Work Text:
“I know you know who I am.”
Ponyboy felt sick to his stomach. He stumbled through the street, disoriented and hazed. It was the middle of the night, shops closed and streetlights on. Ponyboy clutched the paper wrapped bottle in his hand, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. How did it come to this? As he walked the streets, Pony could hear a deep sound of the plucking of low guitar strings. But he knew it wasn’t real. He knew.
“No,” Ponyboy said, voice groveling and breath heavy. His eyes struggled to stay open. He knew that voice perfectly. The voice he grew up listening to. The voice of reason. The voice he hadn’t heard in over four years. It was Johnny Cade.
“I know you know who I am.”
Johnny’s voice cradled Ponyboy, a breath of fresh air on an otherwise terrible night. Ponyboy had gotten into another fight. He couldn’t even remember the damn reason. All he knew was that he pissed off the wrong crowd, and, just like that, he was left with a black eye and a bloody nose. Pony took another giant swig from the bottle in his hand. He hated drinking. He could never understand why Two-Bit liked drinking so much, it didn’t even taste good. But what he hated most about drinking wasn’t the taste. It was how he could never stop after he started. He always swore to Darry that he wouldn’t push the limits with alcohol in college, but it’s not like Darry needed to know.
“Can’t you just leave me alone?” Pony’s voice sounded desperate. He really did need to be alone right now. He knew that Johnny would’ve hated seeing him like this, all disheveled and little. Ponyboy never really got over Johnny’s death. It destroyed him, completely changed him. After Johnny’s death, he didn’t do anything. For months, he constantly skipped meals, he missed school, he wouldn’t come home at night, he wasn’t him anymore. Ponyboy quit the track team, and on the few days of the week he did go to school, he would sleep in class or wander the halls. He even passed out a few times from his lack of eating and drinking. Darry and Soda were worried sick. They had no idea what to do. They tried to make conversation with him, but they were often left with no response. Even at night, when Pony and Soda used to have their deepest conversations, Pony only stared at the ceiling now, sleeping no more than two or three hours a night. Either that or he would sleep all day. Ponyboy lost the motivation to do anything and everything. He didn’t even hang out with the other Greasers anymore. Two-Bit and Ace would sometimes check up on him at his window, Steve at the door dropping Soda home from work, but he would only ever mumble a “hi” back before closing his door or window. He had no idea what even happened to Dallas Winston. After Johnny died on that damn hospital bed, Dally jumped on that next freight train out of Tulsa and booked it away. No one had seen him since. Johnny’s death shattered Ponyboy’s soul and spirit into a million pieces. Worst of all, Johnny never left Pony’s head. Even four years later, Johnny was constantly with Ponyboy, as if he was really there. Johnny would talk to him, give him advice, whisper things in his ear. He knew it wasn’t real, but sometimes he really had to make sure. One time, when Ponyboy was fifteen, Soda and Darry had to rush him to the hospital in the middle of the night after he jumped off the roof of the house. He was convinced that Johnny had told him that it was the only way to be together again. Thankfully, the house wasn’t high enough and Ponyboy only broke an arm, but Darry and Soda had never been so scared in their lives. That day was the only time that Ponyboy had seen Darry cry, besides the death of their parents. His brothers knew how close Johnny and Ponyboy were, but they had no idea that Johnny controlled this much of Ponyboy’s life. After that incident, Darry and Soda made sure to keep an extremely close eye on everything that Ponyboy did. Darry almost didn’t want to send him to college anymore, afraid that something like that would happen again and he wouldn’t be there to help. Pony had promised him that it wouldn’t and that he knew the difference between what was real and what was fake, so then why was Johnny right next to him?
“I know you know who I am.”
Johnny approached Ponyboy, wrapping his arms around Ponyboy’s shoulders from behind. Pony could feel Johnny’s breathing by his neck. Johnny’s breath wasn’t warm like it should’ve been, but it was icy cold, sending shivers down Pony’s back. Johnny’s grasp felt so comforting to Pony, but he knew it wasn’t real. None of this was real. It hadn’t been real since that day in that hospital after the rumble, but even then, it hadn’t really been real. Ponyboy hadn’t really been real since before that day. The last time that Ponyboy really, truly, felt like a genuine, real person was those days in that church on Jay Mountain, when him and Johnny watched the sunrise and Pony recited that poem. That was the last time that Ponyboy Curtis really felt real. Ponyboy closed his eyes and exhaled, his breath trembling. He could feel Johnny so close to him. Pony’s brain felt like it was split in two. One side knew he was hallucinating his dead friend, but the other side knew that Johnny was really still alive. This constant fighting in his own head had gotten so bad to the point where he didn’t know anything anymore. He felt his eyes water, letting go of the bottle in his hand to wipe them, the bottle shattering below him. “Why did you have to come with me?”
Johnny moved in front of Ponyboy and took his hands. He squeezed them tight. “Cuz I’m holding on,” he smiled sweetly.
“Let me go,” Ponyboy pleaded. Johnny pulled him into another hug.
“And I won’t let go,” Johnny continued. Ponyboy couldn’t help but hug him back. He missed this feeling so much. But something inside of him was fighting. He pushed Johnny back, tripping back over himself and falling onto the asphalt.
“Let me go!” He looked up. Johnny stood there, looking down at him. He hated that Johnny was seeing him like this. He looked at the puddle of alcohol and glass by his side and saw his reflection. He hated seeing himself like this. His face was bloodied and drenched in a cold sweat, his throat coated in the horrible taste of whiskey, his jeans torn at the knees and his hands frigid. Ponyboy sighed in defeat. He was never going to get better. He shuffled his position until he was sitting against the curb, knees up and head buried in his arms. He felt Johnny sit down on the curb next to him. He moved towards Johnny to try and lean his body on his legs, but he fell right through and hit the ground. He looked at Johnny, who looked unfazed. It was as if Ponyboy was the only person in the world who wasn’t truly sure that Johnny was gone. Even Johnny knew. Ponyboy pushed himself away from Johnny. He got up and moved away from him, only to be followed by his friend.
“I want you to know,” Johnny began. No matter where Ponyboy tried to go, Johnny was able to find him again. Ponyboy was tired. He was tired of running. He had been running for over four damn years, ever since he ran out of that hospital room, he had never stopped running. He was so tired. He just wanted everything to be over. He turned back to face Johnny, who smiled sweetly at him. “I am the one who held you, I am the one who cried,” Johnny said as he got closer and closer.
“I am the one who watched you as you di-” Ponyboy responded, only to be stopped by Johnny, who put his hand over Pony’s mouth.
“I am the one who loved you,” Johnny said, his face close to Pony’s. He moved his hand away from Pony’s mouth and cupped it around his cheek.
“I tried pretending that I don’t give a damn,” Ponyboy said weakly, the tears in his eyes returning. He closed his eyes and leaned his face into Johnny's hand. He thought about the past few years. How he’d try to ignore Johnny, pretend like he wasn’t there in the corner of his eye.
“But you’ve always known who I am,” Johnny responded. Ponyboy looked at him. He stared for a few seconds. Johnny still looked the same. The same dark curly hair, the same tan skin, the same golden eyes. He wanted to see it all for real again. He wanted to feel real again. Ponyboy got up. He slowly stumbled through the streets of his college campus. Johnny didn’t follow him. Pony continued to follow the road until he reached a river, the two ends connected by a bridge. He walked onto the bridge and stopped in the middle. He climbed onto the parapet and looked down. The water below was nothing more than a black void. Ponyboy took a deep breath. He couldn’t think about anything else but Johnny. Not about his friends, not about Soda or Darry, not even about his parents or himself. All he could think about was Johnny Cade. He closed his eyes and fell forward.
—
Ponyboy opened his eyes. It was bright. He looked around, his eyes still adjusting to the light. In the distance, he saw a blurry silhouette. He walked towards it, the figure coming closer. As he neared the person and slowed down, he felt a warmth in his heart.
“Johnny,” Ponyboy smiled. He hadn’t been able to smile for a long time. This was it. This was his friend. His best friend. His…
“Hi, Ponyboy,” Johnny warmly smiled back.