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i got no other place to go

Summary:

Curly struggles after coming home, and falls into a deep depression. He seeks out Ponyboy for comfort.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

God might have it out for Curly Shepard.

 

Tim hadn't stopped yelling at him for every small thing every time he went home, he's currently banned from every gas station and store within a 5 mile radius, Angela wasn't talking to him, and he hadn't had a moment of peace since coming home from the reform school.

 

Currently, Tim was getting onto Curly for… something. Honestly, he'd tuned him out the second he started raising his voice. 

 

When the spiel was evidently done, he just shrugged and stalked to his room. 

 

He didn't bother to turn the lights on, just curled up in a corner and stared at the peeling wallpaper.

 

He didn't know how much time had passed when there was a knock on the door. 

 

“Curly?” 

 

He didn't respond.

 

“Wanna come eat?” 

 

“....”

 

Tim sighed sharply.

 

“Suit yourself. Pizza's in the fridge.”

 

Curly waited for the sound of footsteps to fade away before getting to his feet. 

 

He wasn't hungry, so he casually, quickly, rushed out the door. “Goin’ out!” He shouted, harsher than he meant to. 

 

He was always harsher than he meant to be.

 

The door slammed shut before anyone could respond.

 

The air was sticky, too hot to logically wear his jacket, but it felt like a second protective skin at this point. Like a poisonous frog, a warning screaming “part of the Shepard gang, do not fuck with.” 

 

The only good thing that came from being Tim's brother. 

 

He wandered to the old billboard on a different part of town, climbing the rickety post and settling at the top. The wind whistled in his ears and ruffled his hair, but he could see most of Tulsa from up here. 

 

Ponyboy always talked to him about finding somewhere his mind could be calm. It was usually here that he could finally hear his own thoughts. 

 

He inhaled deeply, the night air cooler up here.

 

“If you threw yourself off, they wouldn't find you until morning.”

 

His eyes snapped open. What the hell was that thought? His head swam, his hands growing clammy and shaky as his heart pounded in his chest. He wasn't one for those thoughts usually, even when it got hard, but… 

 

He stared out, the drop down suddenly seeming much further than it was a second ago.

 

It would be so easy. It would be quick, even, if he could land on his neck. It'd probably save Tim the embarrassment. A plausible accident. He could slip, and nobody would even know it was suicide. 

 

A sob tore from his throat. He couldn't actually be considering it, right?

 

He scrambled backwards, his back hitting the sign. What was Ponyboy always saying?

 

“If you ever feel dark inside, our door is always unlocked.” He'd said with a sad look in his eyes after Curly told him about a fight he and Tim had. “I can't lose another friend like that. Please, come talk to me. Or don't. I can just sit with you until it hurts less.” 

 

Curly had pretended not to know what he'd meant at the time. 

 

Everything was too big.

 

The evil thing in his chest, the billboard, the easy drop down…

 

He made his decision then, climbing down the ladder.

 

He wrapped his arms around his body, ignoring the way his hands shook the entire walk to the Curtis house. 

 

He knew the door was unlocked, but he knocked anyway. He knew that the two oldest brothers didn't like him, and he didn't want to be a parasite, like he usually was.

 

The door clicked open, a confused Soda standing in the doorway. His face dropped slightly. “Shepard.”

 

Curly stared at the floor. “Is your couch open?” He asked, internally cursing the way his voice shook slightly.

 

Soda's face softened slightly. “Uh, yeah. Come in.”

 

He stepped to the side, letting Curly in.

 

He sat stiffly on the couch, his mind racing. 

 

“Curly…? Is everything okay?” Pony asked from a few feet away. He shrugged.

 

The couch dipped as Pony sat down next to him. “Did you and Tim fight?” He nodded.

 

“Okay… and you're upset about it?” Another nod. He felt his throat get tight, and embarrassingly, he felt his eyes get hot. He ducked his head, his shoulders shaking.

 

“Oh… Curly, it's okay.” Pony wrapped an arm around him, but Curly jerked away. “M'not fuckin’ crying.” He spat, furiously scrubbing at his eyes. Pony didn't flinch back, just sat quietly as he tried and failed to get himself together. 

 

He took a deep breath, the tears still falling, but at least he wasn't sobbing and hiccuping like a little kid.

 

“I– I was on the billboard. Y'know, the– the one I took you to that one time? Cuz Tim was yelling ‘n I wanted t'get my head on straight, and–” he shuddered, and Pony tried to put his arm around him again. He just let it happen, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to see his reaction.

 

“I wanted to kill myself, Pone. I saw that I was real above ground, and I thought– I thought if I just threw myself off–”

 

“Curly…” Pony sounded horrified.

 

“I know.” His voice broke. “I know, that's why I'm here. Didn't want to do that to ya. Just… I'm so tired. Don't feel like living, but I don't think I could do it myself, y'know?” 

 

He barked a wet laugh, devolving into ugly, heaving sobs. Pony didn't say anything, just held him as he fell apart. 

 

“Fuck, I sound like a pussy.” He gasped bitterly. 

 

“I think you're tuff.” Pony murmured. “I think having the guts to admit that you aren’t okay, and being willing to talk about it is tuffer than you think.”

 

Curly's lip trembled. “Fuck off.”

 

Pony frowned, making eye contact. “Hey. I mean it. I'm proud of you for coming here.”

 

And fuck if that didn't make Curly fall apart completely.

 

To his credit, Pony didn't react much, just sat there and held him. When he exhausted himself, Pony spoke again.

 

“You're taking my bed tonight. Soda'll understand.” 

 

Curly tried to protest, but Ponyboy cut him off. “It's not because I don't trust you.” He assured. “Just for my own peace of mind? Please?” 

 

Curly couldn't say no, especially since he looked near tears of his own. 

 

Soda gave in quickly, and Curly had a feeling he'd heard most of it, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

 

Pony held him close in that bed, head against his chest like he needed to hear his heartbeat to make sure he was alive. Like he was something to keep close. 

 

Like he mattered.

 

He wasn't better suddenly. But he felt like maybe he could stay, if somebody would miss him this much. Maybe being alive could hurt less, if Pony would keep holding him like this.

 

Notes:

Requests open on Tumblr @randoz-writingz
Thank you for reading!! <3

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