Chapter Text
Bob gulped. He stood outside of the Curtis’ household with his luggage. He had to go and live with them for a few months, just till he turned 18. He knew Darrel only agreed because he was getting payed for it.
Bob watched as the social workers knocked on the front door. Darrel opened it. Bob grabbed his bags, and walked up there.
“Hello, robert.” Darrel greeted. Bob nodded his head. He felt so out of his element. Of course Darrel knew about the abuse Bob went through. The social workers and Darrel were the only people who knew.
Bob just pushed inside. He shouldn’t be nice to Darrel. He had to be tough, to show he wasn’t scared. The stupid therapist he was required to have said something about “ptsd” but Bob didn’t have that. He didn’t fight in a war.
He went inside of the living room, where pretty much the entire gang was. Save for Johnny Cade and Dallas Winston, who both were at the hospital. Neither of them were Dead, but Johnny was injured, and Dallas was there for him.
Darrel laid a hand on Bob’s shoulder, who slightly flinched in turn. He hadn’t meant to flinch, but he just couldn’t help himself.
“Why does he have to stay here again?” Sodapop asked, seemingly annoyed. He was holding Ponyboy protectively.
“Because, the government’ll pay us if we take him in for a few months. That’s the only reason.” Darrel said sternly. Darrel didnt really feel bad for Bob. Bob almost killed Johnny and Ponyboy.
Darrel led Bob into Sodapop’s old, unused bedroom.
“You’ll stay here for the next few months. Don’t cause any problems, and stay away from my kid brothers, and it’ll all be fine.” Darrel shrugged, and walked off.
Bob went inside the room, shutting the locking the door. He didn’t need coddling or love anyway. He grew up without either of those things. Why would he suddenly require them?
Cherry had tried to give him love, to treat him as if he were fragile and needed to be cared for. He had only pushed her away. Now, they were broken up.
Bob pulled out his blanket and pillow, and laid down on the bed. It wasn’t as soft of a mattress as his old one, but it was fine. He curled up, staring at the wall. He felt empty. He had been abused, but nobody knew.
If he acted out, it was blamed on him being a Soc. The greasers all thought he had a loving home. They all believed, he was just a snobby rich kid.
Maybe that was true, but Bob really just wanted to get out of this shitty town, and start a life for himself. Hopefully one day he would. The exhaustion of the day took over, and Bob decided to shut his eyes, and let sleep overtake him.
Out in the kitchen, Darry stirred a pot of pasta. He was thinking about the 17 year old in the bedroom. Bob was a prick, but how could a Soc have abusive parents?
Darry didn’t believe that could be true. Paul had a dysfunctional family. They fought a ton, but he never thought they would physically harm their kids.
“Dallas!” Ponyboy called from the kitchen, running up to the front door to say hi. Dallas had change a bit too. He was more protective, but also softer.
“Is it fucking true,” Dallas said as he stormed into the kitchen. “You’re fosterin’ Bob!? Fuckin’ Bob? I get ya need the money, Darrel. But him?” Dallas snarled, pushing Darry to face him.
Darrel sighed. He expected this reaction out of Dally.
“I know, I ain’t happy bout it. But the states payin’ good money to let him stay here.” Darrel spoke calmly. “I won’t let him around Johnny or Pony.”
Dallas grunted, and walked off. Going to the living room. Darrel sighed, and got back to stirring.
“He’s so set on this idea of lettin’ that.. Soc stay here. Why?” Dallas grumbled, sitting down on the couch.
Sodapop shrugged, dealing the cards out to Steve and Two-bit.
“Darry needs the money to pay off you and Johnnys- oh, an ponyboy’s hospital bills. Let him stay here, he’s almost 18 anyway.” Soda said, hoping to reason with Dallas.
“Oh, fuck. I forgot about that..” Dallas mumbled. He felt bad. Darrel shouldnt have to pay all of those himself.
It was an oddly quiet night in the Curtis residence. For once.
None of the greasers had ever expected a Soc to stay with them, and only Darrel knew why.
Ponyboy stood up, and with the idea of going to bed. Though, he couldn’t help but peek inside of the room where Bob was asleep.
Ponyboy opened the door, and stuck his head in. It was completely dark. Pony couldn’t see anything, besides a lump under the covers.
Ponyboy shrugged, and shut the door. Going into his and Soda’s bedroom.
From inside the other bedroom, Bob was curled into a tight ball. A hand covered his mouth, as he tried to muffle his cries.
He was 17 going on 18. He shouldn’t be waking up from a nightmare and crying over it. It was just a dream, it couldn’t even hurt him.
Bob knew where he was. In the Curtis’ house. In a bed. He was safe, so why did he feel like he was dying?
Bob closed his eyes again, and tried to fall back asleep. This was going to be a long couple of months.