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Sodapop woke up drenched in sweat. It was unsettling – he was used to nightmares, but not his own. Usually, it was Pony who woke him in the middle of the night, shaking or screaming, needing comfort.
He lay still for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. To his right, Pony was curled against him, tucked neatly under Soda’s arm like always. Normally, the sight would’ve made Soda smile, maybe even coo a little at how small and safe the kid looked. But tonight, the tight knot in his chest refused to loosen. The dream still clung to him like fog – fuzzy at the edges, but heavy. He couldn’t remember the details, only that something terrible had happened to his brothers. Just thinking about it made his stomach turn.
Carefully, Soda peeled himself away from Pony’s sleeping form, moving slowly so he wouldn’t wake him. He needed water. Or something warm. Something steady. Maybe hot chocolate.
He padded down the hallway barefoot. He expected the house to be silent, but the soft glow coming from the kitchen surprised him. The light was on.
Darry was at the dining table, hunched over a sea of paperwork and bills. His head was resting in one hand, propped up by his elbow. He looked exhausted, like he'd been sitting there for hours.
Soda tried to be quiet as he stepped into the kitchen, but Darry noticed him anyway.
“Hey, baby,” his voice low and tired, eyes still fixated on the bills. “You have a nightmare?”
“Yeah,” Soda muttered, his voice rough and cracked from sleep. Darry looked up immediately, looking surprised at first before his eyes narrowed as he took in his little brother’s face.
“Pepsi?” he asked, concern pulling at his brow. His voice dropped even lower, more serious now. “What happened?”
Soda shook his head as he leaned against the doorway. “I dunno,” he shrugged. “Can’t remember. It was bad, though. ‘Bout you and Pony. Woke up sweatin’.”
“Oh,” Darry said after a beat. He shifted in his chair, like he was trying to find the right thing to say and came up empty. “That’s, uh. That sounds rough.”
Soda gave a small, humorless huff. “Yeah, no kiddin’.”
Darry rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at the mess of paperwork in front of him like it might offer advice. “You, uh, want some water or somethin’? I could make you some, maybe some milk? Or tea? I think there’s cocoa in the pantry, somewhere.”
Soda’s mouth twitched into something half-smile, half-sigh. “You don’t gotta do all that.”
“I know,” Darry said quickly. “Just figured, y’know. In case you wanted it. Might help.”
“I think I mostly just wanted to see you.”
That stopped Darry cold.
“Oh,” His voice was smaller this time. “Well. I’m here.”
Soda moved into the kitchen and slid into the seat across from him. For a moment, the only sound was the hum of the fridge.
“You look like hell,” Soda said, nodding toward the stack of papers. “How long you been sittin’ there?”
Darry glanced at the clock like he hadn’t realized time was passing. “I dunno. A while.”
Soda looked at him – really looked. The shadows under Darry’s eyes were deeper than usual. His shoulders hunched more. The strong, steady figure Soda always relied on looked tired. Like he’d been holding the whole world up too long.
“You losin’ sleep over bills now?” Soda asked gently.
Darry gave a breathy laugh and ran a hand down his face. “I dunno if I’d call it losin’ sleep. Just thinkin’. Keepin’ track. Tryin’ to keep everything from fallin apart, you know?”
“Yeah,” Soda said. “I do.”
There was another pause. Darry tapped a pen against a receipt. Soda watched him fidget, something stiff and unspoken between them.
“I don’t really know how to do this,” Darry admitted, not looking up. His fingers kept fidgeting with the pen. “I mean, I’m tryin’. I really am. But you and Pony always seem to...”
His voice trailed off, stuck in the quiet.
Soda waited.
“I dunno,” Darry said finally. “You guys get each other. Like there’s this whole world you live in that I can’t get into. And I’m just over here tryin’ to keep the lights on and make sure nobody starves. Tryin’ to make sure we don’t fall apart.”
Soda’s chest ached at the honesty in his brother’s voice. He could see how hard it was for Darry to say it, how foreign vulnerability still felt to him.
“You think that’s not part of it?” Soda asked softly. “Keepin’ the lights on? Keepin’ us fed? You think we don’t see that?”
Darry gave a weak shrug. “I guess I hope you do. But sometimes it feels like I’m more manager than brother. Like all I do is bark orders and pay bills and get in the way.”
“You don’t get in the way, D,” Soda said, leaning forward. “You hold everything together.”
Darry finally looked up at that. His eyes were tired, guarded. “I don’t always know how to show it, Soda. How to say things right. You and Pony, you're good at that stuff. I’m not.”
“You don’t have to be,” Soda said, voice gentle. “You just gotta be here. That’s what we need most.”
Darry’s eyes flicked away again, like he couldn’t hold Soda’s gaze for long without something cracking open. “I dunno. You’re scared, and I can’t even comfort you properly.”
“You’re comforting me right now,” Soda said quietly.
Darry snorted, not mean, just doubtful. “By sittin’ here like an idiot and talkin’ about bills?”
“Yeah. By sittin’ here and tryin’,” Soda said, a little more firmly now. “By not brushin’ me off. By admitting you don’t know what to do. That counts, D. Y'think I need some perfect speech? I don’t. I just need you . ”
Darry let out a breath and leaned back in his chair. His arms crossed over his chest, like he needed to hold himself together.
“I’m ‘sposed to be the one who knows what he’s doing,” he said. “You ain’t ‘sposed to be up in the middle of the night lookin’ for help from your older brother and findin’... this.” He gestured at himself.
Soda gave a half-smile. “Darry, nobody expects you to be bulletproof.”
Darry didn’t answer at first. He was still staring down at the table, his jaw clenched, like he was fighting something inside him he didn’t know how to name.
Then he said, quietly, “I just don’t wanna mess this up. You and Pony, you’re all I got.”
Soda’s heart cracked a little at that. He could hear the rawness in Darry’s voice, the way it scraped against his throat like it hadn’t been used in a long time for something so soft.
“You’re all I got too, D,” Soda rasped, voice catching in his chest.
Darry shook his head like he couldn’t let himself believe that. “That ain’t true. You got Steve.”
Soda let out a breath, almost a laugh, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “You got Two-Bit.”
Darry met his eyes, his expression tight. “It ain’t the same. You guys, you and Pony, you’re my everythin’, okay?” His voice wavered, like it wasn’t used to carrying so much feeling. “I know I don’t say it, but it’s true.”
The words looked like they hurt to say. Like each one stuck to his tongue and dragged its weight out with it. Soda could see how hard Darry was trying, how much effort it took just to be this open, even now, even with him.
“I know, Darry,” Soda said gently. “I do. I’ve always known.”
Darry looked down, rubbed a hand across his face like he was ashamed for letting any of it slip out.
Soda didn’t let him retreat. “Hey,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “You don’t gotta hide that from me. I ain't gonna think less of you ‘cause you care.”
“I don’t know how to say this stuff,” Darry admitted again, words muffled through his hand. “It always – always comes out wrong.”
Soda reached across the table again, more intentional this time. He rested his hand on Darry’s, grounding him. “It didn’t. Not this time.”
Darry finally looked at him, and for once, he let it show – just a flicker of how tired he was, how much pressure he put on himself to keep it all together. “Let me make you a hot chocolate, that sound good?”
Soda blinked, caught off guard by the shift. But then he smiled, because he knew what Darry really meant. Let me do something. Let me take care of you. This is the only way I know how.
“Yeah,” Soda said, voice low. “That sounds real good.”
Darry got up stiffly from the chair, like his body had just remembered how tired it was. He moved around the kitchen with practiced familiarity, pulling down the cocoa tin, filling the kettle, setting mugs on the counter. Soda stayed at the table, watching him.
It wasn’t just about the hot chocolate. It was never just that.
It was Darry’s way of saying I want to help, even if I don’t have the words.
“Mini marshmallows?” Darry asked after a moment, glancing over his shoulder.
Soda grinned. “You serious?”
Darry shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes. “Figure I oughta do it right.”
Soda laughed, and something inside him eased for the first time all night. “Yeah, marshmallows sound good. You havin’ some?”
“Wasn’t gonna,” Darry said, pulling another cup down from the top shelf of the cupboard, “but I can.”
Soda recognized the mug right away. The chipped blue one with a faded football on the side and a few flowers around it. It was Darry’s favorite mug; no one else ever touched it. Their mom had given it to him the day she died, wrapped in simple paper with a card that just said To my oldest. Love you baby. Her handwriting had been messy that day, rushed. She’d been late for work.
Darry didn’t mention any of that. He just set the mug on the counter like it was any other. But Soda saw the way his fingers lingered on the handle for half a second too long. The way his shoulders tensed, just a little.
Soda didn’t say anything. He knew better than to break the moment open with words.
Instead, he just said, soft, “I like when you drink cocoa with me. Makes me feel like we’re kids again. Like Mom might walk in any minute, tell us to knock it off and go to bed.”
Darry didn’t smile, exactly, but something in his expression softened. “She’d roll her eyes at me for makin’ it with water instead of milk.”
Soda chuckled. “Yeah. And then she’d take over and do it herself. Say we were hopeless.”
“She wasn’t wrong,” Darry murmured, stirring the cocoa mix into his mug.
Soda watched him. “You’re not. I know you think you gotta carry all this alone, but you don’t, Darry. You got me. You got Pony.”
Darry didn’t answer right away. He just dropped a handful of marshmallows into each mug and slid one across the table toward Soda.
“Here,” he said. “Extra marshmallows, just for you.”
Soda took the mug with both hands, the warmth of it sinking into his palms. He stared down at the cocoa, the marshmallows already beginning to melt into little white clouds. It felt like more than just a drink; it was a peace offering, a small act of love from someone who didn’t always know how to show it.
“Thanks, D,” he said, quiet.
Darry sat down across from him, holding his own mug with that same blue-tulip grip that always made Soda ache a little. His eyes were on the table, not Soda, but his expression was softer now.
They both took quiet sips of cocoa. For a while, the only sound was the hush of the house at night and the soft clink of mugs against the table. It was peaceful. Easy.
Darry’s eyes lingered on his mug before he cleared his throat and looked across the table. “What about you, though?”
Soda blinked. “What about me?”
“You’ve been off lately,” Darry said, his voice careful. “Little quieter than usual. Sleepin’ less. I thought maybe it was just work, or Pony’s school stress wearin’ on you, but I dunno. Maybe I shoulda asked sooner.”
Soda looked down into his cup. The marshmallows were mostly gone, melted into a sweet, sticky swirl.
“I been havin’ a hard time sleeping,” he admitted after a second. “Not just tonight. Just feels like it don’t shut off. My brain, I mean. I think ‘bout everythin’ all the time. You. Pony. What if something happens and I don’t know how to fix it?”
Soda laughed, but it didn’t sound like joy. “Guess I got a little of you in me after all.”
Darry smiled faintly at that. “Yeah. We both worry too much. Must be from Ma.”
He thought for a second, then said, “You don’t gotta carry it all either, y’know. You always try to make it easier on me, n’ on Pony. You’re always the middleman. But you’re allowed to be tired too.”
Soda looked at him, eyes soft. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Darry said, firmer this time. “You don’t gotta be okay all the time just ‘cause you’re the one with the smile. You come wake me up if you need to. I mean that.”
Soda nodded slowly, the lump in his throat too thick for words.
Soda didn’t answer right away. He just stared into his cocoa, watching the last of the marshmallows dissolve. Something about Darry’s words stuck to him, warm and aching.
“I didn’t think you noticed,” he said finally. “Me bein’ off.”
Darry shrugged, but his voice was quiet. “I notice more than you think. I just don’t always know what to do about it.”
Soda gave a small smile. “Yeah, well. You makin’ hot chocolate and talkin’ like this? It helps an awful lot.”
They fell into silence again, but it wasn’t the stiff kind. It was the kind that stretched comfortably between people who trusted each other, even if they weren’t great at saying it outright.
After a minute, Darry stood and started gathering the mugs. “You want me to heat up a blanket in the dryer for you?” he asked, a little awkward again.
Soda looked up, surprised. “You’ll do that?”
Darry shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “Sure. You always like that. ‘specially when you’re sick.”
Soda blinked fast. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”
Darry gave a small nod, turned to the dryer, and grabbed a clean blanket from the laundry basket underneath the machines. He tossed it in and hit the start button, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching it tumble.
“Sometimes I forget you’re not a kid anymore,” he said suddenly. “But then I see you sittin’ there like that and you kinda are.”
Soda huffed out a laugh. “Gee, thanks.”
“I don’t mean it bad,” Darry added quickly. “I still see you in those footie pajamas, y’know? Runnin’ around the house, tryin’ to sneak cookies before dinner.”
Soda smirked. “I always got cookies before dinner.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you were sneaky and Mom was soft with you.”
Soda’s smile faded into something gentler. “She was soft with you too, Darry. You just had your serious face on even back then.”
Darry looked down. “Never feel like there’s time to be soft. Especially not now.”
“I know,” Soda said. “But maybe now, maybe there is.”
The dryer buzzed softly. Darry pulled the blanket out and brought it over, draping it over Soda’s shoulders without a word. It smelled like clean laundry and warmth and something like home.
Soda tugged it closer, closing his eyes for a second. “Thanks, Dar.”
Darry’s hand hovered for a moment on his shoulder, like he wanted to squeeze it but wasn’t quite sure. Then he dropped it and sat back down across from him.
“You ever feel like we’re just makin’ this up as we go?” Darry asked.
Soda nodded. “Every single day.”
They both laughed – quiet, tired, honest.
“Still,” Soda added, “we’re doin’ okay, right?”
Darry met his eyes. “I think so. And we’ll keep doin’ okay. Long as we got each other.”
This time, Soda didn’t blink away the warmth behind his eyes. He just nodded, letting himself believe it.
“Us and Pony,” Soda grinned. “Can’t forget Pony.”
“How could I,” Darry huffed, though there was a flicker of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Kid’s like a walkin’ heart attack with legs.”
Soda snorted. “He’s not that bad.”
“Tell that to my gray hairs,” Darry muttered. “Every time the phone rings, I half expect it to be the school, tellin’ me he got in another fight or forgot to turn in half his homework.”
“Or won a poetry contest without tellin’ us,” Soda added.
Darry rolled his eyes. “That too. Thinks he’s slick.”
Soda leaned back in his chair, letting the warm blanket settle around his shoulders. “He’s tryin’ though. We all are.”
“He’s been through a lot. Both of you have. What with Johnny and Dally…” Darry’s voice trailed off.
There was a pause. Soda didn’t break it right away, just studied Darry in the soft light. The angles of his face looked sharper when he was tired, older somehow. The weight of everything they’d carried these past few years was all over him. It was obvious in the dark circles under his eyes, in the way his shoulders never seemed to drop.
“You know you can talk to me too, right?” Soda said softly. “I mean, I come to you when I need to, but, well, you don’t really do the same.”
Darry looked caught off guard. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Guess I still think I’m 'sposed to be the strong one. Gotta hold it together.”
“Well,” Soda said, “you keep tryin’ to be the glue and the bricks and the roof all at once, you’re gonna collapse.”
Darry gave a low, tired laugh. “That some wisdom from a hot chocolate high?”
Soda grinned. “Maybe. Still true, though.”
Darry looked at him for a long moment. “I don’t know how to stop. I don’t even know what I’d do if I did.”
“You don’t have to stop,” Soda said. “Just let us help sometimes. Let me help.”
For a while, neither of them said anything. Then Darry nodded, slow and reluctant but honest. “Okay.”
Soda let out a breath. “Okay.”
Darry glanced toward the hallway. “We oughta get back to bed. Pony’s gonna wake up and panic if he finds the bed empty.”
Soda chuckled. “You say that like he’s not gonna sleep ‘til noon.”
“Still.” Darry stood, collecting the mugs. He paused as he rinsed them in the sink, water running steady.
“Thanks for talkin’ to me,” he said, voice low. “I know I ain’t always easy to talk to.”
“You ain’t,” Soda teased. “But you’re worth it.”
Darry huffed a laugh and turned off the water. “C’mon.”
Soda followed him down the hall, the blanket still around his shoulders. The house was dark and quiet again, the kind of silence that felt safe.
When they reached the bedroom, Ponyboy was still curled up where Soda had left him, one hand fisted in the sheets like he was holding on to something in a dream.
Soda climbed in beside him, and Darry hesitated in the doorway.
“You gonna be okay?” he asked.
Soda looked at him for a moment, eyes open and honest in the dim light. His voice was barely above a whisper when he said, “Stay?”
Darry blinked. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” Soda said. “Just for a bit. I don’t wanna feel alone right now.”
For a second, Darry looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself – like the invitation was both comforting and foreign. But then he nodded and crossed the room, moving slow and carefully. He sat on the edge of the bed first, then eased down beside them, lying on his back with a sigh that came from somewhere deep.
The mattress creaked beneath his weight, and for a moment it felt like the past was pressing in – all the nights they used to pile into bed together when storms rolled through, or when their parents didn’t come home right away, or when the world just felt too heavy for one kid to carry alone.
Pony shifted in his sleep, mumbling something incomprehensible, and tucked himself closer to Soda without waking. Soda pulled the blanket tighter around all three of them and rested his head on Darry’s shoulder.
“Y’always used to do this,” he murmured. “Back when I was scared of thunder.”
Darry gave a soft hum of acknowledgment. “I remember. You were clingy.”
“You loved it,” Soda said sleepily.
Darry gave his hair a gentle, clumsy ruffle. “Still do.”
The room fell quiet again, but it was a full silence this time – full of breath and warmth and history.
Soda didn’t fall asleep right away. He stared at the ceiling for a while, listening to the rhythm of Darry’s breathing, the way Pony’s hand twitched in his sleep like he was dreaming about running or writing or something only he understood. Eventually, though, his eyes grew heavy.
Just before he drifted off, he whispered, just loud enough for Darry to hear, “Thanks for stayin’.”
Darry didn’t answer out loud, but he pulled Soda closer into him, and that was enough.
Soda couldn’t even remember what had woken him up in the first place. What stuck with him now wasn’t the nightmare, but the way it ended. The way Darry stayed when he asked. The way Pony, even in sleep, had curled closer without hesitation.
He smiled to himself, eyes fluttering shut.
Maybe they were all a little broken. Maybe they didn’t always say the right thing, or know how to fix everything. But they showed up. Again and again. And maybe that was enough.
He let the warmth pull him under. This time, when he dreamed, it was of the three of them together, whole, and safe.