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I'm so insecure, I think
That I'll die before I drink
And I'm so caught up in the news
Of who likes me and who hates you
Soda never cared about rumors until he met Dallas.
And then he was always listening for them. The people who stopped through the DX would whisper, gesturing at Soda, as he filled Soc’s tanks they would sneer behind their bottles of whiskey at him.
Soda wished he was the one drinking the alcohol, drowning his thoughts with glass bottles and red solo cups.
And I'm so tired that I might
Quit my job, start a new life
And they'd all be so disappointed
'Cause who am I, if not exploited?
He wasn't sure how much longer he could do this.
He would be so close, so close to letting go, starting over, and then there would be a soft knock at the window.
And Dallas would tumble in, smelling like liquor and weed and his fingers stained with tobacco, and he would be slurring his words and leaving gentle kisses along Soda’s jaw while Soda tried to get him to lay down and sleep.
And then once he was finally asleep, Soda would look at him, because he was so much prettier when he was calmly sleeping, hair strewn all over his face and his chest rising and falling softly, and his hands resting gently on Soda’s hips.
And I'm so sick of 17
Where's my fucking teenage dream?
If someone tells me one more time
"Enjoy your youth, " I'm gonna cry
Soda wished he was eighteen.
Because then he could move away, move to the city, somewhere far, far away from Tulsa, Oklahoma.
Dally was always talking about New York, and it seemed so different, and at the same time not different at all. He could see himself living there, from his descriptions.
If Sodapop Curtis had the opportunity to pack everything up and leave, he would take it.
And I don't stick up for myself
I'm anxious and nothing can help
And I wish I'd done this before
And I wish people liked me more
But no, he didn’t get that opportunity.
And he would jump when Steve slung his arm around his shoulder, because what if it was another Soc trying to make him pay.
And for a split second, every time the window opened in the middle of the night, before Dally stumbled in, Soda would want to scream, because what if someone was coming for him? For Pony? For Darry?
Pony and Darry didn’t fight anymore. Soda and Darry did, because Soda stayed out too late, and woke up almost every morning with either Dallas in his arms, or marks covering his neck and chest, the window open, and the bed empty.
All I did was try my best
This the kind of thanks I get?
Unrelentlessly upset
Was he supposed to feel this numb?
Because the pain he once felt, the longing, the emotions, they were all gone. He didn’t feel anything, nothing, not when Darry yelled, or when Socs laughed, or when Steve tried to talk to him.
He had nothing to say.
They say these are the golden years
But I wish I could disappear
Ego crush is so severe
God, it's brutal out here
Soda wanted to disappear.
Not like before, when he wanted to run, to take Dally with him and go somewhere just the two of them.
No, he wanted everyone to forget he was ever here.
Because wouldn’t they all be better without him?
I feel like no one wants me
And I hate the way I'm perceived
I only have two real friends
And lately, I'm a nervous wreck
Dallas was pulling further and further away.
Steve was trying to talk to Soda, to get through to him, because someone needed to get him out of his own mind.
But it turned out that person was Johnny.
'Cause I love people I don't like
And I hate every song I write
And I'm not cool and I'm not smart
And I can't even parallel park
Johnny’s hand was warm, comforting, soft, as it rested on Soda’s arm.
He wasn’t listening. Johnny was talking, quietly, as if Soda was fragile and needed to be taken care of. Maybe he was.
Dally-he doesn’t-he doesn’t know how to feel, Soda. If he’s not talking to you…
No kidding, Soda thought. I knew he didn’t know how to feel. I don’t care about him.
He cares about you-he really does. He talks about you, he seems happier when you’re okay-everyone’s worried about you, Soda, really. Even Dally, he just doesn’t know how to say it.
And to Soda's horror, he was crying, Soda was crying, in front of the kid that had it worse, the kid who was hit and yelled at and tossed around, and hurt by Socs worse than he could ever be.
But he was the one crying, and he melted into Johnny, and Johnny’s arms were around him, and he was whispering something Soda couldn’t hear.
But he was so sick of being strong.
All I did was try my best
This the kind of thanks I get?
Unrelentlessly upset
Soda stuck close to Johnny now.
It was ironic, really, the way Johnny had always been described as the kicked puppy, the gang's pet. He was the strongest out of all of them. He had never cried once, not since everything.
And god, he was good to have on your side, because Johnny had a sharp tongue and flashing eyes and when Dally was over and tried to pry and poke at Soda, Johnny was there with his quick wit and quicker comebacks.
They say these are the golden years
But I wish I could disappear
Ego crush is so severe
God, it's brutal out here
Johnny couldn't be there all the time though, and Dally swooped in like a predator amongst its prey.
And Soda hated that he still liked it, he hated how he admired Dally, he hated the marks he left, visible and not.
They weren't together, not anymore, they were apart in the closest and worst sort of way.
Got a broken ego, broken heart
And God, I don't even know where to start
Soda missed him. He always would.