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It was quiet in the lot as the two sat there, staring up at the stars. It was after they had gone to the drive-in, seeing a few movies with some pretty good-looking girls on the screen. They weren’t really that good that night, but regardless, it was still quality time spent together. It was pretty cold. They were only there since the oldest’s parents were fighting.
Ponyboy sat next to Johnny against the hood of a car, arms wrapped around himself since he decided to not wear a coat and instead a dark blue hoodie with the sleeves cut off, hoping his jeans would be enough to keep him warm. He wished the other boy would give his jean jacket to him, noticing his shivering every time he scooted a little closer. Except Johnny didn’t.
“Johnnycakes,” the auburn haired boy spoke up suddenly, tilting his head to look over at the other, green-gray eyes meeting dark eyes.
The dark eyes searched his face, his expression unreadable. “What’s up?”
Ponyboy hesitated, moving his foot from side to side as he thought about it. The two had been close since they were little, since before the youngest’s parents died, since before a large gang was formed. They told each other everything. Every problem they had, mostly every thought, every crush they had, anything. Why was it so hard now to admit he was struggling? He’d sometimes get into these episodes of days where he wouldn’t want to get up, cry himself to sleep, avoid the rainy weather at all costs, stare at a sharp object for too long or rub his arms nervously, like someone might notice. Johnny tilted his head, wrapping an arm around the other’s shoulders as he waited for a response.
“D'ya ever wish you could just press a button and disappear?” was the response.
Johnny furrowed his eyebrows, suddenly very concerned. He had these thoughts too, sometimes, but not frequently. “What?”
Ponyboy exhaled quietly, leaning into the black haired boy's hold as he nervously ran his hands over his arms. “I don't know, I feel like m’ drowning, with everything going on. Might kill myself at this rate,” he admitted, flashing a self-deprecating smile, his eyes filling up with tears. He was so similar to his middle brother, sometimes it was scary. The familiar mask of happiness, trying not to start bawling on the spot. “I mean, glory, what is there to live for? Shoot, I'm a fag, surely I'll go go hell for this.”
Johnny stared at him for a moment then shook his head, his fingers tightening around his shoulder. “No, Pone, you can’t say that. C'mon, don’t beat yourself up. If you think likin’ girls and guys is the one reason to have nothing to live for, then you're wrong. If that's such a bad thing, then we're goin’ together, ‘cause I like you. And I want you living. You got a lot to live for.”
There wasn’t a response, just Ponyboy moving over and putting most of his weight against his side. He was breathing shakily. Silence for a few minutes before he started to get up and say, “Darry’s goin’ to kill me if I’m over curfew, do you want to come over? It’s cold out.” He moved out of the hold around his shoulders.
Johnny looked up, confused. Instinctively, he reached out and took his hand as he got up. “Pony–” he started.
“Johnnycakes, I can’t be over curfew, he’d worry,” Ponyboy reasoned, but not moving, “do you want to not stay in the lot tonight?”
Johnny hesitated, thinning his lips. He wanted to tell the other two brothers about what he was told. He shook his head and pulled the other back down for a hug, pressing a sweet kiss to his temple. “It’s alright. Get home okay, be safe, see you tomorrow?” He whispered.
Ponyboy didn’t respond. He wanted to melt into the touch, but he didn’t and pulled away after a few seconds. “Okay. Come by if you’re cold,” he responded, smiling before he started walking away.
Johnny knew it'd feel wrong if he didn't tell anyone what he just heard.
The door quietly closed behind him as he walked in. Johnny made a last minute decision to head over to the Curtis house about thirty minutes after Ponyboy left him. He saw Darrel in his arm chair, no Sodapop. The oldest Curtis brother looked at him and glanced at the clock before deciding to ignore the god awful time. “Johnny,” he said simply.
“Hi, Darry,” Johnny paused, “could I talk to you? Where's Soda?”
Darrel's expression softened in concern. “Tryin’ to sleep, so is Pone. What's happening?” he asked.
Johnny drummed his nails on the door he was leaning against. He wasn't sure if he should sit down or not. “Pony… he… we were in the lot and he told me he wanted to die, like he was drowning in… everything. He's stressed, he hates himself. I don't know what to do,” he said, keeping his voice quiet, “I'm scared. I don't want to lose him.”
Darrel didn't say anything for a moment. Sodapop stepped out into the living room, rubbing his eyes. “Who's here? I heard the door open,” he mumbled, then paused when he saw Johnny. “Hi, Joh–”
“No, shh– don't– you'll make Pony hear,” Johnny interrupted frantically.
“Why?” Sodapop asked, voice quiet.
Darrel ran a hand over his face then said, “our kid brother wants to kill himself,” he said quietly.
Sodapop stared at his older brother for a moment before looking at Johnny, then at the floor. He leaned against the wall. “Oh,” he said after a moment.
“Pony says the same things,” Johnny commented, moving his hand to the door knob, “he's like you guys. In a lot of ways. He was putting on a mask of happiness, like you, Soda.”
There was no response from either of the brothers. Sodapop glanced back, hearing noises from where he came from. He looked at Johnny, frowning. The latter saw the look and nodded, quietly opening the door and slipping out. Ponyboy walked into the living room soon after, looking like he had just woken up. He looked between his brothers, confused, about to ask what was happening. Sodapop shook his head and whispered for him to go back to bed. The youngest brother looked around, confused, before going back.
“Talk to him tomorrow, please, Pepsi-Cola,” Darrel said after another few minutes of silence.
Sodapop nodded. “Sounds good. Sleep some time tonight, alright?” He requested quietly. His brother nodded, so he slipped away and got back to bed.
It was early in the morning, but not too early. The awkward stage between what was classified as breakfast time and lunch time. Ponyboy stared at himself in the mirror, sorting out his hair. He felt weird, wearing the same jacket he had worn when things were bad. Gray. It faintly reminded him of Johnny, who wore it after Ponyboy had left it in the lot one time. He had a stupid cowlick, never lying straight. He sighed.
“Can I cut my hair?!” He called out, hoping one of his brothers was listening. They were both home.
“Why?” Sodapop called back.
Ponyboy saw how the hair stuck up and he groaned in annoyance. “‘Cause this stupid strand won't go to the left or right! I'm sick of it!”
Sodapop loudly laughed. “Good luck with that!” The front door loudly opened and aggressively closed. It was either Steve or Two-Bit. Or maybe even both. “Stevieee!” It was Steve.
Ponyboy huffed and walked out, going back to his room, then leaving again when he forgot what he needed to grab. He saw Darrel in his arm chair as he passed by the living room, walking towards the kitchen. He paused and walked back towards the living room. “Darry?”
Darrel looked up, his gaze slightly worried. "Pony."
Ponyboy hesitated before asking, "can I go on a–” he paused, then corrected himself, "can I hang out with Johnny today? I'll be back for dinner."
Darrel didn't respond for a second, looking at Sodapop who smiled and shrugged. He'd forgotten last night. "Alright. Just be safe. You need someone to tag along?"
Ponyboy's eyes widened. "Oh, no. No, definitely not. I'm strong, why would we need someone?"
"Still weak enough for Socs to jump you!" Steve chimed in.
"Aw, shut up, nobody needs your input!" Ponyboy hollered, grimacing. He ran his hands over his arms.
Darrel nodded. "That's fine. Go, have fun, tell him he's welcome for dinner."
Ponyboy grinned and nodded. It didn't reach his eyes. "Thanks!" He said, heading towards the door.
"Tell him I say hi! Steve too!" Sodapop called after him.
"Eugh, no, I'm not saying Steve says hi," Ponyboy called back before slipping out the door.
Sodapop laughed loudly whilst Steve scowled. His laughter soon quieted down. "Dar, I feel like I forgot to do something," he murmured.
"You forgot to talk to him," Darrel responded.
"Awh, shoot!"
Johnny sat in the lot, waiting for someone to come by. An auburn-haired, green-gray eyed someone. He was humming a quiet tune as he paced around, kicking a big rock he found, hands stuffed in his pockets.
Why hadn't he come by?
It was an hour after noon. If Ponyboy was here, they would've been snuggling and tilting their heads up, noses close, whispering sweet words to each other. Socs didn't really come this far, so he didn't get jumped. Maybe he slept in.
No, no, he was an early bird. That's what Johnny remembered. He never woke up late, just woke up and got his day started whilst surrounded by groggy people.
The facade of happiness.
Johnny lost the rock after kicking it too hard. He frowned. He thought about heading over to the Curtis house, maybe ask someone there if they had seen Ponyboy. A lot of people would be there, he knew that for certain.
One of them would have had to see him.
Johnny moved out of the way to prevent Two-Bit from putting him in a headlock as soon as he walked inside. "Has anyone seen Pony?" He called out.
"'Said he was on a date with you, you ditching him?" Dallas jokingly asked, sitting on the couch's arm chair, smoking a cigarette, flashing a grin.
"Winston!" Darrel yelled from the kitchen. "Put that out!"
Dallas looked at Johnny who nervously laughed. "Seriously, has anyone seen Pone? He didn't come by the lot," the latter asked again.
Sodapop walked into the living room, taking Dallas' cigarette out of his fingers before tapping it on the blonde's leather jacket. A loud scoff. "He said he went to hang out with you," he said, furrowing his eyebrows in concern as he walked back to the kitchen, tossing the cigarette in a trash can on the way over.
"Right, so was I wrong about the date thing?" Dallas asked.
"They don't know," Johnny mumbled through gritted teeth, putting his hands on his hips. Dallas' eyes widened and he snickered, pretending to zip his lips. Two-Bit had heard it, but said nothing as he passed by, patting the black-haired boy on the back. He winced. "Okay, well I haven't seen Pony since last night, so he's missing."
"Horse on the loose," Dallas commented, reaching into his pocket with the cigarette box. Johnny glared at him.
Darrel walked in, wiping his hands with a napkin. "Missing? Dallas, put the cigarette away! Don't smoke in my damn house!"
Dallas rolled his eyes. "Buck lets me smoke at his?" He said, putting sass in his tone as he stuffed the cigarette in his pocket.
"Can I singe his hair?" Two-Bit chimed in.
"Ooh, can't do that, it's already fried enough," Dallas laughed.
Darrel looked between them, taking deep breaths. He shook his head. "We're off topic, my kid brother is missin'. Why are y'all not worried?" He asked, looking especially at Johnny.
Not worried? Johnny scoffed. "I'm worried! Worried like hell!" He snapped suddenly, "that's my boy–my best friend! You think I ain't worried, considering what he told me?!"
"Oh, shit," Dallas and Two-Bit said at the same time.
A moment. "Dally, Keith, get out, let me and Johnny talk," Darrel requested calmly.
"Keith!?" Two-Bit exclaimed.
Johnny felt some of his worry turn into more of a frustration. "Listen to Darry, alcoholic. You too, Yankee with lung cancer," he snapped.
Dallas raised his hands, offended. "The fuck did I do?" One more stare from Darrel and Johnny sent the other two out of the living room.
The oldest Curtis brother sighed, running a hand over his face. "Do you want us to look for him?" He asked, tone careful.
Johnny exhaled a breath he didn't even know he was holding, the frustration leaving his body slowly but surely. "Please."
It didn't take very long until a few of the gang were looking around their side of town. Darrel went from door to door, asking neighbors if they had seen Ponyboy. Johnny stuck with Dallas, since the latter seemed to be able to find things pretty easy, and he was smoking. Of course. Maybe it helped, maybe it didn't. The younger boy got offered the cancer stick a few times but he rejected it. He only liked to share cigarettes with one person.
Sodapop eventually caught up to the duo and put an arm around Dallas' shoulders. "Dally– hypothetically, if you were to, you know, disappear for a hell of a long time, where would you hypothetically go?" He asked. Johnny stared at him in disbelief and a slight disgust, his feet stopping walking, catching the double meaning of disappearing.
Dallas also paused on walking, turning towards him slowly. He appeared to catch the double meaning, too. "Hypothetically? Hypothetically!? Is that what y'all have been talking about, somethin' scary that you learned last night? Pony wants ta leave?" He yelled suddenly, taking the cigarette out from between his lips, "no, Soda, you don't fucking ask that! Oh, for fuck's sake, you're stupid but you ain't this stupid! Why didn't y'all tell us this before we went on a manhunt!? We would be rushin' right now, dumbass!"
"Dal," Johnny quietly whispered, nervously glancing at him.
Sodapop's eyes widened. He looked slightly terrified, being yelled at. "I... look, I don't struggle with this type of stuff, I was just wondering if there's like a place people would--"
"Sure, ain't-cha lucky, movie star!? Not strugglin' with the urge to close your eyes and never open them again, not strugglin' with holding sharp objects. Holy fuck, ain't-cha a lucky fuckin' duck!" Dallas interrupted sharply, starting to walk again, except picking up the pace. Johnny quickly trailed behind him. Sodapop tried to keep up. "Christ– Johnnycakes, where does Ponyboy frequent when he's alone?"
"I don't know," Johnny admitted quietly, "quiet, secluded areas, I suppose."
"The library. Alleyways. Anywhere he can be and feel calm," Sodapop mumbled.
Dallas didn't respond, just took another drag of a cigarette. He stopped walking for a second, seeing the other two stop too. He dropped the cigarette and stomped it out, thinking for a second. He glanced at the Curtis brother on his right, then at the black labrador as a person on his left.
"One of you get Superman, tell him this shit, then the other follow me. I'd prefer Johnny follows me," he said simply.
Sodapop nodded and turned away, going to find his older brother. Johnny started walking again, feeling the familiar ache in his ankles from his Converse the more he walked. Dallas was ranting in frustration, looking around every corner as they walked a path Ponyboy would walk after-school. The younger boy had no choice but to listen, though his head was clouded by thoughts. His eyes felt like they were watering. He wasn't sure.
They passed by an alleyway and Johnny could've sworn he saw a curled up figure, but he just kept following Dallas.
It was nearing sun down as Darrel walked around out of the neighborhood. He wasn't walking with anyone, but every time he passed an alleyway and looked down it. He was worried. Very worried. His kid brother had disappeared, and the rest of the gang (minus Johnny and Sodapop) gave up and went back to the house, deciding to let the three find him.
It wasn't until the sixth alleyway he looked down when he saw a figure leaned up against a wall, knees to their chest, staring at the sky. That was a Ponyboy figure, if Darrel had ever seen one. He didn't even hesitate before walking over. It was his kid brother, looking so... dead inside. Sad. Empty in the head. He quietly kneeled down.
"Ponyboy," he said, trying to keep his tone calm despite the worry raging in his head like a storm. There was a switchblade on the ground, close to the auburn-haired kid's jeans, along with the butt of a cigarette.
"I like the sunset," Ponyboy mumbled, monotone, "orange, gold, pink. That's a good colour combo."
Deflecting. Darrel sighed and sat down, picking up the switchblade and pocketing it. "You worried us, why'd you go missin'?" He asked.
Ponyboy watched as the switchblade was taken away out of the corner of his eye. He didn't answer the question. "I remember a late track meet. I almost missed a race 'cause I was too busy staring at the sunset. You wouldn't get it, I don't think you dig sunsets," he smiled, though the corners of his eyes didn't crinkle. "Mom and dad are probably in the sunset. The sky. I miss them sometimes, you know?"
Even more deflecting. Darrel looked at the sky, feeling a lump in his throat at the mention of their parents. "It's pretty," he said.
Ponyboy looked at his hands, resting his chin on his knees. "Johnny and Dally like to joke about killing themselves. I don't really find it funny, considering one of them actually tried it," he mumbled, his voice wavering. He finally looked at his brother. "Darry, why do I hate myself, if all I do is one routine and I'm a normal kid? Is it 'cause I don't behave like one? Soda told me to be nice to myself last night, I don't know why he said that. I was just tryin' to sleep."
Darrel met his kid brother's stare, listening to every word. The wavering of his words made him sound like he was about to cry. "Baby, why do you want to die?" He asked quietly.
Ponyboy blinked, looking off to the side. "Who said I wanted to die?"
"You, last night, with Johnny."
"Oh. He told you."
Darrel nodded. Ponyboy looked back at the sky, his hands dropping to his sides. They didn't say any more words for a bit.
Darry, why do I hate myself?
The oldest brother watched as the younger's eyes filled with tears. He offered a hug and it took a few seconds before Ponyboy moved closer then practically collapsed on him, melting into the arms around him. No, neither of them were crying. At least-- not yet. A couple passed by the alleyway.
"Why did you go and not hang out with Johnny?" Darrel quietly asked, resting his chin atop reddish-brown hair.
Ponyboy sniffled, closing his eyes. "'Cause I felt awful. His folks were fightin', he was already dealing with enough, then I had to go and complain 'bout how I was drowning with school and life and thought death was the only escape. And–" he hesitated. "I like... I like guys. And girls, but mostly guys, and I just knew I'd go to hell for it, so what's even the point? I know you won't get it."
Darrel shook his head. "Believe me, I know. You ain't going to hell, honey, that's who you like. If you're struggling, tell me or Soda. You know we listen and care, don't make your friend worry about you. We love you. Unconditionally, no matter what."
It only took that singular statement before Ponyboy sat up and started sobbing into his older brother’s shoulder, hugging him back now. It was the ugly kind of sobbing, the kind reserved for when someone hated themselves. Whispered words of comfort.
Johnny sat on the floor, leaned up against the couch. Sodapop was pacing back and forth. It was just them in the house. He felt empty, staring at the shitty carpet that didn't match anything in the house.
Suddenly, the door opened, and Darrel and Ponyboy walked in. The latter looked tired, eyes red rimmed, sniffling occasionally. Johnny immediately got up and went over, wrapping him in a tight hug. He closed his eyes, feeling the other's head drop to his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," Ponyboy whispered.
"You have nothing to apologize for," Johnny reassured him quietly, holding him close. He saw Darrel go over to Sodapop, heard the click of a switchblade, then the click of it closing.
Ponyboy shook his head. "I broke my promise," he whispered.
"What promise?" Johnny asked, running his hands through the other's hair.
"That I wouldn't try again."
Oh. "Please don’t beat yourself up over it.”
Ponyboy didn’t respond, just held onto Johnny. He was shaking like he was about to start crying, but he didn’t. Sodapop interrupted the moment by clearing his throat, watching the two pull away from each other. His smile was forced, he looked like he wanted to cry. Johnny kept an arm around Ponyboy.
“Sorry to… disrupt, can we hug our brother?” Sodapop hesitantly asked. He was holding the switchblade, turning it over in his hands.
Johnny quickly pulled away. “Yeah– sorry, I just… worried,” he quickly said. He hesitated before holding out his hand, offering to hold onto the blade. He felt the cool metal handle fall into his hand before he stepped away, allowing all the brothers to hug and talk. He stood awkwardly to the side, looking at the blade. He felt tears faintly well up in his eyes, but he quickly blinked them away.
Ponyboy had his cheek pressed up against Sodapop’s shoulder, comfortable in the small group hug. His eyes met dark eyes and he softly smiled, a tear leaking out of his eye.
Johnny smiled back. He hoped he would be okay.