Chapter Text
When I stepped out into the cold autumn air, I only had two things on my mind; Johnny Cade and what'd happen when I got home.
Darry had told me not to go. He'd yelled and told me I'd catch a cold. I didn’t listen to him. I'd do anything to just see Johnny again.
And I do see him. I see him in things that I wish I didn't. Like sunsets and the starry night sky and his jacket, the one that I haven't let go of since what feels like forever. I see him especially in dark hair and nervous, shifting eyes. I've been chasing those a lot recently in the few girls I've dated. It’s never the same.
I see him in other ways, too. I remember when I used to have nightmares about Mom and Dad. Now I get them about Johnny and Dallas as well.
The ones with Johnny are the worst. They're almost always the same. I see him, telling me to stay gold, and then he sinks into the bed and dies right in front of me all over again. It hurts real bad, almost too much for me to handle.
I knew exactly where to go without even having to look at the markers. I kept thinking about how many times Johnny and I had sat side-by-side in the dark, watching the stars and not saying a word because we didn't have to. I wish I could talk to him now. I had all these words in my chest now—words about how much I missed him, how much I needed him—but I was bringing them to a piece of cold stone.
It'll never be the same. I know that now. I remember that I didn't want to believe that he was dead a year ago. I still don't. I hate thinking about it. I wish I could stop thinking. Darry says that I don't use my head, and I really don't. I think it's gotten worse since everything happened. I forget stuff a lot, and I'm just barely passing my classes. It makes Darry real mad, too. I don't think I can handle another day of him being disappointed in me. I think it hurts even more than when he yells at me.
I sat down next to the headstone. His folks had paid for it—but they never visited. I was glad, it’d take a whole lotta nerve for them to visit. It had Johnny's name on it, sure, but it wasn't him. Johnny shouldn't be under the ground. He should be with the rest of us, I thought. And for once I didn't lie to myself. I lit a cigarette, careful to not let the fire touch any leaves. I didn't want to burn anything. It reminded me of the fire, which reminded me of Johnny. Almost everything did.
I took a long drag and leaned against the cold stone. Johnny Cade didn't want to be dead and he never got what he wanted. He didn't even get what he needed. Most of us had to give him our old clothes. We shared for a long time, up until he died. It feels wrong, saying that he's dead. I always feel like he'll turn up somewhere. Maybe asleep in the lot, or playing the pinball machine in the bowling alley, or sitting on the back steps of the church in Windrixville. But I know that he's dead. I know it deep inside that he's never coming back.
But sometimes I like to pretend. It's easier that way. I like my stories and heroes and fairy tales. Johnny was a real hero. He sacrificed his life for those kids. I wish he could've gotten out in time. I wish for a lot of things. I can wish and wonder all I want, but it won't change nothing.
I stubbed the cigarette out against the slightly damp dirt, making sure the ember was completely dead before I stood up. The cold was starting to get into my bones anyway. I walked home slow, keeping my hands deep in the pockets of Johnny's jacket, watching my own breath cloud up in front of me. I tried to be quiet when I slipped back through the door, I didn't want to wake anyone up.
But the kitchen light was already on, cutting a bright, yellow square across the dark living room floor.
Darry was sitting at the table. He wasn't pacing or looking mad enough to hit something like he usually did. He just sat there with his head in his hands, looking real old and tired. The screen door gave a tiny click behind me, and he looked up. His eyes were wide and for a second, he looked so scared I hardly recognized him. After everything that happened with Johnny, Dally and then me a few months ago…
I think Darry was terrified that if I walked out into the dark alone, I wasn't ever going to come back either. I know he didn’t want anything to happen again, but it felt suffocating, always being watched.
He pulled me by my — no, Johnny's jacket sleeve. I winced, not because it hurt, but because I didn't want it to tear. Darry's strong. “Where were you, Ponyboy? I told you not to go out. Can you even hear what I'm saying anymore?” I didn't hear him. Or, I did, but maybe I just didn't care. I didn't care about much anymore.
I just shook my head. “It doesn't matter. I was just out.” I shook it again and again, like it was the only thing I could do.
“Doesn’t matter? You were about to freeze to death, Pony! Do you have any idea how—” he stopped suddenly. I don't know why he did that. I'd rather he just yell at me and let me go, so I could leave. I didn't like to talk. I wish he would let me go. “You’re shaking. I told you, I told you that it'd be cold. Take that jacket off and wear something warmer, it's all I see you wearing nowadays.”
“No!” I yelled. I regretted it immediately, but I couldn't take it off. It was all I had left of Johnny. “I can't.”
Darry looked at me like he wanted to say something else. He thought it over for a while, I could see it in his eyes. I never got to know what he'd say, though. I was already gone.
The room was freezing, but I didn't care. I threw myself face-down onto the mattress, curling into a tight ball. Soda’s side of the bed was neat and empty, and I was glad for it. I couldn't handle him trying to cheer me up right now. I just wanted to lie here in the dark where nobody could tell me to use my head, and nobody could see me missing a boy who was never coming back.
I pulled the covers up over my shoulders, not even bothering to take off my boots or Johnny's jacket. I just curled onto my side, staring at the dark wall. I tried to close my eyes, but my brain wouldn't shut up.
I thought about Mom, golden and beautiful, and Dad, charming and carefree, and how safe the house used to feel when they were in the front room.
Then I thought about Dally, wild, reckless, Dally, breaking down under the streetlamps because he couldn't handle the world after the only thing he ever loved was gone.
And then, always, it came back to Johnny. How would I describe Johnny? What was he like? Not the scared boy with the shifting eyes, but the real Johnny. The one who looked like he was having the time of his life saving those kids back in the church. Not the Johnny that was protected, but the one that protected. Johnny Cade… I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to swallow the ache in my throat. I wanted to sleep so bad, but I knew what was waiting for me the second I drifted off.