Chapter Text
The moment Johnny feels the flaming beam fall on him, he’s convinced it’s over. He yells for Dallas, or Ponyboy, or anyone at all. He had always talked about dying, and always complained about living, but he realized that a mere sixteen years shouldn’t cut it. Not when Pony and Johnny made all of these silly plans to run away together to the countryside. Whatever that meant.
He blinks and he’s in an ambulance. He blinks again and he’s in the hospital. When he sees the light he thinks maybe he’s seeing God. He hasn’t been to church in a few months, but he thinks that maybe God would be nicer than the Soc’s, more forgiving than them too. It turns out to just be the fluorescent hospital lights though, and he thinks the pure adrenaline is what kept him alive.
He’s brought into the hospital to deal with his severe burns and his back getting crushed, and with the little chatter he’s heard while in and out of consciousness, it was supposed to be a miracle if he survived a month. Much less a year, or for a full fledged life. So when he wakes up for a more extended period of time, he asks a nice nurse to write a message for him, just in case. The gist is that Johnny doesn’t want Ponyboy to waste his time on the bad things in the world, and to focus more on the sunsets, and fresh green, and gold. He wants Ponyboy to be as true to himself as he can possibly be, and be proud of who he is.
Johnny has the nurse stick it in between pages of his and Pony’s new copy of Gone With the Wind.
He doesn’t end up giving Ponyboy the book back.
At the month mark for being in the hospital, he’s ready to be done. He’d either like to leave, or croak. After a surgery that his parents definitely will not be paying for and blistered and sore skin, he’s finally able to be turned over onto his back again. He didn’t hurt at first, his nerves being screwed up by the burns on his arms and legs and shoulders, and the doc says he’s probably going to have some pain for the rest of his life. However long that’ll be. He gets visits from the gang almost daily; Dallas the most often.
Johnny doesn’t really understand why Dallas hangs around him so much. He likes it, sure, but he’s confused why someone as tough as Dallas would have a soft spot for someone like him. Johnny knew he was an easy target for getting jumped, and rarely opened his mouth to say anything. He learned not to say anything when the Socs came at him, and he learned not to say anything when his parents were fighting. Two-bit called him a lost puppy that has been kicked too many times. Johnny doesn’t get why Dallas isn’t the one to kick him.
He enjoy’s Dallas’ company though. A lot of the time they don’t say anything. Dallas visits him and just quietly pulls up a chair next to the hospital bed that Johnny feels like he’s been rotting in since the day he got here. Johnny thinks Dallas just likes to come to remind himself that Johnny is still breathing. Maybe not quite living again yet, but breathing. Thinking.
Johnny’s done a lot of thinking while he’s been here. Mainly about how Ponyboy’s visits have become less frequent, even if they are best friends. Ponyboy will give him updates about their conscience when he visits. Johnny’s name has miraculously been cleared, on account of the fact that Cherry testified against Bob, and for his and Ponyboy’s self defense. Johnny think that’s weird. There isn’t much to update about anymore, yet Ponyboy always has something to say, even if his visits are becoming fewer and further between.
Johnny likes that about Pony. Johnny enjoys listening to him talk, regardless of whether or not he understands what he’s talking about. He finds it very endearing.
Ponyboy recited a poem one evening at the church. That’s another thing Johnny had been thinking about. He thought it was a little silly that Pony remembered the entire thing but admitted he didn’t know what it meant. Johnny has thought about it enough, and even if he isn’t the most book smart, he thinks that being “gold” is like being a kid. You can’t always be a kid, but it relates to life in the way that a lot of people have grown up too fast. There is so much trouble and sadness in the world, especially in Tulsa, but embracing the good is how it stays gold.
Johnny also likes the way Pony watches sunsets. Sunsets are like the peace of life, and how it’s such a sure thing. The sun will always rise and set, and it reminds Johnny that life goes on. His time at the church made him think of all of the things there are to live for. The small things. Johnny admires the way that Ponyboy dreams. Johnny knows Darry and Dally and the rest of the gang don’t understand it. Maybe that’s the one thing he and Sodapop have in common. Ponyboy’s always talking about how well Soda understands him, and Johnny is glad he has someone in his life that truly understands him to the very core, even if Johnny tries to replicate that. He also appreciates that even though everyone might not understand it, Pony continues to dig movies and sunsets and books.
Johnny registers Dallas coming into his hospital room and pulling up a chair. They exist together in silence for a few minutes before Johnny asks, “Hey man, do you know what Ponyboy has been up to? He used to visit every day, but it’s been a few days now since I’ve seen him… and at least two days before the last time I did.”
“He’s been out doin’ stuff with the redhead broad.” Dallas says, simple as that.
“Cherry?”
“Right.” Dallas shrugs, and Johnny hums.
“I don’t know if I like her like that.” Ponyboy says, as he and Johnny sit on the rugged wood floor of the church together.
“What do you mean? You said she was good looking,” Johnny teases lightly.
“Sure I did, but even so, she’d never want to cross the line from the west side to the east.”
“You never know, man. She seemed pretty feisty when she was talking to Bob at the drive in. She seems tough, Pony.”
Ponyboy just shrugs. “Twobit told me not to trust those Soc girls.”
“You never know, man. You never know.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes after that, the breeze biting and the sounds of trees swaying as the background noise.
Johnny glanced over at Ponyboy, his hair now bleach blonde and awful short. Johnny doesn’t think being a barber is his calling. He also doesn’t think short blonde hair is Pony’s calling either.
Soon enough Ponyboy moves to their stash of things and grabs a cigarette from the box. He lights it, but offers Johnny the first drag. “Want some?” Ponyboy asks, aware they should share everything when they can so that the rations last.
“Ah, sure.” Johnny says, and takes the cigarette from pony, placing it between his lips and taking a drag.
Johnny notices as Ponyboy’s eyes drift to his chapped lips around the cigarette. Johnny hands the cigarette back to pony and blows out the smoke, trying his best to make rings, but failing. He’s been trying to figure out how to do tricks with the smoke like Dally does. He certainly has the time to learn at least. They sit, continuing to listen to the birds and the wind, being content in each other’s presence.
“Hey Ponyboy?” Johnny starts, and continues once he hears a hum from Ponyboy. “I’m sorry.”
“What? What do you mean you’re sorry?”
“Well, I just mean… I’m sorry for putting you through this. It’s not fair to you.” Johnny says, his eyes downcast, and he brings his hand up to bite on his fingernails even though they’ve already bled from how short they are.
“Johnny, don’t talk like that. Maybe if I hadn’t insisted we run away we wouldn’t be in this mess. Maybe if I had used my head for once-”
“Pony-”
“No, Johnnycakes. I feel like death just follows me everywhere. Like it’s just waiting at my door and calling in the house for me or something. I mean, I didn’t even like Bob- I hated him, but it’s truly my fault. First my parents, because I forgot the damned frosting for Darry and now Bob because I forgot what time I had to be home. I’m careless Johnny. This ain’t your fault, it’s mine.”
“You weren’t the one who stabbed him Ponyboy. Even though I was trying to save you, it’s my fault,” Johnny pushes. “What was I even thinking having a thirteen year old kid come along and hide with me? I’m an hood like Dallas now Pony, I don’t want that for you.”
“I’m fourteen,” Pony argues. “I’ve been fourteen for a month and I’m in this just as much as you are.”
Johnny steals back the cigarette from between Ponyboy’s fingers. They let the words spoken simmer in the air before Johnny speaks up again, “I don’t believe that, by the way.”
Ponyboy turns to face toward Johnny, leaning against the wall of the church, his jeans collecting a layer of dirt. “Huh?”
“Well- I just- I don’t know man. You’re talking in your poetic way again, your uh…”
Johnny tries to remember the poet’s name.
“You’re speaking in your ‘Robert Frost’ right now, Pony. There ain’t no death cloud that follows you around, and even if there was, I wouldn’t give a damn.” Johnny grabs one of Pony’s hands, “Y’know how I was talking about wanting to kill myself back in the lot?”
Ponyboy nods, eyes finding Johnny’s.
“I don’t think if feel like that anymore, Pony. I guess you just made me realize that there is more to the world than trouble, y’know?”
Johnny thinks back to how Ponyboy claimed he didn’t like Cherry like that. Things change, he guesses.
He also thinks back to their conversation in the empty lot frequently.
Before everything happened, he didn’t think there was ever going to be a way out of the violence. Out of Tulsa. Not from where he started, his dad beating his mom and his mom beating Johnny. His life started that way, so how would it be any different when even on the streets he’d find Socs jumping boys left and right.
He remembers back to the lot when Ponyboy would tell him how much the gang would miss him if he ended it all, and it gave him the perspective that there is friendship and love there. Johnny didn’t say it then, but he would go wherever Pony goes. And even if death goes too, Johnny will stay with him.
Johnny lays there, and soon enough asks Dallas if he knows when Johnny can leave. Probably not too soon though, because Johnny is still wrapped in bandages from head to toe.
“Doc won’t say.” Dally says, “I don’t think you’re going to be able to walk too well again though.”
Johnny hums in acknowledgment. He knew that already, and he’s prepared to be in pain everyday too.
“Will we still hang out even when I can’t move very fast?” Johnny asks Dallas.
“Sure man. We’ll go wherever you want.” Dallas says, and Johnny can tell he means it. “You’re like a brother to me man. Just because your back is hurt doesn’t mean our friendship will be hurt. I would die for you man, like my own flesh and blood.”
Johnny nods as best he can, tiredly. He always is nowadays, but that’s healing he supposes.
Dallas notices nd says, “It’s okay man, go to sleep.”
Johnny sighs, appreciating that Dallas can read him. He closes his eyes and drifts off.