Chapter Text
“It had to be you,” Ponyboy wrote on a lined piece of paper in his cursive penmanship, “for nobody else gave me a thrill, with all your faults, I love you still. It had to be you.” He then continued to write; “I know it’s cheesy, writing down a song before anything else, but that song always made me think of sunsets and who I might share them with in the future. I never knew who that person would be, but after sharing one with you, there’s no one else I want to share one with. I know you’ve been long gone, but I just got to tell you how I felt for you after all this time, it eats me up inside keeping it secret. I don’t know if this is how a friend should feel, but I just can’t help myself, Johnny. I miss you more and more everyday, and it doesn’t get any easier. I keep wondering to myself when our next sunset will be, maybe after I’m gone too we’ll get to live somewhere nice where it’s just sunsets all day. The colors changing and mashing together to make a new kind of feeling you find deep inside yourself that you never knew was there. I’ll always miss you, Johnny, miss that last sunset we shared before the church fire—” Pony’s emotions hit the page, staining it with fat tears rolling off of his cheeks.
“That sunset where it felt like time was slow, where we were gonna be alright after everything that happened. Everyone is different now that you are gone Johnny, especially Dally. Dally isn’t even here anymore, he couldn’t take losing you, and for a long while I thought I couldn’t either. So I wanted to write you this and give it to you to tell you everything because I’m not too sure you can hear my prayers at night when I’m missing you. Also— you wrote that note, telling me to show Dally a sunset. Telling me to ‘stay gold.’ I never knew what that meant, I knew you meant I should show Dal’ something to live for, but I didn’t know what you meant by telling me to ‘stay gold,’ not ‘till now that is. I guess you meant to stay real, stay like how you are when you’re a kid, young and free. Maybe that’s not what you meant. I’ll never really know, and that makes me sad, but it’ll be alright. I loved you so much back when you were here, I love you even more now. I love you Johnny, and I wish you could come back just fine. But maybe you wanted to be dead. You always talked about killing yourself, I understood why you hated life, but I wish you would have stayed.” Pony only cried harder with every letter he wrote down on the tear-stained page to his best friend, “I wish you would have stayed for at least me. I wish you would have never gone into that church, I wish your parents weren't terrible towards you, I wish you would’ve gotten better to at least share one more sunset with me. I wish so much for you, for us. I’ll always miss you Johnny. Johnny I love you.”
Pony signed the paper, he put his now dull pencil down, folding the paper up by three. Like when you put a paper into an envelope to mail it away, except Ponyboy wasn’t mailing it away, he would take it to Johnny Cade’s grave, along with some flowers he had plucked off of the side of the road on his way home from school. The boy slips on his old shoes, tying them up carefully, grabbing the paper and flowers then rushing toward the screen door at the front of his house.
Ponyboy, still crying, runs down the road as fast as his legs will allow him to, running straight to the cemetery. He reaches the far-back gate, closest to his house, which is still miles away, but who cares? Certainly not Ponyboy Curtis. Johnny was buried right next to Dallas, way in the back right by the gate, that’s what Dally would’ve wanted. Johnny wouldn’t have cared where he was buried, he would’ve just wanted to be near someone who loved him, maybe that person was Dally. Ponyboy wiped his red, teary eyes with his balled up fists, sniffling like a mess, the mess he was. He shuffled his feet slowly, broodingly toward the graves, first Dally, sitting by his grave looking at the small picture in the single-marked headstone. Ponyboy admired his crooked, sneering, grin. He always had some of the best looks, aside from his god-like older brother, Soda, but Dally always was some-what charming. Pony scoots over a few feet sitting right next to Johnny’s small headstone, one of the cheapest ones, his lousy parents didn’t ever care to scrounge up much money for him to have a nice grave either. But for Dally, the gang had put together a decent amount of money to give Dally a good headstone, even if it was small.
Ponyboy just sat there, waiting for something— though not sure what he was waiting for. Maybe he was waiting for the mood to shift, or maybe for the sun to set to watch one more with Johnny, right by his side. Maybe he was waiting for Johnny to come back, like he always seemed to do after something rough. But Ponyboy knew, he knew he wouldn’t come back this time, no matter how long he waited for Johnny to. Pony fumbles with the flowers in his hands, setting them down right at the end of Johnny Cade’s headstone, “Here you go Johnny, I hope you like ‘em. They’re cornflowers— I think they are at least, I never know really— I just hope you like ‘em Johnny. It was the best I could do. I figured you wouldn’t want much, but I think you deserve more than some stupid road-side weed I plucked for you. You deserved more than the rest of us, deserved more than to die in some lousy hospital. You deserved one more sunset.”
Ponyboy sniffled as he sat, stoic, tears drizzling like a slow, early-on rain, making small whimpering noises every now and then. He needed this more than anything. He needed everything— his everything. Johnny. He hated bawling, it made him feel weak, like a child, and certainly not tuff like he wished he was. Ponyboy grabbed the letter he wrote for Johnny, unfolding it, reading it aloud to Johnny, lingering on the emotions scribed amongst the paper, thinking of all the moments they'd spent together before it all. Pony sniffled and remembered their times in the church, reading, playing, bleaching and cutting each other's hair, eating that god-awful balonga, all of it.
“Y’know— Johnny, I wrote this for you, but I figured I’d read it for you— just like I read ‘Gone with the Wind’ for you.” So Ponyboy sat, reading the entire page, front and back. Somehow, it felt as though Johnny could hear him, that he could understand although he was buried right next to him. All while Pony was reading all of his sloppy, mixed up emotions, the sun started to set. And as he finished the letter, he stared up, watching the sunset with Jonny once more, although this time it was a bit different than the first— and last… time they had watched one together. The sky was a pulchritudinous mix of orange, yellow, pink and slightly purple hues.
Ponyboy soon began to cry harder and unevenly, sucking in harsh breaths and exhaling as soon as his lungs got even the slightest bit of air in them. He couldn’t even enjoy another sunset without Johnny properly at his side. So Ponyboy left the bouquet of cornflower weeds, feeling guilty for not getting his friend something better, something he had deserved. Pony wiped his eyes once more with his palms, glancing over at Dallas’s grave, frowning at the thought of not getting him anything or talking to him as well. “Sorry Dally, I promise I’ll get you somethin’ next time.” He bent down to grab the letter that had fallen out of his hands while sobbing convolutedly. Still, he gathered himself, “I miss you too Dal’, I don’t just miss Johnny.”
The young, green-eyed boy sulked his whole entire way home, providentially not running into any Socs that were willing to pick a fight or jump him in some way. After he had walked a few miles back to the Curtis household, it was 10:37 PM when he had reached the screen door at the front of his house, hunched forward and just about ready to pass out from exhaustion and weariness. Darry was sitting in his chair, reading a newspaper just as he always does when he gets home from work, all while Sodapop was watching some random show on the television. However, as soon as they heard their door creak in the slightest, their heads snapped, almost synchronized, in the direction of Ponyboy. Darry scanned Ponyboy up and down, wondering if he was threatened or beat up by some Socs.
Sodapop was the first to speak up, “What’s wrong Pony?” He stood up swiftly yet smoothly, striding right over to his younger brother, holding his arms out. Ponyboy looked right up at him with watering eyes, his lower lip softly trembling, his cheeks heating with a red glow, that kind of look you get right before crying. The younger boy just wailed and crashed into his older brother's arms, wrapping his own arms around him as tight as he could, scared that he would disappear too if he didn’t hold tight enough. Darry ploddingly rose and walked over to his two younger brothers, wrapping his own arms around them both, running his hands up and down his youngest brother’s back. “Hush now, little colt, you’re alright.” Soda whispered, just loud enough for his brothers to hear.
After a few moments, Darry spoke up, “What happened, Ponyboy? Did you run into some Socs?” He hurriedly shook his head, nuzzling further into his brothers’ embrace. Darrel spoke again, “Then what did happen, baby?” Darry pulled back a tad to look down at his youngest brother. Ponyboy just hummed and mumbled something inaudible. “What was that, kiddo?” Darry asked.
Ponyboy shuddered and croaked, “Johnny. I- I miss ‘im…” Pony was still muffled by squashing his face into Soda’s neck. His wailing picked up, “It’s no fair! I should’ve died from that stupid fire, not Johnny!” Ponyboy just cried harder. His brothers went from concerned to dumbfounded. How could he say something like that? No one should’ve died from that fire. Everyone was silent aside from the youngests wailing and sobbing. Darry and Sodapop just stared at each other, absolutely astounded with their brother's confession. Soda spoke up.
“No, listen to me Ponyboy Curtis, no one should’ve died from that fire. Not Johnny, and not you.” Soda took a breath, “Never— promise me— you’ll never ever think like that again. No one deserved it, not Johnny and certainly not you. We love you, and we would’ve all missed you if you were the one to die. I know you miss Johnny, but you shouldn’t be dead either, no one would be happier if you were both gone. Now take a deep breath, baby.” Ponyboy tried hiccuping in a small breath, sucking in air through his mouth.
“Good, good… keep breathing,” Soda inhaled through his nose, and exhaled through his mouth, “Just like that alright, sweetheart?” Ponyboy nodded and followed his instruction carefully, breathing through his nose and exhaling through his mouth, just like Soda had shown him how to do it. When you get that worked up, it’s hard to remember how to breathe.
Ponyboy felt like he was going to throw up, he had cried so much that he felt sick. He hadn't done that since his parents had died, and now he was sick to his stomach from sobbing so hard once again. He had been infatuated with Johnny, he loved that boy with all of his being, he just wanted his Johnny back. Pony's cries had slowed and his breathing had evened out, he started to finally calm down, although he still felt incredibly sick. Ponyboy whined and clung to his brothers. He just wanted to go to bed now. It had been too long of a day, especially with all of that emotion he had experienced.
Ponyboy softly mumbled, “‘M tired…” He melted into Soda further, wanting to be held, he wanted to be carried. Ponyboy clung further onto his older brother. Darry had noticed Ponyboy's need to be carried so he pulled his youngest brother away, quickly making work of picking him up and carrying him to his and Soda's bed. Ponyboy felt like crying again. He didn't know what he was feeling but all he felt like doing was being held and crying, all of these feelings were simply too overwhelming for the poor boy. Soon he was lying down on his bed, and falling fast asleep.
— — — — — — — — — — — —
The next morning Ponyboy woke up quite late in the day. He didn't remember much of last night, including how he got to bed or how he got changed into some more comfortable clothes. “Actually— wasn't it Friday? What was he doing at home? Shouldn't he be at school by now? Where was Soda? He had work, nevermind. Did Darry have work too?” He thought. Ponyboy decided to get up and out of bed and to look around the house. He wandered through the house aimlessly, it almost looked as if he was searching for something. Every step he took on the floorboards was laboring and heavy. The creaking under his feet when he walked left eerie notes around the house. Ponyboy’s stomach pained him with hunger, yet he couldn't bring himself to eat. After staring blankly through the fridge, he decided to make himself a plain bowl of cereal. Though he wasn't hungry, he understood he needed to put something in his stomach.
He sat down at the small table, his cereal staring back at him and quickly becoming soggy, Ponyboy felt sick to his stomach still. There’s no way on Earth he could eat anything yet— but he sure did try. He took his spoon and gently dipped it in the bowl, shoveling half or a spoonful into his mouth. He leapt up and spit it into the trash immediately, gagging and heaving. After a minute or two of straight gagging, he grabbed his room temperature bowl of sopping wet cereal and dumped it down the sink. He filled up a glass of water about half-way, glancing at the bottle of vitamins on the counter. Ponyboy had always hated taking those vitamins, but ever since he lost all that weight from his time not eating properly in Windrixville with Johnny, and when he was sick after Dally had died. Ponyboy popped open the decently sized bottle of vitamins and took two out, placing them in the palm of his hand, then into his mouth taking a swig of water and swallowing them down. The boy gagged, he’s never been spectacular at taking pills, especially if he was already feeling sick, like he was today.
Ponyboy drank the rest of his water, hiccuping between gulps. “Great,” he thought, “I just love having the hiccups on top of being sick.” He sets his glass down on the counter, not caring to wash it right now, even still, he might use it again later. Ponyboy hiccuped again, groaning in response, he really wanted these hiccups to go away. He took a blundering step away from the counter, tripping over his own feet, falling forward and landing on his face. Ponyboy stayed on the kitchen floor for a moment, tears falling from his eyes again. He just wanted to go back to bed, he wanted to talk to Johnny, he wanted to be okay. He sniffled, getting up from his spot on the floor at a leisurely pace, wiping his eyes and face off. Ponyboy felt like a big baby, he just wanted to be tuff like the rest of the guys, why couldn’t he be tuff? More so— why couldn’t he be tough? He sighed and loomed back into his and Sodapop’s shared bedroom, crawling back under the covers and curling into a ball, feeling like he was shrinking in size. He just wanted Johnny back.
After a while of just lying in bed, thinking of Johnny, crying, then thinking of Johnny and Dally, then crying some more, he heard his front door creak open then slam shut. Someone was here— it couldn’t be Darry, he usually shuts the door as quietly as possible. It probably wasn’t Sodapop either, unless Steve was behind him. He would’ve slammed the door shut, Soda wouldn’t have. Then he heard a familiar voice call out, “Anyone home?” It was Two-Bit. Keith “Two-Bit” Matthews, but honestly nobody called him Keith unless it was his mother or sister. Ponyboy sat upright, swiftly getting up and out of bed, making his way to his door. “Heard you were sick, Ponyboy. You up?” Two-Bit opened the door, and Ponyboy stood in front of him gingerly.
“Yeah I’m awake. What’s up, Two-Bit?” Ponyboy shrugged away his tears and groginess. “And ’m not too sick. I feel kinda okay now.” With that— and perfect timing, his stomach grumbled loudly and sent a shooting pain through his body. Two-Bit shot him a look.
“Did you eat today? It’s…” His friend looked around for a clock, spotting one and pointing out the time, “It’s almost 4:30, Pony.” Ponyboy sighed and shrugged.
“I didn’t feel hungry,” Which was a lie, and he’s a decent liar, but Two-Bit isn’t an unobservant idiot. Two-Bit placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, gently pulling him closer and out of the door.
“Ya at least got to eat a little.” He guided his younger friend to the kitchen, opening the fridge and moving to the side for Ponyboy to grab something. Usually Two-Bit is joking or laughing. However, Sodapop had told Steve what had happened all while they were working, and that means Steve was blabbing to Two-Bit about it when he had stopped by after school; which meant, he wasn’t going to be cracking too many jokes. He tried to be more careful with Ponyboy after Johnny and Dally had died, in reality a part of all of them had died when those two were gone, especially Two-Bit after Dallas died. There was a gaping hole in his heart then— not to say that he didn’t care about Johnny at all, he loved the kid— he was the gang’s pet after all. Two-Bit loved them both so much, he just tended to like Dal’ a little more than everyone else. He didn’t know why, he loved everyone in the gang, he just… he really loved to hang out with Dally, maybe even more than he drank. Although, that’s pretty hard to beat. It’s not that Two-Bit loved to drink, he just didn’t like being sober. He liked the feeling of being intoxicated, drinking was just the easiest and fastest way he could get there. And on top of that, it was seen as normal for him to be drunk; it was weird if he wasn’t drunk or acting like he was. So this was odd, odd for him and for Ponyboy. And Ponyboy— he just wanted to go back to the cemetery, write another letter, talk to Johnny again, watch another sunset, give him some better flowers— flowers that aren’t weeds. A weed is what Johnny was to his parents, and what he felt like to the gang. Maybe he was a weed, a weed in a way that you don’t appreciate it enough for its beauty, for its resilience, for its forgiving nature. You could cut a weed and it would come right back, but you pull its roots out and it’s gone forever. Johnny was a weed like that, you could cut him and beat him and he’d come right back. But you pull his roots out? He’s gone just like that, lying dead in his hospital bed.
Pony thought, “It ain’t fair, it ain’t fair that Johnny’s gone— that Dally’s dead. I shoulda opened that book right there, given that note to him. I shouldn’ta let Johnny in that burning church, I shoulda died from that fire, not Johnny. If Johnny didn’t die, Dally would still be here. It ain’t fair. Life ain’t fair for greasers.” But Ponyboy wasn’t just thinking in his head, he was saying it aloud to Two-Bit as he sat there and just looked at Ponyboy.
“Pony, it ain’t your fault y’know…” Two-Bit looked at him glumly, “You didn’t know he would go in after you, and you can’t blame yourself for him goin’ in either. You got a heart a’ gold Ponyboy Curtis, and Johnny did too— that’s why he went in right after you. ‘Cause he cared, Pony, he really cared.” Two-Bit held onto the younger boy by his shoulders, gripping him tight, but not too rough. Two-Bit loved Ponyboy before everything that went down, and now he loved him even more. That kid is like a little brother to him, one that he never had. Sure— he loves his sister, but he had to practically raise her, since it was just him and his mother being around. Curse his father. To be honest, he didn’t think he was all that great at helping to raise her either, so he had Ponyboy. Ponyboy was like his younger brother, that he could be rough around and joke with, a little brother you could try protecting from the Socs if they ever came too close. He loves that boy like a brother. “Ponyboy, listen to me, you’re not the one who killed Johnny, you didn’t throw him into the fire, he went in on his own. It’s not your fault, Ponyboy Curtis.” Two-Bit shook him a little at that, he wanted Pony to know that he meant it. “And you know damn well you belong here on this Earth, just imagine how sad everyone’d be? ‘Specially your brothers.”
Ponyboy just stood there and let the words soak into him, like a dry sponge in a downpour. He choked on a sob, he’d be damned if he was going to cry again. “I- I dunno anymore… It just all feels like too much, Two-Bit.” Pony took a breath, “I miss him so much that I just think it’d be better if I were dead too.” He sighed. “And Dally— I could’ve saved him if I gave him that note, if I had seen it sooner, if I wasn’t such a coward.” He shivered with guilt, remembering every bit of the church fire right up until he fell to the ground.
“You couldn’ta known, Ponyboy. You weren’t worrin’ yourself about a book right after losing your best friend. There’s no way you woulda known there was a note in there.” Two-Bit held onto him still, pulling him closer in a semi-hug, “Plus— Dal’ ran out right as Johnny had kicked the bucket. It ain’t your fault, Ponyboy.” Now, Two-Bit had Ponyboy in a full hug; he doesn’t typically do that, but for Ponyboy he would. “We love you Ponyboy, and I know I surely do, even though I don’t say it. I’d do anything for you, little guy.” Two-Bit rubs Ponyboy’s back right as his waterworks start up again. “It’s alright, Pone… you can cry and still be tuff.”
Ponyboy sobbed harder at that. Was Two-Bit reading his mind? He started clinging hard onto anything that was close enough— that “anything” was none other than Keith “Two-Bit” Matthews. Ponyboy was glad there was someone there, although he wished one of his brothers, maybe even both of them, could have been there as well. He didn’t care though, at least there was someone there. Ponyboy was sick of being alone all day long, maybe he could go to the cemetery again, maybe with Two-Bit this time.