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When Ponyboy woke up, he promptly rolled back over and buried his head into his pillow. His brothers were gone at work, and judging by the sunlight peaking through, it was at least mid morning. Most likely Steve was at work with Soda and Two-Bit was recovering from a night out, leaving Ponyboy home alone. Soda had offered to take the day off, but Ponyboy had waved him off. When Darry asked what he wanted to do to celebrate, the now fifteen year old gave him a mild shrug and told his brother that he was happy with having chicken and potatoes. Darry had offered to take him and Soda out to celebrate, but Pony had brushed off the notion.
At first, Darry thought he was worried about finances, but the more he watched his little brother, the more he worried that it was something deeper than that.
Pony had always been a quiet kid, but after their parents death, he had arguably gotten quieter. There were pockets of anger, sure, which typically spilled out when he fought with Darry, but he was usually quieter than the others. It got worse after Johnny and Dallas died. At least before they died Soda could always manage to get him talking. Now, Soda was lucky to get more than a few sentences out of him that weren’t superficial. In the weeks right after, Darry had been terrified that he was going to lose his baby brother forever. Ponyboy had been truly a shell of himself, and both his brothers had feared that they wouldn’t get him back. Thankfully, they had managed to pull him back to the land of the living.
That didn’t mean there weren’t pieces of him left behind.
Groaning, Ponyboy sat up, pushing a hand through his hair. Grabbing a clean cutoff, a pair of running shorts, and underwear, he made his way into the bathroom. The best part about being home alone was that he could have a shower uninterrupted. Still, he doesn’t take too long, knowing they really can’t afford their water bill to be any higher. After getting out and brushing his teeth, Ponyboy didn’t bother to grease his hair back, instead he just went into the kitchen to hunt down something for breakfast.
Opening the fridge, he found a plate already made for him, and a note left on top with his middle brother’s lazy scrawl ‘Happy Birthday, Ponykid! Eat up!’ Grimacing, Ponyboy reheated the plate and picked at it. Anxiety had already wound up through his body, which always made even the ‘easiest’ tasks harder. Since the church, Ponyboy had struggled with eating on the bad days. Sometimes everything still tasted like bologna and despite knowing that it wasn’t, Ponyboy wasn’t able to finish it. On those days, he pushed his food around and only took a small bite when he knew someone was watching.
Lately, Ponyboy found himself swinging between the pendulum of hyper observant and barely there. There were moments where all he could do was observe what was going on around him, as if taking in every little detail would ensure he never made the wrong choice again. When Darry used to accuse him of not using his head it hurt, and that hurt always flared up into defensive anger. It hurt so badly because Ponyboy knew it was true. Sometimes he just didn’t think. Even when he was younger, he used to space out all the time. He’d forget his lunch leaving the house, forget important notes from his teachers in his backpack, and forget to do chores before his parents got home because he was busy reading or playing in the lot with Johnny.
And back then it didn’t matter.
It didn’t matter, because his Soda always grabbed his lunch when he grabbed his own, and his Mama always checked his bag when he got home, and Darry would do his chores too since they didn’t take more than a couple minutes. Ponyboy never had to worry about being aware and in the moment, because he had two big brothers, and four older friends, that always seemed to have one eye on him. Sure, it annoyed them sometimes, and they teased him for it, but it was never really a big deal.
Until he stayed out past curfew and fell asleep in the lot.
Until he forgot the frosting.
Now, Ponyboy was pretty meticulous about remembering things, even if he’d rather forget. The problem was, when the memories hit full force, it was as if all of his senses came to life like a livewire. For a brief moment he was there, in the fountain, in the church, in the hospital, in the street, so he disappeared. In those moments, Ponyboy would force himself out of his body, away from the onslaught of sights, sounds, and feelings he didn’t want to remember. In those moments he was so detached from his body that he couldn’t bring himself back if he tried. Eventually, when his heart stopped racing and his body slipped out of fight or flight, he crawled back into his skin and the cycle repeated itself.
As he sat at the table, he caught sight of the note and the two dollar bills and some change that sat on top of it. His oldest brother’s neat handwriting read, ‘Happy Birthday, Little Colt! If you want to catch a movie on the West side give one of us a call to come pick ya up. We’ll go out to the drive-in tonight with everyone after dinner to celebrate. I’ll make one of Mama’s coca-cola birthday cakes, with the good frosting tonight when I’m home. Love you, Kid.’
Setting the note down, his breathing picked up as he read and then reread the last line. This wasn’t new, exactly, but Ponyboy still hadn’t managed to stop his fits. Usually, he just had to hope it worked itself out. The thought of Darry stopping at the store to get him the good frosting, the kind that he’d forgotten, the kind that his parents had been killed over, made him sick with an emotion he couldn’t name. Guilt coiled tightly in his chest as fear and anxiety twisted his stomach into knots. He couldn’t breathe.
He knew, deep in his bones, that Darry wasn’t trying to be cruel. Like always, he was trying to be the best brother he could possibly be, going so far as to make Ponyboy the special cake, with the special frosting, after a long day of work. Unfortunately, anxiety riddled and as full of guilt as he was, Ponyboy couldn’t help but worry that Darry was making a point. Ponyboy had ruined his birthday six months ago. It was Ponyboy that forgot the frosting, and Ponyboy that got their parents killed. Not only did Darry lose his parents on the day that was meant to be celebrating him, but he lost the rest of his life too.
Maybe this was his way of reminding him that had he just gone and gotten the fucking frosting none of this would have happened. Their parents would be here celebrating his birthday too, and Darry would be home from college and Soda wouldn’t have to ask for the day off because he wouldn’t be working at a gas station and Johnny and Dal would be spending the day with him at the movies, because Ponyboy wouldn’t have dared to disobey his parent’s curfew, and if he did, they would have been more understanding because they weren’t twenty years old and working two jobs and caring for teenagers they weren’t prepared to care for, and they probably wouldn’t have hit him, and he probably wouldn’t have ran off into the night instead of just sucking it up and going to bed which means Johnny wouldn’t have followed him to the park, he wouldn’t have nearly drowned and Johnny wouldn’t have killed anyone and Dallas would have never had to drag them from a burning church because there wouldn’t be a burning church, because Ponyboy wouldn’t have been there to drop a cigarette, and Ponyboy wouldn’t have run back in after those kids, the consequences be damned, and Johnny would have never died, and Dally wouldn’t have either.
Darry was going to die because of his stupid birthday cake.
The floor met him as he sunk down and Ponyboy tucked his knees into his chest, trying his best to breathe. No matter how many times he told himself this wasn’t helping, he couldn’t stop the sobs from shaking out of him or his chest from tightening so much that he felt like he was suffocating. All he could do was try to breathe into his knees and hope that eventually managed to calm down.
By the time he exhausted all the ways in which every bad thing that ever happened to him was his own fault, he realized that his ass was numb from sitting on the linoleum and at least an hour had passed without him realizing it. Brushing his hands over his face, Ponyboy forced himself to stand up. He got a glass of water, threw away his barely touched plate, and cleaned both his dishes before going into the bathroom to splash water on his face.
He couldn’t let Darry stop at the store and get the frosting.
Mind made up, he went back to the living room and called his brother’s work. It was Mrs. Armstrong, Darry’s boss’ wife who managed the admin side of their business, who answered with a kind greeting. Ponyboy’s voice sounded a little wrecked when he replied, “Hi Mrs. Armstrong, this is Ponyboy Curtis. I was just wondering if you could get a message to my brother?” he asked. Concern was laced in her tone as she answered, “Hi Ponyboy, of course I can. Is everything alright?”
The Armstrongs had always been good family friends, and they had done a lot in the ways of looking after the Curtis siblings after their parents died. From promoting Darry up to a living wage, to giving him paid time off during the whole Windrixville debacle, they helped where they could. Ponyboy felt bad for worrying her and he cleared his throat, hoping he sounded a little more normal as he spoke, “Everything’s all good, Mrs. Armstrong. I just wanted Darry to know that he didn’t need to stop at the store today after work. I got everything we needed so he doesn’t have to worry about it.”
“Well that’s mighty nice of you, Ponyboy, helping out your big brother like that. I’ll let him know, kiddo. You just stay out of trouble now, you here?” she responded, and he could hear the smile in her voice as she added, “And happy birthday, young man. I hope you have a great day celebrating.”
His throat tightened as he choked out a warm, “Thank you, Mrs. Armstrong. Have a great day,” before hanging up.
Before he could start crying again, he went into the kitchen and found what he was looking for. His Mama always kept the stuff in the house for vanilla cake and boiled frosting, because while her sons and most of their friends loved chocolate, Johnny Cade loved vanilla. Sure, it was his birthday, but Pony didn’t feel much like celebrating himself, not when he had so much guilt hanging over his head. If he did this instead, he could almost pretend it wasn’t his birthday they were celebrating.
Ponyboy pulled her ingredient cards down, and set to work getting everything made.
By the time he was finished, the kitchen was a disaster, but there was a neat, carefully frosted, vanilla cake on the middle of the table. Ponyboy took his time cleaning up the dishes, wiping down the counters, and putting the whole kitchen back to rights. The last thing he wanted was for Darry to come home to a mess, or for Soda to come in and try to start dinner with a disaster on his hands. By the time he was finished, exhaustion was seeping into his bones. His head hurt from his fit that morning and his chest still pulled painfully, which he carefully shoved to the side. Popping a few aspirin and drinking a little more water, he carefully observed the cake and deemed it presentable.
Deciding it couldn’t hurt to lie down for a little while, he went back in his and Soda’s room and fell asleep before his head fully hit the pillow.
Pony was woken up by a gentle hand carding through his hair. Blinking his eyes slowly, he noticed the sun was down into late afternoon, nearly early evening, and Darry was home and in front of him. “Hey Colt, you feeling okay?” Darry asked, voice quiet but clearly concerned. Ponyboy caught it, but couldn’t focus on that, not when he was shooting up and burying himself in his brother’s arms. “You’re okay. You didn’t go to the store,” he muttered as if in benediction.
Darry’s eyebrows creased together, and he brushed his brother’s hair back before cupping the back of his head close to his shoulder. “I’m fine, baby. Mrs. Armstrong passed along your message. Why didn’t you want me to go to the store?” he asked, clearly bewildered. Darry had spent a lot of time the last few months trying to figure out what was going on in his kid brother’s head, and he only fully understood about half the time. He knew Ponyboy felt things more intensely, and that for all he didn’t talk, he certainly thought. Still, it was hard to read him sometimes, and he hated to admit that this was one of them.
“Because you’d have died,” he answered, matter of fact, as though nothing could be more true. Of all the things Darry thought he was going to say, that wasn’t it. He pulled back, cupping Ponyboy’s face in his hands as he asked, “What? Baby I’m not following.” His chest ached at the devastation on his brother’s face, and suddenly, he wished he would have pushed more when Ponyboy brushed off making plans to celebrate. “Does this have anything to do with the vanilla cake on the table? I’ve known you for fifteen years now, and you’ve never once wanted vanilla, especially not when coca-cola cake was on the table,” Darry murmured.
Without his permission, tears started to slip down his cheeks and Ponyboy gave him a helpless shrug. “Yeah but Johnny loved vanilla,” he admitted, and Darry’s heart shattered at how earnest he sounded. Still, he had to keep pushing, because he knew by the sinking stone in his gut that this wasn’t all of it.
“Yeah, yeah it was, Colt. Still doesn’t explain why me going to the store would result in death though,” he nudged, and Ponyboy promptly looked down, clearly unable to meet his gaze. Darry gave his face a small shake, and Ponyboy responded with a hitched breath, “You don’t remember?”
Knitting his eyebrows together, Darry asked, “Remember what?”
Ponyboy let out a choked sob, “Mama and Dad were going to the store for your frosting -” he started, and Darry let out a wounded noise at his words. Pony’s eyes flashed up and he was horrified to see the look of guilt on his big brother’s face. As if reading his thoughts, Pony rushed, “It wasn’t your fault. Don’t you get it?” he asked, and Darry’s eyes widened with concern and maybe a little fear as he shook his head.
“I forgot to get your frosting, Darry. I was supposed to get it on my way home from school and I forgot because I wasn’t using my head and I wasn’t thinking. I just walked home like always and then Mama and Dad had to go out and get it instead and then the train -” he gasped, but pushed through, “and it was my fault. If I’d gotten the stupid frosting like they asked your birthday wouldn’t have been ruined, our parents would be here, you’d be at college, and I wouldn’t have ruined your life and our friends would probably be alive because I wouldn’t have made you angry all the time and I wouldn’t have broken curfew or run out of the house like an idiot, and Bob wouldn’t have been able to try to drown me, and Johnny wouldn’t have had to kill him, and there would have been no fire to save those kids from because I wouldn’t have been there to accidentally start it, and Johnny wouldn’t have died following after me, and Dallas wouldn’t have died following after him, and it should have been me, because we can’t get along with Johnny, and I was the one that was supposed to die in the fountain, and in the fire, and if I’d just gotten the frosting like Mama asked none of this would have happened and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Darry,” he sobbed, and for the second time that day his breathing quickened so fast that he thought he might die.
In an instant, Darry had his arms wrapped tightly around him, his chin resting on the top of his brother’s head as he clung to him. “Breathe, baby you have to breathe. Come on, you’re okay. You’re okay, Ponyboy. It’s not your fault. Do you hear me? It’s not your fault. Just breathe, little colt,” he murmured, overexaggerating his own breathing so that Ponyboy could match it. Rubbing his back, Darry’s head popped up as the door pushed open. He doubted Ponyboy heard it, based on the ferocity of the sobs coming out of him. His cries sounded like a baby fox and Darry’s eyes watered at the very visceral pain radiating from his brother.
Soda didn’t hesitate to make his way into the room, crawling onto the bed so that he could bracket his little brother. Tears were already forming in his eyes too, but held them back because Darry couldn’t. Soda saw the floodgates open as Darry cradled their little brother in his arms like he was afraid he was going to disappear. From his periphery, he watched Steve step out of sight, and Soda knew he was getting the kid some water and aspirin. Steve was never good at the emotional stuff, but he hated being idle when someone he loved was in pain, and try as he might to deny it, Soda knew better. He knew Ponyboy was his little brother just as much as he was the rest of them. Two-Bit looked wounded though, and Soda thought vaguely guilty though he couldn’t for the life of him think why.
The answer came swiftly as Two-Bit chimed in, “That’s not true, and I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t - Jesus Kid, if something happened to you I’d go out of my fuckin’ mind. I was scared because I knew we were losing Johnny, and in that moment it was the worst thing I’d ever experienced and I thought I’d do anything, take any bargain, to not feel that way, but the truth? The truth is, I’d be a wreck no matter who it was, because I’ll tell ya right now, I miss Dallas just as much, and I think I’d miss you even more. It wouldn’t have been better. You can’t - you can’t trade one life for another, they don’t measure up like that. Loss is loss Kid, and it fuckin’ hurts no matter how you look at it.”
Ponyboy didn’t say anything, but he leaned into the older boy when Two-Bit came over and put his arms around him. Soda wrapped his arms around both of them, and grasped Darry’s shoulder in a steadying motion. It wasn’t until Steve came back in that anyone moved. Worming his way in between Two-Bit and Ponyboy, Steve used his free hand to gently pull the kid up and out of the cocoon he’d made in his brother’s chest. “Here, take these,” he directed, helping him get the pills down and a drink of water with them. “You're gonna have a hell of a headache,” he muttered, but he ruffled his hair fondly, much more gentle than he usually was.
“Look at me,” Steve demanded, pulling his chin so that they were eye to eye. “You know there’s nothing I love more than blaming you for shit. Hell, I used to make shit up when we were kids just so I had something I could blame on you,” he started, causing the younger boy to let out a small snort, “so you better hear me when I say, this isn’t your fault. Christ Ponyboy, how the hell were supposed to know any of that was going to happen? You can’t control the trains, or your parents car stalling, and you sure as hell couldn’t control what Johnny and Dal chose to do. Hell, Johnny was twice as stubborn as any of us, he was just quieter about it. Their actions aren’t your responsibility, so quit taking the blame for it all. You’re not God, you’re a fifteen year old snot nose brat who doesn’t have a lick of control over this shit.”
A watery huffed laugh escaped Ponyboy as he murmured, “I’m not sure any of that was a compliment.” Steve snorted, “It wasn’t. Just cause it’s your birthday doesn’t mean I’m gonna be nice to you when you’re being an idiot. No one here blames you, and you gotta stop blaming yourself.” Ponyboy nodded, wiping his cheek with his shoulder. “Feels like it though,” he murmured.
“Sometimes -” he paused, but when no one spoke up he continued, “Sometimes it feels like everything bad happened because of something I did or didn’t do, so if I can just make the right choice, I can stop something terrible from happening.” Darry let out a heavy sigh as he pulled him back into his side, “It don’t work like that kiddo. You can do everything exactly right and things are still going to go wrong. That’s life, and you can spend all your time trying to control it and it won’t get any closer to happening.”
“I don’t know how to stop feeling like this,” he whispered, “and sometimes it’s just so heavy and I just - I dunno, eventually I drop it or it drops me.”
“Then you talk to us. You let us carry some of it for you. You’re not an island. You’re my baby brother and you can always lean on me,” Soda chided, pressing a kiss to the back of his head. “You used to talk to me real good, and now it’s like pulling teeth. I’m here, honey. I’ve got two hands and I’m pretty good at carrying shit, and I’m damn good at carrying you.”
“I don’t want to put it all on you. I used to - Johnny and I used to talk about everything, and sometimes, sometimes I could talk to Dal too. But they’re both gone and sometimes it’s like - Steve and Soda are a team and Darry and Two-Bit are a team and ya’ll just get each other because you’ve been best friends for so long, and I don’t - my best friend is gone, and I think sometimes it’s hard to remember how to talk to anyone else,” he admitted.
Johnny had always made Ponyboy feel like he was part of the gang, and not the tag along that was there because his brother’s were. Soda and Steve were still nearly three years older than him, and Two-Bit was five years above him and Darry was six and sometimes he still felt so much younger.
“You’ve got us too, Ponykid. I know it’s not the same, and I know we’re not Johnny, but shit kid, you can talk to any of us. We’re always gonna be here for you,” Two-Bit started, before he shrugged, “I mean hell, we’ve missed you the last few months. You’re around, but you’re not actually here with us. I’d rather you talk to me about anything than about nothing at all. You dig?”
Nodding, he murmured, “Yeah, yeah I dig.”
Steve stood up, clapping him on his shoulder, “Dinner is on Two and I tonight. We’re gonna grab some burgers from the Dingo and bring ‘em back. We’ll get some cokes too, and a pepsi for the birthday boy.” Two-Bit nodded, and it was a testament to how wiped he must look that he didn’t even joke about having to pay. Instead, he put a hand on his head, ruffling it slightly, before following Steve out.
Soda and Darry seemed to have a conversation over his head, and before he knew it, he was being bullied into laying down between them. “You’re squishing me,” he groaned, but it was half hearted and he clearly didn’t mind their presence. “A brother sandwich, aren’t you lucky Colt,” Darry teased. Ponyboy stared up at the ceiling, “Are you mad at me?” he asked, quiet and uncertain.
Darry hugged him tightly, “No. Not even a little bit,” he reassured, but he continued gently, “I’m worried though. Ponyboy, you have to know that none of this was your fault. You made a mistake, sure, but these weren’t the consequences of your actions. If we’re going down that path, it’d be my fault for hitting you. You wouldn’t have ran out that night if I hadn’t put my hands on you.” Ponyboy let out a noise of protest, and Darry could already hear his excuses and he placed a hand on his mouth to stop him.
“Hey, we haven’t really talked about this, but we need to. It doesn’t matter that you screwed up. It doesn’t matter that you broke a rule, or that you missed curfew. I never should have hit you. Your mistake didn’t warrant me hitting you. Are you hearing me?” Darry asked, and Ponyboy gave a hesitant nod. “I am so sorry, Ponyboy. I was wrong to hit you, and I can’t take it back, but I promise you, it’s never going to happen again.”
“I know Dar. I trust you,” he responded, and Darry wanted to cry at how easily those words fell from his brother’s mouth, as if it cost him nothing to say it because it was a simple fact. The sky was blue and Ponyboy trusted his oldest brother with his life.
Soda played with his brother’s hair, marveling at how soft it was without the grease in it. He wondered if Ponyboy would let him cut the blonde out of it soon, but now didn’t feel like the time to ask him. Instead, he braced himself for the rest of this conversation, though he was grateful that his brothers were communicating so much better than before.
Darry continued after a moment, “There’s something else we gotta talk about, Colt, and it’s important to me that you understand this.” Ponyboy sent his wide green eyes his way, his attention rapt on his brother’s as he waited. “You didn’t ruin my life. Caring for you and Soda was my choice, so I need you to stop thinking that you’re some burden I got saddled with. I decided to keep custody of you. I decided to drop out of school for the time being. I decided to stay here and work and look after you. You didn’t make me do anything and hear me when I say, I’d make the same choice all over again. If it means I get to keep you and Soda? I get to know you’re safe and cared for? Hell Ponyboy, I’d take that deal any day. I wouldn’t change a damn thing,” he reassured.
Misty eyes ducked down and he felt his littlest brother squeeze him like his life depended on it. Darry popped a kiss on his head and murmured into his hair, “You and Soda are my kids, my boys to look after, you hear me? My life ain’t ruined, it’s just different. Losing either one of you would be the thing that ruined me.”
Without hesitation, he pulled Soda into the fold, who was already plastered against his little brother’s back.
They stayed like that for a while, and it wasn’t until the front door opened and they smelled burgers that they stirred. Soda gave them both a shake as he grinned, “Come on, we still have a birthday boy to celebrate. We’ll eat dinner and have some cake and we should still have time to make it to the drive in. Ain’t no way you’re getting out of birthday celebrations kiddo.”
Despite himself, Ponyboy grinned, and he allowed his brothers to pull him up to his feet. In the kitchen they discovered that Steve and Two-Bit came back with milkshakes, which caused Two to launch into a wild story on how they managed to get them and the sodas. They put fifteen candles on the cake and Ponyboy blew them out, silently wishing that he’d never lose the family he had right here, and even laughed when Soda swiped a little frosting on his nose and took a picture of him. After that they went to the drive-in, as promised, and Two-Bit, Soda, and Steve only caused a little bit of hell, but not enough to get them kicked out. Evie and Marcia ended up joining them halfway through, and he actually felt like he was included in their little group this time around. Steve didn’t even bitch about him being there when they had the girls with them.
By the time they headed home, Ponyboy had fallen asleep between both his big brothers, and despite Soda’s teasing that he was definitely too big now to be carried, Darry hoisted him up like he weighed nothing and brought him inside so that he could tuck him into bed.
It didn’t matter that Ponyboy was a year older and six months deeper into grief. He would grow, and so would his grief, and so would the love and support he had from the family he still had around him.
The last thought he had before he settled into a deep sleep was that maybe fifteen wouldn’t be so bad, when he had friends like these.