Work Text:
The ground was damp from last night's rain, soaking the soles of Donna's worn boots. Puddles caught the pale morning light. The air carried that clean smell rain always leaves behind, mixed with wet earth. It was six in the morning.
The streets were so quiet that Donna could hear the distant whistle of a freight train somewhere beyond town.
Donna kept walking. She wasn't heading anywhere in particular. Sleep had come hard lately. She'd spent most of the night staring at the cracked ceiling of the room she'd been renting above an old garage, listening to the rain tap against the window until she'd finally given up sometime before dawn.
Walking gave her something to do besides think. Besides, there wasn't much else open at this hour. The diner wouldn't start serving breakfast for another hour. She thought about going to Buck's place to see if that blond-headed rascal was awake yet, but she doubted even Buck was either.
She passed the lot and could see Johnny's outline huddled up, newspapers surrounding him. His parents must be at it again tonight, Donna thought. She approached him. The least she wanted to do was wake him up, but it was freezing out here, and the floor was damp. "Johnny," she muttered, crouching down and shaking him slightly. "Johnny, wake up."
Johnny stirred for a moment before opening his eyes, gathering his thoughts. "Donnie?" he grumbled, wiping at his eyes. "What you doing out here?"
"Just walking," she said. "You really shouldn't be sleeping out here. It's freezing."
"I'm okay, honest." Johnny sat up and pulled his knees into his chest.
"Mrs. Curtis don't mind you sleeping at their place, Johnnycakes," she told him. "None of them do. You don't gotta sleep out here."
Johnny flinched at the name. Donna looked at him. "What?"
"You haven't heard then?" Johnny asked her, looking at the ground, avoiding eye contact.
"Heard what?" Donna's brows furrowed.
Johnny raised his head, and their eyes met. He seemed at a loss for words. "They're gone," he said. "Like…"
"Like what?" Donna grew frustrated. "Johnny, what are you trying to say?"
"I was there last night with Pony, Darry, and Soda, you see. There was a cop, and he told us that they were involved in an accident…" His voice trailed off.
Donna stared at him. "No," she shook her head. "Are you sure?"
"Donnie, Darry had to go to identify their bodies. Soda and Pony could barely sleep," he snapped, getting to his feet, sounding desperate. "Yeah, I'm sure. I'm sure they're… gone."
Donna got up, and for a while she didn't say anything. "Hell, Johnny."
They kept walking until they reached the house. It might have as well been all in gray-scale. It was as if all the color and life had been drained from it.
When they entered, Donna's eyes swept across the room. Darry was at the kitchen table, a mug of coffee untouched in front of him. He hadn't shaved. His shirt was wrinkled, like he'd slept in it. Or he hadn't slept at all.
Soda was curled up on the couch with Pony underneath a blanket. They were both awake. eyes red. Nobody looked up when the screen door creaked shut. Donna stopped in the doorway. For a second, she waited.
Darry's eyes met Donna's. Her stomach sank. She'd never seen that look on him before. Darry looked toward his brothers. "You two oughta get some sleep."
Soda hesitated, his eyes flickering between the door, then nodded. "C'mon Pony." They got off the couch and approached the stairs. Soda watched as Pony went up. "You comin' up?"
"In a little while, Pepsi-Cola," Darry told him softly. With that, Soda followed Pony.
Donna found her throat tighten. "So," she began. "It's true then?"
Darry looked up at her and nodded. "Yeah."
Donna glanced around the kitchen again. Mrs. Curtis's apron still hung from the hook by the stove. A loaf of bread sat on the counter, half-wrapped.
It didn't seem possible that a house could still look so lived in when the people who lived there were gone.
She shoved her hands into her jacket pockets. "…. How you holdin' up?"
"I'm alright." His answer was quick. She looked at him. He didn't look alright. His eyes were bloodshot; his shoulders were stiff. But she knew better than to call him on it.
"Funeral's in three days," he said almost absently. "There'll be folks comin' by the next couple of days. Neighbors and family. People from Dad's work."
Donna nodded slowly. "… The others know yet?"
Darry rubbed a hand over his jaw. "Steve does. And Two-Bit. He came by last night."
"And Dally?"
He shook his head. "Haven't seen him yet."
"We'll tell him," she said finally, giving Johnny's shoulder a light squeeze.
Darry looked up, his eyes going from Donna's to Johnny's. "You sure?"
Donna nodded. She wasn't sure how Dally would take the news, but if anyone could handle him, it was her and Johnny.
Three days later, the sky was the same dull gray. Rows of black umbrellas dotted the cemetery.
Donna stood awkwardly in a black dress, feeling like somebody else's skin had been sewn onto her. Beside her, Dally looked just as uncomfortable in a suit. He had loosened his tie before they even reached the cemetery. If it were any other circumstances, they'd have ridiculed each other. But it wasn't just any other circumstances.
A small crowd had gathered around the two polished caskets. Men from Mr. Curtis's work stood with their hats in their hands. Women Donna had never met dabbed at their eyes with handkerchiefs. A preacher was speaking at the front. Donna couldn't bring herself to listen.
Her eyes stayed fixed on the Curtis boys. Ponyboy stood closest to the casket, his shoulder shaking. Soda had one arm around him, rubbing small circles into his shoulder, though he wasn't holding together much better himself. Every so often, he'd wipe at his face.
Darry stood on the other side, his face blank and stoic, and jaw hard. He had not once cried, his eyes unwavering.
A bit further away, Two-Bit stood with his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. He looked much older without his grin. Steve stood next to him, his eyes on the ground and jaw set tight. Now and then, he'd glance toward Soda before looking away again, as though he didn't know what else to do except be there.
Johnny lingered a little behind the others. His head stayed bowed, his hands fidgeting with each other in front of him. He looked small standing among the crowd.
Donna caught words from the preacher's voice here and there. "Beloved family taken too soon…"
She didn't wanna hear about heaven. She wanted Mrs. Curtis back in her kitchen and Mr. Curtis laughing with the boys again. Not this. Never this. But this had happened anyway. Memories flooded her mind…
"You've got beautiful hair, baby," Mrs. Curtis said behind Donna, her hands brushing through it.
"It's a mess," Donna argued. "Too red. I look like a carrot."
Mrs. Curtis laughed. "That's silly."
Her fingers worked through another stubborn knot, careful not to pull hard. Donna sat unusually still on one of the kitchen chairs, elbows resting on the table.
Mrs. Curtis separated Donna's hair into three even strands. The brain slowly took shape, each section folded neatly over the next. Donna frowned at herself. "C'mon you ain't gotta do all this." She turned her head.
Mrs. Curtis tutted at her. "I know," she said solemnly.
"You got better things to be doin'," Donna sighed.
"I probably do."
"So why're you?"
Mrs. Curtis was quiet for a moment. When she answered, her voice was gentle. "Because a pretty girl deserves pretty things."
Donna went quiet. Mrs. Curtis simply finished the braid, smoothing a few loose wisps around Donna's face before tying the end with a small ribbon she'd found in the kitchen drawer. "There."
Donna reached back awkwardly, feeling the braid resting against her shoulder. Mrs. Curtis gave her shoulder a light squeeze before walking around to stand in front of her. "Now," she said with a warm smile, "there's my pretty girl."
Donna couldn't help but smile. "… Don't go sayin' things like that Ma—" The word was out before she could stop her. She had never called Mrs. Curtis that. A part of her grew scared of how she'd react. "Sorry." She lowered her gaze to her hands.
Mrs Curtis's smile stayed warm and bright. "Baby, you can call me that whenever you'd like for however long you'd like." She placed her hand in Donna's and gave it a squeeze.
The wind blew at Donna's untamed hair, wisps and stray strands flying. She had given up brushing it halfway, frustrated by the mess. Soda had noticed and didn't hesitate to help her. He had soft hands like Mrs. Curtis's, Donna had thought that time. Shaky but soft.
When Donna had turned to help him with his tie, she paused, looking into his red, teary eyes. She couldn't say anything now that would make him feel better. It felt weird not to see him bubbly and cheery. Something in her broke. Don't cry, Donna. You are stronger than this. But she felt a tear slip when Soda pulled her into a warm hug. A hug Donna didn't know she needed, even though she wasn't big on hugs.
Now back at the cemetery, she lowered her head, taking slow breaths. She wasn't going to cry. Not in front of a dozen people. The knot in her throat tightened. Without saying a word, she stepped away from the crowd. She'd barely made it a dozen paces before she heard another pair of footsteps behind her. But she didn't have to look back to see who it was. "… couldn't it do it either?" she asked quietly.
Dally came alongside her, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. "Nah. Place is making my skin crawl."
He pulled the pack of cigarettes from his pocket, offering her one without looking.
"You wanna dip?" Donna asked him, taking a cigarette. She wanted to get out of here. Anywhere but here and out of those stupid clothes.
Dally considered it for a moment, then loosened his tie more. "Yeah, c'mon."