Chapter Text
I never meant to hear it.
I was just walking back from the kitchen, a cold Coke in my hand, ready to sit back down on the couch like always. I wasn’t even thinking about much, just the way the condensation dripped down the side of the glass bottle, cool against my fingers. But then I heard my name.
I should’ve just kept walking. Should’ve cleared my throat, slammed the fridge door a little louder, something. But I didn’t.
I stopped just outside the living room, hidden by the wall.
“I’m just sayin’,” Two-Bit’s voice was easy, like he wasn’t saying anything that mattered. “Pony’s a good kid and all, but sometimes he’s a real pain to be around.”
A laugh. Steve. “You got that right. He never shuts up about books and movies. Always got somethin’ to say, like he thinks he’s smarter than everyone.”
My stomach twisted, and my fingers tightened around the Coke bottle.
“He does think he’s smarter than everyone,” Dally cut in, his voice sharp, amused. “It’s real damn obnoxious.”
I sucked in a breath, pressing my back against the wall. Maybe this was a joke. Maybe they were just messing around, talking the way guys do. But then Soda spoke, and my chest squeezed tight.
“It’s not like that,” he said, but even he sounded tired. “He doesn’t mean to be annoying. It’s just… he don’t know when to quit sometimes. Always followin’ us around, always talkin’ about stuff no one cares about. It gets old.”
Tagalong. Annoying. Obnoxious.
Dally let out a short laugh. “Kid’s tiring, man. I don’t know how you live with him.”
And then Darry—my big brother, the one who was always on me about everything, the one I tried so damn hard to impress—sighed. Like they were all saying something he’d been thinking all along.
“I love him,” Darry said, and for a second, I almost let myself believe it was okay. That it didn’t matter. But then he kept talking.
“But they’re not wrong.”
My throat burned.
I turned before I could hear more, before Johnny could chime in—even though he wouldn’t, even though he never said much about anything. But he didn’t defend me either.
No one did.
I slipped down the hall and into my room, shutting the door behind me as quietly as I could. The Coke bottle was still in my hand, the liquid inside warm now, untouched. I set it down on my nightstand and sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the floor.
They didn’t want me around.
They put up with me because they had to. Because I was Soda’s little brother, because I was part of the gang. But it wasn’t real. They didn’t like me. Not the way I thought they did.
I rubbed at my eyes, swallowing down the lump in my throat.
They didn’t want me around.
Fine.
I wouldn’t be.