Chapter Text
When I stepped out into the dim light from the darkness of my room, I had only two people on my mind. Johnny Cade and Dallas Winston. The funeral had only been a week ago, I remembered how I didn’t even cry. I had felt too out of place to cry… I remembered though how at my parent’s funeral I had bawled the whole time until Darry thought I was going to make myself sick. I felt sick today, not because I was actually ill- but I wish that was the reason why. I wish the reason why I felt like hurling was because I could smell the breakfast from the kitchen and not because I wish I could hear the sound of the gang all having fun and laughing even this early in the morning. Yet I knew, I wouldn’t hear that sound again for a long time- maybe not ever.
I wouldn’t hear Dallas laughing wildly from the kitchen as Johnny quietly chuckled at some crude joke Two-bit told. I wouldn’t hear Steve yelling at Sodapop for cheating at some card game. I wouldn’t even get to see Johnny and Dally ever again. Sometimes I see them in my dreams. I try to reach out to them with shaky hands. I get on my knees and beg them not to go as tears roll down my cheeks. Yet they always walk away like they can’t even hear or see me. Yet when I'm awake I feel like I'm always the center of attention, much to my own displeasure. Darry worries that my grades will go down, and that if I can’t pull myself together then Soda and I will be separated from him and put in a boy’s home. Soda’s worried that one night I'll just snap like Dal did and end up doing something I’ll regret. Steve is still annoying but I notice he comments less about my own flaws and tries his best to bring up different topics- I still don’t like him that much but at least he’s trying I guess. Two-bit might as well be my second best bud, since Johnny’s gone I’ve been more open to talking to Two-bit and he’s actually half decent at giving advice when he’s not drunk as hell. I reflected on the gang a bit longer until it made the nausea in my belly worse.
I pulled myself out of that hazy state of mind and trudged into the kitchen where I saw Soda making blue pancakes. I must've made a noise or something since Soda startled and looked over before a half-hearted grin appeared on his face.
“Hey Pone, why dontcha sit down while I finish making these special pancakes.” Soda winked and turned back to his pancakes, humming some song softly to himself, but loud enough so that he knew I’d hear it. I decided not to let him have the grace of annoying me, so I didn’t comment on it and sat there, trying not to think about that boy with dark hair or that other boy with a reckless grin. It hurt so much, I don’t know why I felt more like crying now then I did at the funeral. Maybe there’s something wrong with me.
I didn’t have time to dwell on anything though since Darry came into the kitchen and sat down at the table too. Darry glanced at me then spoke inna gruff voice, I could tell he’d just woken up.
“Mornin’ Ponyboy.” I was greeted by Darry. I tried not to sound like I was about to throw up or cry, since I felt like doing both.
“Mornin’ Dar.” I managed to get out without gagging or breaking into sobs. I tried not to show how downcast I felt.
There was an awkward silence for a few minutes until Soda served up disgustingly blue pancakes on three plates and passed one out to each of them with a grin plastered on his face.
“Order up.” Soda smirked, before he grabbed a pancake in his hand and folded it up like a taco. Soda snatched a pottle of syrup and made a pool of it on his plate and dipped the end of his pancake-taco abomination in it and then took a massive bite of it, his cheeks puffing out as he chewed. Darry facepalmed and sighed, but he didn't comment on it. He simply used his utensils and cut his pancake up with a fork and knife, and dipped his pancake in a little puddle of syrup on his plate using his fork. I felt amused inside from the vast difference in their mannerisms of eating.
I stared down at the blue pancakes on my plate. They didn’t look particularly appetizing to me. Yet I would feel bad if I didn’t eat anything at all. I took a few measly bites, I couldn’t bring myself to eat as much as I used to anymore. Not after Johnny and Dallas. Everything tasted like bologna to me. I hate bologna now. I gently shoved my plate away and murmured, feeling ashamed of myself. “I’m full.”
I could feel Darry and Soda staring at me. They were probably worried. Darry cleared his throat and eyed me. “You sure kiddo? Can’t you eat just a few more bites?” Darry said in a neutral tone, yet I could tell he was genuinely concerned, he was secretly begging me to eat. I knew I was skinnier than I used to be, and I wasn’t even chubby before. I probably looked like I was wasting away, dying. I was almost entertained by the thought of death, not that I particularly wanted to die. Yet if I did. I wouldn’t mind. At least I’d get to see Johnny and Dally again. That almost made it seem worth it. Except, I couldn't just leave everyone, and I didn’t want to leave them. I stared into Darry’s icy eyes.
“I’ll eat two more bites.” I mumbled, throwing him a bone. This must've been good enough for Darry since he gave a curt nod and went back to eating his own food. I begrudgingly shoved two more bites in my mouth before I stood up and grabbed my plate. I shoved the rest of the pancakes into the trash, then took my plate over to the sink and set it down. I figured Soda would wash the dishes later. I trudged outside to have a smoke.
I lit the cigarette and brought it to my lips, inhaling the smoke. The scent of smoke reminded me of Johnny, it wasn't overwhelming like the smoke in the church fire, it was lighter. It reminded me of how Johnny would smell sometimes, a faint smokey scent that wasn’t bad but wasn’t great either, sometimes I would poke fun at him for smelling smoky. I exhaled, watching the smoke curl away into the air. I nearly jumped when I was yanked out of my thoughts by Two-bit pulling into the street in his car.
Two-bit emerged from his car with a flashy grin and a beer bottle in hand. He strutted over to me and eyed me over before speaking.
“Hey kid, whatcha up to this mornin’?” Two-bit asked sitting down next to me on the front steps of my house.
“Havin’ a smoke Two. Why’re you here? Comin’ to bum around earlier than usual?” I asked with some lip in my tone, I knew Two-bit would appreciate me trying to act somewhat like I used to. I saw Two-bit flash a wide, infamous grin.
“Don’t get mouthy kid.” Two-bit responded, reaching out and ruffling my hair. Two-bit whistled and eyed my hair over. “Man, John must've used some cheap bleach in your hair Pone. Your roots are coming in again.” Two-bit noted hesitantly, as if any mention of Johnny would make me shut off and depressed. He wasn’t totally wrong, mentioning Johnny still hurt like hell, but I was trying for everyone else to overcome my feelings. I didn’t reply. I didn’t know what to say. Two-bit must've felt out of place with the awkwardness since he got up and went in the house. I was left alone.
I realized I finished my cigarette. I went to get another one and realized I was out of the whole pack. I trudged inside the house again, then called loudly. “Does anyone have a pack of cigarettes?” After a few moments there was a reply.
“Nah, we don't have anymore on us Pony!” Soda yelled back. I sighed and figured I could go out and buy some. I grabbed some spare change I had saved up from finding coins on the side of the road and went to start heading to whatever shop I could find.
As I walked on the street by myself I couldn’t help but imagine Johnny and Dally were walking beside me laughing and talking to each other. I missed them so badly at times like this, when I had no one else and was alone. It was times like these where I’d give anything to get them back, to save them. I just wish I could fix everything that went wrong. Then a sharp voice cut through my thoughts.
Do you truly mean that?
I paused and glanced around, no one else was on the street but me. I replied to the voice in my head, figuring I was talking to my own mind. Yes. I do mean it. The voice then cut in again.
Then I will grant you a privilege I do not gift very often. If this is what you truly want then you shall have it. This will hurt. Prepare yourself Ponyboy Michael Curtis. Memento Mori.
Then a loud blare of a car horn sounded and some mustang pulled up. Some Soc’s emerged from the car with sickening grins, I didn’t recognize any of them. They surrounded me and cussed at me quietly. I tried to back away, tried to find anything to fight back with. There was nothing I could do. Before I knew it I was getting jumped, I felt them punching me and shoving me onto the concrete, scraping my face. Then I managed to open my eyes just in time to see a foot doming down upon my head, the last thing I heard was a sickening crack and laughter.
The funny thing about being knocked unconscious is that you don't remember anything.
– - – - – - – -
When I opened my eyes I felt heavier. I blearily sat up and rubbed at my eyes, somebody was shaking me. I made out the shape of Darry shaking me roughly, then he asked a question which gave me deja vu.
"Are you all right, Ponyboy?"