Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

ponyboy used to be great at being up to date with his schoolwork. it was never a problem for him when his parents were alive. when sodapop was in school, though, pony distinctly remembers him not doing too well. their parents never really cared about grades, as long as their kids were trying.

darry is the complete opposite now. he pushes pony towards the edge without meaning to, constantly instructing him to do his homework. though pony has learned to understand that his oldest brother is simply trying to follow in their mom and dad’s footsteps, making sure he’s staying on track.

he’s beyond grateful for how much his brothers have given up to let him have education, but sometimes it’s too much. soda would never dream of pushing him about school or judging his performance. darry, on the other hand, doesn’t stop.

lately, it’s overwhelming pony more than usual. when he comes home from school, he does everything he can to avoid darry. they’ve been doing so well for a while, but everything’s coming back to ponyboy now and he’s struggling. he doesn’t understand, it’s like soda never gave them that talk those few months ago.

maybe darry forgets. pony really doesn’t want to get in a big argument with him ever again, both for his and soda’s sake. he doesn’t need to see darry cry again, he thinks his heart would break in two.

though he’s been struggling with self worth lately; he’s not the worst he’s ever been. believing he’s good at hiding his self hatred, he still prays no one notices.

today as he walks home from school, he finds his oldest brother laying in his armchair, clearly upset about something. he almost tears up, having had a bad week at school and now darry’s for sure mad at him for some reason, he can tell.

“ponyboy, i wanna talk to you. sit down.” as those words come out of his mouth, pony’s breath hitches. darry points across the room to the couch and the younger wastes no time following his direction. after what feels like forever for pony, darry breaks the silence, “why are you failing in math?”

he’s trying to keep his anger out of his voice, it’s obvious, but they both know he could snap any second. ponyboy shouldn’t lie to his brother and he knows this, he’ll know he’s lying anyways. even if he didn’t, he’d find out somehow, pony’s sure.

“i didn’t have time to study for the test.” it wasn’t fully a lie. he was lost in his head most of last night, exactly like the night before, and before, and before…

the oldest brother wouldn’t take that as an answer. he licks his lips and sighs in disbelief, his voice starts to raise, “what d’you mean, pony, i tell you to do your homework every night. last night was no different.”

pony wants to say he’s sorry, but what good will that do? and he doesn’t dare argue back, soda’s at steve’s for the night but he’ll know something’s up the moment he comes back. he’s one of the most oblivious people you’d ever meet but he knows tense energy between his brothers when he sees it. so ponyboy just burns holes in the carpet with his eyes, sliding his thumb across the fabric of the couch as his guardian reminds him of how much a failure he is.

“you are responsible for studying and doing whatever else you need to do when i tell you.”
darry continues. pony thinks, “does he really think i didn’t know that?” darry really does think low of him, he figures out. maybe it’s the truth—definitely.

but he composes himself, internally pleading that he’ll take this the right way and that he can go in he and soda’s room and lay down. that isn’t saying he’s not annoyed at the the same time.

“i know darry, ‘m sorry. i promise next time i’ll study real good.” he makes the mistake of letting a little sarcasm slip out, realizing when darry rolls his eyes and sits even closer to the edge of the seat. his hands grip the armchairs.

“ponyboy curtis, do you understand me? i’m saying if you don’t fix your act, you’ll fail, kid.” he takes deep pauses in between words to stress how serious he is. as if pony didn’t hear this all the time, that he could be held back. darry seems to get more angry the more quiet pony is.

“ever since johnny died i’m convinced all ya do in school is mope around. he wouldn’t want this for you.” ponyboy’s heart slows as darry tells him this.

they don’t ever talk about johnny dying anymore. the words still don’t feel right when he hears them. he doesn’t think they ever will. johnny and pony were inseparable in school. they had both loved it, johnny because it was an escape from his parents, and pony because he just loved learning. it’s not like this anymore. he doesn’t ever want to go to school again.

when he first went back after the passing of his best friend, he felt so alone. they had almost every class with together, they’d hang out in between periods and pass notes in class. they had a spot behind the school, liking to spend time by theirselves when they could. johnny was great at math, helping pony with homework and in return pony and his brothers would simply take care of him.

now he comes into school sitting alone, having no one to talk to, no one to rely on to talk about something if he was confused. was he serious? is johnny looking down at him shame right now? he’d already let down his friend too many times to count, he can’t continue to even after his death.

as ponyboy’s sitting here, tuning out darry rambling on, he remembers what sodapop told him recently after he revealed to him his fears of going back to school, “i mean, you still got two-bit, doncha?” unfortunately, it was true. it made him feel guilty, like he was ignoring two-bit. but two isn’t in his grade, he only sees him before and after school. they do talk, it’s not as special though.

when his focus comes back to his oldest brother, rage courses in his veins. he can’t help it, he doesn’t want to fight but he urges to stick up for johnny. eyebrows furrowing, he whips up off the couch a little too fast and he can’t tell if he feels like passing out from that or the stressfulness of the situation.

out of the corner of his eye, he almost swears he sees darry startle. he knows johnny is a tough subject for pony, but thought maybe it’d give him a kick back into reality.

“don’t say that! you can’t just use him as an excuse!” as pony blurts on the edge of tears, he wants to think that johnny would be proud of him no matter what. but then again, reluctantly, darry might be right. he’s still so, so furious.

with no surprise, the oldest curtis stood up also, slamming his hands down. aggressively sighing, he speaks, his voice getting louder as he goes, “go to to your room. you’re grounded for the rest of this week. you better fix your god damn act.”

it’s thursday, and ponyboy agrees that it’s a fair punishment and decides to stop arguing even if he may be beyond upset. striding past darry, he feels him burning holes in his skin and stares right back at him. darry’s eyes are cold, but not unfeeling. he’s staring to make it clear his youngest brother didn’t win. pony rushes to the bedroom before he starts bawling into his pillow. he can’t help it, he feels so weak.

their fight went worse than he thought it would. he didn’t think it’d be all fine and dandy but he definitely didn’t expect having tears brimming at his eyes. he doesn’t think he’s ever been this mad at darry.

pony knows darry loves him a lot, he does. he has to remind himself of this constantly, that darry’s just overwhelmed from raising his kid brothers all on his own. his resent turns from darry to himself as he realizes this. perhaps he’s the problem, he’s ignorant, stupid, a burden on his brothers. just another mouth to feed.

why? it’s so stupid, he knows it is. why is he crying over something so idiotic. most of him wishes sodapop was here. he’d know the right things to say and would hold him tight. the rest of him is glad he’s not, soda would be sad they fought again and might be mad at him for crying over something little like this. but he knows he won’t, though he’s going to find out eventually. he heaved out a new wave of tears as he knows he’s failed both soda and darry. speaking of, he wonders if darry can hear him. how embarrassing.

stretching over to soda’s side of the bed, he picks up his brother’s pillow and holds it close to his stomach. curling around it, he finds comfort in the smell. hair grease and gasoline, with a hint of that new car scent.

he always does this when he’s sad and soda’s not home, which isn’t frequently. it helps him calm down. ponyboy tries his best not to get it dirty with his tears, but he fails, and hopes sodapop won’t notice. not quite sure how he sunk to the floor, his tears seem never ending.

this is his breaking point, he’s been bottling everything up for months and this argument with darry pushed him off the edge. he doesn’t understand why he’s shaking, why everything hurts. it’s too much, too much. he needs soda.

dropping his brother’s pillow on the floor as he stands up, he makes a run for the bathroom, switching the light off swiftly. slipping past darry before he tries to talk to him. he can’t be in their bedroom without sodapop there right now. there’s a razor on the sink—darry’s—and pony assumes he forgot to put it away. he starts to put it back in its drawer but finds himself taking a good look at it.

the edges are sharp and ponyboy feels the need to run his finger along it. so he does, with no hesitation. normally, it would scare him how he did this with no hesitation. right now his state of mind doesn’t care one bit. would it really matter if he just sliced his arms up a little bit? he finds himself asking this while watching the blood drip down his index finger. would it give him some relief?

he’d never harm himself before, but he’d sure as hell thought about it. sometimes he’d purposely trip over something he knew was there or not move away from something coming towards him, but nothing as drastic as harming with a sharp object.

it sounds nice, relaxing. nothing’s stopping him, and he deserves it. deserves to feel pain. he drags the razor horizontally across his wrist. the relief he gets is unbelievable. for a second all his problems are forgotten. his crying stops. only for a second.

after that, everything comes back two times worse. the pain isn’t good anymore. it’s bad, a reminder of his hatred for himself. he deserves this. angry at himself, he continues. if he’s already a failure, what’s it matter if he continues? it takes his problems away, even if only for a mere moment. and he’s doing a favor for his brothers.

soda’s always pretending he loves pony, though he knows he doesn’t. he wonders when he’ll get tired of him, if he isn’t already. maybe he’s just great at masking it. though sodapop’s never been good at hiding anything. no, no, that’s unfair to soda, he would give up the world for pony and he’s doubting his love for him. he shouldn’t love him. why does he? what’s so special about pony?

then there’s darry, poor, poor darry who has to deal with his shit every day of the week. how hasn’t he kicked him out yet? it’s so upsetting he gave up his life for this. having tried so hard, ponyboy doesn’t know why he still deals with him.

he’s only a kid who follows everyone around. who can’t get his work done, who can’t sit still, who is too clingy for his age, who isn’t enough and doesn’t deserve his friends and family.

he wants to disappear forever, erase his brothers’ memories so they won’t miss him.

this battle in his mind leads up to far too much blood on the floor. darry’ll be so mad he got the bathroom and his razor dirty. the thin slices down his arms get deeper and deeper, some of them just a scratch but continue to be big gashes towards the bottom. it hurts so bad, ponyboy cries silently for soda. he wouldn’t tell him, though. knowing him he’d probably blame himself for it. he needs sodapop to hold him without asking what happened, which is entirely impossible.

realizing he needs to get out before darry gets curious and before the blood stains, he grabs his towel—the smallest and lightest on the very right—and wipes down the tiles. by the time he finishes, there’s still some red in between the squares, but pony figures you’d really have to looks to see it. flipping the towel back around the rack, dirty side facing the wall, he turns the water on.

the sink runs for a while and pony has to make sure there’s no trace of anything left on the blade as he washes it off. when done, he puts it in darry’s drawer, next to the drawer the younger brothers share. the sudden urge to puke comes over him rather quickly, but he chokes it down. his knees give out as he falls to the floor, disgusted with himself.

if he cries too loud…he can’t, he can’t. just shut up and get back to bed. it’s dark out, he realizes as he tip toes back to his room. sneaking a look at the living room, darry is looking anxious on the couch. pony can’t tell if it’s from him or if he’s worried about soda being gone overnight. the oldest of the three is always biting his lip when either—or even more scary, both—of his brothers aren’t sleeping under the same roof as him.

whatever, ponyboy can’t talk to darry right now anyway. probably still heated about the argument. the way to the bedroom is swift, for one second he’s closing the door and the next he’s on the bed like before. he doesn’t turn the lights back on.

he hates it, hates it, hates it, because he yearns to slice his arm again, perhaps both this time. someone needs to be here with him or he might just do it. is this how johnny felt? when he said he wanted to die? ponyboy’s heart aches, now he finally knows what johnny was going through his entire life, he’s going through the same thing.

at this point, he’d be fine with darry holding him, he wants someone here with him. anyone. he has to get up and grab his desk chair to put in front of his door. his arm is sore, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. realizing there’s blood seeping through his purple jacket, he changes into a black one (running into one of johnny’s old jackets, which he never wears because he doesn’t want johnny’s scent to go away). he might get hot while sleeping, but there’s no way in hell he’s willing to risk darry seeing his arm in the morning. a little heat doesn’t kill you.

reaching for soda’s pillow once again, he stares at the ceiling pretending he’s here. it brings him comfort, and he becomes oddly tired. he didn’t think he’d be able to sleep, but he’s almost…exhausted. like he’ll pass out. his arm is sopping wet and most of his cuts still haven’t stopped bleeding.

on top of everything, he can’t face darry. so he doesn’t eat dinner. darry hasn’t come in yet, which is giving pony the cue to go to sleep. and he almost does, until a knock can be heard at the door.

for a second he fears the noise because he knows it’s most likely darry, though he usually allows a gap between the two of them to have their space and usually “forget” about it in the morning. and he never knocks for the life of him. might be mad for the dinner left uneaten. nonetheless, ponyboy’s too tired to care and invites him in.

“come in.” he slurs, clutching soda’s pillow a bit tighter, he feels like going to sleep. forever. knowing it’s rude and not caring, he closes his eyes, waiting for darry to talk. whether it’ll be a soft voice or a yell, it’s a mystery.

“hey, pone.” the voice—not darry’s. soda’s, makes ponyboy jump up, taking his hands off the pillow. they make eye contact and sodapop’s face contains a sad smile. why is he here? the older strides to sit on his side of the bed, pony scooting over slightly.

soda makes note of how miserable his little brother looks. he lies down on his side to face him. taking a breath in, he states more than questions, “so, you and darry had a fight, huh?”

“yeah, big deal.” pony scoffs. it is to him, but soda doesn’t need to fret about it. sodapop pats his shoulder lovingly and chuckles. pony takes a deep breath and soda can read him like a book, he wants to say something else. therefore he waits.

“i thought you was spendin’ the night at steve’s?” the younger mumbles almost not audible. soda knows he’s confused and tired, and honestly he is too, so he tries not to waste much time. but the truth is quick and painless, he’d never lie to his brother anyways.

“i was. evie called ‘em and wanted him to come over. so he jus’ kicked me out.” sodapop didn’t mind it all too much, he’d see him at work tomorrow anyhow. ponyboy knows what that means without any explanation and he outwardly cringes, which gets a reaction from his brother. he’s heard dallas say a thing or two about stuff like that. “hoes before bros” or something. he wishes he could’ve asked what that meant. simply mouthing an “oh”, he closes his eyes, feeling safer in sodapop’s presence.

soda’s main focus is pony, he doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. he’s not usually this wound up after a fight with darry. though again, he knows he’s sleepy and decides to bring it up once more if he’s still this way when he wakes up.

ponyboy feels sick to his stomach and wants to sleep, to forget. momentarily, he turns away from his big brother to turn the lamp off.

soda’s confused. every time without fail, he gets so happy when sodapop comes home early from work or from someone’s house. this is the first time he doesn’t seem to care. is he drifting away or is there a bigger problem? calm down, he tells himself, you’re overthinkin’ it, finding himself doing this more lately.

the light clicks off and sodapop claims his pillow back, not thinking anything of seeing pony have it in his grasp. embracing his kid brother from behind as he always does, he notices something different, off. a realization clicks in soda’s brain, pony’s still wearing his hoodie, he’ll get hot. how did he not notice?

“why doncha get your pajamas on, huh? you’ll die of heatstroke overnight.” he expresses his concerns, the joke partially to mask it and mostly to keep the mood light. he loves making jokes, especially when pony laughs at them, glad to be making his loved ones happy. he doesn’t laugh at this one at all.

it makes ponyboy the opposite of happy, it makes him panic, shaking his head rapidly. soda hums, dedicated to having his brother at least get out of that death trap. he not melting right now? keeping his voice soft, he suggests, “i know you’re tired pony, can you at least take your shirt off? you don’t gotta get up.”

and he doesn’t know why pony’s being so stubborn about this. does he want to suffer? yet, the curled up ball in his arms shakes its head.

ponyboy wants to cry. leave me alone, leave me alone. and sodapop takes in this energy, knowing the poor kid probably just had a bad day and is too exhausted to move. so he does what he thinks is right and un loops his arms from pony’s and starts pulling on the hem of his sweatshirt to take it off for him.

his kid brother reacts negatively to this and pushes him away with his fast reflexes. he’d never push soda. this gives sodapop the confirmation he needed to know that’s something wrong. he takes a good look at the smaller boy, his tense posture and terrified eyes, now sitting on the very edge of his side of the bed. as far away as soda as possible. does he not feel comfortable with him anymore? the thought of this makes sodapop feel a pang of guilt.

“i’m sorry, soda, i didn’t mean it—“ pony starts to ramble before soda opens his mouth to stop him. his mind is jumbled, he didn’t acknowledge the apology, and he sure doesn’t mean to say the next words that come out, “what’s wrong with you?”

they have an unintentional bite behind them and he immediately regrets speaking. he sounds irritated, but he’s quite the opposite, he simply wants to know what’s going on in his head. soda can see ponyboy’s unshed tears glisten from across the room, and is sure he’s a horrible brother.

the youngest worries his lip, trying his hardest not to break down. everything is too much, he doesn’t even want soda here anymore. it’s incredibly rare for him to think this. his older brother is his safe space. if he finds out, he’s sure the world is going to end. arms stinging with pain, he drops to his knees, sodapop hesitating for the life of him.

“hey, i ain’t mean it like that, ponyboy…” he tries, moving closer to wrap him in a hug, wanting to hold him until all his problems disappear. pony, on the other hand, his world stops. the words that came out of soda’s mouth, were almost exactly like the words johnny said to him in the church in windrixville. when he protected him with his life, holding him and promising that everything would be okay. when it wasn’t.

“pony.”

he hadn’t realized he was zoning out. soda’s heart aches with worry for his baby brother. needing to know what’s going on, especially if it’s something serious, he’s trying to slowly but surely coax ponyboy into talking. having him suffer alone would hurt him more than anything.

pony’s backed up against the wall, head touching the window uncomfortably. whimpering, he gives up. he can’t hurt sodapop like this anymore.

exhaling, soda steadily walks over to pony, kneeling down next to him. ponyboy curls into himself as the older cups his cheek. sodapop takes a deep breath in, hoping he’s saying the right words, “why don’t ya talk to me, huh? i ain’t never gonna judge ya. whatever it is, i’m listenin’.”

what exactly was he and darry’s fight about, anyway? soda ponders if this is why he’s feeling this way. even so, why would he not want to take his shirt off? nothing’s matching up. as he gets closer to pony, waiting patiently to respond and not taking his eyes off him, it’s noticeable he smells faintly of iron. blood? soda would ask later, waiting in the now.

ponyboy calms either way, knowing his brother was telling the truth. he’d never imagine lying to him. but he knows, knows he can’t tell his big brother or he’ll be sad. he can’t, he wasn’t supposed to be here anyway, and now pony will ruin his day when he was supposed to be at steve’s having a good time.

“i can’t soda. i did,” he chokes, cutting off mid sentence again. curling impossibly more into himself, he sobs out of spite. sodapop rubs his shoulders, hoping for his actions to give pony some kind of comfort. he continues meekly, “did sumthin’ bad…”

his voice is cracking and quieter than a mouse, but soda is listening intently to his beloved brother. fear courses through him and he wonders what exactly it was. inhaling shakily, he returns his hand to ponyboy’s cheek in an attempt to express that he isn’t mad, and won’t be no matter what happened. his eyes sting just watching the boy who looks up to him be upset. he’s always been a crybaby.

“tell me, honey, tell me what’s goin’ on. i wanna help fix it.” his voice is honest and soft as he rubs soothing circles with his thumb on pony’s face.

ponyboy knows that he can’t just drop the subject at this point, or soda will worry about him all night. he’ll worry about him now too, sure, but he doesn’t have a choice. if soda does anything close to crying, which he damn well knows he will, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to take it.

pony looks up, soda’s pleading eyes looking into his. sodapop curtis was never one to beg, but right now? he needed pony to be completely honest to him. to tell him everything, like he always does. or used to do. he’s been hiding recently. all soda wants is to let him know he’s still here throughout everything to talk. let him know he’s still here to be his safe space.

what does he say? will soda get mad at him for hurting himself? maybe he could lie, but he never lies to his big brother. it was sacred. no matter what, he always tells soda the truth. though at this moment, it’s unimaginable to do so. he hopes he’ll forgive him. or better yet, never find out.

“i…got jumped.”

Chapter Text

the words feel like venom on his tongue. i’m sorry, i’m sorry. he cringes and looks away, doing everything to avoid eye contact. sodapop’s eyes don’t waver one bit and something clicks in his mind. realizing, so he thinks, the devastating truth. the only logical explanation is ponyboy didn’t get treated properly or, knowing him, at all, and he’s been hiding it. that’s why he didn’t want to take his shirt off. he’s thoughtful with his words when he says, “did you get it all fixed up?”

and he knows the response he’s going to get. it doesn’t make it hurt less when ponyboy nods. he can feel tears well up when it’s confirmed he’s lying to him. hoping that he’s misunderstanding, he gives it another chance.

“why didn’t ya take your shirt off?” he ponders, watching pony’s eyes glance at him then back to the floor in less than a second. then his mouth moves after a long while, murmuring, “too tired.”

even soda doesn’t buy it, and he believes everything. his words are lessening and not making much sense as he starts to not care anymore, not feel anything. it’s weird, his arms don’t hurt anymore.

“i’m takin’ it off, pony, okay?” sodapop warns, his hands hovering over pony’s shirt, waiting for permission. slumped back on the windowsill, the unnatural blonde half-nods before realizing what he’s agreeing to. and it’s too late, because soda’s already whipping the hoodie off. oh, god. he’s gonna tell darry and darry’s gonna be even more angry and kick him out and—

“hey.” the person in front of him, almost unrecognizable from his blurred vision, has a horrible shake to his voice.

sodapop is terrified out of his mind, not wanting to take in the sight in front of him. he’s still gripping onto the shirt with a little too much force. his baby brother’s arms are raw with dried blood, ponyboy quickly hiding the fresh, and it makes him so sick he prays he’s hallucinating. and he doesn’t see the dripping blood. pony tries to cover it all up but he fails, just as he fails at everything else.

he can’t bear to look at soda. his ears are ringing.

soda watches ponyboy shake and feels his heart physically break in his chest. the scars look fresh, when did he get home? why didn’t darry notice? what did they fight about exactly? there’s too many questions soda needs answered but he simply snatches pony’s left arm—the one injured—and inspects it thoroughly after too many moments of him freezing in place, watching his kid brother suffer. he doesn’t believe his eyes, why’d he hide this?

“did—did they have razors, pony, what…” he pauses, attempting to regather himself, “you gotta tell me what happened, honey, you’re scarin’ me.”

ponyboy flinches at the word “razor”. it’s already bad enough that soda is now not-very-silently sobbing. he can tell he’s trying not to freak out too bad for his sake. pony stays quiet for too long and sodapop can’t take it anymore, for he abandons the shirt and stands up, blurting, “c’mon.”

it’s all mixed up, ponyboy feels numb and he decides he’s not getting up until he finally looks up, seeing his big brother with an expression on his face that seems like disappointment. wanting to disappear, he takes the outstretched hand in front of him that’s been there for an extended amount of time.

“are you mad at me?” he asks, the fear in his voice prominent. it’s an odd question, reminding him of when he was sick after dallas died. how soda gave him a partially dry chuckle when he asked those questions, but now nothing. soda knows this isn’t a laughing matter, even if he’s known for lightening moods serious situations. in fact, his heart falters once again, impossibly more. why would he be mad? he can barely breathe when he helps the kid up, uttering out, “no, no, baby, no.”

pony’s still hiding his still bleeding cuts the best he can. it working, though soda’s staring holes into his arm. as if to silently tell him it’ll be okay, the older takes the younger’s face in his hands and he looks tiny. he looks into ponyboy’s eyes for a while, they may be upset but they’re still beautiful.

sodapop’s sick to his stomach when he is shocked back to his senses, zooming to take the other’s arm in a mad dash back to the bathroom. for a second, pony think’s he’s about to tell darry and panics, pulling away with a few hiccups. soda holds him closer.

ponyboy’s head is empty and he’s sure he’s about to pass out, everything going by in a blur, one second he’s on the floor in the bedroom and next he’s on the toilet seat close to where he cut his arm to shreds.

unfocused and dreary, swings back and forth and he’s still losing blood. he’d been blocking out the pain, at this moment it’s coming back. go away, go away. turning away to get ointment from under the sink, sodapop sobs under his breath. he can’t stop thinking, how long, how long? his cuts could get infected.

he promises himself he’ll get the answers from pony on what happened after he’s bandaged up. no matter how hard he’ll have to pry, he’s going to find out and murder who did this to him.

the world ends when soda turns back and asks him to uncover his arm. not moving, his pleading eyes stare into sodapop’s, thinking he might let him off the hook if he looks miserable. he is miserable. but his older brother stands strong, not backing down on his request. this has to be done. reluctantly, he does as he’s told, not being able to escape from this one. soda won’t like this. they both know it, pony having more knowledge, which makes him anxiety fill him even more.

at first sight, sodapop doesn’t notice anything and assumes ponyboy is shaking so badly because he’s traumatized from whatever those bastards did to him. or he’s scared to get fixed up it hurts so much. either way, he whispers under his breath, swearing he’ll be careful. pony doesn’t hear it, lost in his own world.

then he sees the red oozing down ponyboy’s arm and stops in his tracks. utterly bewildered, having zero clue why it’s happening, he takes his arm again. suddenly, something clicks—he definitely shouldn’t still be bleeding. he got home an hour ago, from what darry told him.

make him okay again. that’s the priority. the truth can be put off for the time being, if he—soda can’t visualize this—lied to him. biting his lip, he places down the ointment and grabs a washcloth from the towel rack. sodapop’s brisk to work and places pressure on the deeper cuts. they don't look too serious for stitches, but still, they likely need to be watched over.

ponyboy winces every once in a while, soda softly apologizing. he's not too sure how to go about this, darry’s the one who's better in this type of situation, but perhaps he could do it on his lonesome. he’ll get him if he had to, of course, even if pony certainly doesn't want to see him.

the process goes by fast in reality but feels like an eternity to both of them. they're both silent as sodapop dresses the smaller’s wounds. has he been suffering for an extended amount of time? both their heads are swimming with negative questions. it doesn't stop when soda instructs pony to put his wrist under running water, or when he rubs the stinging ointment in as gently as he can.

soda doesn't know if he should put band-aids on or not, but he chooses to anyhow. to be safe. taking his time, he makes sure to wrap ponyboy’s arm up with utmost precision. the youngest feels at peace, nearly happy that his favorite person took the time to bandage him up. almost forgetting the lingering ache all the way down his left arm.

when sodapop’s all done, neither of them communicating yet, he kneels in front of his brother. understanding that he's scared, and doesn't want to converse. that he assumably wont be willing to open up.

pony sits in silent fear, aware of the inevitable conversation ahead. at this point, it seems he'd rather never look at soda again. the next thing he knows, sodapop’s forehead is against his and everything is right in the world. his lip begins wobbling the moment sodapop gives him a sad smile.

right when the peace starts, it ends just as quickly.

the older’s face falls in sympathy and he grasps ponyboy’s hand before getting up this time. as if he didn’t, he would disappear before his eyes. he's already considering what to say in his head to commence their conversation.

walking back to their room is silent, pony is too tired physically and mentally to notice the lights are off and his oldest brother has gone to bed. well, probably not to sleep, he never sleeps when either of his brothers is in distress.

ponyboy has trouble keeping his eyes open when they're back to bed and he lies on his side, facing the other. soda’s wide awake and can't help but beam at pony’s sleepiness. only for an instant, before he spots those bandages on his arms that shouldn’t have to be there.

“good?” he questions suddenly. he's rubbing pony’s wrist as lightly as a feather with his thumb, worrying he might be done it wrong and pony could still be in pain. though his eyes stay on his kid brother, never leaving once. ponyboy just nods lazily, determined to finally get to bed. sodapop is guilty he can’t even let him have this when he communicates, “kid, when'd ya get home?”

the younger brother doesn't open his eyes, but his face gets visibly more distressed. why this of all questions? he feels soda’s thumb stop in its track. if he’s being honest, he doesn't know himself.

“oh, like an hour ago.” he sighs out, voice surprisingly nonchalant. sodapop notices it's identical to what darry said. all things considered, he continues to be mindful with comments and questions.

“why were you still bleedin’ then, pony?” soda asks, he has so many questions it’d be overwhelming for the both of them, therefore he tries to tackle them one at a time for pony’s sake.

pony’s eyes shoot wide open. the feeling from before is coming back stronger. ponyboy feels annoyed with the person he loves most. the foremost thing he yearns for is to sleep. to dream, or maybe not. the way his pupils dilate dosen't go unnoticed by sodapop. and he settles on not replying. soda won’t let this go, with desperation prominent in his utterances, “honey, are you lyin’ to me?”

that makes his younger sibling glance at him, to find his face looking pitiful and like he’s about to break down. though he knows he’s merely trying to help him, he's wishing he would be quiet. please, please. his knees curl up to his face as he shrinks into himself, and struggling to breathe. soda watches, hesitating to move.

“ponyboy—” and it scares him to the brink of insanity. he’s so, so perplexed but wants to transfer his misery to himself. he can’t, so he does the next best thing, taking pony’s frame into his arms and holding him impossibly close.

threading his hands through his baby brother’s hair while his shoulder gets soaked with ponyboy’s newfound tears, sodapop feels the necessity to sheild the body in his chest who clearly feels helpless from the world.

sick with sympathy, he shushes pony and anything else he can in an attempt to make him feel safe. he buries his face in the other’s hair, exhaling. just squeezing him tight, he urges, “breathe. it’s okay, baby, breathe.”

“i just wanna hear the truth. i ain’t never gonna be mad at you, if that’s what you think.”

letting ponyboy settle down and stop crying, soda waits for the younger to initiate the next sentences. and when he does, the older can’t help but to be proud.

“i’ll tell ya soda, i’m sorry.” and he will. it’ll be one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do, but his big brother deserves the truth. he feels sodapop shake his head. pushing his head further into soda’s shoulder, he gulps, “can i have some time? to think.”

“of course. d’you want me to leave?” the last words feel wrong. he doesn’t want to go, but if it’s what pony wants, he’ll get it. to his relief, though, ponyboy shakes his head frantically. the idea of him leaving right now is abruptly unfathomable. the crook in his sibling’s neck is his new safe place.

ponyboy feels as if he’s drowning and sodapop’s the bravest person on the earth, doing whatever it takes to save him. it’s time for him to he honest.

“i didn't get jumped…i did this to myself. with—” his voice gets so quiet soda wouldn't be able to hear him if he wasn't whispering into his ear, “with darry’s razor.”

wishing he didn’t do it, he didn't know it would have such severe consequences. his words are mixed up as he loses confidence half way through speaking. knowing how harsh sodapop will take it.

soda’s shaking really, really bad.

Chapter Text

pony finds himself being the one to comfort him. nothing but desperate croaks come from his older brother and they’re both crushing each other in their embrace due to their regret. so many things they could've done differently, even if in reality they couldn't have prevented anything. sodapop’s imagining ponyboy depressed and alone in the bathroom, hurting himself. if he had been there, maybe this wouldn't have happened. it’s his fault, has he been like this for a while?

god, has he done this before? it’s unbearable and all he can do is cry over it, instead of helping. in denial, he stares past pony with heartbroken eyes and an agape mouth. the youngest breaks quickly, his chest physically hurting.

sodapop adjusts, barely able to sit up because of the way all of his body is sore from the strong emotions. not taking his brother out of his grasp once, he straightens his back out against the headboard and lowers pony’s face into his chest. ponyboy moves his head to the side to listen to his older sibling’s familiar heartbeat. he wishes he would stop trembling.

an eternity goes by, soda planting tiny kisses on pony’s head and trying to compose himself so they can talk about why. of course, he wants him to stop before it becomes a serious problem. losing his kid brother is truly the worst thing that could ever happen.

ponyboy gets more restless and is almost screaming at this point, hating himself for doing this to the one he loves most. sodapop panics and blurts through tears, “it’s okay, pony. ‘m here, i’m here. i ain’t never leavin’.”

the fierce whispers bring comfort to pony. they’re a reminder he’s not alone. as he breaks down in his sense of solace, he apologizes, “i’m sorry sodapop, i’m really sorry.”

while he repeats these phrases over again, soda tries to push him to stop, croaking out, “no, no.”

pony stops at some point, grateful for how patient the other is being with him. his voice is so hoarse it wounds his older brother and he doesn't know what to do. the reality that he could've been here is nagging at him so badly. but he can be here now. the time comes where pony is as calmed down as he can be, sodapop being his anchor to reality.

“i’m always here to talk, buddy, you coulda called me or something. you don't gotta be all alone.” the older expresses his feelings from the heart. ponyboy sighs, wanting to tell him numerous things, he didn't want to bother him, calling his sibling hadn't even crossed his mind.

instead, he nods, grunting. he’s incredibly relieved that sodapop isn’t mad at him, though he’d do anything for him to stop crying over an idiotic thing he did. his older brother doesn’t take this lightly, that’s for sure, and his kid brother’s response isn’t convincing to him.

“i’m not mad at you, ponyboy. never dream of it. i’m just confused, honey, you gotta believe me.” these assuring words don’t to anything to ease pony’s pain. he doesn't think he’ll ever believe anything ever again, even coming from soda, the person he easily trusts most in the world. when he’s still silent, sodapop proceeds with a different approach, “can you tell me why?”

the tears are back and his throat is swelling again, he wants his baby brother to talk to him or he might just disappear. he regrets ever speaking when ponyboy shakes more violently and rambles way too fast, “no, no, no, i can't soda, you can't—”

everything’s crashing down on the youngest and he can't handle these seemingly simple queries. sodapop takes note of this and shushes the poor boy, lying down completely on his back, easing pony down on top of him, on his stomach. there’s no way he’s going to press him anymore. not tonight. the kid needs to rest.

“i’m sorry, kid. i know you’re tired. why don’t we talk ‘bout this in the morning?” soda’s apology is filled with sincerity, considering his little brother has had one of the worst days of his life. the thought of it makes his older brother pray it was him this all happened to.

this sounds like heaven to ponyboy. he nods, so fatigued, calming down immediately. in the morning, he deems, this won't seem as severe. sodapop knows he won't be able to sleep tonight.

ponyboy’s face is secure in his brother’s chest and he doesn't have any concerns about letting the topic go completely. it makes sodapop sick to his stomach, looking down at him, fathoming what would've happened if he didn't take that shirt off.

the kid in his hold is so vulnerable and tiny, reminding him of the dark time when he was sick after dallas’ killing himself. but this time he was by himself, and it tugs on soda’s heartstrings. he rocks pony back and forth.

within minutes, ponyboy succumbs to sleep. involuntary whimpers escape him occasionally and soda pulls him closer every time, whispering reassuring words as if his little sibling could hear him. maybe he can. you never know, perhaps he can feel sodapop’s presence.

he watches him very intently, daring to even blink. his mind runs a million thoughts a second but the most common is why? why didn’t he call anyone for help. violence never solves anything, he thought pony knew that.

was it because of darry? their argument couldn’t have been that bad, right? sodapop has half the mind to go give him a clean slap across the face. he’ll have to have a talk with the oldest brother. piece together what the hell happened. at least he’s hoping to.

no doubt, he’ll let ponyboy rest on him for a while longer. and when he feels like it, he’ll get up. taking his time, likely half an hour goes by and soda’s heart feels slowed down enough that he can get out of bed. he’ll kick himself if he wakes his younger brother, so he stands with precision, lying pony down on the bed and tiptoeing backwards.

taking one last glance at the limp boy on their bed, he nearly smiles. pony looks so at ease and soft breaths escape him. soda’s never understood how the youngest was the only one in the family that didn't snore—he himself was horribly loud. ponyboy would get so annoyed he’d suffocate his older brother with his pillow.

the few seconds of remembrance is over before he knows it, thoughts reverting back to not so pleasant ones. sighing ever so quietly, he hesitantly leaves the room.

ponyboy being the only thing in his brain, he speed walks to their older brother’s room. and he’s so, so angry. glory, he knows darry’s trying, but this time he can’t find a good excuse for whatever it is he did. whatever it was to push his poor baby brother into harming himself.

the knocks on darry’s door reverberate throughout the house and soda stops in fear of waking up his little sibling, as he’s a light sleeper, unlike the others.

his assumptions that darry was still awake when the door opens with a creak and there he stands, wide awake. hesitating, the oldest makes note of the other’s face, and how tragic it looks. this isn't normal for sodapop, not at all. his expression doesn't look quite right when it's not carefree.

“hey, sodapop, somethin’ wrong?” he asks after his mouth was open and lingering. the irritated look on soda’s face now illustrates hatred. no, he’d never hate his big brother. although currently, he wishes he could knock some sense into him.

darry notices the angry demeanor in his kid brother’s presentation. soda wastes no time, trying not to shout, “you wanna know something, darry?”

the wobble in his voice doesn't go by unnoticed. the older grows more concerned as sodapop continues, “our kid brother just spent an hour cryin’ himself to sleep and is layin’ in his bed right now, scared out of his mind.”

his voice is loud and determined, he wishes he could say it’s unwavering.

“he sliced his arm into ribbons with your razor, he—“ it’s unbelievably hard for him to utter these words out, already feeling like ponyboy’s been out of his sight for too long. he can’t go on, he stops speaking halfway through to keep his vomit down.

darry death stares into soda’s eyes, hiding fear—he hasn't been this startled since that horrible week. wanting to speak, he can't. the instant the words came out of his kid brother’s mouth, the guilt eats him up. coming off as anger. heavy breathing is apparent down the hallway coming from both of them. sodapop can't waste any time, pony’s all alone and he can't take being away from him when one of the things he needs is to be held. to be comforted.

“what happened, huh? i don’t know what’s goin’ on and neither of you will tell me.” he pleas, begging for any type of answer. unlike his younger brother, he’s never afraid of showing his real emotions around darry.

the other sharply inhales. making both of his brothers, the two people he promised to protect with his life, upset. it makes him feel like a failure. he did it again.

watching soda in hysterics about their younger sibling is humbling to darry. the thing he wants to do most is gather them both in a big hug, tell them it’ll be alright.

“i was hollerin’ at him for grades again, and i brought up johnny.” he mutters, full of shame, and the realization of what a horrible thing it was to hits him like a brick. putting his hands on sodapop’s shoulders as gentle as he can, putting on his reassuring tone, “i’ll make it right tomorrow, soda, i promise.”

shaking his head, darry frets and thinks about what he’s done. beats himself up for it. on the other hand, sodapop is speechless and he wants to be mad, but he can't. he just wants to hear that ponyboy will be okay.

“you better, dar, please. he’s scaring me, i can’t lose him.” soda pleads, speaking all of his thoughts. not again, not again. all his resentment towards his older brother in pony’s behalf fades as he’s welcomed into the other’s arms.

“neither of us can. i ain’t never givin’ up on him, little buddy.” darry insists, communicating the full truth. he hasn’t let go yet and never will. it had never crossed his thoughts once. if pony thinks that, that he’s giving up on the kid, he won’t forgive himself.

the oldest knows soda has every right to be mad at him, but the embrace was needed for him. everything was too much and they’re both sleep deprived and will deal with all this in the morning. the younger basically melts into darry’s arms and lets the tears left in his eyes pour.

darry squeezes his shoulder, holding onto him until he can’t weep anymore. the sobs rack throughout sodapop’s body and he lets himself succumb to his big brother’s hold. he’ll be okay, they’ll be okay.

when the middle sibling pulls away, he wipes his eyes and darry tries to smile for him. neither of them will sleep and have work tomorrow, both not willing to leave their kid brother all alone, the chances of him going to school off the table.

soda acknowledges this and another wave of fear shocks him. he’s aware that they couldn't afford for both of them to stay home right now. there's no way he’ll leave ponyboy here. it seems like leaving him to die. and they could have two-bit watch him, but he’s just not quite the same. sodapop feels he wants at least one of them here.

“darry?” he inquires, “i think i should stay home with him.”

this time, darry doesn't put up a fight, and instead agrees. it's surprising. trusting he’ll be there for pony and nodding with a fierce expression, he sends his kid brother back to bed, “you ought to sleep, soda. i’ll call steve an’ ask him to cover for you.”

soda bobs his head with genuine appreciation toward his big brother and doesn't waste a second going back to ponyboy—but not before darry ruffles his hair. the relief that floods through him as he sees his baby sibling on his side when he gets back is kind of silly.

making his way under the covers, he senses pony relaxing under his touch. he slings an arm around him and stares at him, taking in all his features. though he does look distressed, there's some sort of softening there when his big brother starts rubbing his back, like a reminder he's here.

glancing to the side, he sees a small arm bandaged up, one bandaid towards the wrist starting to fall off. the scar hidden underneath is enough to make sodapop sick. he rubs it back on, the rough feeling on his skin burning and his hand lingers there for a moment.

the faint whispers of their oldest brother can barely be heard, but life feels so slow and quiet that sodapop can listen to words here and there. it calms him and he pulls ponyboy in a little closer.

it’ll continue to be a rough night and no one knows what there is to come the next few days, but soda appreciates right now. he’ll stay awake listening to his sibling’s soft breathing, thinking darry, about their life. throughout everything, he has hope they'll make it through this. just like they have before.

and so he takes the hands of someone he’s promised to love and take care of through everything. he doesn’t intend on backing down now, or ever.

Chapter Text

the next morning, sodapop gets out of bed before either of his brothers. darry has to get up for work in less than an hour and is usually up at this time. well, it gives soda time to shower and make breakfast. he decides he’ll make a big breakfast for ponyboy. the boy deserves to eat nice at the very least.

so tired, he nearly falls asleep in the kitchen, but pushes on for pony. he’ll appreciate this, soda knows he will. he can’t wait to see him happy again. even thinking of last night makes him nauseous, he’s ready for a fresh start today.

clattering can be heard from a room nearby and soda’s heart jumps at the thought of it being ponyboy. but as he jerks his head to the side, ready to spring himself into action, darry comes out of the door.

sodapop’s body is no longer tensed up and he glances down the hallway to see his big brother. they both give tired grins, conveying the same thoughts. the oldest pats his sibling’s shoulder, clearly in a hurry because he’d be asking what soda’s making—“is it not just chocolate? is it edible?”— and watch over his shoulder for some time.

before darry opens the door, he pauses and turns suddenly. the younger rotates to see him hesitating with a small frown. he cocks his head, something he’d done a lot when he was small and the habit has been coming back lately, waiting for whatever it is darry’s about to do.

“watch him close, pepsi-cola. n’ be careful, alright?” his brother warns and this time gives a softer smile. he trusts soda with his entire being and knows pony loves him more than anything, but he still worries. if anything would happen to either of them, there's no telling what darry would do with himself.

soda waves to him with happiness portrayed in his features, grateful for these words. the older wastes no time getting out of the house. having work to do, bills to pay.

the middle brother sighs when he’s all alone again, feeling bad for leaving his little brother unattended. hopefully he won't think he abandoned him. sodapop continues on, dedicated to making the perfect meal.

ponyboy awakens with the blankets bundled around him, yet he's still freezing, immediately noticing his big brother’s absence. he jolts the covers off in an instant before he sees his arm.

the bandages are a reminder of how sick in the head he is. and while everything comes rushing back to him, he has to sit down to stay steady. the way his lip is wobbling is pathetic. where's soda? he said he wouldn't leave.

but pony then acknowledges that he had to go to work. still, why didn't he wake him up? he has school too. swirling with self deprecating thoughts, he slips back under the covers.

sodapop’s mad at him, he just knows it. and it gets to him again, how his idiocy ruined his relationship with the person he looks up to most.

somewhere in between when he woke up and laid back down, soda appears in the doorframe. he watches pony until he catches a glimpse of sadness in his eyes. then he's right there, hovering over the youngest with a full plate in hand.

watching ponyboy gain his vision again after resting his eyes, he smiles for him. his brother jumps despite himself then calms down not a second later, realizing he wasn't left alone. in fact, he lights up in relief.

“hey, pony.” sodapop greets in a whisper as he follows his sibling’s eyes down to his breakfast. pony is beyond happy, he hasn't eaten for over twenty-four hours and is still a little woozy from the loss of blood.

the older extends his arms and hands the plate to pony with care. the meal consists of strawberries and to ponyboy’s surprise, regular-colored chocolate chip pancakes. no dye or anything, but they are heart-shaped. this simple thing fills him with joy. and to drink, chocolate milk, a given. he really needed something like this right now.

“for me?” ponyboy asks, astounded, voice drained.

“who else would it be for?” soda kids. the younger eyes up the plate and decides on picking a strawberry up. every little movement he makes is observed.

the older’s thoughts drift for the millionth time since this all went down, onto various things, sitting on the corner of their shared bed. pony snaps him out of this daze, questioning, “ain't you supposed to be at work, sodapop?”

“not goin’ today. darry just left.” is the response, simple and straight to the point. ponyboy looks at him funny, bewildered. his focus goes to darry, who's definitely still angry. on top of that, they can't handle one of the not going to work. sodapop shouldn't have stayed for him.

“but you need the money.” ponyboy insists. his big brother almost scoffs but stops himself short. declaring his sibling shouldn’t even think of it, he states, “bud, that's the last thing you need to worry about. that's me and darry’s job.”

pony whines, he’s not listening to him. out of irritation and serious fear for their bank account, he takes another sip of his chocolate milk. he really makes things worse, doesn’t he? meanwhile soda can’t put his finger on why his mind is on money in this moment.

“you two don't deserve to do all the work ‘round here, and have to worry about bills—” the older doesn’t dare let him finish this sentence, cutting in, “and you don't deserve to feel like this.”

all sodapop cares about in the universe is for his baby brother to be okay. he has a pounding headache and he can barely keep his eyes open, but he’ll go through hell and back for ponyboy.

pony drops the subject, busying himself with the last of the strawberries. soda’s eyes water as he looks closer at his brother, who hasn’t smiled for a day. he vows to change this as quickly as he can.

what is he supposed to do? nothing he says or do is helping and he’s frightened that someone he couldn't function without is slipping away and he can't do anything about it. why couldn't it have been himself instead?

his kid brother avoids eye contact for as long as possible until he hears quiet sniffles from across him. the pain that surges through his heart is unbearable. he did this. he made his big brother cry. disappearing sounds like a great solution right now.

“soda.” he wants to say he's sorry, but that doesn't fix anything anymore. things have changed, he's aware he's fucked up. sodapop wipes his tears with the back of his hand, aware that he's making ponyboy more upset.

so he crawls over to his side of the bed and leans back, sitting up. pony moves over, but not too much, to show he still has full trust in the older. ponyboy lets himself lean into the one he needs most. soda slings his arm around the smaller next to him, eyes still red and stinging. unintentionally, his gaze wanders to the pale arm resting beside him, what lies beneath the bandaids.

and now both of their focus is on that wrist, they notice that it, and the entire rest of his body, is shaking. sodapop rubs the kid’s shoulder and gently places his face atop pony’s head.

“baby, you ain’t gonna kill yourself, right? you ain't gonna end up like dally?” he queries tentatively. he's been wondering this since last night, it being one of the first things to come to mind. and he couldn't have talked to darry about it, he would've gone crazy and probably punched the youngest or something—definitely scare him. his concern comes out as anger and he wouldn't have been able to control himself.

when ponyboy doesn’t make an effort to respond, his older sibling panics, tears springing at his eyes once more. pony’s never thought of suicide before. would he try to? he just doesn’t know. all he wanted was to eat in peace. to wait to talk about this later.

soda cups his face, needing to know the truth. sobbing uncontrollably, his hand is shaking and he may be holding on too tight. the younger wishes he would’ve spoke up. sodapop feels like he’s suffocating when he begs, “please…”

he chokes and feels it in the back of his throat. pony can’t bear to look at what he’s doing to the person he needs most. to transfer the pain through an embrace is what the middle brother needs. anything to make it go away for his poor ponyboy. for him to stay, to stop slipping away by the second.

“don’t ever do that again, okay?” sodapop tries in vain to get his kid brother to look at him, crying, “you have to promise me, ponyboy.”

i can’t lose you goes unsaid. ponyboy closes his eyelids. all he can do is nod, to make the other stop fretting, though his assurance is hollow. he doesn't know if it'll happen again, it sounds like something he can do every once in a while to get what he deserves. maybe he’s already past the point of no return.

but with soda here, he knows he won't hurt himself. it's a great sense of comfort. somewhat satisfied with the positive response, sodapop takes in the smell of pony’s hair, a sense of home and something irreplaceable.

what could make his younger brother happier? can he do anything, really, to fix this? the smaller allows himself to lean into sodapop’s touch, hiding his face in his chest. the older is reminded of when they were younger and ponyboy, around the age of seven, was terrified of storms. he would curl his tiny body info a ball until soda would come into the room and pick him up, putting him in his lap. they both wish that was his biggest worry still.

because now, he looks too fragile for his age, trembling due to something no one his age should have to deal with. letting him have peace, sodapop offers a distraction.

“c’mon, let's go watch tv on the couch, that sound alright?”

pony hesitates, playing with a loose thread on the covers. and his older brother’s confused look tells him to speak up before he breaks again. it sounds real nice, but it's not worth being yelled at because he was supposed to stay in his room.

“darry still mad?” he questions timidly. soda grimaces. lord he hates seeing his brothers fight. they need each other. he assures, “no, bud. he’s not mad no more.”

this surprises the youngest, and it shows in his features. ponyboy proceeds with, “but he said i’m grounded.”

sodapop’s expression becomes one of bitterness and pony thinks it’s directed toward him so he falters. he sighs, sour expression geared toward their older brother, “well, you ain't no more.”

soda, being just as law-abiding as his kid brother, almost never goes against darry’s house rules. he’s the boss; whatever he says, the two he looks after are expected to follow. and they try, but this time, the middle sibling won't listen.

ponyboy should in no way be grounded, even from the start. sodapop wants to tell him he's proud of how hard he's been trying in school, but then he’ll know he’s been talking to darry. and he’ll be real mad.

even if the oldest gets irritated with him for this, he’ll know it's worth it from the way pony’s face seems to regain some color. a graceful smile even appears and soda’s glad he’s doing something right.

he watches him sit up and stretch, yawning. it makes himself yawn as well. and he thinks, maybe, after their vulnerable talk, ponyboy will depend on him again. sodapop will never let him be alone or feel isolated again.

getting out of bed to do what he promised, his gaze unsurprisingly looms upon pony. his eyes and skin are raw, and he’s sure his own are too. soda doesn’t waste any time as he grabs at his baby brother and tickles him anywhere and everywhere he can. he’s the only one who can make a good memory out of a bad one.

and when he’s done torturing ponyboy with tickles, he doesn’t stop smothering him with love. carefully wriggling his arms under the younger’s back, he lifts him up off the mattress with ease. sodapop squeezes his shoulders as the body in his grasp squirms, yelling, “sodapop, let go a’ me!”

but he’s laughing, and it’s beautiful. soda doesn’t let go of him as he carries him bridal style to the living room. pony kicks and kicks, ears red with embarrassment. that’s how you could always tell the two brothers were flustered—their ears gave them away. they’re always laughed at by the gang for it. this never happens to darry, though no one has really ever seen him embarrassed.

sodapop drops his sibling down on the couch and grins down at him as he moves to join him. slumping his head down so it’s halfway down his older brother’s arm, ponyboy relaxes completely.

the comforting moment goes on until his brain has to remember that he’s still a screw up, this won’t change anything.

Chapter Text

his negative thoughts are getting louder and louder every day, and he feels that someday, they’ll take over his mind. sodapop senses something isn't quite right, but tips his head slightly in his brother’s direction to keep him close instead.

the tv is playing some stupid show neither of them have ever seen before, likely on the same channel two-bit had on to watch mickey. there's no way either of them were going to get up now. calm is what they need. though the calm isn't going to stay. not since soda knows the younger isn't necessarily thinking happy thoughts.

pony’s been too tired lately, it’s starting to scare his big brother. ponyboy wonders why he stays here with him when he acts like this.

helping consists of being honest and bringing up anything that's worrying, even if it's scary. sodapop would never put him down for what’s he’s feeling and is endlessly patient, his kid brother knows this. but he can't help the gnawing feeling whenever he brings it up, the feeling that he’s disgusting. that the person he trusts most will finally realize that.

“what’s up?” soda’s sweet voice pops in his head. bringing him back to reality as he has many times before. tilting his head up to see the older’s expression.

“huh?” he mumbles into his brother’s tan arm that smells purely of gasoline. and he’s drooling, but sodapop doesn’t mind one bit. his stomach heaves with a small chuckle when he tells, “i can hear your thinkin’.”

ponyboy understands what this means. he turns his body to look at soda more clearly.

“oh.” is all he can mutter. there’s a pause between them and sodapop squints his eyes. waiting. something he’s mastered with pony. he doesn’t think about it too much, though. the younger inhales, “am i good?”

the older looks up at the ceiling momentarily, upset that ponyboy would even ask something like that. it puzzles him how his little brother could think of himself anything but perfect.

“yeah, of course you’re good, kid.” he tells him truthfully, confusion pure in his voice. pony thinks about the response and goes with his heart—to believe it.

“okay, cus’ i been thinkin’…” he trails off. uh oh, soda thinks. him thinking too much is never good. but revealing his curiosity is a step forward.

sodapop nods and waits for any more clarification. after none, he proceeds with, “you have the most good in you i ever seen.”

the hopeful look his kid brother gives him is soul-crushing and he can't do anything but absentmindedly ruffle ponyboy’s hair. the smaller sinks further into the couch, trying to forget.

he’s taken aback when he realizes just what’s playing on the tv—leave it to beaver. when he was 6 and soda was 9, this show would continually pop up on their tv.

the three siblings were watching their parents from afar at the dinner table, eyes glued to the tiny screen. they never really had interest in shows because they rarely got to watch any. soda started inching closer after seeing and hearing some of the content from the show, and pony followed after. darry stayed, not caring one way or another.

after that, the two begged and begged to watch it every day. they had watched all of the seasons in a record time and pony remembers being so upset when it ended, though that quickly disappeared when their mother assured him they could watch it again. darry claimed to hate it, but would still watch it with them after one of them had a bad day. it was their comfort show.

they also watched texaco star theater from time to time, but it never brought as much joy.
so every time it was on, the brothers set time aside for it. pony’d have a tantrum whenever he or soda couldn’t make it. when it was sodapop, he’d always find a way to make it up for the younger, even if that meant giving up his portion of his chocolate cake.

before leave it to beaver, they weren’t allowed the tv too often because their parents liked to have the time. but mr. curtis was delighted to see them getting along. sometimes, their parents would sit down at watch right there with them.

the memories come rushing back as he recognizes it immediately. when he looks to his older brother ready to tell him, the same eager look he’s wearing is on his face.

“leave it to beaver!” they shout in unison. it lightens the mood drastically. ponyboy makes sure he's comfy and lets himself indulge in the tv.

and then, when they're basically melted into the couch of course, the phone rings from the far end of the living room.

soda sighs, annoyed, but knows he has to answer it in the chance that something happened to anyone in the gang. pony groans and tightens his hold around the other to get him to stay, but sodapop unwillingly gets up anyways. he can see the smaller straighten up and huff, crossing his arms, out of the corner of his eye. taking the phone, he greets, “hey.”

it’s unnatural for him to sound so annoyed, he realizes after how bitter the word sounded. soda corrects himself, “hi, sorry! sodapop speakin’.”

“hey soda,” darry’s gruff voice comes from the other end of the line. he sounds like he wants to communicate something else, but he stops. soda wonders why he's calling—he never calls while at work, so he wonders if he’s alright. he doesn't assume any tragedy happened, never assuming the worst.

glancing back at ponyboy, who’s propped up at the edge of the couch with his hand on his cheek, looking curious and waiting to cling onto his brother again. no one ever takes him as clingy, including most of the gang. but if you’re sodapop or johnny, you know first handed know that's not the case. at all.

“darry? what’s goin’ on?” soda questions, impatient for the response. pony listens in and becomes increasingly unsettled. sighing can be heard on the phone, followed by, “just wanted to know how ponyboy was doin’.”

the middle brother forces a smile back, knowing how they always claim the other hates them, but in reality this is the extent they’ll go to for each other.

there's a slight delay as sodapop’s first priority is giving his younger sibling a reassuring grin. he watches him relax and continues to assure in a lower voice, “he’s doin’ pretty good, pretty sad early this morning but i think he’s feelin’ better now.”

he doesn't necessarily care if pony overhears the conversation or not, but he does care if he gets riled up about it. soda’ll tell him on his own time—probably soon. maybe, considering the smart kid he is, he's already figured out that his brothers had a talk regarding last night when he was sleeping.

“okay. i need to talk to him about it when i get home…” darry replies, some weight clearly lifted off his words.

“alright, dar. don't you be too hard on him now.”

soda gives a giggle at how quickly pony perks up at this. he leans back into the couch with a puzzled expression. there’s never been a time that he can think of that he’s felt betrayed by sodapop. it’s a new, sickening feeling. so he blocks it out. not to mention talking to darry is one of the last things he wants to do right now.

“well, i gotta get back to work. boss is on my ass. say hi to him for me soda, don’t do anything dumb now.” the other end crackles and soda can sense a rare grin from the other. he shrugs, “can’t promise nothing.”

there’s a sharp laugh then silence. darry hangs up abruptly just about every time. the older looks turns around and beams though he’s churning with a bunch of different emotions he can’t quite place. there’s a sad smile in return.

he sits back down and finds that ponyboy doesn't curl right into him as he was doing before. brushing it off, he delivers the news, “darry says hi.”

it's clear pony has something else on his mind, and it may or may not be spoken. sodapop waits, resting on the armchair, not moving his eyes from his kid brother.

“he knows, doesn’t he?” pony’s not stupid, but he doesn't understand that soda knows this quite well. his voice is void and it's like a reality check for soda and he sobers up. knowing that the younger deserves nothing less than honesty, he admits with sincerity, “yeah, he knows, kid. i talked to him ‘bout it.”

“why would you tell him?” and even though he knows it was the right thing to do, it still hurts, having the boy who looks up to him most feel utterly betrayed because of him.

sodapop faces the other and reaches over to pet his hair. his eyes are full of remorse and it's hard for ponyboy to hold his grudge. it takes a few seconds for the older to prepare his words.

“because i was scared, pony. i didn’t know what to do. i’m sorry.” pony hurts at the thought of soda being scared because of him. it's all circling back to yesterday.

he's sure he's just making everything more stressful for everyone. but sodapop loves him, he knows he loves him. there's no reason why, but clinging to this is tearing the smaller apart. it's selfish to hate him, but he doesn't know whether to love or hate his brother right now. no matter—he could never hate soda for the life of him. no, he's never been upset at him before.

sodapop cradles the side of his head and pulls him into a side hug, regretting what happened. he’s dead set on thinking it’s his fault.

“he’s mad at me.” ponyboy rasps. the middle brother never realized that his baby brother felt so alone, and disliked. it sounds foreign to him, why didn't he notice? trying to suck it up, he coos into pony’s ear, “no. the farthest thing from it.”

darry loves both of his brothers equally, more than anything, and it‘s astonishing to soda that neither of them will use their head and figure out and he thought he was the dumb one.

as much as he’d like to stop bugging pony about it because he knows it’s gotta be triggering and wrong to do so soon, sodapop can’t stop wondering exactly why last night happened, what he could've done to stop it. he has to raise a question again eventually and can’t seem to wait.

“why’d you do it?” he settles on, continuing on trying—in vain—to keep his emotions down. things are getting tense again. ponyboy scoots away, answering shyly with a tint of annoyance, “i don’t know.”

it’s a lie that his big brother can look right through. he won’t back down, leading with, “i know it’s hard to talk about buddy, but i need to know.”

he thinks of himself as a failure of a brother. no matter what the true reason was, soda’s long decided that it’s his fault. pony wants the ground to eat him up—nothing sounds nicer.

“well i’m a mistake to both of you. that’s all there is to it.” his brother can tell he’s trying to make his voice sound gruff but he knows him too well and can tell he’s broken inside and wants to give up. he won’t let him. ever.

a mess of emotions, mostly worried sick, sodapop scoops ponyboy up even when he tries to restrain. and he's angry that he’d even consider that he and darry didn't love him with all of their hearts.

“you shut up, i don’t ever wanna hear those words outta your mouth ever again.” soda threatens with a passion. if he cries again he might use up all his tears.

pony doesn't respond, the older’s head placed protectively above his. he’s embarrassed for everything that’s happened, feeling selfish for his sudden outbursts. feeling selfish for keeping sodapop home from work, feeling selfish about how much stress he’s put on darry.

“i don't know why i’ve been cryin’ so much lately.”

“nothin’ wrong with that.” soda vows and means it, with always wearing his heart on his sleeve and letting it out when he needs to, knowing his friends and family wouldn't think any less of him.

the two hug it out for the millionth time today, with nothing but love and trust between them. leave it to beaver proceeds playing faintly in the background, a symbol of better days. but they will reach for those days again. they will continue trying.

Chapter Text

the two hadn’t ended up moving in the next few hours, not realizing it’s well into the afternoon until the front door creaks open. sodapop remembers far too late that he forgot to clean up the kitchen—his cooking process isn’t the cleanest—but he also might get a free out this time.

darry comes bustling in, flopping onto his armchair before sighing, a rare grin on his face when he spots his brothers on the couch all curled up. ponyboy’s near asleep, but is more attentive now that his oldest brother’s home. he can tell his kid brother’s a bundle of nerves, and so can soda, who gives him a little squeeze.

darry begins a conversation to clear the tension, starting with, “ya’ll lazy bums just been sittin’ down all day?” he sets everything he brought to work, along with pony’s homework that he’d picked up—which is definitely not to be talked about now—on the floor.

soda leans over to look at ponyboy, who grins sheepishly up at him, then back over to the other.

“sure have been. it’s real nice.” he admits, yawning and leaning back dramatically, before continuing, “how was work?”

the two older brothers know they’re both trying to keep their discussions simple and light, and soon enough darry’ll have to talk to their little brother. pony hasn’t spoken a word since the oldest got home, sure he’ll yell at him sooner or later about the schoolwork on the floor and about yesterday. especially about yesterday.

sodapop assures that darry isn’t mad, but ponyboy isn’t so sure, still hesitant to say anything that’ll lead to him talking about hurting himself. he doesn't want to tell him everything, he doesn't even know what soda’s been told about their argument. there's no way darry’ll know something if sodapop doesn't.

“same as always—glory, pony, you're still in your pajamas?” he realizes. the kid scoffs, “soda ain’t let me go.”

darry lets out a puff of air, a slight smile on his face while shooing pony off with his hand. he suggests, “why don’t you get dressed, huh? i bet you’re hungry, too, ain't you kiddo?”

the middle brother nudges the youngest, directing him towards the bathroom. darry watches him with a hard expression and soda switches his attention to him, his face softening.

“yeah, i been starving him.” sodapop sticks his tongue out at the oldest like he’s 5.

ponyboy grins and stands up, announcing that he’s going to take a shower. when he’s gone, the room gets noticeably more uneasy as darry puts his head in his hands when he’s sure pony’s closed the door to the bathroom.

reaching for some kind of communication between his brothers, soda speaks, “darry…”
then realizes he has no more to say, nowhere to start.

“was he doin’ okay today? really?” darry questions instead. sodapop hesitates, knowing overall he was doing alright, better than last night for sure. but early in the morning there were indeed moments where soda was contemplating calling darry he was so frightened.

he felt as if things got out of control a few times, in his high alert mind. of course he wouldn't lie to his older brother, so he tells him everything he feels is true, even though it might not be true to pony.

“i made him promise he wouldn’t do that to himself again, and it scared the daylights outta me because he didn’t respond at first. he ain't been acting right all day, either.” he puts out, not wanting speak everything that’s on his mind all at once for the first time in his life. he wants darry to understand every single thing he reveals.

his older brother bites the inside of his cheek, guilt building up in his stomach, not knowing if soda can see it on his face. several questions are at the tip of his tongue, most of all regarding why he did it. so he raises a question, trying his best not to be vulnerable, “did he do it because…of me?”

“i dunno, darry,” sodapop responds truthfully, “he didn't really tell me why. he don’t wanna, all he said was that he's a mistake to both of us. does he really think that?”

he looks at darry like he has all of the answers, but in this situation, he has none. the oldest sibling runs a hand down his face, upset about letting both of his brothers down.

“i couldn’t tell you, little buddy. he thinks some real stupid things sometimes.” he admits. soda shakes his head, frowning at the recent events. pleading, “just…when you talk to him, don’t yell at him none, okay? he’s real overwhelmed. he knows i told you and i’m sure he’s dreadin’ this.”

sodapop knows well that darry wouldn’t dream of yelling at the kid in this moment, but one wrong word from either of them could lead to an even worse outcome. all 3 of them know they don’t need that right now.

either way, his sibling nods and his eyes are promising. darry smooths his thumbs over his knees and bites his cheek, not prepared for the conversation ahead.

“alright, little buddy, why don’t we talk about this more in depth later. will you make some dinner?” he suggests, wanting space to talk to pony on his own but still wanting soda in range in case the kid breaks down and needs him.

they aren’t going to deny their brother dinner, of course, even though it did happen to be part of the motivation to get pony out of the room faster. he’ll still get to eat after.

“sure. you gonna talk to him when he’s done?” soda glances towards the closer bathroom door. darry huffs, not exactly psyched to hear what ponyboy has to say, “probably.”

“okay.” sodapop stands up and pats his shoulder, soft yet firm, grounding darry. he continues on to the kitchen to make some spaghetti, presumably odd-colored, and the older resists a smirk thinking about what kind of mess he’ll leave the room in.

more importantly, he makes a note of what soda had told him a few minutes prior, that the youngest hasn't been acting right. though that doesn't say it’ll make this go any better or worse.

only a few minutes go by before the sound of water flowing stops. pony sneaks out the door moments after, heading to his shared bedroom to get changed. darry tries not to make it too obvious he’s watching his every move, but the kid’s smart.

sounds of rummaging in the kitchen occupy him until his younger brothers’ door opens and out comes ponyboy. he rubs his forehead to make himself appear less stressed. and it’s almost like pony knows that this was coming, because he takes his sweet time getting to the living room.

ponyboy comes out of his bedroom with damp, messy hair and one of sodapop’s tank tops with jeans his siblings didn’t know fit him anymore. he sneaks around the dining table to go check what soda’s making for supper.

darry absentmindedly listens to as much of the conversation as possible, the youngest brothers rambling on about something regarding the spaghetti being purple. though he can hear it loud and clear when sodapop announces that he wants to have a conversation with pony. darry could practically feel the kid’s nerves, but he backed down after protesting once.

when he comes loping around the corner, his older brother can’t help but sigh. this is hard, considering, well, he’d rarely apologize to ponyboy like this. usually whenever they fight, darry just makes it up to his little brother with acts of service, like letting him stay out an hour later or making him his favorite food for dinner. and not just because soda made them promise to not fight anymore, but also because he always wants to.

this is more formal than any of them are used to, and it’s understandable that pony walks in with his eyes wide and arms glued to his sides. not wasting any time, he sits back down across from darry, eyebrows furrowed.

“soda told me what happened last night.” the older starts, trying to sound as calming as he can. he says in an understanding tone, letting pony know he’s not mad.

the boy tenses up anyway. this was inevitable. he nods, sinking back into the couch and wishing the cushions would eat him up. darry clasps his hands together, leaning forward to make sure ponyboy’s still paying attention.

“look, kid, you know i didn’t mean that, about johnny. he’d be real proud of you.”

the conversation with his youngest brother last night has been playing in his head word for word for hours, especially when he spoke about johnny being disappointed in him. he knows how low of a blow that is for someone who says and does things he shouldn’t a lot.

darry can't shake the fact that pony’s not quite acting like himself, either—he's not quick to bark back, he's simply sitting there, looking empty.

“sure, i know.” ponyboy speaks up, with what sounds like sincerity. though deep down, he doesn’t know.

the youngest directs his attention to the flimsy bandaid on his wrist, darry following his eyes and sucking in a sharp breath at what’s underneath, remembering with shame how it’s there in the first place. poking it and scraping the sides with his fingernails, pony reverts his eyes back to his brother, not even realizing what he’s doing. darry makes a mental note to make sure he puts another bandaid on it after dinner.

“don’t pick at that, pony.” he softly scolds. ponyboy occupies his hand with the cushion beneath him instead, the last thing he wants is to give the oldest a reason to yell. then he catches the pile of his schoolwork by darry’s feet that he must’ve picked up from the school on the way home.

his brother watches his every move like a hawk, wishing he understood him. but he doesn't. and he doesn't think he ever will.

he's gotten to thinking about how horrible of a guardian he must be if he makes someone he's supposed to be looking after break down and cut themselves. that's got to be a new record. being convinced that his brothers would be in a better environment, with more food and less violence, he still can't let them go. maybe that's selfish, but part of him wonders how shitty boys’ homes are.

then there's the fact his siblings could be torn apart. they couldn't handle that. they need each other like oxygen. he needs them like oxygen.

when darry comes to after his internal battle, he finds pony zoned out, gaze locked on his. the older takes a good look, his brother’s eyes always have been ones out of some sort of fairytale. and to complain he doesn't like them. they're as beautiful as they've ever been, but darry notices the hint of agony behind the swirls of green. he understands the look of being too young to be looking like he's been through hell and back all too well. and technically, you could say he has. they both have.

but he's only 14. he never wanted this for the baby of the family. not his baby. all he wants is to protect him and he's doing the exact opposite.

so why can't he be kind? this question pops in his head as he speaks the next words with too much authority and too little sincerity, “i understand you wasn’t about to come talk to me, but you don’t ever go slicin’ yourself up like that again. you talk to either of us.”

ponyboy nods, having no intent of going to darry for help if he’s struggling, like always. he never can convey the right words, can he?

his oldest brother adds onto his command, whispering, “i ain't gonna push you away.”

but pony doesn’t hear it, and he didn’t expect him to. showing that much vulnerability is unbelievably hard for darry to do, constantly trying to be the voice of authority. which is why he murmered it. he needed to let it out but didn't want his sibling to hear, having the skill to say something so quietly due to ponyboy’s great ears. it's tremendous for hiding information from him that he merely doesn't need to know.

barely maintaining his composure, darry tries not to create an image of the younger hurting himself, clinging to the hope that he knows he still loves him and is there for him. hell, he would give up his entire life for him. yet he doesn't think anything would make up for this. the guilt racks his entire body and he wonders how he's not puking his guts out right now, thinking about the fact he hurt himself too much.

pony frowns. he's not stupid, he can see his brother’s eyes are an odd ocean-y color, like they are when he's upset. not angry, though, he's fretting. you could never tell if you weren't his siblings, and it took them a while. there's no need for him to get worked up over him, ponyboy concludes.

“i get it, dar.”

it's uncomfortable for both of them. darry only half got his message through and pony decides it's time to start on that pile of homework until dinner. and so he stands, trying to look at his brother with an understanding look—because he knows he's making an effort—meanwhile grabbing his schoolwork and scanning it over.

darry’s light sigh is registered by him, however he doesn't know what he wants him to do. therefore he waits for whatever sentence is upon him, which happens to be, “go start on your homework, ponyboy. dinner will be done soon.”

ponyboy swiftly takes the contents off the floor and wastes no time getting back to his bedroom, not even glancing towards sodapop, who‘s eyes follow him with a concerned look.