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Summary
A shell of Johnny Cade stood before him. His voice was reedy and far-away. His hair was stringy, much unlike its usual greasiness, and ashy. His eyes were clouded with smoke. His skin was bubbled with ashy cysts, breaking dry, more flames spilling out as opposed to keratin. The jacket he wore was charred, a line of flames behind him. And from his lips, he drew,
“Ponyboy! Pony!”
It sounded hoarse. It sounded distant. It sounded disgusting. This was not his Johnny. Not his—
or;
Pony has a nightmare oh noo (this fic has been done a hundred times before) and soda isn’t there to comfort him this time!!1!1!
