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Even before the rolling hills give way to the familiar greyness of Tulsa, Ponyboy feels his thoughts start to drift. The drive itself hasn’t been a long one, and the clock tells him that only a few hours have passed since he’d handed in his dorm key to reception. There were plans of a party with his track-mates, and some sort of pre-summer lecture that Pony had been determined to attend. Yet, as he’d handed in his Introduction to American Literature exam earlier this morning, something unexplainable had burned like hellfire in his chest, and before he knew it, the Turner Turnpike was stretching onwards ahead.
“Thank God I packed early,” he mutters to no one in particular as the radio begins its third run of Suspicious Minds. Christ, Pony’ll be the first to admit that he’s an Elvis fan, but even that seems to be a little excessive.
Before he knows it, he’s driving down streets that he’s known his whole life. The map of Central Oklahoma that his roommate Jim had shoved in his arms during their hurried goodbye has fallen gracelessly to the floor, but it hardly matters anymore, as home draws closer by the mile.
“Keep it,” his friend had ordered, “and don’t look at it while you’re actually driving. You’ll cause an accident driving that shitbox of a car.”
Pony rolled his eyes fondly. “Calm down, I think I can make my way back to Tulsa. It’s, what, two roads?”
Jim shoved him lightly, before offering him a grin and throwing a loose arm around his shoulder. “Who knows, with your directional sense. Remember to write me this summer. Or call. Whatever. And don’t forget to put my name down for next semester's roommate preferences.”
Returning the older boy’s smile with one of his own, Pony had nodded. “Thanks, Jim. I’ll see you in the fall?”
His friend’s expression softened. “I’m counting on it.”
It’s late-afternoon on a Friday, so the chances of his brothers being at the house when he arrives are slim to none. Soda recently got promoted to manager after their former boss retired, and Darry is working as a foreman at the same construction company he’s been at since he was twenty. Pony feels a little bad about not calling ahead; after all, they aren’t expecting him for another four days at the very least, and there’s every chance they have evening plans. However, these past few weeks have been nothing if not the worst of his entire college career. Between the multiple all-nighters studying for his finals, early mornings at training five days a week, and that burning homesickness which has been louder than ever before, well, all he wants are his big brothers.
It’s not just them, either. For all that it counts to be biologically related, the others are as good as blood. After all, they’ve both been around since before Pony began elementary school. Before he’d left to go back after winter break, Two-Bit had hidden a fucking twenty-dollar bill in one of his textbooks, alongside a scribbled note telling him to have some fun at college. That same day, Steve, for all that he moans about bratty kids and their incompetence, had driven out to Bristow after the radiator had blown in his old Ford Mainline. And, while they might not have saved him from the road-side, or slipped him a day’s wages behind his back -
Johnny and Dally. Those who swear by the cliché that “time heals all wounds” are completely kidding themselves, because Ponyboy is pretty damn sure that after all these years, the ache should’ve lessened. Sure, it doesn’t feel like a knife is twisting into his side every minute of the day. But even now, there have been nights where he’s wanted them both so much that he hasn’t been able to breathe between sobs. It’s not so much the big things anymore, like anniversaries or even memories. Sometimes he’ll just go to a bookstore and pass by a Robert Frost anthology (he knows what will be on the first page), or see Jim in his leather jacket with a cigarette caught neatly between his teeth.
It’s enough to bring him to his knees. Pony misses them like hell, and he’ll continue to do so until the day he dies.
Finally, turning down the avenue, his car seems to hum appreciatively as if it knows where it is. The Curtis house, the very same one that he was raised in, stands as proud as ever, and Pony nearly weeps with relief. Although the drive is only 130 odd miles, it took everything out of him today. Nothing feels more appealing than throwing himself down on that familiar couch and closing his eyes for a few minutes.
As expected, there’s no vehicle outside, a tell-tale sign that his family are still at work or elsewhere. Carefully, Pony drives onto the strip, and being mindful not to park in Darry or Soda’s spots (he learned his lesson last time), at long last, he removes the key from the ignition. There’s not a single part of him that can muster any motivation to bring in any of the boxes containing his worldly possessions. Instead, he reaches over the seat and picks up his satchel, before locking the car and walking towards the front door.
It’s quiet when he enters, and the oh so familiar sights make his heart more full than it’s been in months. The sports section of Darry’s crossword is open on the table, right next to where Soda must’ve spilled food-dye earlier while making breakfast. There’s a couple of dirty plates, and someone’s shirt thrown carelessly over the recliner.
It’s home.
Without thinking too much about it, Pony drops his bag on a chair, and falls onto the couch with his head leaning up against its arm. He’s asleep before he even thinks about taking off his shoes.
***
The first thing Ponyboy registers is a hand carding through his hair, familiar fingers threading through the light-brown strands. For a moment, he forgets where he is, and he forces his eyes open as the waves of exhaustion wash over him.
“Hey honey,” Soda’s voice is gentle as he moves his thumb to brush over his cheek, still dressed in his DX uniform as he kneels by the sofa.
Pony doesn’t do anything but throw his arms around his brother’s neck and hold on as tight as he can.
“What’re you doing here?” The older boy asks as he returns the hug. “Thought you weren’t coming back til next week!”
“I’m sorry,” Pony whispers, “I should’ve called, but I didn’t know -”
Soda is quick to cut him off, voice as kind as it is firm. “Shh, none of that. You never need to apologise for coming home. It’s a nice surprise, is all.”
Without another word, he climbs onto the couch and rearranges them so his arm is around Pony’s shoulder, the latter leaning into him. For some reason unknown to him, the action, which has been performed so very many times over the years, makes Ponyboy’s throat thicken painfully, and he does his best to swallow the tears before they have the chance to fall. But Soda has known his baby brother every day that he has been on this earth; is aware of every tell, every expression, every single indicator that something may be very wrong.
“Did something happen at school?” The older boy’s voice hardens a bit, pushing him away slightly so he can meet his eyes. “Is that why you’re back?”
“No, no.” Pony is quick to appease him, burying his face back into his brother’s shoulder. “I just… I missed you.”
Soda says nothing else, but tightens his hold.
It doesn’t matter in the end anyway, because whatever nice moment that they are sharing is ruined when Steve Randle, in classic fashion, throws open the door as wide as it goes and comes stomping inside.
“Ponyboy Michael Curtis.”
Oh no. He knows what’s coming.
“What in the actual fuck did you do to my car.”
The car that Steve and Soda had spent the whole of last summer mending in secret behind his back as a going-away gift.
“Your car?!” Pony is positively affronted. “My car! You gave it to me!”
Steve waves his hand absently, scowling. “That doesn’t explain why there’s an enormous dent in the back of it.”
He’s not sure if it’s worse for him to take all the blame himself, or to throw his friend under the bus. The look on the older boy’s face is enough for him to make his decision quickly. Sorry, Jim.
“It wasn’t me!” Pony says indignantly. “I let my roommate borrow it to take out a girl and he brought it back like that!”
While Soda grins as if it’s the funniest thing he’s heard all week, Steve only glares harder. “What did I tell you about letting other people use it? Christ, Pony, now we’ll have to -”
His brother rolls his eyes, and laughs, “catch him a break, he’ll be here all summer for you to yell at.”
And while the other boy shoots him one more dirty look for good measure, he walks over to where they’re sitting and ruffles his hair. “It’s good to have you back, kid.”
That’s as good as an “I love you and I’ve missed you” in the ‘Steve Randle to American English’ translation manual.
Sinking back into Soda’s side, he asks, “when’s Darry gonna be home?”
Steve lets out a short laugh from where he’s busying himself going through the refrigerator. “Superman’s on a date.”
Shockwaves wash over him like electricity as he turns to his brother for confirmation. “A date?! Like… a girl and dinner date?”
“Exactly! I was shocked too! He should be back around 10, or so he said.” Soda grins wickedly. “Depends how lucky he gets.”
The innuendo is there as clear as day, and, well, Pony feels his cheeks going bright red at the thought of his oldest brother doing anything with this girl beyond a quick kiss on the lips at the end of the night.
“Make sure you get details when he’s home,” Soda continues. “He’ll be so glad you’re back that I think he’ll say anything.”
Pony does laugh at that, and lets the familiar warmness wash over him as his big brother’s fingers resume moving through his hair.
“I was thinking we should just order pizza from Joe’s tonight,” the older boy says offhandedly, “Darry probably won’t need to eat, I don’t want to cook, and I’m sure with all that driving, you’re starving by now.”
It’s true. Other than the rushed piece of toast and pot of coffee before his final, he’s had next to nothing since morning. The fading light presses against the horizon, dressing their little corner of the world in gold. “Pizza sounds great.”
Soda smiles gently. “I’ll ring them in a minute. Now, I’d feel better if all your college things weren’t sitting in the car overnight, but Steve’s offered to help me bring them in, so if you’d rather stay here on the couch…”
“Nah, I can help.” No way in hell is Mr Randle getting one up on him on his first day back. “Let’s do it now before it gets dark.”
And so, as the sun gradually finishes its descent, three boys move the physical bearings of Ponyboy Curtis’s new life back into the one that he has always loved and known.
***
Ponyboy has already showered and is back on the couch reading his borrowed copy of Slaughterhouse-Five when Darry races through the door at 10:02pm sharp as if being chased by a pack of wolves. Steve left after dinner to go and do whatever he does on a Friday night, and Soda is in the kitchen packing away the remaining pizza.
"I saw your car." His biggest brother stops dead in the doorway, standing with his combed hair and buttoned-up shirt. “You’re here.”
“I came straight after my exam,” Pony replies weakly, standing up to greet him. “I didn’t steal your parking spot this time.”
In another life, the older boy might’ve first asked how the paper went. If he was keeping up with his grades, and homework, and Lord, I hope you didn’t drive too fast on those roads, you know better than that. It’s in this one that Darry Curtis steps forward and throws both arms around him, as if he is afraid that Ponyboy will disappear if he lets go.
And that right there is the snapped thread that brings everything undone. The tightness in his throat comes back ten-fold, and even as he opens his mouth to say something, anything, a sob is escaping from his lips. Despite being muffled by his brother’s shoulder, it seems to echo across the living-room, Pony finds that he’s trembling as the tears he’d pushed back hours ago finally achieve their escape.
“Baby,” Darry whispers, horrified, “what’s happened?”
He shakes his head, even as Soda rushes from the kitchen and moves his hand in practiced circles on his back.
“You’re okay,” Darry murmurs, gently maneuvering him back onto the couch before pulling him close to his chest. “Whatever it is, we’ll sort it.”
“Yeah,” Soda pipes up, taking a place on Pony’s other side, “that’s what we’re here for, honey.”
He realises now, as his brothers fall back into their all-too familiar roles of comforting, that he could tell them everything. That while there are many good, happy moments at university, he misses this like absolute hell. That everyone talks about seeing their parents, and that he doesn’t love his degree the way he knows he should, and that the pressure from maintaining his full-ride scholarship is just so much to handle, and that the nightmares are back, and that every day is a reminder that he is here and Johnny is not.
There are things spoken against the oaken walls of that church that even his brothers don't know about. A promise, or maybe even a vow, Ponyboy isn’t sure anymore. All he knows is that he hasn’t kept his side, whatever that is.
Johnny tells him as much in his dreams most nights.
“It’s nothing,” he whispers instead, and then, parroting back his earlier words, “just missed you both. It’s been a long couple’ve weeks with finals.”
It’s still the truth, if nothing else.
“Have you two eaten?” Darry asks, as one hand traces shapes on Pony’s bare arms, and the other brushes the tears from his cheeks.
Soda, thankfully, responds for them both. “Yeah, we had pizza. There’s leftovers in the fridge if you want them. Say, how was your date with, what-her-name… Alice?”
Pony can see his oldest brother rolling his eyes without even having to look at him. “It was fine. Probably won’t see her again.”
“What, why not?” Soda exclaims loudly, completely transforming the mood of the room as he always does. “She was stunning, Darrel! Much too pretty for you!”
Darry huffs loudly, causing Pony to grin, and a flash of relief comes across Soda’s face, vanishing as quickly as it arrives. “I’m sure she was, given that she talked about her shoe collection for over an hour. I couldn’t get the bill fast enough.”
As unified laughter fills the living room, Pony settles further into the couch, letting his eyes drift shut as his brothers talk about the merit of Darry asking that new attractive cashier for her number instead.
It may be minutes or hours later, that he drifts back into semi-consciousness to find himself being carried to his childhood bedroom.
“D’rry?” Pony’s voice cracks with sleep, and despite how juvenile it might be, he buries his head deeper to where it rests against the other boy’s shoulder.
“Shhh, kid. Go back to sleep. Soda’ll be in any second.”
Gently, Darry lays him down onto the bed and deftly tucks the covers in around him, just as he has done a million times before. He moves a hand up to brush Pony’s fringe out of his eyes, as Soda walks through the open doorway, hair dripping from his shower.
“You two alright in here?” Darry asks hesitantly, almost as if he’s putting off leaving. "We'll set up the spare room properly tomorrow, but for now..."
It’s Soda’s turn to roll his eyes now as he climbs into bed next to Pony. “‘Course, Dar. We’ll see you in the morning.”
His oldest brother’s hand lingers on his cheek for a moment more. “Soda and I have the weekend free, Pony. Let’s do something fun tomorrow. Steve and Two-Bit’ll come round as well.”
As he leaves, Darry flicks off the light, and closes the door quietly behind him.
“C’mon honey,” Soda whispers, moving his arm so that Pony is pressed against him just like when they were children. “I’ve got you.”
For the first time in months, Pony falls asleep in his brother’s embrace.