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If someone asks, Darry would say spring is his favorite time of year. For a multitude of reasons, really, one is because it wasn’t cold anymore, so he didn’t have to watch his parents scrape pennies to pay the heating bill, nor did he have to deal with Soda and Pony’s cold feet pressed up against his calves. If someone asks why, he’ll tell them the latter reasoning.
The honest answer is that he and Paul can sneak away from everyone and go for joy rides. Football season is long over, so no one ever really searches for them during the springtime. The two are able to go wherever they want.
Most times, they go out of town, not terribly far, of course. Just far enough away from everything where the only thing for miles and miles are the trees that are starting to regain their green leaves and the brown of the grass fields that dance in the wind. They drive just far enough away that it doesn’t matter that they’re a greaser and a socialite. Instead, they’re just two kids, two boys.
When it’s just the two of them driving down the highway, Darry likes to stand in the passenger seat and feel the wind in his face with Paul gripping his leg. It gives Paul a heart attack every time, and he always asks Darry how standing is any different from just sitting since the roof isn’t on the car. (Darry’s answered once - when he was drunker than a pastor at a bar. He said it was because it felt like at any moment, if Paul drove a little bit faster and the wind was a little bit stronger, the wind would pick him up and carry him away. Darry said it felt like the only time he was free and could be himself. Darry doesn’t remember telling Paul this, and Paul never says anything about it, but since that night, when they’re together, Paul has always driven a little bit slower on the highway.)
When they sneak away, the two always go to the same spot. It’s less of a spot, really, more so just a stretch of the road. There’s nothing special about it at all, but it’s pretty close to a great big oak tree that the two boys loved to sit under, especially when it starts to get too hot to sit in the car under the beaming sun. Whenever they came out, Paul’s favorite thing was to climb the tree as high he could and then call Darry a pussy until he followed (Darry always followed).
There are many oak trees in Oklahoma, let alone in Tulsa. But there’s something about this specific tree that calls them. Calms them, even. It’s this tree that they’ve bared their secrets to each other. Told parts of themselves that they’ve otherwise never shared with anyone.
This is the tree where Darry tells Paul every annoying thing his brothers did that week, and he jokingly wishes he were an only child again.
“No, you don’t,” Paul rolls his eyes with a scoff and gently pushes Darry’s shoulders. “You’d die without them.”
Darry gasps indignantly and makes a face. “I would not! What does that even mean? What are you trying to say, Holden?”
“I’m saying, Curtis , that you love those kids more than life itself. You can hardly go five minutes without bringing them up,” Paul says all this with a smile on his face that, later on, Darry would realize wasn’t entirely genuine.
In the meantime, Darry scoffs again. “I can, too!”
“Prove it.”
“How the hell am I meant to do that?”
“Tell me what you did this month without bringing up your brothers,” Paul says. It’ll be a struggle. Darry knows it, but he can do this.
“Fine. Let me think. I mailed one of my scholarship applications and sharpened my spikes because Two-Bit said that his mom told him that if you can’t cut yourself on your spikes, then what good will you be on the field? And she was right! I tried my cleats on after, and I ran so much faster, Paul. What else… Oh!” Darry talks a lot. He knows this; he’s looking out over the fields, and as he gets going, he can hardly recall why he started sharing about his month to begin with. “Oh, y’know how last week was my folks’ anniversary?”
“Mhm.”
“I told my dad not to worry about us and that I would watch the boys so he could take my mom out. My littlest, Ponyboy, he, of course, decided that night would be the perfect night to learn how to cook. Except he’s so scatterbrained, we never let him do anything. Paul,” he turns halfway around to grip Paul’s shoulders throughout this rant. He needs to know how serious Darry was about to get. “He damn near chopped his finger off. There was blood everywhere, and all this motherfucker said to me was, “Darry, I need a bandaid. I think I cut my finger.” yeah, no shit, you cut yourself, you great big oaf,” he repeats Ponyboy’s words in a high pitched imitation of his voice.
“Anyways, then my firstborn, you know Sodapop, he just ran out of the house. Who even does that?” He asks, still looking at Paul.
Instead of answering, Paul smirks at Darry and raises his eyebrow. “Three minutes.”
“Sorry?”
“You lasted three minutes without bringing up your brothers.”
Fuck. Darry protests, “That don’t hardly count!”
“It totally does! With how much you talk about them, someone might think they were your kids,” Darry is red-faced and taken aback at that. He doesn’t think he talks about the boys that much.
“Everyone talks about their siblings, Paul. Hell, you talk about Bob all the fucking time.”
“Slow down. First, he’s not my brother, he’s just a pain in my ass. Second, everybody with siblings has said at least once that they wouldn’t care if their siblings dropped dead, but wait, not you.”
“That doesn’t prove anything, dumbass; that just proves I like my brothers!”
“Oh my god, Darry, I can’t be any clearer!” Paul says it in an aggravated tone, but by how he’s fighting to keep a smile off his face, Darry knows he’s just teasing. “You refer to them as your “littles” and you literally called Sodapop your firstborn.”
He can’t really argue against that and instead slumps against Paul in defeat. Only because they’re high up in their tree, where no one can see them, does Darry not say anything when Paul runs his fingers through Darry’s hair. “Yeah, all right. I guess you’re right.”
Paul’s grip tightens, and Darry can practically hear the grin in his voice, “Say again?”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Say it again!” Paul exclaims, tugging Darry’s hair.
“ Paul !”
“Say it!”
“No chance in hell!”
“That’s okay,” Paul smiles, finally letting go of Darry. “Because I’m right, and you know it. And you better not forget it.”
“Oh, hush up. Don’t get a big head, you stupid idiot. You likely won’t be right again,” despite Paul’s protests, Darry sits up and starts climbing down the tree. “C’mon. My ma made tuna for lunch, and I left it in the front seat-“
“You left tuna in my car in this hot ass sun!” Even though they’re a considerable height off the ground, Paul decides to give Darry a heart attack and jumps from their sitting place. Thankfully, he rolls in one piece and is alright because he then books it to the car. Darry didn’t have the heart to tell him he was lying about the tuna; all he had left in that car was a turkey and cheese sandwich.
When Darry does catch up, Paul gives him a good shove that Darry can only laugh at, and they sit in the car while Darry eats his lunch. They’re quiet for a while until Paul finds a good enough radio station for their ride back to town.
It’s usually on these rides back to Tulsa that they’re tired enough to bear out their souls. That they’re tired enough to do things they wouldn’t do around others. Like how Paul always puts his right hand on Darry’s thigh on the drive back. “Dar?”
“Hm?” Darry’s leaned against his door with his eyes closed, half asleep with the feeling of the warm sun on his face.
“What are you doing afterwards?”
“I want to go home, but I got a chemistry test. I ain’t ready for it, though, so-“
“No, you dork. After this,” Paul rolls his eyes with a slight smile on his face as he instinctively squeezes Darry’s thigh.
Scrunching his brows, Darry glances at Paul. “After what?”
“Dar ry ! Can you be serious for a second?” Paul squeezes his thigh again, this time on purpose. Darry laughs and, without thinking really, grabs and interlaces their hands.
“I am serious!” Darry looks away and mutters, “The sun felt good, though, and I’m tired as hell.”
Paul rolls his eyes again and goes to rub his forehead in exasperation. He stops as if he’s remembering something, and the tips of his ears turn pink. Darry can easily recall that fun fact because it used to be his favorite feature on Paul. He can also remember it clearly because when Paul asked the question again, Darry’s favorite song started playing on the radio.
He can remember freezing in his seat when everything clicked into place. Darry’s always been a sucker for love songs. It’s not real tough or nothin’, but he’s always adored the idea of loving someone so much you wanted to immortalize that love in a song. He’s never really felt a love that deep, not romantically, but having grown up watching his parents, he couldn’t wait for it to be his turn to find a love like that.
The point is, he’s listened to love songs a lot. This time, however, sitting and holding hands with Paul on such a nice day, when Paul looks at him like Darry painted the stars? Darry finally understands why his mama asks if he’d been out with some filly when he comes home from hanging out with Paul.
The thing is, though, he knows he loves Paul. How could he not? Paul’s been the main thing keeping him going these days; the thought of these spring outings with just the two of them is something he eagerly awaits every year. So, his loving Paul isn’t the thing that clicked because he’s known that for a long time now.
But Darry’s not totally sure he’d make a song for Paul, and that’s the problem. The way Paul pulled over to the side of the highway to give Darry his full attention. The way Paul keeps their hands clasped but makes sure they are still on Darry’s thigh, as if he needs to touch every part of Darry he can. He’s not too sure how this best friend shit works, but Darry’s fairly sure most aren’t holding hands and touching each other’s thighs. He’s pretty positive that’s a relationship thing. That’s the last thing that clicks.
Paul has a crush on Darry.
And that breaks his heart. It still breaks his heart to this day because Darry thinks if he hadn’t been so broken, he might’ve been able to like Paul back and would’ve enjoyed it even more.
Darry cleared his throat. “After this? After high school, right?”
Paul’s turned with his back facing the driver’s door and has his feet in his lap. “Yeah, man,” One hand props his chin up while the other rubs gentle circles into the back of Darry’s hand. In the quietest voice he can, Darry thinks Paul might be a really good person to like.
“College, hopefully.” One thing Darry loved about Paul was how he didn’t have to hide that hope. Paul never made him feel like a greaser; he never made Darry feel like less. Darry looks away from Paul for a second, fighting back a grin. “I mean, that Juco in El Reno did offer to sign me right before graduation-“
“Darrel, are you serious? Holy shit!” Darry remembers wanting to take a picture of Paul’s wide-eyed look and enormous grin. Paul hardly ever got that excited those days and Darry knew, even then, he would miss it.
Back then, it was easy to forget that even with the signing and the nice scholarship that would come with it, his family just didn’t have enough for him to go to El Reno. At the time, it was alright, though, because he had Paul excitedly squeezing his hand and jumping in his seat, already making plans for their first year at college.
Darry can remember thinking to himself, when they finally started driving back home again, that if this is what romantic love feels like, then maybe it won’t be so hard to make himself like Paul back.
They’ve been out way longer than they meant to, but it didn’t matter much because Paul’s favorite song came on the radio, and he let go of the wheel to turn it up — why he didn’t just let go of Darry’s hand, he’ll never know — as he stepped on the gas. By the time they return to Tulsa, the sun will be getting ready to set, but that’s all right because Darry’s always liked watching the sunset with Paul at his side.