Chapter Text
The church, day one
"Damn!" Johnny covers his mouth and mumbles, "Sorry. Dally said I shouldn't cuss. You probably think I'm a loser, huh?"
We're playin' cards when he asks this. Except he doesn't really say it like a question, more like a statement. Which is dumb.
"You're forgettin' I don't really cuss either. That's for the real hoodlums." I say, tossing around our beat-up cards. "And we ain't like them."
"Yeah," Johnny scoffs. "We're jus' so young and innocent, like Cherry said. That's why we get hurt, y'know, Pone? Because we're weak. We should be more tuff like Dally is."
I nod slowly. Truth be told, I like how different Johnny is. He talks to me like I’m a real person.
"Maybe Dally is happy like that. But I ain't myself actin' all tuff. I wish I was like them, but I ain't." I say. I kick my legs out and lay my head on my arms. Johnny leans into me like it's routine— it probably is at this point. Dally was right, it gets cold up in the country. Me and Jonny sleep huddled up every night, just like me and Soda did back home. It's different with Johnny, though. I don't think of him as a brother. In a bad way? Naw. I think of him as a close friend, not a brother. But why not a brother? My close friends are like brothers to me. What makes Jonny different? Do I like him more? Or do I like him differently? I puzzle over this, staring at the church ceiling.
Johnny sniffs, pulling me out of my stupor.
"Sorry. I'll stop crying soon." He hesitates. "Actually, I'll just move."
I pull him back down. "Naw, you're fine. You alright, kid?"
He nods wearily. "We sure have been crying a lot, haven’t we? I'm sick of it. I'm all cried out."
"Yup. No more crying." I don't really mean it. "We're tuff now. Criminal runaways and all that."
Johnny cries, "Oh, don't bring that up now! Now I can't stop crying!"
My eyes start watering. My stupid hair, which used to be tuff, is gone. My family is far away. All we have is bologna for days. I want a cigarette. I want a cigarette. I want a cigarette.
Johnny swears under his breath and wipes his eyes. "I'm done.”
Panic beats down the thin spots in my skull. "Whaddaya mean? You ain’t going to kill yourself, right?!”
"Done cryin', I mean." He sighs. "Pony, I'm really alright. I'm not takin' a heater to my head."
"Naw, I know!" —I don't. "It's just scary. I like you so much."
He looks away from me. When I glance over, he won't meet my eyes. I push hair off his forehead to get a better look at him.
He whips around so his face is inches from mine. "Jesus Christ, you really ain't have a clue what you're doin' to me, do you?" His breath is heavy an' fast and his eyes are so red and teary I can see my reflection in them.
"Ummmmh," I stutter in shock. I don't understand. What can I say? What do I do to help my best friend? "What am I doin' to you, Johnny?"
“Ufhhhg… forget it,” he says, and turns around so that his back is facing me. Now I don’t really ever get in people’s business, especially if it’s a fellow greaser, but when I saw the scars on Johnny’s arm, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. I mean, seriously, his pretty skin was just covered with those cuts, and I felt seriously sick. And I wondered, what had i been doin’ to him that made him do that to himself?!
“John.. J-Johnny— gosh, Johnny, look at me!” I grab him by the shoulders and pull him so he’s facin’ me again. I can see it in his eyes that he knows I saw.
“What the hell?!” I yell. He totally crumples, but not away from me, like anyone else would. He falls into my arm and sobs so hard ‘m scared he’s gonna stop breathing.
“Jesus, it’s okay… oh, why did you do this?!” He just shakes his head into my chest.
“Pone— ‘m sorry, God, I’m sorry!” He cries. I can’t stand this much longer. No other greaser would ever do this. If you’re a greaser and you’re feeling down, you go knife someone else, not yourself.
“Johnny, you’re shaking like a leaf, please calm down, I’m scared!” I don’t know what to do with him. I secretly thank God when he pulls away. I need to look at him, I need to look everywhere for more scars.
“Sorry, Pony. Jesus fucking—” I put my hand over his mouth, and immediately regret it. It feels too intimate, like I’m his lover trying to comfort him. I yank my hand away.
“Johnny, tell me why. I need you to tell me why you did this.” He shakes his head and touches his lips. Shit, I regret touching him.
“I don’t know. I can’t tell you. You’d never talk to me again.”
I shake my head. How could I never talk to him again?! I look deep into his eyes to see if I’m missing something. I can’t see anything but tears.
“Okay. Okay, but I know it’s because of me, and I feel terrible! I’m so sorry, Johnny— Johnny, just tell me what I did…”
He shakes his head. “It wasn’t you. It’s what you’re doing to me. I can’t explain it Pony, I really can’t. Honest. You would just truly hate me.”
“Okay. We’ll talk about it later. Where else did you cut yourself? I need to help you— I need to bandage you up, God… How long ago did you cut?”
He shrugs. “Before you woke up.”
I nod, but I know he’s avoiding my first question. “Where else did you cut?”
He starts to tear up again. Oh God, it must be bad.
“Um. My… my stomach. Really, Pony, it doesn’t even hurt, it’s not even still bleeding, you don’t need to help me.”
I believe him, but I feel this aching urge that I have to help him, I have to make him feel better.
“C’mon, Johnnycakes, of course I’m gonna help you. Take off your shirt so I can see.”
He flushes and wraps his arms around his stomach. “Shit, Pone, just let me do it myself, okay?”
“I can’t, okay?! I just want you to be okay. Let me do this.”
He nods, and takes off his shirt. There’s not nearly as many cuts.
“Don’t look, okay, don’t worry about it. I told you it’s not bad.”
I nod in agreement but still reach for the bandages we picked up when we got our supplies. “Hold still.” He flinches at my touch as I wrap the bandage around him. He covers his mouth with his hands, and I notice he’s still bright red. What is it about me that makes him feel like this…
“Pony— stop— I really have to tell you something.”
“Give me a second. I need to finish this.”
His eyes are creased, and whenever my fingers touch him, I can feel his skin jump.
“Okay, I’m gonna do your arms now.”
I wind the bandage around his left arm first, and then his right arm. And I don’t know why, but when I reach the bottom of his right arm, I stop. I start tracing around his wrist.
“There’s no cuts on your wrist.”
“I didn’t want to actually pop a vein. I didn’t want to kill myself.”
I keep winding my pointer finger around his wrist and down to his hand. I hear him inhale softly. I gently take his hand into mine.
“Your hand is warm,” he mumbles.
“Johnny, why can’t you tell me what I’m doin’ to you?” I ask. He sighs heavily, like he might fall asleep.
“I told you that you would hate me.”
“Johnny, seriously, I could never hate you. I mean, I think you’re the most wonderful person ever. I want to be with you. I want to be home with you. If I ever made you think I could somehow hate you, then I’m sorry, but you’re just wrong because I never could!”
He leans his head on my shoulder. “Do you remember… that guy we played football with that one time? His name was… Samuel.” Johnny seems tired. I want to keep him talking.
“Which Samuel?”
“He was tall, ‘nd really good. Everyone wanted him on their team. But not you. You heard he was gay. And you… you told everyone.” Johnny yawns.
“Oh yeah, I remember him. That was when I was what, 12?”
He shrugs. “You hated him.”
“I don’t know, Johnny, I was only 12. What’s that got to do with you, though?”
He looks up at me and blinks through his long lashes. Man, if he was a broad, he would be beautiful. Maybe I’ll tell him that in the morning.
Johnny pulls himself closer to me. “Umh, nothing. I was just thinkin’.”
“Please just tell me how I can help you.” I wrap my arms around him.
“Pone, it’s not really cold tonight. We don’t hafta be all huddled.”
I keep my arms around him, but I don’t quite know why. It’s really not cold. Still, I feel him bury his face in my chest.
“…But if it’s okay, it’s still nice to be close to you.” He half-mumbles this, but I can tell he’s out of it.
“Yeah, it is. Goodnight.”