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Ponyboy loves what he does for Dally and Johnny, really he does. Seeing their tired faces light up when they come home to delicious home cooked meal, watching them smile when they put on clothes that are still warm from Pony’s ironing, listening to their ‘thank you’s when Pony splurges and buys something nice for them like a bag of their favorite snacks; all of it fills Pony with a warmth that not even sunrises can compete with. But sometimes it’s just so fucking exhausting. He wakes up in an empty bed, Johnny and Dally already having gone to work. He goes to the kitchen to make his own breakfast, then he cleans himself up, then he does any cleaning that need to be done, counts what they have left in the pantry and icebox, does the laundry, makes his lunch, goes through the bills while he’s eating, does a few hours of writing in the hopes he’ll get published one day, and then he starts on dinner, all of this having been done while he’s worrying about Johnny and Dally and hoping they’re safe. Then, after dinner, he prepares a breakfast for the both of them to eat in the morning. If he could thank his Mama, he would, but he can only thank Darry and Soda, so he calls them at least once a week to commiserate and thank them.
Of course, his day is made better once Johnny and Dally come home, usually with something in hand like flowers, or a new journal, or chocolates, but he’s still exhausted by the time they all sit down for dinner. Still, he thinks he’s done a pretty good job hiding how tiring it all is. After all, Dally and Johnny have it harder than he does. They work at Bucks from 9AM-8PM, sometimes 9AM-11PM! He’d never wanna make their already difficult day harder with his griping and whining. He knows he’s dramatic, and can be a pain in the ass, so he’d never want to burden them with his complaining, even if he finds himself becoming more and more exhausted.
But, Pony is never that lucky, and today he just can’t. Can’t do anything. He got up and went to the kitchen, but just kinda….Stared, at the stovetop. He yelled at his brain to move, to get breakfast, to hurry so he could start working. But he just couldn’t. So he went back to bed. He doesn’t remember how long he laid there, but he does remember what it felt like. The way his limbs felt heavy, the way they do when you’re impossibly tired. How he’d sometimes twitch or turn over, trying to get up but he just couldn’t bring himself to do so. Voices in his head - Dally’s, Johnny’s, Darry’s, his own - yelling at him to just fucking get up! Why is it so hard for you to just get up? Johnny and Dally work so hard every day and you can’t even do the bare minimum of caring for the house and making them food to come home to? You didn’t go to college, not even a community one, and you think you can laze about like this?
Logically, Ponyboy knows that they’d never say that. Darry, Soda, and Pony had a long talk about why Pony doesn’t want to go to college, and his feelings about it, and how he doesn’t want to waste what Soda and Darry have given him but he’s just so fucking scared and he loves Tulsa despite everything, and he loves the gang, and he can’t bring himself to leave. He wants to be more than this he swears he does but he wants to try becoming successful his own way first. After days worth of conversations, some yelling, and a lot of crying, Darry and Soda (although Soda had understood Pony from the get-go, he always does) had hugged Pony and told him it’s okay, and they love him, and that if pursuing a writing career in Tulsa would make him happy then they’ll always support him.
Dally and Johnny would never yell at him either. He knows that if he told them how he was feeling, they’d listen and not yell at him, but then he remembers being young again. Fourteen, hanging around the DX after school, and Steve is telling him to fuck off, not realizing that Pony’s had a horrible day and just wants to be around his older brothers brother. Thirteen, and rambling to Two-Bit about a book he really likes because that's just How He Shows Love, and Two-Bit brushing him off and laughing before leaving to go try and pick up some blonde. Twelve and spending time with Soda and Sandy (whose name still makes him feel a pang in his chest. He really thought he’d gotten a big sister back then), drawing the two of them on the couch and showing it to them, only for Soda to laugh at him in an attempt to seem cool, and Sandy doing nothing but giving Pony an apologetic look and a hug after Soda went to go get water.
So the voices in his head are Darry and Dally and Johnny, all yelling at him. His limbs feel like lead. Dryness starts to envelop his eyes, and slowly, over the course of hours, he realizes he’s been crying. Eventually, he closes his eyes, only to wake up what feels like seconds later, Johnny and Dally hovering over him with a concerned look.
“-ony? Pony? There you are.” Johnny sighs with relief once he sees Ponyboy’s eyes open, his hand coming to run through Pony’s hair while Dally sits on the edge of the bed, silent and stoic but visibly worried - if you know how to read him.
“We’ve been trying to wake you up but you weren’t responding. Are you okay? You don’t look like you’ve gotten up at all today. You don’t feel warm?” Mumbles fall from Johnny’s lips as he fusses over Ponyboy, his hand going from Pony’s forehead, to his cheeks, to his neck, feeling for any unnatural warmth or clamminess. Dally and Johnny look at Pony, waiting for a response, but become more worried when he just blinks at them. Internally, he wants to respond. Wants to burst into tears and apologies and explain himself. Wants to reassure them that he’s physically fine, just so tired. But even the idea of opening his mouth is too much.
Johnny’s brows furrow, and he shares a look with Dally, communicating something that is currently lost on Pony. After a beat, Johnny and Dally carefully shift Pony to the middle of the bed before slipping in next to him, Dally at his back and Johnny at his front. Arms wrap around his waist and hands tangle in his hair, but he’s too tired to figure out what arms belong to who, so he buries his face in Johnny’s chest and whines softly.
“Oh Pony, what's wrong?” Johnny’s chest vibrates softly under Pony, and he can hear Johnny’s heartbeat through his shirt. Taking a few moments to gather the energy to speak, Pony mumbles, “You smell like cigarettes and beer.”
That prompts a startled laugh out of Johnny and Dally, the latter burying his head in Pony’s hair to muffle his snort.
“Hear that Johnnycakes? Pony needs you to take a shower,” Dally teases, reaching over Pony to ruffle Johnny’s greased back hair.
“Oh shut your mouth, if anyone smells bad here it’s you, Dal.” Despite Johnny’s complaining tone, Pony can already imagine the smile pulling at the sides of Johnny’s lips, and it makes Ponyboy smile too. Until it doesn’t. Out of nowhere, tears sting at his eyes, and the next thing he knows, Ponyboy is sobbing into Johnny’s chest as Dally runs a hand up and down his back, and Johnny shushes him softly.
“Pone? What’s wrong? Talk to us.”
“I- I dunno! I jus’ woke up and I was so fucking exhausted! I tried making breakfast an’ I couldn’t turn on the stove, so I just went to lay back down an- an’ I just couldn’t move. I’m so tired all the time, waking up alone, and making my breakfast, an’ doing all the chores and busying myself writing! I feel like I never have a moment to jus’ stop, and I’m always so fucking tired. But it still don’t feel like enough! I go to bed exhausted and wake up exhausted and I still feel like I’m never doing enough for ya’ll!”
Pony feels Dally and Johnny stiffen, and both of them pull back to look at him, bewildered.
“Not enough? The fuck you mean you’re ‘never doing enough?’” Dally’s rough voice scoffs from behind him.
“You make our breakfasts and iron our clothes and clean the entire fuckin’ apartment! I can’t think of a single goddamn time that me or Johnny ‘ave had to lift a damn finger to do anything harder than taking off our shoes and jackets, and half the time you take off our jackets for us! What the fuck would ‘enough’ even-”
“Dally! Stop it, yer yellin’ at him.” Johnny’s sad but firm voice cuts through Dally’s angered one, and his hands come up to cup Ponyboy’s face.
“Pony… Dal and I don’t say it, but you do know we’re grateful for everything you do, right? I mean, you don’t ask anything of us except that we don’t trash the place, we take our shoes off at the door, and we call if we’ll be late coming home. Dally’s right when he says we barely do anything. And don’t talk about Bucks; it’s a tiring job, but I bet it ain’t even close to everything you have to do around here. Do you realize how much of a- a miracle you are? Me and Dally get to come home to a clean house, home-cooked meals, our clothes already washed and dried for us, our favorite snacks in the pantry. I mean… I’ve never been able to come home to that before we started living together.” Johnny looks Pony straight in the eyes, more serious than Pony’s ever seen him.
“Your Mama and Daddy were amazing people, and I’m so damn happy that I was accepted into their house, but it wasn’t mine. Not really. But this apartment? It’s yours, and it’s mine, and it’s Dal’s, and you make sure it’s shiny for us every day. We ain’t ever had someone who was willin’ to do that for us. Honestly, Dal and I would be happy if this was the bare minimum of ‘not a pigsty.’ But you do more than that, all on your own, and I don’t wanna hear you say it ‘ain’t enough.’ Even your Mama and Darry had your Daddy and Soda to help around the house. You don’t have anyone, and you still do all this for us.”
By the time Johnny finishes speaking, Pony’s in tears again, warmth flooding through him and pouring out his eyes. He has no clue what to say, but he doesn’t get to even think about it before Dally is speaking.
“We didn’t realize you were tired of takin’ care of us and the apartment all day. That’s our fault. I- We-....” A pained sigh. “We’re sorry, Pony.” His voice sounds stilted and awkward, which makes sense considering how Dally is, and it just makes Pony feel that much better that he apologized to him. After a beat, Dally squeezes Pony’s shoulder and gets up, leaving the room.
“Dally’s gonna go call us both out from work tomorrow,” Johnny explains before Pony can even say anything. “We didn’t realize you were exhausted, and that we were putting too much on you. You shouldn’t have to wake up alone every day, and make your own breakfast when Dally and I never have to. You shouldn’t have to do any of this alone. Tomorrow, you’ll show us everything you do all day, and we’ll help, and we’ll come up with a- a chore list or something. And Dally and I will ask to come in later so we can be with you when you wake up.”
Before Pony can even begin to think about responding to that, Dally enters the bedroom and slips into bed behind him, wrapping both Pony and Johnny in his arms. Pony opens and closes his mouth a few times, before bursting out into sobs again, unable to respond but filled with so much love for the two men holding him. He won’t have to wake up alone. He won’t have to do everything alone. Johnny and Dally are right here, and they’ll make sure he’s okay.