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Darry had hoped to get through this day like it didn't mean anything. Like nothing had happened, like it didn't hurt to look at the calendar and wonder if things could've turned out differently.
Today was a day that Darry despised with his whole heart. He wished that this day would never come. He hoped that no one would say anything. He prayed that they could go through the motions without the aching reminder of what happened today.
Today was Darry's birthday.
21. A big deal, Darry supposed. He could legally drink now, but he wasn't that big on alcohol. It wouldn't change anything, though. He'd been drinking before he even turned 18. Besides, it seemed stupid that Darry could get legal custody of his brothers, but couldn't technically buy a bottle of beer.
See, that was the other anniversary of today.
A year ago today, they died.
A year ago, Mom and Dad had died.
And no matter how much everyone tried to act like everything was normal and tried to celebrate, Darry could feel it. No one was really happy. Pony was quiet except for the small, “Happy birthday,” he gave Darry that morning. Wasn't much of a surprise, though. Pony was always quiet, these days. Soda tried to put on a front, but it was clear that he was hurting just as much as his brothers.
Darry made sure that Steve would be keeping an eye on Soda at work. Steve had nodded and said, “Yeah. Don't worry about it, Superman. He'll be alright.”
Two-Bit had promised to stay with Pony. That was the one they really needed to make sure was okay. Pony was already miserable enough after Johnny and Dally's death, and the anniversary of their parents’ death was sure to only make him worse. Two-Bit had given Darry that look before Darry left for work. That one that asked if he was okay. Darry just nodded and left.
People didn't mention it at work. There were maybe a few “happy birthdays,” but that was it. Nothing more. Darry was grateful for that.
Darry stayed late at work. He didn't want his brother's thinking that they needed to try to do something nice for him. He didn't want something nice.
…Darry wasn't sure what he wanted.
But he was sure that he wanted this aching feeling to go away.
He got home around 8:00, and immediately changed into a clean pair of clothes. Darry grabbed his keys and went to the door. “I'm heading out,” he told Soda and Pony as he opened the door, trying to force the tiredness out of his voice. “You guys can go out, do whatever, just make sure you get home by 12:00, alright?”
Soda seemed hesitant, like he thought something was wrong, but didn't say anything. “What time will you be home?” he asked instead. Darry sighed. “I don't know, little buddy. I'll be out late though, alright? Don't bother waiting up for me.”
Soda frowned but nodded. “Alright Dar…”
Darry found himself driving around for who knows how long before finally pulling up to Buck's. He didn't go there often, but he would on occasion whenever Two-Bit, Tim… and Dally would drag him.
He spotted Tim working not far from the spot he'd claimed by the bar. He offered a small wave, and Tim frowned, walking over.
“What are you doing here?” Tim demanded, a hint of rare genuine concern carrying in his voice. Darry scoffed. “Can a man not come and get a beer every once and a while, Tim?”
Tim rolled his eyes. “Just… don't drink too much, alright? Can't have you drunk and stumbling just ‘cause you're miserable.” Darry waved off Tim's concern before getting himself a drink.
Paul considered this to be one of the worst days of his life. Everything reminded him of him. Everything. No matter where he went, no matter what he did, it was like he was there too.
Yeah, Paul hated Darrel Curtis's birthday with his entire soul.
He tried to keep himself busy. He picked up groceries, he got lunch with Beverly, and he swam in the pool that afternoon.
But all he could think was how he used to help Darry get groceries while Mr. and Mrs. Curtis worked and looked over Pony and Soda, how that was his and Darry's favorite diner, how Darry used to sit on the edge of the pool, watching Paul swim with that stupid little smile, and how Paul could kiss him by the side of that pool for hours when his parents weren't home.
So yeah. Of course Paul went out drinking that night.
Alcohol wasn't the best answer to his problems. Paul knew that. He'd watched his dad get lost in his alcohol abuse enough times that it was common sense to him.
But part of him liked getting lost in the hazy drunkenness. He liked not remembering what it was even like to feel. He liked that he could just drink his miserable emotions away and not have to deal with any of it.
He didn't want to go to any bar on the west side. Someone might recognize him, and god forbid he ruins his family's perfect image by getting blackout drunk.
So Paul decided to go to Buck's. Darry had dragged him a few times when Darry went with his friends. Besides, no one there would recognize him.
And if he put on some not-as-nice clothes, no one would even realize he was a soc. There wouldn't be an issue.
Right?
Darry had been certain that getting drunk was supposed to get rid of the bad feelings. That's what Two-Bit said, anyways. But Darry thought that getting drunk just made him more miserable.
All he could think about was his parents. How he'd spent the next few weeks preparing the funeral and comforting his brothers, not letting himself shed a single tear. He hadn't had time to mourn, he had to be strong. Is this what happened when you didn't let yourself hurt? That deep aching pain that wouldn't even dull when he was drunk, was that from bottling it all up and shutting it away because he had to be the strong one?
God.
Mom and Dad would be so disappointed in him.
Darry knew that for sure. He'd hit Ponyboy. He made Pony run to that park with Johnny, where they got jumped. It was because of him they'd killed that soc boy- Bob- and had to go on the run. It was Darry's fault they'd gotten caught up in that church fire and Johnny had died and Dallas had killed himself. It was his fault that Ponyboy was hurting in ways that no one could ever understand, and that they might lose him too if things got bad enough.
Whether anyone else thought so or not, everything that happened that week was Darry's fault. He caused it all.
Everything would just be better if-
“Darry?”
Paul hadn't expected to see Darry. Darry never went to Buck's, hell, he rarely ever drank. So what was he doing here?
“Paul!” Darry giggled, nearly falling over as he threw his arms around Paul and collapsed into him. Paul barely caught Darry, holding him up as he forced him back onto the bar stool. It was surprising how quickly his mood changed when he saw Paul. Darry had looked so upset as Paul walked up, but now he was all grins and giggles. Paul had forgotten how Darry had… mood swings whenever he got drunk.
Speaking of which, Darry was definitely drunk. His flushed cheeks and stupid grin were enough to confirm that, but it was clear from that way he was stumbling. “Darry, what the hell are you doing?” Paul asked, concern seeping into his voice.
“What does it look like, hon?” Darry asked with a grin, using that old pet name. “I'm drinkin'!”
Paul grimaced. “Yeah, I can see that,” he sighed, taking Darry’s bottle of beer away from him and setting it on the counter. Darry pouted. “I mean why are you drinking?”
Darry rolled his eyes. “You're all so nosy,” he mumbled, his words slurring together. He stood up again, this time slipping his arms around Paul's waist and pressing his face into the crook of Paul's neck, inhaling softly. Paul felt Darry's lips twitch into a smile. “Mmmm, I missed you so much,” he whispered against Paul's neck. “You're still so pretty, you know that? Even at the rumble, with all that rain and blood soakin’ ya shirt, I thought you were gorgeous.”
Paul hesitated to put his hands on Darry. What was going on? Why was Darry acting like this? Even while drunk, he should still remember that they broke up years ago, that they fought and yelled and cried, that they hated each other now. So what was wrong?
At least the people around them were too busy getting drunk and talking to notice how affectionate Darry was being.
Paul made awkward eye contact with the man who was working the bar. He didn't look much younger than Paul and Darry. Paul recognized him from the rumble- he'd seen Darry talking to him as the socs pulled up in their mustangs. The man raised an eyebrow at Paul and Darry's compromising position before rolling his eyes and walking over.
“What's going on?” he asked with an annoyed sigh. “What's going on?” Paul echoed in frustration. “I should be asking you that! What the hell is wrong with Darry?”
The man hesitated, glancing over at Darry. “Who's asking?”
Paul gritted his teeth. “Paul. I'm a friend from high school.”
The man blinked. “Oh shit,” he scoffed, almost a laugh. “You're that Paul.” Paul frowned. “Who's driving Darry home tonight?” he sighed finally. The man shrugged. “Darry came in alone. I doubt he has a ride.”
“You doubt he has a ride?!” Paul snapped. “What the hell is wrong with him tonight, cause I know Darry wouldn't go off getting drunk with a ride-”
“Shhh,” Darry muttered against Paul. “What's the matter, hon?” Darry looked up at Paul with those big, sad, blue eyes. “...did I do somethin’ wrong?”
Paul faltered slightly at the guilt and sadness in his tone. “No, no, baby,” he said softly to Darry. “You didn't do nothin’ wrong.” Darry just went back to pressing his face into Paul's neck and swaying slightly with the music.
The man did a silent retching gesture. “Listen,” he said with an eye roll. “I don't care what you two do behind closed doors, but my suggestion is to keep your queer shit out of public places, you dig?” He went silent for a moment before muttering, “Dally and I were so much better at hiding it than you two.” With that, the man walked away.
Paul sighed to himself. “Hey, Darry?” “Yeah?” Darry hummed softly. “We're gonna head to my car, okay?” Paul said, pulling away gently to look Darry in the eyes. Darry frowned at the loss of contact but said, “Fine.”
Walking three blocks with a drunk ex-football player was difficult, but Paul finally managed to get Darry into the passenger seat.
Paul slumped in the driver’s seat with huff. He glanced over at Darry, who was looking at him with a slight pout. “What am I going to do with you?” he sighed softly.
Darry didn't respond. Instead, he grasped the back of Paul's neck and dragged him into a kiss.
Paul made a noise of surprise, nearly melting. He kissed Darry back, groaning softly as Darry tugged at his blond curls. The alcohol Darry had been drinking made him sloppy and uncoordinated, but Paul didn't care. He just wanted more, more, more of Darry.
Darry's other hand slipped to Paul's thigh, and that's when Paul finally thought to shove him away.
Darry's eyes widened in hurt when Paul shoved him away. He could tell that Paul's eyes were just as wide as his, but out of horror and shock.
“Darry, what the hell is wrong with you?!” he half-shouted. He seemed upset. Why was Paul upset? Did Darry read the situation wrong?
…did Paul not want Darry anymore?
“We aren't doing this,” Paul continued, his voice still frustrated and upset. “We're not doing this! I don't know what you're thinkin’, kissing me like that!”
Darry wilted under Paul's words. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled. “I just missed you.” Darry just wanted to feel Paul everywhere. He wanted Paul’s words and comfort and love. He wanted someone's love, at least. Maybe that would help that aching hole in his chest, since the alcohol wouldn't. Paul seemed to falter. “No, no, don't… don't apologize baby- Darry. Don't apologize, Darry.” He buried his head in his hands. “I just… fuck, Darry- we can't- we shouldn't-” Paul's voice was trembling.
Darry gently took Paul's hands away from his face. “Maybe… we could go back to your place? Just… me and you… having some alone time.”
Paul yanked his hands away from Darry. “Darry, no,” he snapped. “I already told you, we're not doing this. You're drunk as fuck. I'm not letting you do something you'll regret in the morning just because you're upset for some reason. Sex ain't gonna make you feel better about whatever is, especially in the morning when you realize how stupid you're being right now.” Darry frowned. Why did Paul think he'd regret it? Just because he was drunk didn't mean he was stupid.
Paul sighed. “I'll take you back to your place,” he muttered.
Paul was surprised to find the Curtis house empty. Back when Paul and Darry were back in high school, Mrs. Curtis had an open-door policy. Paul knew that from the amount of times he showed up unannounced after his father beat him or watched others he barely knew walk through that door. As far as Paul knew, Darry had kept the rule, even after Mr. and Mrs. Curtis passed.
So it was strange to find a quiet and empty house.
“Where on earth are your brothers?” he asked Darry as he helped him into bed. Darry gave a mumbled response that Paul couldn't understand as he flopped onto the bed, drunkenly wrapping himself tightly in the blankets.
Paul stood over Darry's bed for a moment, hands on his hips. What was he supposed to do? He wasn't going to leave Darry alone…
“You could stay, you know,” Darry said softly, as if reading Paul's mind.
“...fine,” Paul sighed, sitting down next to Darry. Darry smiled, dragging Paul so he was laying down next to him and Darry could lay his head on Paul's chest.
They sat in silence for a moment. Paul couldn't help the worry that still sat in him uneasily. Darry was acting so strange tonight; getting drunk, not having a ride, kissing him…
Of course Paul was worried.
“Hey, Darry?”
“Mmm, yeah, hon?”
Paul winced at the pet name. “... what's going on?”
Darry frowned. “Nothing,” he said too quickly, his voice trembling. “Nothing's going on, Paul.”
Paul shook his head. “I know you, Darry. You're never this stupid. Something's going on, and I know damn well that you're not talking to anyone about it. Bottling it up isn't good for you, ba- Darry. Talk to me. Please.” Paul paused. “I'm worried about you.”
Darry started crying.
He buried his face into Paul's chest and sobbed. Paul was taken aback. He'd never seen Darry cry like this, not even when they broke up.
“Darry. Darry, baby, look at me,” Paul whispered softly, lifting Darry's chin. “What's wrong? What's got you so upset?”
“I miss them so much Paul,” Darry cried, pushing his face into the crook of Paul's neck. The tears soaked Paul's shirt and neck, but Paul didn't care. He was too overcome with worry.
“I don't know what I'm doing,” Darry continued, the sobs coming faster and harsher. “Ponyboy ran away, Johnny and Dally died, and now we might lose Pony like we did Mom and Dad. And it's all my fault. It's all my fault.” Darry choked on a sob. The more he cried, the clearer how difficult it was for him to breathe. “It should've been me in that car last year, not them- it should have been me who died- at least they could've held this fucking family together- at least no one else would be dead except for me- at least no one needs me-”
Oh. That's right. Mr. And Mrs. Curtis died a year ago today.
On Darry's birthday.
“Baby, slow down,” Paul said softly, his voice cracking as he held Darry tightly to his chest. “Don't say that. Please- don't say that. Don't wish you were dead.”
“I know it's hard, and I know you're angry and scared. I know that you think you're losing Ponyboy. But you can't give up. Alright? They need you. They all still need you. I still need you.” The words were tumbling out before he could stop them, but Paul didn't regret them. He regretted not being there when Darry needed him, when Darry was scared and hurting.
“Please don't give up,” Paul whispered.
Darry's hands found Paul's and squeezed tightly. “I want to. It'd be so much easier,” Darry cried. “I know,” Paul said, “it would. But without you, things will only get worse, alright? You wouldn't be fixing anything by dying. Everyone loves you so much, Darry, you don't see how much they all care for you.”
“Please don't go.”
“I won't, baby, I won't.”
Darry cried until there were no more tears left. He lay in Paul's arms, exhausted and drunk. “...’m so tired, hon,” he croaked softly. “Get some sleep, baby, alright?” Paul said gently, running a hand through his hair. “I'm staying right here.”
Darry nodded, closing his eyes. His breathing began to even out and his body relaxed. Paul looked down at him, and he didn't see a boy he hated. He saw the man he used to love- still loved- in pain. Darry was in so much pain, and he wouldn't let anyone help him. Dammit, why couldn't Darry just let people help him?
“I'm not leaving, baby,” Paul promised again, pressing a kiss to the top of Darry's hair. “I'm not leaving.”