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Sodapop had been talking the whole time he was doing dishes, something about a customer at the DX who’d tried to pay in Canadian coins which they most definitely cannot take, when the dish slipped from his hands. Ponyboy heard it first. A dull clatter, then a sharper one as the plate hit the floor. Then he noticed that he didn’t hear Sodapop’s voice anymore.
“Soda?” Pony’s voice cracked as he stood from the couch.
When he creeped into the kitchen, he found Soda, slumped sideways on the hard floor, soap suds still on his hands, eyes closed like he’d just gotten tired mid-sentence and decided the floor would do as good a bed as any. For one horrifying second, Pony thought Soda was joking. But Soda’s head lolled, and his breathing came shallow and fast.
“Darry!” Pony yelled.
Darry was through the doorway before the echo faded. He froze when he saw Sodapop, and something in his face twisted. Fear, guilt, maybe both. “Help me get him to the sofa, Pony.”
They got Soda to the sofa together, albeit with some struggle because of how much of Soda is just limbs. Pony hovered, uselessly tucking a strand of hair behind Soda’s ear. Darry knelt beside him, fingers checking his pulse with a gentleness he didn’t often show.
“He’s exhausted,” Darry muttered. “When’s the last time he slept?”
Pony shrugged helplessly. “He’s been busy. Working doubles at the DX since Steve caught that cold. And he’s been takin’ my chores ‘cause I got that English project.”
Darry’s jaw tightened. “I told him not to overdo it.”
“You tell him that about everything,” Pony shot back before he could help it.
Darry opened his mouth, but Soda stirred then, his eyelids fluttering, a soft, muddled “Mmm?”
“Soda,” Darry said, voice softer. “Hey, kiddo. Stay with us.”
Sodapop blinked up at them, confusion clouding the blue of his eyes. “What… what’re ya both starin’ at me for?”
“You passed out,” Pony said, not bothering to hide the worry. “Like- you fainted, Soda. In the middle of doing the dishes?”
Soda groaned, rubbing his temples. “Aw, hell… I just got dizzy is all. Ain’t nothing to worry about-”
“You ain’t ‘just’ anything,” Darry snapped, too sharp and too fast.
Soda’s head jerked up. “Don’t start on me, Darry.”
“I’m not starting—”
“Yeah, you are.” Soda sat up too quick that he winces briefly. “I’ve been workin’ hard. So what? You do it all the damn time.”
“That’s different.” Darry argued
“How?” Soda demanded. “’Cause you’re the oldest? ’Cause you’re supposed to? Darry, I can help you. I want to help you. I’ve been tryin’ to pick up the slack.”
“You been runnin’ yourself ragged,” Darry shot back. “You think I don’t notice? Those bags under your eyes? You come home dead on your feet every night.”
“That’s rich, comin’ from you,” Soda said, voice going small and quiet in a way that made Pony freeze. “You don’t even know what being rested is anymore.”
Darry opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Silence. Heavy silence that was the kind of uncomfortable that made your skin crawl.
Finally, Pony muttered, “You’re both stupid.”
They looked at him in unison, neither saying a word at first to see if Pony would elaborate or not
“You are,” he repeated, cheeks heating. “You overwork, Darry. Soda overworks. And then you both get mad at each other for doing the same thing. If you want him to slow down, maybe you should slow down first.”
It hung in the air for a long moment. Soda slowly leaned back into the couch cushions, eyes closing again. Not fainting this time, just tired. Bone-deep tired. Darry looked at him for a long moment. The anger drained from his face, leaving only worry.
“C’mere,” Darry said quietly, and to Pony’s surprise, Soda let Darry pull him into a sideways hug. Soda’s head rested against Darry’s shoulder like it used to when they were younger.
“I’m sorry,” Darry murmured into his hair. “I’m tryin’, Soda. I just- I get scared. I can’t lose either of you.”
“You won’t,” Soda mumbled. “But you gotta let me help. Just… not so much that I hit the damn floor again.” He ended up squeezing in a joke to lighten the mood like he always did
A shaky laugh escaped Darry in Soda’s success. “Yeah. Yeah, alright.”
Pony relaxed, tension finally easing from his shoulders. “So…” Pony ventured, “how ’bout tomorrow we all sleep in? Like, no school, no chores, nothing. Only for one mornin’, I promise.”
Darry sighed and shook his head slowly, but the sigh sounded almost like a yes. It’s clear that Pony had been trying to get any excuse to skip school, but Darry can’t be bothered to point it out.
Soda nudged him weakly. “Come on, big brother. Live a little.”
Darry rolled his eyes, but his arm tightened around Soda. Soda almost never called him big brother anymore other than when he was really trying to get on Darry’s good side before asking something of him. “Fine. But you’re both doin’ your own laundry next week. I ain’t pickin up your slack.”
Soda grinned, eyes still closed. “Deal.”