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"I laid down. I drank the poison, then I passed the fuck out."
Ponyboy sighed as he walked into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, staring into it for a moment before looking around the room to ensure the coast was clear. He grabbed a beer. He wasn’t too worried about getting caught, since Darry and Soda wouldn’t be home until later. Darry had started working two jobs and had been coming home late, while Soda was out playing poker with Steve and Two-Bit. His brothers didn't like him drinking, allowing it only on special occasions. Pony didn't mind that rule; he never liked the taste of alcohol. But after a long day, he found that drinking helped him block out his thoughts more effectively than smoking did. He discovered this over the last few times he spent at Curly Shepard’s place. Ever since Curly got out of the reformatory, they had been getting real close. Curly was pretty laid-back once you got to know him better, and Pony thought he was real tuff and hot. They had been dating for a few weeks, and he thought they were pretty good at keeping it a secret, but Darry and Soda already didn't like Curly, so Pony wondered how they'd react to that and the fact that he got their little brother hooked on the feeling of alcohol. He opened the door to his and Soda's room, threw his school bag down, and walked over to sit on the bed. He cracked open the beer and began drinking. Maybe he should have grabbed a Pepsi to help with the awful taste, but it didn't seem that important. He lay back on the bed, sipping his troubles away. He had a long day at school ever since that day Pony couldn't give two shits about his schoolwork. Darry did, though, and that didn't make it any better. The school counselors were doing what they always do, being annoying bout' it. They have threatened to call Darry multiple times, but they never actually do. Pony continued thinking for a while longer. He had finished at least half of the bottle before passing out.
"I have a million different kinds of fun. When I'm asleep, and I'm your only one."
Pony found himself in a familiar bed, with someone lying on top of him. It was Curly Shepard, who was whispering sweet nothings in his ear while playfully messing with his hair.
"Are you having fun, Ponybabe?" Curly smirked, leaning in to kiss along the side of his neck. Pony smiled softly at the ticklish feeling,
"A million different kinds of fun," He mumbled before leaning in and kissing him. Curly's hand slid down to rub circles on Pony's waist. Pony let out a few soft moans as they deepened the kiss. It lasted for a moment longer before Curly pulled away and whispered into Pony's ear. Pony couldn't process what he had whispered, though, because he had woken up to Soda yelling his name. Soda sounded upset, but Pony couldn’t care less at that moment; He was dreaming about kissing Curly Shepard. Too bad it was just a dream, but maybe it was better for both of them that it was. Ponyboy groaned before turning his attention to whatever Soda was going on about.
“Ponyboy Curtis, do you want to tell me why there’s a half-empty bottle of beer in your hand right now?!” Ponyboy opened his eyes quickly and looked down at his hands. He sprang up from the bed. Shit, he thought to himself. "What have Darry and I told you about drinking?" Pony looked dazed; he couldn't handle this right now. He was half asleep and had a pounding headache, so what was he supposed to say?
"I don't know," he whispered, looking down at the floor. Soda looked astonished at that response. He grabbed the bottle out of his little brother's hand and sighed.
"What do you mean by 'I don't know,' goddammit, Ponyboy." Soda groaned, bringing one hand to his face, only to drop it a second later. "You know how pissed Darry will be if he finds out bout' this? You know I can't stand to see you gettin' yelled at, honey." Soda frowned; he was real good at making Pony feel guilty. All Pony could do was nod. "We will talk about this later. I hope you know I love you, Pones." Soda took one last glance at Ponyboy before walking out of the room and closing the door. Pony assumed Soda was going to work; he looked over to the clock; it was early in the morning, so Soda had probably been up all night. But that was the least of his concerns; he had better not tell Darry. His mind was racing with all kinds of thoughts about what was going to happen to him, his eyes were starting to water, and that only made his headache worse. The sick feeling in his stomach intensified. When he heard the front door close, he quickly dropped to his knees.
"I have a million different girls that hide under my bed. And when I let them out, they treat me right." (Tw for sh)
Having dropped to the floor, he crawled over to the bed and frantically searched underneath it. His eyes lit up as he spotted what he was searching for. Grabbing the small box from beneath the bed, he leaned against it and opened the box. Inside, he found a razor blade and a pocketknife. He hesitated for a moment before grabbing the razor blade and tossing the box down beside him. He rolled up his jacket sleeve, revealing countless other scars. He sighed as he pressed the blade to his wrist, slicing deeply again and again. At some point, his watery eyes had turned to full sobbing. He hurled the razor onto the floor and glanced at his arms, watching the blood drip down onto his favorite jeans. What a waste of a perfectly good, clean wrist. He sat there for a while, sniffling and breathing heavily, listening to the blood trickle down his arms. Once he was able to see through the tears, he stood up, holding his hands underneath to catch any blood as he walked to the bathroom. Sure, Soda had just found out about the alcohol, but this is one thing no one else could know about. He quickly opened one of the drawers and grabbed a small first aid kit. Frantically, he opened it and took out some disinfectant. He had done this many times before, so it was nothing new; at least now he knew that he needed to disinfect wounds. As he sprayed the disinfectant onto the cuts, he winced at the pain, biting down on his lip to muffle any loud sounds. Once he was sure the cuts were clean, he took some Band-Aids and applied them to his arms. He discarded the wrappers in the trash and covered the band-aids with a layer of toilet paper.
"If every living thing dies alone. What am I doing here?"
He took out some hydrogen peroxide and closed the first aid kit. After putting it back in the drawer, he walked into the room and knelt on the floor. He poured some of the hydrogen peroxide onto the blood and scrubbed it for what felt like an eternity. Once he had cleaned the entire area, he opened the window to let the smell of cleaning products air out. He looked down at his pants and groaned. As he was taking them off, he thought of how to get the blood out. He figured he would do it some other time or just get rid of them in the first place; they were getting a bit small anyway. He put on a pair of sweats and hid the pants underneath the bed, along with the box. Pony looked around for something to do; he wasn't too big on any of his old hobbies anymore. Sure, they were fun, but he just didn't have the motivation. He fixed his gaze on his backpack and hesitated before approaching it, unzipping it, and grabbing out the stack of homework his teachers and brothers had been begging him to do. But why did they care? What was the point of all of this? His grades didn’t matter because he wasn’t going to live long enough to go to college. He knew that. But his brothers didn’t. One of their goals was to make sure that Pony would get to attend college and live out the life they had always hoped he would have once he left this place. However, if they ever found out that he wasn't planning to do any of that, that he felt he would die alone, they would be disappointed in him, which would only push him further away. What was the purpose of it all? There seems to be no point when everyone and everything will eventually die. All beautiful things inevitably come to an end. So, what are we doing here? Ponyboy didn’t realize he had been spacing out, but as soon as he heard something hit the ground by his window, he quickly put the papers back into his backpack.
"If it's the end of the world! You and me should spend the rest of it in love!"
He walked over to see what was causing the noise. It was Curly, and he was throwing rocks through his window. Pony felt a lump in his throat. 'God, not now please, I dont want him seeing me like this.' That's what he figured he should be thinking, but it's not; he doesn't care anymore. Everything is too hard to care about, so what was the point? Maybe he was just being dramatic. He opened the window and let off a fake smile. "Hey, Curls." He let out a hand to help him up. Curly grabbed his hand and climbed through, making sure the coast was clear before unexpectedly hugging him. Pony winced at the pain in his arms but hugged him back anyway.
"You alright, Ponybabe?" Curly let go, putting his hands on his shoulders. Pony looked him in the eyes and thought about it for a moment.
"Yeah, I'm ok." Ponyboy was internally screaming at himself; he hadn't told a lie that bad in a long while. Curly was listening, but he couldn't focus on what was happening when all he could smell was chemicals and blood. He looked at Pony, and Pony couldn't stand the staring; it made him sick to his stomach, and really got to him, especially when it was Curly. "Some stuff happened earlier, but it's all good now." Curly sighed and ruffled his hair before letting go completely and sitting down on the bed.
"Well, what happened?" Curly asked as he grabbed Pony's arm to pull him closer, but it clearly didn’t work. Pony instinctively pulled his arm back and winced; it hurt like hell. Curly looked at him, puzzled. He stood up and took hold of his other arm. Before he could pull away and tell him he was fine, Curly lifted his sleeve. He couldn't tell what his expression was; it was unfaltering, nothing but a slight frown to tell how he felt. But he was sure that Curly could see how he felt; it was clearly etched on his own face. Gently, Curly rubbed his fingers over the existing scars and band-aids. Pony was expecting some sob story as to why he should stop, but it was quiet, and in this silence, Pony was starting to find comfort. It was left unsaid, but to him, it felt like Curly understood what he was going through. He let go of his sleeve and pulled him closer for a hug. Mumbling into Pony's ear
"Are you okay now, mi amor?" Curly rubbed small circles on his back, giving him as much time as he needed. Pony nodded; he didn't know what to say; no one was supposed to know about this. But if someone did, at least it was Curly. It felt as if he could spend hours like this, hugging him and holding him close. He loved it when Curly was gentle with him; it made him feel something for the first time in a while. He wasn't sure if any of this mattered, but if his world were to come to an end soon, even if every living thing died alone, he would rather spend the rest of it in love.