Chapter Text
6:15am.
Darry was not fine.
By the time his alarm started blaring on his bedside table, he was already exhausted. He’d been awake for at least an hour already, lying there debating what in the world he was going to do.
He wasn’t sure he could get out of bed. No, the deep aches settled in his muscles and the chill that reached his bones and the pounding in his head led him to believe that this might not happen.
But work started in… an hour and a half. And someone had to keep the roof over their heads. And someone was probably supposed to get on the roof and fix the leak on the porch that dripped every time it rained. And someone had to make sure everyone else wound up where they needed to be.
And as Darry mustered all the energy he had left and tried to sit up, he realized that today, that person could not be him.
He fell back against his pillows in defeat, letting out a deep sigh as he resigned himself to his bedridden state. His eyes screwed shut again—anything to block out the harsh sunlight streaming through his window.
A soft rap sounded against the door. He didn’t know how long it had been. He didn’t want to know. However long it had been, it was not enough to take away his pain.
The floorboard creaked; Darry grimaced at the sound.
“Dar?” Soda’s soft voice carried through the room.
“I’m up,” Darry croaked, making no effort to get up.
Soda paused, then his footsteps drifted closer until Darry felt him sit down on the edge of the bed.
“It doesn’t look like you’re up,” he said, “but… you don’t look so good.”
Darry took a deep breath and let out a half-hearted laugh. “Yeah, I know,” he mumbled, “I don’t feel good either.”
Soda stood up, moving close to the head of the bed.
Darry put out a hand. “Soda, don’t,” he began, “don’t get too close. I don’t want you to get this too.”
Soda froze, then took a few steps back. “You’re not going to work, right?”
Darry slowly shook his head, trying to conceal how much the movement hurt. “I can’t.”
Worry spread across Soda’s face. “You want me to call a doctor?”
“No, I don’t think that’ll help,” Darry said quickly. The last thing they needed was an unanticipated doctor’s visit. “Just read about a virus sweeping through the schools in the paper—clinics will be overrun.”
Soda picked up the newspaper on the bedside table and flipped through it.
“Page three,” Darry whispered to him.
Soda flipped to page three and skimmed the article—mostly just the headline. “Sure enough,” he whispered under his breath.
“And that’s why I need you to leave now, little buddy. You’ve already been breathing my germs for way too long.”
“In that case,” Soda said, “you should have no problem with me staying home with you.”
“No,” Darry said sternly.
“Dar, Mom and Dad would never want you to stay home sick by yourself. Let me stay with you.”
Darry ran a hand across his face like it would dull the ache in his head. He groaned, “Don’t pull that card on me right now, Sodapop.”
“You do it to us all the time,” he shot back, “we can’t go out on school nights, we have to eat dinner at the table, we—“
“Soda,” Darry interrupted sharply, “Mom and Dad aren’t here. I don’t need you to tell me what they would say. I need you to listen to me and leave.”
Darry regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. As soon as he saw the look of betrayal on Soda’s face. As soon as his middle brother sulked to the doorway, trying to hold himself up in a way that concealed his pain—but Darry saw right through him.
“Soda, I—“
“Just call my work number if you need anything, okay?” He looked back at Darry with sad eyes.
All Darry could do was nod. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but the words hung in his throat. His head fell hard against the pillows.
The room went dark as Soda pulled the curtains closed before he fled the room.
Darry stared at the ceiling. It was strange—the paint swirled in patterns he’d never noticed before…because he didn’t usually spend Tuesday mornings staring at his bedroom ceiling after he’d snapped at his brother, and needed to reevaluate his life choices as soon as he was strong enough to hold his own head up again.
A softer knock on the door snapped Darry out of his trance.
“Come in,” Darry managed to say.
Ponyboy appeared in the doorway. He didn’t enter any further into the room.
“You okay?” he asked.
Darry tried to sit up. To look less awful than he felt. To put on any sort of facade for his youngest brother. “I’ll be okay,” he said.
Ponyboy frowned. “Soda says you’re sick.”
“Yeah.”
Ponyboy held up a glass of water and a plate with a slice of toast and a pair of pills on it. “He wanted me to give you these.”
Darry motioned for Ponyboy to step into the room. He cautiously crept in and placed the peace offering on the nightstand.
“I don’t have anything important today,” Ponyboy began, “I can stay.”
Darry shook his head. “You have to go to school. I’ll be okay. Promise.”
Ponyboy nodded slowly, backing away. “Okay.”
He lingered in the doorway for another moment, like he might say something else, but he didn’t. Instead, he shut the door behind him and left Darry alone in the dark.
Sleep came easier than ever. Darry rolled over, adjusting his pillow to block the remnants of light coming through the curtains. The aches didn’t fade and his head didn’t stop pounding, but his eyes closed and it almost became manageable.
He drifted in and out of a restless sleep. Once in a while, he’d catch a glimpse of the clock, but he never thought about it long enough to actually grasp what time it was. It didn’t matter anyway.
What felt like hours later, there was another knock on the door. Darry looked at the clock: 11:17. If his brothers knew what was good for them, they wouldn’t have come home. They wouldn’t knock on his door.
“Who is it?” he rasped.
“Hey, Superman! Thought you could use some company.”
“Two?” Darry hardly looked up. He didn’t have the energy to lift his head. “You’re supposed to be at school.”
“Ah, I didn’t make it this morning,” Two-Bit brushed off Darry’s concern as he sauntered into the room. “See, my mom’s out of town and my sister woke up sick in the middle of the night—same thing you have, I guess. Heard it’s going around.”
Darry gestured weakly to his nightstand. “I just read that in the paper.”
“Yeah,” Two-Bit sat down on the edge of the bed. “But you know how kids always get nauseous when they’re sick?”
Darry nodded, feeling grateful that he hadn’t experienced that at all.
“So I went out to get her something to help—couldn’t find anything in the cupboards—and something to eat because we don’t have any food. Nothing good anyway,” he explained, “and I wound up at the DX, where Soda mentioned that you were under the weather too. And now I’m here.”
Darry’s eyebrows furrowed. “You left your sick kid sister home alone so you could come here?”
Two-Bit shook his head. “Nah. I took her to my grandma’s house first. Figured she’d know what to do better than I would.”
Darry closed his eyes and hummed. “You probably shouldn’t stick around,” he said, “don’t want you to catch it.”
Two-Bit just shrugged. “Well, I’m already exposed, so at this point it doesn’t matter.”
“That’s what Soda said this morning too—before I threw him out.”
Two-Bit stood up. “By now you must know I’m pretty hard to get rid of.”
“Don’t I know it,” Darry laughed halfheartedly. “Been trying for sixteen years.”
“Either you’re not trying very hard or you’re real bad at it.”
“Guess you’re onto me.”
“Eh, it’s not like I made it easy. I kinda like sticking around.”
Darry tried to sit up; Two-Bit stepped in, repositioning his pillows and propping him upright.
Darry pulled his blanket a little closer. “So did you eat?” he asked.
Two-Bit paused and looked at him, confused. “What?”
“You said you were out getting food,” Darry explained, “did you eat?”
Two-Bit looked away sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “No, I must have gotten sidetracked.”
Darry nodded slowly. “There’s bologna in the fridge. Or peanut butter and jelly. If you’re really lucky, there might be leftovers from last night.”
Two-Bit smiled. “I love you, Superman!”
He left the room and returned a couple minutes later with a sandwich. Sitting back down on the edge of the bed, he turned to look at Darry. “You want anything?”
“For you to go be with your family when they need you,” Darry suggested.
“Dar, she’s in good hands. I promise. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here. You know, I spent all morning trying to help her and… well, grandma knows what she’s doing.”
Darry studied him for a moment. “You sleep at all last night?”
“Not really.”
Darry smiled sleepily. “You should go crash on the couch for a few hours.”
“But if you need something—“
“Two, I’m beat,” Darry told him, “I’m just gonna rest for a few hours. Don’t worry about me.”
Two-Bit hesitated, but he stood up slowly. “Wake me up if you need anything?”
“You got it.”