It’ll make you look like a faggot… are you sure you want that?” Dallas asks softly. Softer than he meant to. That word felt weird in his mouth.

He’d never said that word aloud before. It felt different than the word ‘queer’. His father would throw it around all the time back in New York. Dallas would be on the receiving end of it after showing his father a drawing he drew or told him about a story he read. This was all before the age of ten. Even if he didn’t know what the word meant until later, the way his father said it didn’t make him feel too great. Anything that was too feminine would make Dally’s father angry.

He still doesn’t really get it, any of it really, but he sure doesn’t think Johnny needs any more of that negative attention on him.

“Oh…” Johnny thinks for a moment, and Dallas knows that Johnny hadn’t really registered what guys getting their ears pierced meant.

Dallas raises his eyebrow. Or, as best as he can. He never was as good at that as Twobit is. “What do you mean, ‘Oh’?”

There’s a little more silence just hanging there before Johnny says, “Yeah. I guess if people want to think that then I’ll let them think it.”

Dallas has to manually remind himself not to let his jaw drop to the floor. What? Let them think it?

“That’s-” Dally just sighs. This entire interaction is so out of character for him and he can feel it. “Alright, man.”

He steps closer to where Johnny is sitting. He opens the sewing kit and takes out the thickest needle that’s there, and still the needle isn’t nearly as thick as the post of the earring. 

“Do you want me to mark it first? Or just go for it?” Dallas asks.

“Nah, I trust you. Just do it.”

Dallas sighs again. What is going on? He hasn’t been this apprehensive about something in a while. He wasn’t even this nervous about getting Johnny and Ponyboy out of their murder rap. “Alright, man.” Dallas says, and hands Johnny an ice cube to hold against his earlobe.

Johnny follows the unspoken instruction. Dally doesn’t even know whether or not his ear will bleed or anything like that. He might be reckless and a hood, but he’s not stupid, so why’d he even agree to do this? After a few seconds, Johnny removes the ice cube and Dallas lines up the needle to his earlobe.

“Okay… uh… three, two, one” Dally counts down and finally shoves the needle through Johnny’s ear.

It isn’t cartilage, so there isn’t a crazy popping sound or anything, but it does bleed a little. Step one is complete, and now he just has to figure out a way to shove the earring through his ear too. He grabs the earring and hopes it won’t be too hard to switch out the sewing needle for it. 

He grabs the earring and takes the backing off of it, and hopes the hole doesn’t close up when he takes the needle out and prods the earring through. He quickly pulls the needle out and shoves the earring through, clocking the grimace painted on Johnny’s face.

“You wanted this, man.” Dally says, and it’s his way of apologizing.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Dallas pierces the other ear with about the same amount of hiccup as the first one. The earring was a little harder to get in, but Johnny didn’t say anything, just gritted his teeth.

Dallas sets down the sewing needle, a little crusty, onto the table next to Johnny’s bedside. He ‘dusts his hands off’ after a job well done and finally lets out a sigh that takes all of his immediate worries with it.

Johnny’s definitely dealt with worse pain than a little prick on his ears.

Dally takes out his freshly shined and sharpened and definitely not allowed in a hospital switchblade to use as the most dysfunctional mirror. He holds it up for Johnny to see a sliver of his reflection, and relaxes further at the way Johnny’s lips turn up into a small and genuine smile.

“They look good, Dal!” He says and looks at him.

Dallas just nods, turning over the thought of Johnny getting stares and comments about this. But he’s glad Johnny thinks he did a good job, and he’s glad he likes them.

It’s a general rule that you can’t have weapons in hospitals. Everyone knows that, so when a nurse that isn’t Carol or Susie walks in, there’s commotion and yelling as Dallas quickly packs up his things, sewing kit and blade, and rushes out of the hospital.

He’s not used to listening to other people’s directions. So it’s clearly a shock to Johnny when he moves quickly to leave.

It’s the first time he’s heard Johnny genuinely laugh in a while. Has to have been at least a year. Johnny’s laugh is usually less than. More of a strong exhale and maybe a vocalization of “ha”. There’s usually some sort of sadness, or ‘self pity’ as Dallas is more familiar with.

Johnny is genuinely laughing, and it brings a smile to Dallas’ face. Not a sharp grin, a smile, like the ones that he had learned to squash down when his father would tell him to; Call him that word and tell him to quit being girly. 

He doesn’t stop running until he gets to the Curtis house. He’s winded, yes. His smoking habits haven’t been so great in supporting his long distance running game. The hospital is on the east side of town, relatively close to the Curtis’.

He slams the door as always, interrupting the sound of dinner time conversation that permeates throughout the house.

“Dallas, hey.” Darry says from his seat.

Dallas is covered in sweat, and his face is red, panting like a dog.

“Why do you look like Pony after track practice?” Soda asks from his seat at the table.

“I got kicked out of the hospital.”

“What?”

“I was with Johnny and got kicked out.” Dallas says, voice still hoarse from running.

Darry’s eyebrows furrow, and Soda grins cheekily at Ponyboy. None of them entirely surprised that he got kicked out, but Darry’s expression asking for the details.

Dallas catches this and just says, “Doesn’t matter, but we gotta talk Darry.”

Darry’s eyebrows furrow even harder at this. “Okay…?”

So, after the left over ‘hamburger mystery surprise’ and green beans are put in the fridge, Darry sits in his arm chair and Dallas sits on the couch. Darry has sent Ponyboy and Soda to their room so Dallas and himself could have some privacy. As soon as their bedroom door is closed,

“We need to talk about Johnny,” Dallas says.

“Alright.” Darry nods, settling into his chair. “Has he gone downhill again?”

“Huh? Oh, no, he’s fine actually. Doc said he could be out by the end of next week.” Dally explains. “He was getting all worked up about where he’ll stay though, once he’s out. He doesn’t want to go back to his folks’ place and I’m sure his mom and pop don’t care if he ever comes home. He was going on about all the bills too, but I’ll take care of those.”

“Oh wow. Yeah you’re right we should talk about that.”

Dallas reaches in his jeans pocket for a cigarette, but lets his hand fall limp when Darry shoots him a disapproving look. He knows he’s not supposed to smoke in the house just in case a social worker shows up all of a sudden.

“My first thoughts were that he could stay with me or Twobit, but I’m not so sure Buck’s is a place he’d realistically be able to stay. There are stairs up to the bedrooms and bathroom, and I’m sure the cigarette smoke wouldn’t do his lungs any favors.” Dallas thinks out loud, but doesn’t acknowledge that his own smoking habits rival the smoke Johnny inhaled in the burning church.

“I’m glad you admit that Bucks isn’t a great place.”

“Yeah I know you don’t like it there.” Dallas rolls his eyes.

“I think we’ll have to bring Twobit and his mother into the picture at some point. Best sooner than later. I dig Johnny, and I know Ponyboy and Johnny are real close, but I have a feeling you came to me instead of Twobit in hopes we could have him crash here,” Darry starts. “And if it were to be sleeping on our couch for a week I wouldn’t mind, but I want Johnny to be able to actually be cared for. I’m working two jobs and Sodapop still has to pitch in to pay for things sometimes. I don’t have the money to- to take care of him full time. And I think he’ll need more than just a seat at the table and some food on his plate.”

Dallas nods slowly, his foot tapping as he thinks this over. It was a far off hope that Darry would be able to take Johnny in, even though realistically Twobit and his mother and sister were always the first true option. Dallas knows how hard Darry’s been working better than anyone. Him and Soda are paying their bills alright, Darry no longer in necessity of Dallas’ money.

The day of the funeral it was sunny outside. You’d think the picture would be dark and gloomy and rainy, but the sun was ever present. It reminds Dally of Mrs. Curtis’ smile and her blonde hair, sun bleached from hours of gardening outside. Dally is also reminded of Mr. Curtis’ laughter. Bright and ringy that fills a room. Dally is already starting to forget their faces.

Dally stands a few steps away from Darrel, Sodapop, and Ponyboy, feeling a little like he’s intruding. She wasn’t his mother. He wasn’t his father. Dallas felt a little like he didn’t deserve to stand with them even though Ponyboy insisted. He stands there, silently cursing himself as tears roll down his face, feeling like they’re burning his skin.

Karen Christine Curtis was not his mother. Darrel Shayne Curtis Sr was not his father. He tells himself this, but every time he wishes they were. He wishes his father back in New York came looking for him after he left. He wishes his mother would’ve left his father sooner so she didn’t end up beaten so black and blue she was almost unrecognizable. Dallas had to identify her body. He wishes his father smelled like books and sandalwood like Mr. Curtis instead of smoke, alcohol, and metal. Or maybe the metal stench came from the blood caked under his fathers nails that Dallas had spotted as the police dragged his father away.

He was lucky enough the Curtis’ let him crash on their couch as many times as he did. He was lucky enough to have been offered rides to church even though he didn’t go. He was lucky enough to have food when he really needed it.

A stone faced Darry, who Dallas can somehow read well enough (much to his father’s accusations of being too feminine) to know he’s barely holding on. Darrel approaches and quietly mentions how Ponyboy and Soda could be sent to a boys home.

That statement didn’t shock Dallas. “A boys home?”

“Yeah. If I want to go back to college the social worker said she’d send them there.”

“They don’t treat kids too well in homes like those.”

“That’s what I heard. I just- I don’t- even if I did drop out and work instead, y’know to keep us all together, I don’t think I have enough grit to keep that up long term.”

Dallas nods, his tears since dried. Dallas knew Darry was going to school on a football scholarship. The Curtises aren’t and never have been made of money.

“It’ll take a lot of effort,” Dallas watches as Darrel closes his eyes, seemingly deep in thought. He can see the gears turning in the other boys head.

Darry clenches his jaw and sighs. “I can’t do that to them.” He shakes his head.

Dallas knows Darrel is making the choice to give up his dreams and his scholarship and his Paul Holden for his brothers. Maybe he is a greaser after all. Or at least when it counts.

Dallas never really speaks to Darry, but if he’s one thing it’s observant. He’s caught Darry going to sleep in Paul’s madras shirt too many times for it to not be weird. It reminded him of what his father had said.

Time went on, and Darry, Dallas, Sodapop, and Ponyboy all trudged along with it. Dally felt guilty for mourning them, even though the rest of the gang was too.

Darrel was struggling to make the bills, and came to Dallas, asking him for a favor. It was the least Dally could do, at least to get the momentum going. He started doing more rodeos and bootlegging for Buck, driving to Louisiana and Texas. He’d give the money to Darrel, and Buck didn’t question why he worked more and payed his own rent late.

Sodapop dropped out of high school, and he says it’s because he’s dumb and that he didn’t like it, but Dallas knows it’s because he wanted to help his brother. Soda fought tooth and nail to drop out.

Dallas helped Darrel from behind the scenes for a few months, never even really having to speak a word, just giving Darrel an envelope of cash.

“I’ll talk to Twobit about it. He’s probably the best off outta all of us, even though that isn’t saying too much.” Dallas says, and Darry nods.

“You’ve got a point. Let me know what he says, yeah? We don’t want him going back to his own place either. Lord knows what’ll happen if he goes back. I’ll try to help out if I can.” Darry says, standing up from his seat.

“Alright, man. I’ll let you know.” And Dallas stands up too. He reaches for the door handle, but Darry’s voice halts his movements.

“Why’d you get kicked out of the hospital, anyhow?”

But Dallas just snickers and opens the door. He leaves, slamming the door harder than usual just because Darry was standing right there. He hears a shout after him, but it’s falls dead against the breeze.

Chapter Text

“What d’ya think they’re talking about?” Sodapop asks, his ear to the door. He still can’t hear much.

“I don’t know, now sit still will ya?” Ponyboy says, patting the space next to him on the bed.

Soda opts for the floor instead, picking up Pony’s red bouncy ball and throwing it against the wall from where he sits.

“Quit that before Darry hollers at you.”

“He doesn’t holler at me.” Soda says.

“Don’t I know it” Ponyboy counters under his breath.

Soda stops his ball throwing and deflates. Ponyboy knows he said something he shouldn’t have.

“Hey I’m sorry, Soda.”

“It’s okay honey, I just- I thought we talked about all this, y’know? Darry too?”

Ponyboy puts down his beat up copy of Lord of the Flies. “Yeah. I guess.” He shrugs.

“I thought you guys had sorted it out. I thought it was better.”

“It is, he just nags on me sometimes.”

Soda rolls his eyes. “That’s what brothers are supposed to do, Pony! We care about ya!”

Ponyboy sighs. Soda’s right. There oughta be some disagreements every now and then, right?

“Yeah, I guess you’re ri-”

Pony and Soda both yelp as the house quakes, a loud bang cutting through the tranquil night.

“I told you not to slam the damn door!” Darry shouts and the two younger brothers open the bedroom door to hear a retreating howl from Dallas. “Damn that kid. I’m surprised he didn’t break the door off its hinges.”

“What was that about?” Ponyboy asks as he and Soda finally emerge.

“Dallas was being Dallas again,” Darry sighs.

“Yeah… we could tell.” Soda laughs, and Ponyboy watches as he takes a seat on the couch. “What did he want?”

Ponyboy takes a seat beside Soda. There must really be something serious going on if Dallas came to Darry. Sure, Dal comes over all the time for a meal and such, but he and Darry never really have conversations unless it’s an argument.

“He was asking me what we should do about Johnny.”

Ponyboy’s stomach drops. “Is he alright?”

Could Johnny have gotten worse somehow? Ponyboy suddenly feels all the more guilty for blowing him off like that. Not only did he lead him into that flaming church but he would have led him to his literally deathbed too.

“He’s fine.” Darry says, returning to his seat in the armchair.

“Oh good.” Ponyboy says, regaining his composure.

“…Although you’d know that if you visited him.”

“C’mon Darry.” Soda jumps in, attempting to stop the spark from turning into a flame.

Ponyboy shoots Darry a scowl but lets it go for now.

“Dallas is looking for a place for Johnny to stay is all. He should be gettin’ out soon.”

“Really?” Soda lights up. “Good for him!”

Pony and Darry smile, Sodapop’s sunshiny grin contagious.

“And I’m assuming you told Dallas Johnny couldn’t stay here though?” Ponyboy asks and then listens as Darry gives a recap of the conversation he and Dally had just had.

“So why’d he slam the door? Was he angry that we couldn’t have Johnny here long term?” Sodapop asks.

“No. I told him not the slam the door on his way out so he slammed it extra hard instead.”

“Yeah that sounds like him.” Soda says.

“And Dallas is gonna ask the Matthews?”

“Sounds like it.”

The next day at school a kid named Curly Shepard comes up to Ponyboy. Pony doesn’t think he’s ever really had a conversation with him that had any substance. Nothing but smack talk at the start of a rumble, but that hardly counted anyway. Ponyboy is unpacking his homemade bagged lunch, courtesy of Darry, when Curly plops down next to him on the bleachers.

“Hey” Curly says.

“Hi.” Ponyboy says as he continues to take the turkey and apple sandwich out of the brown paper bag.

“Are those fucking apples on your sandwich?”

“Uhhh… yeah? What about it.”

“That’s weird.”

“Okay.” Ponyboy takes a bite anyway, squinting at the other boy.

Curly reaches his hand into the paper bag and opens up the Hershey bar that’s there.

“Why are you here Curly?”

“What? Can’t I say hi to my favorite Curtis?”

Ponyboy doesn’t entirely believe that Curly has a favorite Curtis, but he doesn’t do much else than shrug.

“How’s Cade?”

“Oh, uh… he’s good I think.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah” Ponyboy can’t help but feel like this is one of the most awkward conversations he’s ever had.

Ponyboy watches as curly munches on his chocolate bar. He thinks Curly is tuff but also really weird. Curly reaches into the paper bag again but is stopped when Ponyboy says, “Hey man, why don’t you eat your own lunch?”

“This is the third time this week that Tim packed me shitty microwavable enchiladas and I’ve just about had it. I know he’s doing his best but there’s only so much of my culture I can take in one week.”

Ponyboy has to crack a smile at that. “Fair enough.”

He was going to save some of it for his after school play rehearsal, but he decides to be nice and save Curly from the misery of eating the same thing for three days. He’s had a week of “hamburger mystery surprise” before. Not fun. But he’s glad Curly recognizes that at least Tim is trying. Maybe it might be good for Ponyboy himself to remember that Darry is only twenty and in fact trying his best too.

Ponyboy hands over his lunch, giving Curly the bag of chips. It ain’t the healthiest, but it’s what they’ve got. He doesn’t get more of a ‘thank you’ than a head nod in his direction, but he figures that’s just how Curly is.

“Speaking of Cade,” Curly starts again, and Ponyboy takes a sip of his water. “Is he comin’ back to school?”

Ponyboy actually isn’t sure. Johnny hadn’t been to school for a while even before the…roadtrip… to Windrixville. Ponyboy thinks maybe he was going through a slump like Sodapop did. Neither of them are too good at reading, and Soda didn’t like school, but Johnny loved to go even if it was for no other reason then to people watch. Johnny was in Pony’s honors algebra class, so he had to be good at math, right? Ponyboy isn’t really sure why he’d quit going.

The longer Ponyboy thinks about it though, he figures the Soc’s probably said something to him.

He shrugs, “Probably not. Sucks though, he’s smart even if he doesn’t think so.”

“All I remember is his reading was ass.” Curly says. “Teach’ stopped calling on him after he took double the time to read a page aloud. Put us to sleep.”

Ponyboy frowns. Well, that’s usually the reason he was the one reading aloud. Johnny’s always got some real insightful comments though.

Pony’s been left for months eating lunch on his own, Twobit and Steve always leaving, offering to pick something up of course, but he eats the lunch Darry packs instead. Curly broke the cycle, but Pony wishes he could have his hour of peace and quiet back. Instead, he hears Curly’s loud chewing and glares at him when the other boy throws the wrappers on the ground.

“Dude.” Ponyboy wouldn’t go so far as to call himself an environmentalist, but if there was anything his mother taught him, it was to not litter.

Curly looks at him confused, before realizing. He rolls his eyes and goes to throw the wrappers in a trash can.

Ponyboy leaves before Curly gets back.

After school the auditorium is buzzing with conversation from the cast members of Arsenic and Old Lace. Ponyboy walks in and the conversation coming from the Soc’s falls dead. They stare at him for a few seconds before returning to their own business. The boy who plays Dr. Einstein, Josh, is a middle class boy who Ponyboy is buddies with. He moves his backpack and waves Ponyboy over.

Josh has never been nasty to Pony. Some of the Soc’s make fun of him for it, but he doesn’t seem to care. Or if he does he’s good at hiding it. Sure, their friendship started off as professional, but Ponyboy’s grown to dig him quite a bit. He likes movies and books like Ponyboy, and hates bologna like him too. Although the one time they went to the movie house Josh spent almost the whole time with his eyes closed. Ponyboy had thought he was sleeping, but Josh had said he was just listening.

Ponyboy insisted the movie was better if you actually watched it, but Josh is a firm believer that the music playing in the background tells a story too. Josh will talk about all these words like crescendo and time signature, and Ponyboy doesn’t know what that means whatsoever, but maybe it’s like poetry and alliteration and anaphora?

“Classes go okay today?” Josh asks.

“Yeah, they were fine. We’re starting a project in history which I’m excited for.”

“Fun! What’s it about?”

“It’s just making a poster about the Treaty of Versailles and presenting about it, but I think it’ll be fun.”

“Oh I remember doing that project. I don’t think my group did very well, but to be fair I don’t think-”

“Alright everyone! I hope you’ve all had time for an bio break and get settled in before our rehearsal today! We’ll be taking it from act II scene b…”

Darry and Soda are both working late tonight so Cherry is picking Ponyboy up from rehearsal.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to tell you, next Friday… I know we usually go to the drive-in, but my father is getting promoted to Chief of Police and they’re having a banquet. Would you want to come?” Cherry says as she pulls into his driveway.

“Oh! I’d have to ask Darry, but that sounds great. I’ll let you know, and tell him congratulations!”

“I will!” She says, smiling at Ponyboy. She leans in to kiss him goodbye, and he presses his lips against hers quickly before pulling away.

“Thanks for the ride!”

“Bye Ponyboy!”

He waves at her before climbing the stairs and entering his house. He closes the door behind himself and sets his bag down, next to the piano where it always lives.

Ponyboy has to fend for himself tonight, so he takes noodles out of the cupboard and makes the only thing he knows how to make, spaghetti. He grabs a pot and fills it with water, setting it on the stove to bring it to a boil. He hums as he retrieves the ground beef from the ice box and the tomato sauce from the pantry. He gets out another pan, moving to also place it on the sto-

“Fuck!” He yells when he drops it on his toes at the sound of the door slamming.

A howl, rings through the living room into the kitchen and Ponyboy knows it’s Twobit.

“You made me drop my pan!” Ponyboy yells.

Twobit stampedes into the kitchen, picking up Ponyboy and spinning him around.

“I could smell food all the way down the street,”

“No you couldn’t.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t. Darry wanted me to pop in to check on you.”

“I’m fourteen. I'm perfectly capable of being home alone for a few hours.” Ponyboy turns back to the stove and unpackages the meat, putting it in the pan.

“He’s just protective over ya, just wants to make sure you’re okay. Also wants to make sure there ain’t any girls over.”

Ponyboy rolls his eyes, “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Whaaaat? Not even miss Valance?” Twobit teases, making kissy noises behind Ponyboy’s back.

Ponyboy turns around again. “No.”

Twobit frowns, “You’re no fun.”

“Your definition of fun is a lot different than mine.” Ponyboy limps and turns back around.

“You oughta work on your homework,”

“Well I’m hungry. If Darry sent you to look after me you could do the cooking.”

“Ah, man, I don’t even know the difference between salt and pepper I ain’t no good in the kitchen.”

“You make a mean chocolate cake, though.”

“And I’m sure you make kind spaghetti. Just cook, kid.”

Ponyboy smiles and rolls his eyes again, Twobit taking a beer out of the fridge and popping the cap. He takes a seat on the floor in front of the TV and switches it on, the sounds of Mickey buzzing quietly in the background.

Ponyboy finishes the spaghetti, mixing the sauce and the meat in with the noodles and he uses rags to move the pot from the stove to the table. He grabs two plates and calls Twobit over. The dining room is quiet as they both eat, Ponyboy’s cooking not half bad for the one hit culinary wonder he is.

“So-” Twobit pauses to finish chewing, one of the first times Ponyboy’s ever seen him do that, before speaking again. “Dallas came barging into my house yesterday.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, me and Lottie thought he robbed a store or something and needed help. No, he was fine, he took a seat on the couch and asked if our momma was home.”

Ponyboy nods, already anticipating where this was heading. “Was it about Johnny?”

“Yessir it was. He gave us the lowdown of how Johnny is doing, and said he knew it was a big ask but Johnny needed somewhere to stay.”

“Are you taking him in?”

“Yeah. My momma said to clear out the guest bedroom for him to make his own. We ain’t really know what’s going on with his folks and how they’ll handle it, but we’ve got him covered. Dal said he’d pitch in and said Darrel would pitch in too.”

“That’s good.” Ponyboy says, knowing he’ll be able to rest easy for a bit. “Man that’s coming up pretty soon then, he’ll be outta there pretty quick.”

“Cleared out the bedroom today, skipped school.”

“You’re never really there anyway.”

Twobit gasps, “You take that back! Yes I am! I am a straight A student, young man”

“Straight AWOL maybe.” Ponyboy laughs, but knows it isn’t true. Twobit is there just about as often as Ponyboy is, but he’s been held back and doesn’t do his work, so Ponyboy doesn’t think it does him much good. “Thanks Twobit, for caring about him.”

“Everyone does. He’s got a lotta people in his corner.”

Ponyboy nods, pausing, before picking up the plates and bringing them to the sink to be washed by Sodapop later. He packages up the leftover noodles and puts the container in the fridge for when his brothers get home. Twobit returns to his spot on the floor while Ponyboy grabs colored pencils from his room to work on his poster for history. He sits at the table but isn’t able to get much work done.

He sets his pencils aside and sits in the wooden chair, picking at his cuticles. Cherry Valance wants him to come to her dad’s banquet? That oughta be the invite of the ages. It isn’t everyday a Soc invites a Greaser to something like that. It isn’t everyday a Soc invites a Greaser anywhere at all.

“Hey mom?”

“Yes sweetie?”

“Could I spend the night at Paul’s? We have a project to work on.”

“Sure love.”

So the table that evening is inevitably set for not five, but seven. If Darrel gets to have a sleepover, Soda begs to have Steve over. If Steve comes over, then Ponyboy will be lonely so Johnny gets invited over (even if he’s normally at the Curtis house anyway). Dallas pops in for the night, his lip freshly busted and his eye freshly bruised.

“Now how’d you get into trouble this time, cowboy?” Mr. Curtis asks, and Dallas lowers his head.

“Just a kid at school.” Dallas says.

“Oh honey what happened?”

Dallas doesn’t say anything else and Mr. And Mrs. Curtis don’t push him to. Ponyboy finds out later that a kid had called him a pansy because he told a Soc to quit picking on a smaller kid. Dallas had swung first, but came out worse off, the bruises on his ribs and the hidden matting of his long hair to show for it. Dallas had said he wouldn’t let it happen again, and Ponyboy didn’t know if he meant getting hurt, or letting someone else get hurt.

So Dallas stays the night on the couch, Johnny sleeping over in Ponyboy’s room. Steve bunks with Soda and Karen and Darrel Sr. make hot chocolate for everyone. Dallas claimed he didn’t like chocolate. He does, but he wants to be tuff. Chocolate is for warmth and comfort, but he wanted to be hard and cold, untouchable. Mrs. Curtis made him a cup anyway, but it sat on the coffee table, steam slowly fading, mug slowly chilling.

The boys sit in the living room, watching Mickey and laughing. Dallas sits curled on the couch, picking at his scabbed over, dry lips. He’s borrowing some of Sodapop’s clothes, each boy seeming to be wearing something that isn’t their own. Steve and Soda are on the floor playing cards. Their chatter about the girls at school is a little louder than the tv, but Ponyboy and Johnny try to turn it out, their own eyes glued to the screen.

Karen and Darrel announce they’re heading to bed around 9 PM. They turn out the lights in the dining room and kitchen, Karen’s hair in curls and Darrel in a robe. Sodapop promises to quiet down, and the five of them sit, talking quietly. They call it a night, Steve and Soda going to his room and Johnny and Ponyboy retreating to theirs. Dallas grabs the throw blanket and throws it over himself, trying to be conscious about his ribs and head. He eventually curls up on his side, the one that’s worse, and decides he doesn’t care anymore.

“Hey Ponyboy?”

“Yeah?” Ponyboy whispers in the dark. The face of his best friend inches away from his own in the black. He feels his breath on his cheek.

“Do you heard that?”

“Hear what?” 

“That.”

There’s clanking outside of the house, heavy footsteps seeming to come up the wooden stairs. Ponyboy’s ears perk up at the sound of whispering and sneaking. He slowly gets out of bed, Johnny following shortly after and cracking the door to his room.

Dallas is leaning on his elbow facing the front door when it creaks open.

“Darry, doll, come on. Keep walking.” Someone whispers, and there’s a click as the front door is quietly shut.

Dallas switches on the light next to the couch, squinting as it illuminates the room in a warm glow. Darry’s eyes immediately snap closed.

“Let’s get you to bed.” The dark haired companion says. 

“Hey Paul.” Dallas says skeptically, and Paul readjusts his hold on Darry, his cheeks becoming visibly rosier.

He’s holding a clearly wasted Darry by the waist, guiding him to continue moving. He pauses as he scans the room, Dallas obviously intrigued by the scene, and Ponyboy and Johnny peeking from the door to the bedroom. Soda and Steve mirror their positions from down the hall. Ponyboy notices Dallas tilt his head at Darry’s attire. He didn’t leave the house in a purple and yellow madras shirt. It’s Paul’s, he recognizes. Paul himself is wearing his letterman jacket, open, exposing his chest that’s littered with small purple bruises, his hair tousled. 

Paul places a finger against his own lips in a shushing motion, guiding Darry to his bedroom. Ponyboy hears a few quiet complaints when Steve connects that he’ll now have to sleep in Soda’s bed. Paul emerges from the room and heads for the kitchen and bathroom, grabbing a glass of water and painkillers. He retreats back into the room and shuts the door behind him. There’s some laughter behind the door from Steve and Soda, teasing Darry until they’re shushed by who must be Paul, and the air falls silent.

The silence lasts for what feels like a year as Dallas, Ponyboy, and Johnny watch Paul take care of Darry.

“Well shit.” Is all Dallas says before reaching over to turn the lamp off and groaning as he lays back down.

The next morning Ponyboy hears complaints through the wall when his father announces breakfast is ready. Soda and Steve are up pretty quickly, Ponyboy and Johnny too. They each emerge and get a plate, eggs and bacon and hash browns. The eggs are purple, Mr. Curtis having added food dye but no one cares. 

Everyone has already dug into their food when Paul quietly emerges from the bedroom, obviously hoping not to disturb anything or anyone but accidentally dropping the now empty water cup. The glass shatters and it’s almost humorous how his eyes widen and his cheeks redden. His gaze falls to the floor, and Sodapop snorts from his spot next to Steve.

Paul is back in his own shirt, his hair still a mess. He isn’t hungover, as Ponyboy is sure Darry is, so he assumes Paul hadn’t drank anything at all. Paul always did try to take care of Darry as best he could.

“Sorry- I was just going to refill-”

“Hey Paul.” Leaves Mr. Curtis’ mouth, and it’s reminiscent of Dallas’ greeting the night before. Dally himself nowhere to be seen anymore, probably having left early.

Karen welcomes Paul with a warm smile, but it lingers a little too long. Paul kneels to pick up the glass shards before he’s stopped by Mrs. Curtis. She has a broom and begins sweeping up the shards.

“I thought you boys were staying at your house?” She asks, obviously knowing something must’ve happened, but she doesn’t seem mad by any means.

“Oh- we were but uh- he… ended up not feeling well and-”

Darry emerges looking like shit. That’s the only way Ponyboy would be able to put it. It’s obvious he’s hungover and queasy and not any more knowledgeable from any research he could’ve been doing for the ‘project’ he was supposed to be making.

“Oh Dar, bud,” Darrel Sr. says, and he goes to the bathroom to get more painkillers.

“So Darrel, how’s that project coming along?” Sodapop asks, and some chuckles and a groan rolls through the dining room.

Mr. Curtis raises his eyebrow, although not nearly as well as Twobit. Darry glances over at Paul, defeated, allowing him to explain.

“It’s my fault, sir. Some guys on the team were having a…gathering… and called asking if I wanted to come with. We were working on the project but we left to hang out for a bit. The- uh- the gathering involved some drinking…” Paul explains. “I didn’t drink anything though, I wanted to make sure Darry would get home safe but I didn’t want to just leave him feeling miserable so I brought him back here. Sorry for overstaying my welcome.” He adds quietly.

“Oh sweet, Paul. You’re not overstaying anything. We’re glad you’re looking out for Jr.-” Mrs. Curtis says as she sweeps.

“Mom it’s not everyday I get invited to hang out with the team like that.” Darry says, and Ponyboy watches as Paul’s expression turns to one of guilt. Sure, they’re best friends and they trust each other more than anything, but they also understand that not too many Soc’s would look over the train tracks to find a friend in someone on the east side. Allowing themselves to get as close as they were is another story entirely. The team likes him well enough because he’s a good player, but it doesn’t go much further than that. They’ll get along just fine at practice but Darrel isn’t invited to hang out with them like Paul is. Paul tries to keep Bob and Darry separate, not knowing what would happen if the two worlds collided.

There’s a beat before Darrel Sr. sighs. “I know son, but you’re lucky Paul is such a good friend. Who knows what could’ve happened had he left you there.”

Paul’s blush spreads to his ears.

“We just want you to be safe, sweetheart.” Karen finishes cleaning the floor and tucks her golden hair behind her ears. She plants a soft kiss on her eldest’s forehead, careful not to aggravate his headache any further.

“I know.”

“You’re a good kid Paul. Thanks for looking after our boy.” Mr. Curtis says.

“Of course, sir. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

Ponyboy decides not to worry about the banquet. He’ll go if he can figure out something to wear. Besides, he doesn’t exactly even know how an event like that works. It’s still nine days away.

Chapter Text

The next few days Johnny’s spirits are looking up. He’s sitting upright by himself and has even started practicing walking on crutches, although the doctor said it would be easier for him to use a wheelchair. That being said, Johnny hasn’t seen Dallas in a few days. He’s off in Louisiana running a few errands for Buck. Two-Bit had come to visit a few times, some of them with his mother to sort out the things he’d need while he’s living with them.

Johnny doesn’t think he’s ever been so grateful in his life. Of course it would be an adjustment, and part of him felt like he’d become a burden on Two-bit and his mom and sister, but he was also excited to live somewhere where he wasn’t constantly beaten black and blue. Johnny has been to Two-bit’s house before, sometimes bunking there on cold nights and when he doesn’t want to bother the Curtises. He’s slept in the guest bedroom before, but he knows it’ll feel different when it’s his bedroom. At least that’s how Ms. Matthews calls it. She’s talked about how he can pick how to decorate it to make it his own and it makes him smile every time.

He thinks maybe it’ll feel less temporary than anything in his life has. Everything to his name he was so used to getting taken away or destroyed. His folks would dangle anything pleasant in front of his face but he’d never be good enough to get it. An extra helping at dinner after a day of not eating, but only if he was good. He’d try so hard to be quiet and helpful. He’d get hit instead.

So maybe this new beginning of having something of his own, even if it was a room under someone else’s roof, a kind roof at that, would be good for him. His signature denim jacket having been a hand-me-down from Dallas.

He’s excited to see everyone again. Excited to go out with everyone, even if they’ll have to wait a little longer for him to catch up. He’ll be out on Friday and he’s counting down the days until (hopefully) he sees Ponyboy’s smile when he sees that Johnny’s recovered enough to move himself and walk. Maybe not quite walk, but move himself forward in a vertical position.

Maybe Ms. Mathews would let Ponyboy sleep over sometimes and they could read together. Maybe they’d finally finish Gone with the Wind.

Darrel had popped in one day to announce that the gang would be here when Johnny was finally able to leave. When he had first walked in he stopped dead in his tracks as he’d seen Johnny. Was he surprised he was sitting up? The older boy had quickly shaken out of his funk and mentioned that they’d help him move what minimal stuff he had and maybe celebrate a little. Darrel said he’d make cake. Johnny can’t help but feel special for the first time in a long time. Sure, having his name in the paper was great, and he really did like being told he was a hero, but it aint quite the same as when your best friends in the whole wide world are excited for you. They had mostly been worried before.

Johnny’s decided he probably won’t be going back to school. He hasn’t been since even before Windrixville and he still has a bit of adjusting and healing to do before he’d be efficient enough to spend 8 hours a day sitting and walking and standing. Baby steps. Literally.

Dallas had left for Louisiana on Sunday, and was expected to be back on Monday—the trip planned to be a quick “there and back”—but he had called saying he’d be staying a few extra days. Doing what? Johnny didn’t know. He had a few guesses though. He could’ve found a broad to hang out with for a couple days, found another way to make some money, or he got locked up. Dallas had promised that he’d be back by Thursday at the latest.

So, Johnny spends the week working with Carole and Susie with his crutches and applying his own ointment for his scars.

On Thursday Dallas shows up at the hospital as he said he would.

“Holy shit what happened to your hair?” Johnny asks when Dallas sneaks his way into the room. The staff all put to keep watch if he were to show his face back here after pulling out his blade last time.

Dallas Winston is known for his angular features. His cheekbones and jawline so sharp the could cut. His long brown hair softens his face a little and makes him almost look pretty, younger even.

Dally’s hair is still long. He hasn’t been one for haircuts in years, and when he trims it he does it by himself. But no, his hair isn’t any shorter than it was when he left. Dallas’ hair is white. So white it matches the chill behind his eyes after years of mistreatment and protecting himself from getting hurt. Johnny would ask if somehow May had turned into December, Jack Frost himself seemingly at his door.

“What, you don’t like it?” Dallas grins sharply.

“Are you pretending to be Ponyboy…? Why’d you bleach your hair?”

Dallas pulls up a chair and plops down in it. He runs a hand through his hair. "It started as bootlegging for Buck, but I needed extra cash, so I got some... other shit to sell for what had to have been an un… unerical price-" Dallas snaps his fingers, thinking.

“I think it’s unethical.”

“Huh?” Does Johnny mean the drugs?

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘unethical’”

“Who the fuck are you? Charlie Dick? Get outta here.” Dallas says, scowling.

“Charles di-”

“Charles Dickens! Charles Dickens.” Dally corrects himself. “Whatever, the guy that thought he could fuck me outta his end of the deal showed up with half the cash but left with broken ribs and a bail for a lot larger than anyone is willing to pay for him.”

“That still doesn’t explain why your hair is white.” Johnny says, leaning closer to hear the rest of the story.

“Simple answer is that the fuzz was after me and so were the buddies of the guy that I beat the shit out of. Usually I’d be okay with them having me bunk in the county jail, but I wanted to get back here to help you move in.”

“Well thanks man.” Johnny says, smiling, appreciating that Dal wanted to be there for him.

“Sure Johnnycakes. You’re lookin tuff, lively.”

“Yeah! Been workin hard to get out of here.”

This has been reminding Johnny a little of how Dallas would visit him in the hospital way back when he first moved here. He had been first introduced to Dally by the Curtises within the first few weeks, his own family living only a few blocks away. He’d been playing with Ponyboy when a scrappy kid walks in and plops on the couch, doesn’t say a word. Johnny used to be outgoing, loved to explore and make friends and talk and talk and talk. He’d ask Dallas questions that the older boy would never even give him the time of day to answer, but Johnny and Ponyboy would continue to pester him. One day Dallas let his walls become a little more transparent and actually talked to Johnny. Dallas had eventually taken on more of the talking role, growing into his own personality, even if that personality became more genuine when the older boy was around Johnny. Johnny had gotten quieter and jumpier each month he’d spent in Tulsa, but Dallas tried to treat him as normally as one could. It’s led them here.

Johnny knocks on the Curtis’ front door as he so often does, shivering and sweating, pale and crying. Darry opens the door, stepping back to let Johnny in.

“You know you don’t have to knock, John- oh shit- shoot.” Darry says, backing up further. “Hey mom? Johnny doesn’t look too good!” He half shouts into the kitchen where his mother was watching dishes.

“Give me a second, honey.” Karen says, and gasps when she finally walks to the front door to see Johnny looking sick as a dog. “Oh honey what’s going on?”

Johnny gags and runs to the bathroom, not taking the time to close the door behind him. Mrs. Curtis kneels down next to him, rubbing his back as he’s sick. She notices the bruises on his jaw and the shiner he’s sporting, but doesn’t say anything yet.

Once Johnny has a reprieve in heaving she asks, “What’s going on baby? You’re so sick.”

“I don’t know.” He shakes his head but pinches his eyes shut, wishing he didn’t do that.

“Do you have a headache too sweetheart?”

“Mhm.”

Mrs. Curtis frowns. “Did you eat something bad?”

“Well my mama’s cooking has gone downhill for sure-” Johnny says trying to lighten the mood. It doesn’t work.

“What have you had to eat lately, honey?”

“My mama made some meatloaf yesterday. Had some chicken yesterday too.”

“Anything today?” She asks, and Johnny shakes his head.

Mrs. Curtis stands and grabs some painkillers and a glass of water and helps Johnny take them. He hopes it’ll at least help his head. 

He spends the next few hours stuck on the bathroom floor until he passes out, so dehydrated even while he’s drinking the seemingly endless supply of water he’s given from Karen. 

He eventually ends up in the hospital, Mrs. And Mr. Curtis by his side while the monitor beeps and fluids running through the IV. The doctor says he wants to keep him there until he’s doing better. It takes about three days until he isn’t feeling like death from Salmonella.

Dallas visits on the second day and it’s the most comfort Johnny has felt with the guy since they’ve become friends. Part of him felt like Dally was just tolerating him, maybe pitying him a little because of how defenseless he seemed. He wasn’t entirely defenseless, and Johnny would later find that Dallas knew that, but was just protective.

“You’re looking like you’re doing better Johnnycakes.” He says.

“I told you not to call me that.” Johnny says, but smiles.

Dallas runs a hand through his cropped hair, Mrs. Curtis taking her boys to get their hair cut, insisting they all needed to look presentable and less scraggly for the upcoming church fundraiser. Dallas had been roped into getting his haircut even though he protested all the way there and all the way back to the Curtis house.

“I’ll call you whatever the hell I want, alright?” Dally says, and Johnny thinks his hair makes him look weird. He’s never really seen Dallas forehead or ears before, and it’s a little weird. He looks like he should be in the military with his constantly cold expression and hard eyes.

Mr. Curtis comes into the room with some ginger ale, and hands it to Johnny who sits up, feeling less dizzy than he has these past few days. Mr. Curtis drove Dallas here, Dally not having stolen Bucks car until years later.

Johnny thinks it’s sweet.

He thinks it’s sweet that Dallas has been his rock this whole time. Obviously Ponyboy was his best friend, the one he could talk to who could fully and truly understand him, but Dallas was like a brother. Pony was something else.

Johnny is buzzing with excitement to finally be out of this monotonous hospital. He’s buzzing with excitement to toss a ball back and forth with Darry. He’s excited to go to the Drive-in with Twobit. He’s excited to visit Soda and Steve at the DX. He’s excited to read with Ponyboy. He’s excited to see Ponyboy’s show when it’s all finished. He’s excited to watch the sunset from the Curtis’ porch instead of the lousy window of the hospital room. He’s excited to be him again.

Chapter Text

Ponyboy spends the week counting down the days until the banquet. He’s nervous. Really fucking nervous. He’s only met Cherry’s parents twice, the first time for the trial and things, and the second time to formally introduce himself as Cherry’s… boyfriend? He doesn’t exactly know what she tells her friends and family. Whether or not she talks about their Friday night dates and quick kisses goodnight and long talks under sunsets. He doesn’t exactly know what she tells Marcia and Beverly. He did hear through the grapevine that they think she should’ve invited Chet to the banquet instead of him.

Maybe it would be easier for him to go. Ponyboy is sure Chet would know exactly what to wear, exactly what to say, and exactly how to interact with her family and everyone else on the west side. Either way, Ponyboy does take a little bit of pride in the fact that she asked him instead of Chet though. He can’t think of another opportunity that he’d be invited to an event as large in Soc culture as this one. And by Cherry Valance herself? Suck it Chet.

So he’s rummaging though his clothes trying to find something suitable and Socy, but he can’t find anything that isn’t too small. He looks through Soda’s clothes, but soda doesn’t own anything fancy. So he does what he’s sure Darry wouldn’t appreciate him doing, and looks through his Dad’s old clothes. Darry has been pretty unwilling to talk about their parents for very long at a time. Maybe there’ll be a “oh remember when” here and a “mom and dad would’ve liked this” there, but those moments have been scarce.

Their dad was never as bulky as Darry is, but then again their dad was never a huge sports guy. So Ponyboy doesn’t wait to ask, and enters his parent’s bedroom which has been left the exact same since the day his parents awoke to the sun shining through their translucent curtains, but never again to fall asleep to the sound of Soda’s snoring through the thin walls. Ponyboy tries to keep everything as though he’s never touched it, but he finds one of his dad’s old sportcoats and tries it on. It’s brown and contrasts his still bleached but growing hair. It’s a little big. The sleeves are a little too long and the shoulders are a tad too wide, but he calls it good enough. He places the clothing back on the hanger and brings it back to his and Soda’s room, putting the article in the closet. The coat goes unnoticed by Soda, Ponyboy’s brother as unobservant as he always is.

He hasn’t seen Cherry outside of  school since she brought him home last week. Part of him is a little thankful. He thinks if he sees her too much in person this week he’ll be too scared to ask Darry if he can go to the banquet. Darry would probably argue with him and tell him again that he shouldn’t be spending so much time on the west side of town.

So Ponyboy cranks out every last bit of homework he has on Thursday night in hopes Darry won’t have any reason to say no to him going to celebrate Cherry’s Dad’s success. He writes his journal entry for English, finishes his post lab for biology, and does his math homework, hanging it on the fridge for Darry to check later.

He’s not really sure whether or not this is a gift giving kind of event. He gets Cherry’s father a card, writing his congratulations on his promotion.

Thursday night Darrel enlists the help of Ponyboy and Soda to whip up a chocolate cake. They usually bake it on Saturdays, so Ponyboy furrows his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything. Ponyboy is put on measuring duty while Soda mixes and Darry gets out all the ingredients and cleans. They’ve done this so many times they don’t even really need to speak any words at all. It’s one of the only times Ponyboy feels like the three of them exist in absolute harmony. At least since their parents died. Darry puts on some Elvis and they all sing along with their best (or worst) impressions and laugh as they bake.

They finish the cake and Darry pops it in the oven with their mom’s old oven mitts.

Once the cake is baking, Darry takes the math homework from the fridge and sits down at the kitchen table with a glass of water. Ponyboy watches Darry thinks over some of the more complicated problems, miming out the algebra with his finger on the wooden table. He nods.

“Hey Pony?”

“Yeah?”

“Looks good.”

“Thanks for lookin at it” Ponyboy says.

“Anytime kiddo,” and Darry hands him his homework to put back in his backpack.

Ponyboy goes to bed that night forgetting to ask Darry.

On Friday Ponyboy doesn’t have any homework so he drops his bag by the piano like usual and immediately goes to the bathroom to figure out how to make his hair not look dumb. He feels a little guilty for using extra water while he rinses his hair, puts product in it, hates how it looks, and rinses it again. He’s finally content after about an hour of screwing with it. He puts on cologne, brushes his teeth again, and brings out their dad’s sport coat. Part of him thinks maybe he should’ve asked Darry about all this right when he found out about it, instead of trying to catch him on his way out the door. But it’s Friday, and Darry’s been loosening the reigns more and more often, so what else would he have Ponyboy do? Wash the dishes?

Ponyboy sighs and decides not to take any chances, so he takes the dirty dishes that are on the counter and cleans and dries them.

Darry should be picking soda up from the DX around now, himself just getting off of work too. Ponyboy puts on some slacks, a dress shirt, and the sport coat. He grabs his wallet, even though he’s sure he doesn’t have much in there, and puts it in his pocket, carrying the card for Cherry’s dad in his hand.

Cherry had told him she’d pick him up around 5. It’s 4:56 and he hears three engines round the corner to his house. The first car, Cherry’s mustang, parks across the street from his house. A habit taken on after many Friday nights ending in giggling and playful kisses. The second is obviously the roar of the Curtis family’s Ford truck. The third, he assumes is Dallas’ (Buck’s) T-bird because of the whooping and yelling he hears.

He steps out the front door looking more put together than he has in his entire life. He needs to impress Cherry’s family. He knows how unrealistic that sounds though. He’ll always be a greaser, and he’s content with the camaraderie that brings him, but he’s remembering Darry’s words from a few months ago. Darry would say how Ponyboy would be the first Curtis to make it out of Tulsa. How cool would it be to live in a nice house with a gorgeous girlfriend like Cherry and a college degree he would work so hard to earn for himself? That sounds a lot nicer than staying here or moving off to a farm and still be at the bottom. A hood.

Ponyboy walks out the front door and shoots an “I’ll be back before curfew” over his shoulder on his way to Cherry’s car.

“Hey Ponyboy?” Darry yells when Ponyboy is already halfway across the street.

Ponyboy walks back to the truck. Darry, Soda, Steve, and Dallas are all now crowding around it.

“Where are you going?” Darry asks, and takes in what Ponyboy is wearing. Ponyboy watches as Darry’s eyebrows furrow. “And what-” Darry pauses. “Why are you wearing dad’s clothes?”

Ponyboy hears the waver in Darry’s voice that he’s gotten so accustomed to.

“It better be the hospital, Burt Lancaster.” Dally says, and again, Ponyboy is surprised to see his brother and Dallas interacting with each other. But he’s even more surprised to see Dally’s hair?

“What’s up with your hair Dally?” He asks.

“That doesn’t matter, I’m surprised Cherry’s agreed to come see Johnny.” Dallas says, and a part of Ponyboy knows Dal isn’t in full belief that Cherry would ever visit him.

Why would they even bring Johnny up?

“Uh… no? I’m going to Cherry’s dad’s policemen’s banquet.”

“What the fuck dude…” Ponyboy hears Steve speak, more of a scowl on his face than usual.

Darry looks at him with a positively furious look, but Ponyboy doesn’t understand why.

“What time is this banquet at?” Soda asks softer.

“Six,” Ponyboy replies.

“Glory, Ponyboy come inside.”

“Darry, I don’t have any homework and I washed all the dishes-”

“Ponyboy Micheal Curtis get your ass inside.” Dallas butts in before Darry can say anything. It’s final.

It only takes about 15 minutes to get to the venue so he figures he has time but he hopes Darry makes this quick. Ponyboy mouths a “Sorry, one sec” at Cherry and she gives him a smiling thumbs up. He follows Darry inside, the rest filing in behind him.

“Ponyboy, Johnny is being released from the hospital tonight. We’re all going to go help him pack up his stuff and pick him up.” Darry says, fingers raking through his hair.

“We’ve been talking about it all week, we thought you’d be coming with us.” Soda adds.

Ponyboy’s blood runs cold. He counts off the days in his head again. And again. And again, and… they’re right. They had been talking about it all week, and Ponyboy himself had chimed in that he was excited to see him and watch the sunset with him again.

“Shit.” He says, his face turning red.

“Yeah. Shit, kid.” Dallas says, shooting Ponyboy a look he hasn’t seen in a few years.

Dallas hides behind anger. That’s how it’s been since Ponyboy has met him. The older boy is always angry, whether that be at Sylvia, the world, Buck, the Soc’s, a well placed rock on the sidewalk that makes him trip, or himself. Ponyboy is so used to seeing the steam puffing out of Dallas’ ears, but this is new. Dally is disappointed. His eyebrows are still furrowed. There’s still a scowl on his face, but his eyes aren’t cold. His eyes are sad.

Steve doesn’t even jump in to say anything this time. Ponyboy wouldn’t blame him if he called him stupid, careless, or even a tagalong at this point.

There's silence. Sharp silence, before Darry says what he’s been saying countless times. “Y’know Ponyboy, you oughta use your damn head sometimes.”

“Darry-” Soda tries to jump in like he always does.

“Ponyboy, you have been putting Johnny on the back burner since you got back from Windrixville, and that doesn’t seem right to me. Y’know what he never stops talking about? How much he values your friendship and how excited he is to get out of the damn hospital to spend time with you again! Because maybe if you weren’t willing to go there he’d just have to heal and get out faster to be somewhere you did want to be. You never visit him Ponyboy, and I don’t know if it’s out of some guilt you have that you ruined his fucking life walking into that fire or talking back to them Soc’s or because of golden girl Cherry Valance but it ain’t fair to him and it ain’t fair to you.”

“Dar-” He’s like a runaway train.

“You don’t ever think, Ponyboy. You act before a thought enters your head, and when you are thinking, it’s about stuff that doesn’t matter and sometimes I don’t understand how Johnathan Cade is holding onto any hope that you value him at all, because it ain’t seem that way whatsoever.”

Soda moves to grab Darry by the arm but Darry shakes him off.

“I didn’t- I just forgot-”

“‘I didn’t mean to’ ‘I forgot’ Ponyboy, is that all you ever say? We have been talking about this all damn week! Johnny has been talking about this for months, but you wouldn’t know because you’re never there. Now, I ain’t one to say choose sides, because I ain’t nearly as cruel as those Soc’s who believe the only thing good is money and status, and I thought I’d never say this but glory! Be a greaser and choose who you’ve got!”

“Well I can’t just tell Cherry that I can’t go! This is one of the biggest days ever for me!”

“This is one of the biggest days ever for Johnny. Did ya think of that? No you didn’t, did you?”

“If this was Paul Holden’s banquet you would’ve given your first born kid to go!”

Darry’s face gets even redder.

“You know damn well that's a different story Ponyboy.”

“You’re right. Yours was just a greaser becoming ‘friends’ with a Soc in hopes that it won’t crash and burn like it was destined to.” Ponyboy puts the word in air quotes and takes satisfaction when Darry falters a bit.

“And what, Cherry’s not like that? She won’t be friends with you, make you feel like you’re worthwhile and then drop you when she realizes that greasers are worth nothing? Johnny is your brother, Pony.”

“Cherry is different. She ain’t treat me like something that needs to be fixed. You do. And I ain’t never going to find someone as good as her to like me like that.” Ponyboy counters. “Johnny ain’t my brother.” He says, but doesn’t exactly know why. ‘Brother’ tastes weird in his mouth.

“Johnny-” Darry sighs. “Goddammit just fucking go, Ponyboy.” Darry says through gritted teeth. “I ain’t need to hear how great it is either. Don’t get dad’s suit dirty.” He says, and Ponyboy watches as he takes a breath and goes to the fridge, taking out the untouched chocolate cake.

So that’s why they made it early.

“Fine.” Ponyboy says, and he can feel the cold eyes following him out the door.

He goes to meet Cherry again, putting on his best smile when he gets into the car. She looks gorgeous, her hair curled, flowing over a blue dress that’s complemented by pearl jewelry.

“You look pretty Cherry.” He says quietly.

“You do too.” She says, and smiles at him, placing her hand on his knee while she pulls away from the curb. He ignores the slam of the other car doors and the abnormally loud revving of the engine.

“Ponyboy, I didn’t mean to!” Fades into the distance as he runs. He runs and runs and runs until his lungs are on fire and he tumbles to the ground, hitting the pile of newsprint spread around Johnny as he sleeps.

Ponyboy shakes Johnny until he wakes up. “C’mon Johnny, we’re running away!”

The other boy scrambles to his feet, and Ponyboy can hear his teeth clattering as he tugs his denim jacket closer to himself. They start running until Ponyboy finally calls it quits. He’s always been more for sprinting than long-distance. They make it to the park and they sit on the monkey bars. The only sound between them is their breathing and the warm Tulsa air being moved by the breeze.

“So what happened?”

“Darry hit me. Said he could just walk on out one day and go back to school. Leave us.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I know he ain’t mean to hit me but-”

“But it ain’t feel good I’m sure. Your cheek or your feelings huh?”

Ponyboy sighs. Johnny finds a half smoked cigarette on the ground and asks Ponyboy for a light. He hands Johnny the lighter that Darry told him he shouldn’t have ‘cause smoking bads for ya’ and watches as he tries to light the half used cancer stick. It doesn’t light, found on the wet ground and a little too soggy. Johnny flicks it to the ground and they sit there in companionable silence, not needing to say a word. 

Their hands grip the same monkey bar, their pinky fingers coming close to intertwining together when Johnny announces “I’m getting down.”

“What? Why?”

“You know I ain’t like heights much, Pony.”

“This isn’t even that high up.”

“It’s high enough for me-” Pony hears Johnny say, but Johnny freezes when they hear the rumble of a mustang engine.

Ponyboy helps Johnny return to where they’re sitting when Bob’s blue mustang rolls up to the park.

Ponyboy has to take a deep breath as he gathers the courage and wit to challenge the Soc’s. 

He takes a choked breath when he’s finally let go, his hair sopping and his lungs feeling like they’re filled with water.

He takes quick huffs of  breaths when he and Johnny are running to ask Dally for help.

And he takes sobbing breaths when he cries in front of Johnny, apologizing for ruining his life, apologizing for causing all this trouble, even though he knows Johnny would follow him loyally wherever he went.

Ponyboy takes the same sobbing breaths when he’s apologizing to Johnny for running into the fire at Windrixville. He thought Johnny was surely on his deathbed the first few nights in the hospital. Maybe he was. They rumbled for his best friend, and he thought it was one of the last days he could show his camaraderie. Even if Johnny told him it was useless. Even if Cherry and Randy told him not to fight.

Ponyboy felt guilty. And he still does. Every day of his life he thinks about what it was like in Windrixville. And selfishly he wants it back. Selfishly he wishes he and Johnny could go back to slumming in the abandoned church. Ponyboy hates bologna. But he’d go back to eating it if it would take away at least some of the guilty feeling. Even if Johnny took more of the metaphorical and literal hits, Ponyboy selfishly thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he were there alongside.

He can’t have that back though. What’s done is done and he’s made choices that he shouldn’t have. He hasn’t been there for his best friend.

So he takes a deep breath when he steps out into the bright streetlights from the darkness of Cherry’s mustang.  He only has two things on his mind; policemen’s honors and Johnny Cade.

Chapter Text

Johnny wishes he could say he’s surprised that Pony isn’t here. He wishes he could say he wasn’t upset. But Johnny has been conditioned to expect disappointment. Either that or expect nothing at all, because nothing in this world, nothing for a greaser could ever be guaranteed.

So Johnny watches as his friends file in, his smile weakening with every person that enters the room that isn’t Ponyboy. He keeps the smile on his face even though it doesn’t reach his eyes anymore. He’s standing upright on his crutches, finally out of the sterile gown and dressed in his own clothes. Carole had helped him lace his Converse. His few belongings are all at the end of the bed, his denim jacket, Gone with the Wind, and his lighter. Susie has put together a bag of his ointment and a few extra bandages just in case. If anything at least Johnny knows Carole and Susie care.

“We’ve got some crates and cake in the car.” Darry says with a smile, patting Johnny on the back, but his eyes land on Johnny’s ears, his smile faltering for a second.

“Really? Sweet” Johnny smiles, genuine, and doesn't notice.

Johnny says his goodbyes to Carole and Susie, thanking them for all they’ve done for him. Dally even used some of his rodeo cash to get them flowers as thanks.

“Tryna make them swoon Dal?” Johnny teases.

“What? No I swear I’m just sayin thank you, man.” Dallas’ eyes have widened, but he quickly laughs.

They all make their way downstairs to check Johnny out of the hospital. The energy almost feels like the energy before a rumble. Pure excitement and anticipation, and Johnny feels it too. He’s sure if they weren’t in a hospital Darry and Steve would be doing all sorts of flips. Ms. Matthews signs the release paperwork while everyone walks Johnny outside. He’s gotten pretty good on his crutches if he does say so himself. They all walk out of the hospital, and Darry and Steve do start doing some flips.

Steve hops up on the hood of the T-bird, regardless of Dally’s protest, and tries to do a backflip. Keyword, tried. He made it all the way around and didn’t break his neck but he didn’t quite stick the landing, falling over on his ass. Johnny laughs with the rest of the gang and twobit’s family. He’s thankful they’re waiting for him when need be.

“So what’s the plan for getting Johnnycake’s stuff?” Johnny hears Dallas ask once everyone is by the cars.

“I ain’t got much stuff at my house. It’s really just some clothes.” Johnny says.

“Alright so are we planning a heist to get your shit outta your folks’ house?” Dally asks.

“I’m honestly not sure it would be the best idea for Johnny to go into his parents’ house alone. Or go inside at all. I don’t want anyone trying anything.” Ms. Matthews says.

“I could go.” Dallas says, and Johnny can tell he’s trying not to sound eager.

“Dal if you go in my ma and pa will end up dead.”

“Damn right they will.” Dally says.

“No! I-I ain’t want that.” Johnny starts. “I ain’t want them gone. And we don’t need you in prison. I bet it’s a lot different than the county lock up.”

“Okay… uh… maybe Darry could go?” Twobit says.

Johnny watches as Darry looks at Twobit like he’s insane. His expression softens not long after though. “I’ve never been to Johnny’s house before but I guess I could, sure.”

“Then that’s settled.”

The gang leads Johnny into the car, putting his crutches on the floor by his feet. He sits in the Matthews’ rusty old car, waiting while Darry and Steve give it a push to get it rolling. Twobit’s family are off driving to his house. He hasn’t been there in over a month. Maybe without him there his folks have gotten better, nicer.

The headlights of the T-bird Shine brightly against the metal of the car in front of it. Darry, Soda, and Steve bring up the rear.

He really ain’t mean to get Darry all involved in this. Any more than he already is anyway. If he walked better he’d be more argumentative and insistent on going in by himself. No one else needs to see the mess his kitchen and living room are. He doesn’t need anyone’s pity either when someone sees how his own room is pristine, only chips in the wood of his dresser and bed frame to tell that his mother would barge in and ruin all of his organization.

He wonders if maybe his parents will ignore him, or if they’ll yell at him for being such a nuisance, getting himself nearly killed. In his wildest dreams he can picture his momma being happy that he’s home. Maybe even relieved that he’s not dead.

Instead, he does get ignored. The front door creaks open and he hears the sound of the television running. Darry follows behind him quietly. Darry’s never been in Johnny’s house before, and Johnny silently wishes it would stay that way. His play dates with Ponyboy were always held at their house.

The house itself is well known as the Cade house. Almost every night there’s yelling and crashes and something shattering. The exterior paint is peeling, and the grass has become slightly overgrown, but not quite long enough for the city to get involved. Darry helps Johnny up his front steps. The inside of the house is lesser known, the blinds always drawn. After entering the front door,there’s an entry hallway. To the right is the living room, and to the left is an office space that hasn’t been used as such in a few years.

Johnny slowly but surely leads Darry through the kitchen and dining room and past a door that must lead to the basement or the storm shelter. They walk through another short hallway, past the bathroom, and another room that must be Johnny’s parents’ bedroom. They turn to the room on the left, finally Johnny’s room. His room has thankfully been left relatively tidy. He has Darry rummage through his closet for his old backpack and sets his crutches down to lean himself against his dresser as he quickly starts to go through it. He shoves as many clothes into the bag as possible. He doesn’t have much, but it’s still a squeeze. He puts other belongings such as his favorite comics that he got way back in Oklahoma City into the crate Darry brought. He’s over the shame he should feel as he puts his teddy bear into the crate as well. He adds another lighter, colored pencils, his notebook, and a picture of his family before they moved. Johnny sighs and he wishes there were a way to make them happy again. His folks ain’t even have to like Johnny so long as they liked each other again.

Johnny finishes putting everything he wanted into the crate. He hands Darry the backpack and the older boy slings it over his shoulder. Johnny grabs his thin blanket and his pillow, handing them to Darry too.

Once everything is in order, they make their way back out of the house. They go back the way they came, avoiding the backyard because it’s even less groomed than the front, making it impossible to walk through without getting a rash.

The television still sounds as they pass the living room, and Johnny catches a glimpse of his parents sat together on the couch. Both of their eyes are glued to the television screen, eerily expressionless. Beer cans litter the floor by their feet. Johnny’s father is lounging while his mother is sitting up still as a board. Johnny looks over to Darry and sees the gears in his head turning.

They exit the dark house and Darry waits as he descends the stairs. They both remain silent until the key is in the ignition and the car is accelerating, Twobit’s family having already started the drive to their own house.

“Is that what happens when they’re not fighting?” Darry asks, his shoulders still as tense as when they entered.

Johnny shakes his head, “They ain’t ever really not fighting. They either are or they’re sleepin’ off hangovers in separate rooms.”

Darry hums. “And they didn’t acknowledge you at all?”

“That’s not new. I doubt they even knew anyone was in their house.”

They drive in silence the rest of the way to Twobit’s until Soda turns on the radio and hums along. Johnny finds himself watching the streetlights zip by, resting his head against the car window.

It’s a short drive to Twobit’s. Darry opens the door for Johnny once he pulls into the driveway. As Johnny slowly steps out he hears hoots and hollering coming from Twobit and Dallas. Lucky for Johnny there aren’t any stairs until he gets inside, and that’s only if he wants to visit Twobit’s room.

The Matthew’s house has two above ground floors, which isn’t the most common on the east side because of one, the cost, and two, the potential that the house will be swept away in a tornado. No one wants to be Dorothy Gale. Twobit and his sister Charlotte’s rooms are upstairs. The house itself however is pretty condensed. There are two bedrooms downstairs and a bathroom, small kitchen and also acts as a dining room, and a small family room.

Johnny had heard that when they had gotten the house it was a dump. Twobit’s dad used to work for the real estate company, that must be how they got it so cheap, Johnny thinks. Mr. Matthew’s had spent a lot of elbow grease, determination, and money to make it homely. Mr. Matthew’s ain’t here no more.

Darry carries Johnny’s things into the house, Soda trailing behind with the cake.

“Now why dontcha set the bags down and we can dig in and celebrate?” Twobit says, and Darry does just that.

Darry walks the bag and crate to Johnny’s new room and the gang gathers in the kitchen to cut the cake. It’s the most wanted Johnny’s felt since before the Curtis' parents died and it makes his heart swell a little.

The gang, rowdy as ever, cheers when Dallas congratulates Johnny on being home, and of course, the biggest slice of cake goes to Johnny even if Steve protests a little. Cards get brought out and a game starts going, although Johnny isn’t too interested in playing. He's content just watching his friends exist, and being in the same room as everyone again brings him more joy than he'd like to admit. He likes taking it all in. That's what he does.

Ms. Matthew’s goes upstairs with Twobit’s sister so the gang can have the living room to be as rambunctious as they want.

Soon enough Johnny slips away on his crutches, slowly, to start taking his things out of his bag in his room. His legs are weak. Incredibly, so he lets his crutches drop and he does some fucked version of a squat until the fall isn’t high enough to break a bone or rip open any taut skin. He goes through his bags and has everything on the floor.

It isn’t until everything is piled on the floor that he realizes he probably can’t get back up off the floor.

“Hey Twobit?” He calls, and Twobit comes walking into the room.

“What are you doing on your ass, man?”

“Was unpacking my stuff,” Johnny says. “-Realized I couldn’t get up.”

Twobit’s laugh rings through the house, clear and loud. Johnny’s missed it. The laugh instead of his voice full of pity. His breath full of booze instead of the sorrowful words he was speaking in the hospital, just in case Johnny didn’t make it.

Johnny gets lifted up by his armpits and leaned against his bed until Twobit could get his crutches under him.

“Could you uh, put my comics on the shelf?” Johnny asks.

Twobit doesnt need to be told twice. He grabs Johnny’s comics and places them on the bookshelf that's sitting pretty much empty in the corner. He grabs Johnny's pillow and throws it on the bed along with his bear, and the clothes get neatly set in the dresser.

“You need anything man, just ask me or my ma, savvy?”

“Alright. Savvy” and Johnny follows Twobit back out to the rest of the gang.

As anyone could predict, Steve won the game of cards. Fair and square? No one but Steve himself knows the answer to that. Everyone is sitting in front of the television, watching Bewitched even if they’d say the show was for girls.

He was short when his family moved to Tulsa to put anything on his bookshelf. Even in sixth grade his mom would help him put his things away, his dad out at a bar somewhere. She’d call him ‘honey’ and ‘love’ and ‘sweetpea’, and pet his hair where he stood, quietly instructing her where he wanted things. She’d laugh at his jokes, even if they didn't make much sense at the time.

He never grew to be very tall.

His clothes would be put away next, sweatshirts and jeans stuffed in drawers. He could help with that, and he did. She’d pass him the clothes from the boxes, and he’d put them away, his mother always teaching him early to be independent.

If only he would've known that sooner or later it would be harder than just doing things himself.

His father would go to bars more frequently, and come home sloshed as all get out, more often than not with less money than he left with. His mother had explained it as having fun with friends, but after the first time she was hit that excuse went out the window.

Johnny knew that fun with friends was playing baseball in a small field by the Curtis house, or how Darrel Sr. would ride bikes with his buddies once and a while.

Fun with friends was borrowing and lending comics with Ponyboy and taking walks with Dally.

This was fun with friends. Even if some days he feels like he doesn’t deserve it. He’s cared for, and for a lack of a better word, loved by these people. Even if his favorite is out with the person he cares for and loves.

But today is a happy day. Everyone has decided that for him. So he’d make it as such, and doesn’t let himself dwell on the fact that Ponyboy isn’t here.

He doesn’t even really think about Ponyboy until most of the gang is leaving. Darry calls him off to the side in the kitchen.

He hates confrontation. It’s his least favorite thing in the world. So when Darrel opens his mouth and closes it again before putting a contemplative expression on his face, he thinks he did something wrong. He catches the way Darry’s dreary eyes fall on his earlobes. Maybe Dallas was right with what he said.

“Those new?” Is what Darrel lands on, and by his reaction to his own words it isn’t entirely what he wanted to convey.

Johnny nods and says, “Yeah. Dal did ’em”

Darry sighs, but a tiny smile pulls at his lips. “Dallas did ’em?”

Johnny nods again.

“Get ‘em just for fun?” He asks, and Johnny isn’t stupid. He’s almost positive he’s asking about it because of the connotations that Dallas had warned him about.

There’s a beat before Johnny responds. “Think so.” And Darrel bites the inside of his cheek, nodding.

“Be careful kiddo, yeah?” “I will.”

And they sit there for a few more seconds. Darry is clearly biting back some sort of anecdote when he stands. He yells out a goodbye to Johnny and Two-bit, instructing them to give thanks to Ms. Matthew’s as well.

The screen door snaps shut softly and Johnny slowly makes his way back to his room, thinking.