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It’s been a hard 3 weeks for Ponyboy. 3 weeks since Johnny died, 3 weeks of nothing but hatred for the world. Ponyboy has never felt less like himself in his whole life. Each day blends into one, days filled with empty stares to paint chipped walls. Now, he knows Johnny is dead, he does. He’s known all along but it’s better to pretend. Pretend that he’s coming back; that it’s all in his head.
Sodapop has been sleeping next to an empty shell of a boy for too long now. Everybody thought that Pony would have at least tried to pull himself out of his own head, but alas, he hasn’t. The futile attempts from the gang led to a ban on visits to the home. It pains Darry and Soda to shut out their friends but when it comes to Pony, they’d do anything.
Anything clearly isn’t enough, they’ve tried it all to get Pony to say a word. Just one word. Yet, radio silence. The youngest has had one shower since the passing of Johnny, a forced shower at that. He has had maybe four mouthfuls of food in these three weeks before pushing his plate away and scurrying off to sulk in his room.
Ponyboy hears a gentle knock to the bedroom door as he lights up his third cigarette in a row. He doesn’t answer but Soda pops his head through the door anyways, “Hey, kid. Dinner is ready when you are.” It feels as if anyone raises their voice over a soft murmur Pony would evaporate. The only answer Soda gets is a blank stare when Pony turns around.
Soda sighs but leaves without another word.
A minute or so after Soda leaves, Ponyboy can’t keep track of time anymore, there’s quiet, hushed, arguing from the kitchen, “He cant keep living like this, Soda.”
Darry’s voice picks up ever so slightly,
“Just give ‘im time-“ The soft voice of Soda gets interrupted,
“There won’t be much more time if this is how he keeps on. The truth hurts and he needs to hear it. That’s final.”
Ponyboy tunes out the rest of the conversation and butts out the cigarette on a mug placed on the desk.
Darry calls for Ponyboy to come to the living room, Ponyboy doesn’t even think about moving.
The heavy footsteps that belong to Darry march over to his room, “You listen to me and you listen well, bud. You will come and eat with us, like it or not.” Pony turns to face him, his eyes a void of emotion. Darry’s eyes roam his frail body before walking up to be right infront of him.
Darry tugs him up with a slight struggle before grabbing his wrist in a firm but gentle hold. Ponyboy doesn’t have the energy to
shake him off as he drags him to the kitchen and pulls out a chair for him at the table.
A minute of staring passes by before a gentle nudge from Soda sits him down. The smell of the food at the table makes his throat yearn. He’s starving- he can’t eat.
As if Darry reads his mind he says pointedly as he sits down, “You’re eating damn every bit of that.” He points at Pony’s plate with his fork,
“Eat what you can,” Soda corrects with kind, welcoming eyes. The scoff that leaves Darry’s mouth is enough for Soda to stare down at his plate and start filling his own mouth with food.
Pony doesn’t move. He stares down at his food, it’s taunting him really. Darry can’t actually believe that Pony deserves to eat. You know who deserves to be eating this meal? Johnny does.
“Do I need’a feed you like a baby? I said you’re eating it all, on with you.” Darry’s voice raises above the chewing of Soda. Pony picks his head up and stares into Darry’s eyes.
“I’m being serious, i’ll spoon feed you, kid. You see how skinny you’re gettin’? I ain’t making all this food everyday just for you to cause a fuss. Eat.” Pony’s sigh makes the room fall into a rare silence. That sigh is the loudest thing they’ve heard from Pony since Johnny.
Pony picks up his fork as Soda holds his breath. The clacking of his fork against plate is deafening as Pony prods at his food like its offended him. He moves stuff about, picks it up then places it down. A whole five minutes of this before a harsh slam of hands meets the table before Darry stands up,
“Ponyboy this is stopping today. All of this bullshit, done,” he starts, his anger doesn’t match his eyes, his eyes filled with worry and almost defeat.
“Johnny is dead. Forever. You think he’d want you livin’ like this, huh?” His voice picks up to a near shout. Pony flinches away from the sound but brings his eyes to Soda.
“Darry… I think you’re-“ One look from Darry changes his tune real fast, “Listen, Pone, he’s right. You don’t just quit your life because something is lost.”
Since Soda isn’t defending him he stares back at Darry, “You don’t get it.”
Pony’s voice is quiet, a slight rasp considering his complete lack of words for the last couple of weeks. Despite the bleak sound of his voice a grin evolves on Sodas face. Darry keeps his cards to himself and shakes his head,
“You’re right, I don’t. But what I do get is that you’re eating, and you’re doing it now.” An exasperated sigh falls from Pony’s mouth but he scoops up some peas and puts them in his salivating mouth. He’s going to be sick.
Pony pushes away from the table to leave but Darry rounds the table in an instant. With the looming form of Darry behind him he has no choice but to stay.
“Eat up, Ponyboy,” Darry’s voice is gentle this time, “Please.” Pony can’t remember the last time Darry has said please. Something about that makes tears form in his eyes. He blinks them back before shoving more peas into his mouth.
“Have some chicken, you need it.” Soda’s voice chimes in after the eldest brothers exchange silent words above Pony’s head.
Try some chicken he does. God, it’s good. Now that he’s started he can’t stop. He barely takes time to breathe as he shovels more and more food into his mouth.
Nobody stops him. They can save him if he chokes, not if he starves. Darry doesn’t finish his meal, his spot standing behind Pony seeming far more important. The two dishes that are swiped clean from food are being shoved into the sink and the leftovers from Darry are put into the fridge.
Pony only moves from his spot at the table when Soda gently coaxes him to stand and move to the living room.
They relax into the couch as Soda sticks on a film. Darry comes in a moment later and sits in between the tension of Pony and Soda.
“You’re back to school next week.” Darry breaks the silence, bar from the film. Pony shrugs and bites at his ever shortening nails.
“Kid, you need to do something about all this,” Soda’s soft voice takes a more firm approach, “No more wallowing in self pity and grief all day. We all lost people that day, not just you. Life moves on and you have to as well.”
Pony knows they lost someone. But they didn’t lose the one. The one who knew all there was to know about him. The one that would be able to get him out of this slump.
All of it was his fault. All of it. Pony deserves the shame and self pity he rains among himself.
“We can’t let you float around no more.” Darry throws an arm around Pony and Soda’s shoulder, tugging them close.
“Hate it or not, this is the best for you, kid.” A hum of agreement falls from Soda’s mouth. For some reason this is the moment he chooses to let the dam, that has taken over his eyes, break.
“Oh, buddy.” The gentle words from Soda make it all worse. What is he doing? The loss of Johnny is causing the loss of Pony. Pony can’t let his brothers lose something else. It’d be selfish.
Pony clutches onto his brothers, his tears cause Darry’s black shirt to turn damn from where Pony’s face is pressed against it.
“‘M sorry, wasn’t thinking.” A sob chokes out of Pony’s dry throat.
“Shh, we have you. We’ll help you think.” Soda coos out. Normally Pony hates the babying from his elders but today; today he craves it.
The tender moment falls into a fit of giggles as Darry’s gruff voice cuts through, “And you really gotta shower,” he shakes his head, “I love you but you stink.”
—
The days are easier now. One by one he does it. With the help of his brothers, of course.
A long day of school leads to Pony flopping face first onto the couch. Soda, hearing Pony come home, appears from the bedroom and shakes his head, “You’ve got homework, up.”
Pony groans and lifts his head up, “You don’t know that, maybe my schedule is free.”
Soda raises a brow right as Darry enters their house, “Wanna take it up with Darry?”
“Take what up with Darry?” He huffs as he takes off his big shoes. He stands with a pop of his hip.
“The topic of our sweet little brother doing his hom-“
“Get it done.” Is the only thing Darry says before heading off to shower. His exit leaves both Soda and Pony in a fit of giggles.
Yeah, this is what living is for