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The blood rushed to his ears, and he was so hot he was almost cold. The fire crackled around him, burning the foundation of the church slowly. Dally was outside of the lit building, cursing him and Johnny for being idiots, but he couldn't hear what he was saying. Those kids were more important. No matter how scared Pony was, how terrified he could've been, he wasn't gonna let Johnny nor these kids burn. So he shoved Johnny towards the window, telling him quickly to get out. After Johnny, he pushed the last kid out. Johnny was trying to reach in and pull him through the window, but a burning slab of wood came down on his face and sent him into a coughing fit on the ground.
Dally rushed in, but it was too late. The roof came crashing down, hitting Ponyboy's back as he tried to make it out. He was scared. Everything was so so loud, and it all hurt so bad. Sounds, lights, his body. It all made him ache, so he let the darkness succumb to him. Just so he wouldn't have to feel those awful things any longer. Anything and everything that came after was nothing short of a blur. He couldn't hear the sirens, and couldn't register what was happening as he was being put into an ambulance. He couldn't register life in general. He couldn't even see anything other than black, dark, nothing. Like he was thrust into an eternal sleep.
The next time he awoke, he found he was in immense pain. He hadn't expected any of that to happen, and he wondered briefly what happened to Dally and Johnny after the incident. His thoughts were cut short as a sharp pain-- almost phantom-- shot down his back. He couldn't exactly feel anything lower than the middle of his back, and he was;t exactly sure how the hell he was feeling pains from there, but he knew that they were there, and they hurt worse than anything he'd ever felt before.
The pain meds the nurses gave him didn't do much, because they were phantom pains, and as quick as they came, they were gone again. He knew they'd come back again, life was never that easy for him. They would never be gone just like that without coming back twice as bad. And, well, he was correct. The next time they came, it was twice as painful as before. Johnny was visiting him, and he was okay, much to Ponyboy's delight.
Johnny told him that Dally was gonna be fine, just a badly burned arm and maybe a couple of other burns, but other than that, he would be okay. Johnny told him about the rumble, and how he didn't think the fight would do anything, but he was gonna do it for Pony. Because he knew Pony would love to be a part of it, and probably would if he wasn't bedridden. Pony almost cried when he heard this from Johnny because it meant that Johnny cared.
Later that night, Pony just kept getting worse and worse. His condition was bad already, but it was 10 times worse than this morning when Johnny and Two visited. He found himself thinking, again. Because when wasn't he? He was always thinking. He thought of those days in the church, the card games, the friendly cuddles and just basking in the silence because they were scared and young and the best thing that ever happened to each other, and gone with the wind. He thought about everything. The night of the church burning down, when he woke up and saw Darry and Sodapop next to his hospital bed, in the same conditions they were when their parents died, and realized maybe Darry never really hated him. He just cared too much and loved too hard, and it ended up coming out as anger. But he just loved Ponyboy. And Pony sat there crying with them because he knew he wouldn't get better, deep down. He knew, he just didn't want to accept it, not yet. He couldn't bear the fact that he was leaving Darry and Soda just like their parents.
Johnny, Dally, and the rest of the gang rushed in to interrupt his thoughts. They looked beat up, and they were out of breath, and Ponyboy was so damn tired but he was happy they were here. Seeing the triumphant looks on all of their faces, he knew they had won the rumble. Of course they did, it was for Ponyboy. They were all so excited, but their spirits couldn't help but be crushed at the sight of the young greaser, so pale on the bed, trying to force a smile when he was in so much pain.
He was gone as quickly as they could all blink. He was clinging to life, only being able to mumble a few words that no one could hear, but then his eyes shut, and his body went frigid, and his mouth went agape, and everyone could tell that he was dead.
They all knew it was coming. They just didn't register that it would happen this fast. Losing someone has that sort of vacant feeling. They were alive, there, bright, gold just moments before, and now when you look at them all you see is blue and dark colors and no emotion behind their features. Darry tried to tell himself that he was just sleeping. The pain got too much, he just needed sleep. Even as the ringing of the heart monitor sounded throughout the room as his pulse went to zero, Darry, and everyone else in the room, tried to convince themselves he wasn't dead, he was just sleeping. The peaceful kind of sleep everyone knew he needed because this poor-- barely 14-year-old-- boy had already been through so much, and he needed the break. Even if it was a permanent one.
His body was cold, frozen, unmoving. It seemed uncanny. Because before, this kid could never stop moving. The casket wasn't colorful or fancy, it was something they could barely scrape together. His gravestone was cheap, and so was the funeral. Darry had hot tears running down his face as he stared down at his little brother, who no longer had his life. It was stripped from him way too early, and it wasn't fair for anyone. The gang felt different. It was quieter, Sodapop wasn't as reckless or fun-loving, Johnny and Dally didn't come around a lot, Two-bit was still cracking jokes, but they seemed as dull and dead as his dead friend who died way too young, and Steve was angry a lot. Darry was less angry now. He felt like he was angry all the time before Ponyboy died, but now he was just solemn, and quiet, trying to keep everything together.
Pony felt like the glue keeping so many things in place. He was quiet and sensitive. He liked movies, Paul Newman, books, sunsets, sunrises, literature, his friends, school, and writing. He was a gentle soul, Johnny's other half, like everyone's kid brother. He was a buffer to all the violent things around him, and he was so different from everyone else, that it felt like he was the structure of the gang. And with him, and all that childhood youth and dawn and gold, everything felt eerie and quiet like at the end of a sunset when the moon is up and everything is too quiet and dark and you can hear the owls hooting and wolves howling and crickets chirping. Everything is colorless and dull, losing its gold. Just like Ponyboy lost his.