guys. i’m not steve’s biggest fan but can i just say how the fact that he was reduced to a tiny ensemble character in the musical annoys me to no end???
i saw the musical two years ago and from what i remember he had little to no lines or solos. literally the soc characters they made up specifically for the musical had more prominence than him (not a dig at the soc characters or their actors obv). he’s not even in any of the playbill pictures!!
and it’s also the fact that he wasn’t even really replaced. he still exists in that specific piece of media, it’s just they shoved him off to the side so badly that he may as well not exist in it 😭
and obviously he isn’t the biggest character in the original book either, but that doesn’t mean he’s not important?? i remember seeing a post maybe a year ago saying how since he was soda’s best friend and held him together throughout the story, and so many people relied on soda to hold THEM together, that steve is part of the glue that helps to hold the gang all together.
but the when you think about it, that could be said for any of the gang. so why would that make him any less important just because he’s the one we don’t know much about in canon?
Guys The Outsiders movie cannot be real because in the book its like, Darry and Pony’s argument gradually heats up, Darry slaps Pony, they stare and then Ponyboy runs, and he calls out to Johnny to wake him up then runs with him.
Meanwhile the movie scene has Darry and Pony both just yelling while Pony’s an extra angsty teen, Patrick swayze pushes Ponyboy so hard he almost landed a state over, and he immediately stands up, sprints to the lot and faceplants on Johnny and his newspapers just go them both to sprint again no questions asked.
The book has always hit way harder to me, but for some reason the movie’s was only upsetting the first time and now it just makes me laugh. Mostly because Johnny is the best ride or die (he chooses die but that’s not the point) for just sprinting behind Ponyboy after the guy lands on him to wake him up, but also because Patrick Swayze hits Ponyboy so hard he flies over the damn table 😭
this is why i’m not a big fan of the movie because of fast paced scenes like these!!! and i feel crazy when everyone talks about how good it is because it could have been done so much better 🥲
I also can’t stand how they cut it so short after Johnny died. I believe there’s an extended version that I haven’t seen but I hate that the focus is on the action and not the emotion :(
no fr!! i’ve watched the extended version and i think it’s better because it has the scene where pony gets jumped in the beginning and like a little snippet of when he was sick (and probably a couple of other stuff too). that makes it a bit better but you’re def right 😭 the cast is iconic but i always thought the emotion was lacking in some areas
Guys The Outsiders movie cannot be real because in the book its like, Darry and Pony’s argument gradually heats up, Darry slaps Pony, they stare and then Ponyboy runs, and he calls out to Johnny to wake him up then runs with him.
Meanwhile the movie scene has Darry and Pony both just yelling while Pony’s an extra angsty teen, Patrick swayze pushes Ponyboy so hard he almost landed a state over, and he immediately stands up, sprints to the lot and faceplants on Johnny and his newspapers just go them both to sprint again no questions asked.
The book has always hit way harder to me, but for some reason the movie’s was only upsetting the first time and now it just makes me laugh. Mostly because Johnny is the best ride or die (he chooses die but that’s not the point) for just sprinting behind Ponyboy after the guy lands on him to wake him up, but also because Patrick Swayze hits Ponyboy so hard he flies over the damn table 😭
this is why i’m not a big fan of the movie because of fast paced scenes like these!!! and i feel crazy when everyone talks about how good it is because it could have been done so much better 🥲
A/N: Pony’s troubles with geometry are based off of my own except for the fact that I probably failed more tests than passed in that class!! Proofs were genuinely my worst enemy 😭
After the midterms season was officially over, Pony’s teachers tended to put a halt to any homework assignment for a couple days. It was a school-wide thing, and it was definitely something students look forward to after weeks of endless review and studying. It had been a nice reprieve; Ponyboy was able to spend his afternoons lounging lazily on the couch with one of the gang watching whatever western was being shown, read books out of leisure instead of the middle-age european stuff the english classes are reading, and finally put the new colored pencils he got for Christmas to use. And best of all, there was one less argument topic for Darry to bring up.
But unfortunately, all good things come to an end, and the first Monday after the scores were released, homework began to be assigned once more.
Geometry hadn’t exactly gotten any better since midterms. He just never had that natural talent or draw for math and science like how he did for the humanities. Darry, on the other hand, was definitely more of a math kid during school- he always said how he wanted to major in finance in college had he been able to go. It’s probably one of the things that sets the two apart regarding school, and one of the reasons why Darry always gets on Pony’s back about math class and grades in it.
But, Ponyboy’s able to survive it. He pushes through every assignment, slowly yet surely, and does enough studying to get just above an 80% most of the time. He tries not to pay too much attention to those passive aggressive things Darry says about his answers when he’s double checking his homework for the night, and he’s good as gold. Then Pony puts it away in his backpack and forgets about it until he steps into class the next day.
This unit, however, bought more trouble than usual. His teacher, Mr. Kern had finally introduced the class to proofs- the first unit after the midterms. He had began to teach them the very basics before, but Pony found it kind of hard to understand even then. But now, they were fully jumping into the topic. And if he said he understood them in the slightest, he’d be lying.
Despite this, Ponyboy tries not to get too worked up over it. His teacher tells the class constantly that lots of people consider geometric proofs to be the hardest topic in geometry on a highschool level (and Ponyboy doesn’t even want to imagine how much worse it could get on a college level), and he has a friend who can do proofs in the blink of an eye without hardly thinking about it who’s more than happy to help him.
But when he gets home, it’s a different story. He can’t always get help from his friend because they only have one study hall together that’s every other day, so half of the time, Ponyboy’s on his own. This means that some nights he needs to do the proofs on his own as best he could, and have to face Darry’s sour mood each time. By the end of the nights where he has to fend for himself, there are so many eraser marks on the page that it’s a miracle it hasn’t been ripped through. By that point, Darry could hardly decipher it himself, only worsening his mood and, consequently, Pony’s too.
Sometimes, Ponyboy wished that Darry could put his stress and bad moods aside for a few minutes and correct whatever he did wrong in a more peaceful manner. But, Ponyboy isn’t in Darry’s situation, so he could never know how hard that could be. He tries to remember this every time he walks into the kitchen or living room with his homework, and Soda’s voice rings through his head, telling him about how much Darry has on his plate. But it’s hard. Pony doesn’t do the problems incorrectly on purpose, he’s just not as good at it as Darry is.And he doesn’t seem to understand this. Every time Pony gets something wrong on a homework sheet, he’ll only roll his eyes and cross it out with an aggressive scratch of a pencil, and tell him to correct it. Then when Pony comes back and has it wrong because it’s like another language to him, he’ll sigh as if he couldn’t be more disappointed and explain the answer in a grumble. Then Pony would fix it again and try to get out of there before an argument breaks out again over one thing or another.
And Pony wasn’t expecting it to be much different tonight.
Unfortunately for him, though, life didn’t seem to be on his side today. Not only did he get a million of other homework assignments, but also he got a challenging, three five set worksheet of proofs to fill out without the help of his friend. And he’s not only saying they’re challenging because he finds everything about this damned class hard, but even the teacher told them it would be more difficult than the ones they’d learn in class. Ponyboy would like to say that he could use that as an excuse, that they had never done these ones in class and there’d be more of a reason to get them wrong, but he knew Darry would only take that into consideration for the first few statements and reasons before annoyance settled in once more.
It took him just about all afternoon to get his homework done. Once he got home, he hardly even gave himself the time to eat a fast snack before plopping down in front of the coffee table and scribbling away on countless worksheets and notebooks. He felt bad when Johnny had to go over to the lot by himself because Ponyboy couldn’t go when he asked. He tried to get him to stay until at least dinner, but Johnny said he just wanted some fresh air for a while, and Pony didn’t stop him.
Sodapop was working a late shift with Steve again tonight, so the two probably wouldn’t be back until 9:30, and Two-Bit wasn’t at school today, so he probably wouldn’t show up at all. He never knew when, if, Dally would show up, but he wasn’t counting on it.
In a way, though, having the house to himself on such a busy night was a blessing in disguise. He didn’t feel obligated to keep the tv or radio on, and nobody was trying to yap his ear off about the last girl they’d been with. It was just Pony and his homework.
That was, until Darry walked through the door at eight o’clock.
Pony’s head snapped up at the sound of the screen door slamming shut, shocked out of his focus on his English class reading questions. He was just about finished with it, and that was his last task of the night. He had finished up math first- he figured since it was the thing he most dreaded, it’d be better to just rip it off like a band-aid and do whatever he could before Darry helped him clean it up. Everything else wasn’t too bad, it just seemed like it took forever. And with the way Ponyboy’s eyes nearly drooped with exhaustion, it probably did.
“Hey, Darry,” Pony greeted, closing the book beside him as Darry took his coat off and tossed it over the back of the arm chair.
“Hey, kid. Show me that homework when you’re done,” Darry said, hardly giving him a glance before he was walking down the hallway to the bathroom.
Ponyboy hated to acknowledge how his heart sped up. He shouldn’t be nervous to go over school work with his brother. It really wasn’t that big of a deal; for being as bad as he is at math, he did a lot better on that final semester grade than the other kids he heard complaining about it shortly after grades were released. He would’ve been crucified if he received the 50s and 60s that they got. And yet, here he is, shaking in his boots just waiting for Darry to go over the stupid proofs worksheet with him. He says his prayers and gathers his homework together, leaving math on the top to just get it over with.
After an extra minute or two, Darry comes out of the bathroom, changed into an old tank top and sweatpants. He looks incredibly tired and Pony has the urge to tell him that he should just go to sleep for the benefit of both of them, but he could imagine the look that Darry’d give him that’d ask, ‘are you stupid?’. So Ponyboy doesn’t bother as he sits down into the armchair with a creak, and looks at Pony expectantly for the homework.
Pony gives it to him, palms damp with sweat from anxiousness. As Darry takes the small stack into his hands and begins to go over the math sheet on the first page, Ponyboy feels the sudden urge to run. He watches as Darry's brows furrow, and imagines him thinking what this could possibly mean. Not because he doesn’t understand the questions, but because he doesn’t understand the half-assed answers Ponyboy put under them. Or, more like full-assed, because even though they’re probably incomprehensible, Pony did try his best on it. Not that Darry’d understand.
After a minute, it seems like Darry went through only two questions before he drops the papers onto his lap with a huff of laughter coated in disbelief.
“You know, Pony, this is gettin’ real old. Every single damn day I come home, go over your homework for your,” Darry emphasizes this word, and Pony’s heart sinks slightly in response, “benefit, just to see that you don’t have a damn clue what you’re doin’, even though I tell ya every single night! Why can’t you get this through your head? Maybe you’re just straight stupid.” Darry finishes, before throwing the papers down onto the coffee table and runs his hands over his face.
Maybe you’re just straight stupid.
Those words hit different. Darry never brought up the suggestion that Pony might be stupid, no matter how many questions he’s gotten wrong on a math assignment. Not even when Pony got that mediocre grade on his midterm did he lose his temper like this.
Darry doesn’t seem to realize the severity of his words as he runs a hand through his hair and picks the paper up again. But Ponyboy just stares at his feet, trying to will the tears that have gathered not to fall, and trying to ignore the growing longing for his mother.
A few silent moments pass, with Darry finishing the homework page and Pony trying to console himself so he doesn’t break down in front of his brother who's already in a bad mood. But then, a tear manages to slip and it falls directly onto the carpet. Darry’s voice follows quickly after.
“Pony..” He begins, voice suddenly soft and sorrowful, so much to the point where it startles Ponyboy. He tries to discreetly wipe his eyes of any unshed tears, but he isn’t sure he’s too successful as he looks up to meet Darry’s eyes.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Darry says, his words plain, but his voice regretful. Pony wants to say, ‘I know, Dar’, or ‘it’s fine’, but he can’t.
“Yeah, whatever.” Pony mumbles, resting his elbow on his knee and his cheek on his hand. He can practically hear Darry’s mood change from remorseful to annoyed as his eyes trace the pattern of their worn down carpet.
“Don’t you go an’ have an attitude with me now, Ponyboy. I’m only trying to help.” He grumbles, and this breaks something in Pony.
Suddenly, he shoots up from his seat on the couch and yanks the homework off of the coffee table, minus the math work that Darry’s still holding.
“Yeah, well, maybe you should just do it yourself if I’m too stupid,” Ponyboy spits back, voice spiteful, suddenly wanting to be as far from Darry as possible. He doesn’t give Darry the opportunity before he’s storming off to his room, much like a week before when the two were looking over Pony’s geometry midterm grade.
But instead of shedding any more tears this time, he felt angry. Screw geometry, screw homework, and screw Darry. Pony didn’t need to care this much about his homework and yet here he is, pulling his hair out trying to figure out these stupid math equations. Why couldn’t he ever understand that he was trying? Why was it never good enough for him?
Before he could fret about it any longer, however, he found his eyelids being practically pulled shut with exhaustion. He felt too tired to change into his pajamas, or even get under the covers. He just needed to be done with today.
Ponyboy and Darry’s strained relationship a month and a half after their parent’s death.
A/N: Based after Taylor Swift’s song Tolerate It ^^
This is set before canon, about a month 1/2 after their parents death.
I finished this in a single day guys can you believe it I’m going to add a few more chapters to it, but I’m not sure how many exactly just yet. I’m planning on them being weekly!! <3
Also, I’m sorry if I made it seem like Darry’s an asshole in this. I tried my best to write it from Pony’s perspective, and we all know what he thinks Darry thinks of him in canon lol. Don’t think of his experience being exaggerated exactly, just that Pony looks deeper into Darry’s mannerisms and overthinks everything he does.
—-----------------------
Today was February 15th. The day students of Will Rogers Highschool got their midterm grades back.
To say the least, when Ponyboy got his midterm grades back, he was pleasantly surprised. For taking them not even a month after his parents died, he didn’t do too bad- he got A’s in everything but geometry. Whether his teachers were easy on him because they felt remorse for his situation or not, he didn’t really care. He breathed and ate those study guides, not taking a break for anyone or anything. Not even for Soda when he tried to bring him to get a milkshake with him and Steve, or when Two-Bit tried to drag him to a movie. He’d literally have a textbook for one subject or another open on the kitchen counter whenever it was his night to make dinner, and he’s less than proud to say that he nearly burned down the kitchen… multiple times. But it doesn’t matter now, right? He worked hard and it paid off!
And he hoped Darry would realize that when he saw that B in geometry.
Pony’s relationship with Darry hadn’t been fairing well recently. He doesn’t think he and Soda had ever been closer, but that couldn’t be further from the truth with Darry.
Pony hardly sees any of his brother nowadays. He only interacts with him for ten minutes in the morning before he’s out the door to work, and he’s always home late from his second job at nighttime. The two haven’t had a civilized conversation in what seems like weeks. The second Darry gets home he trudges to his room and changes (or showers, if he’s not that tired), and collapses onto a chair at the kitchen table, a cold plate of dinner, checkbook, and paperwork for bills splayed out on the table in front of him. He doesn’t have the time to talk to his brothers besides a hello and a brief question of how their day went (and, of course, an argument with Ponyboy being picked up), before the boys eventually go to bed and he’s stuck at the table for another two hours. He’s too tired, too busy.
And Pony knows it. Sometimes, when it’s too quiet in his room because Soda is closing at the DX and he doesn’t get home for another couple of hours, he’ll bring his homework out into the kitchen and sit with Darry at the table. When he gets stumped on whatever math problem he’s working on, he’ll sit back in his chair and take a five second break. And he watches his brother. Everything he does, and doesn’t do. He watches how his eyes cast down onto the paperwork, eyebrows furrowed and the dark purple shade underneath prominent under the warm light of the kitchen. He watches how Darry doesn’t pay him the time of day, and tries not to think about how he didn’t even pass a smile when he looked up and saw Pony sit down across from him at the table.
Pony tries not to be offended, really- Darry works fourteen hours a day and it’s hard on him, even now that Soda dropped out of school and is working full time at the DX. But it kind of stings when the only time Darry talks to him is when something is out of place in the house or when he doesn’t get a perfect score on a measly homework assignment.
It’s hard to try and ignore the resentment Ponyboy feels growing in his chest day by day, argument by argument. It’s like nothing is ever good enough for his brother anymore. If he gets an A- on a test, Darry’ll grumble and tell him he needs to study more, and shorten his curfew on weekends. But then he does study more and Darry’s upset that he doesn’t spend more time outside. He doesn’t know how to please him. He does everything he could possibly want him to do, and more. He washes the dishes and keeps his room clean (at least, his stuff- Soda’s a different story), and always makes sure to wash Darry’s clothes with his favorite detergent. He does his homework and fights the urge to read a book or sketch his life away when he should be reviewing for a test. And yet, everyday, at eight o’clock in the evening, when Darry gets home from his factory shift, he finds something to gripe about.
Ponyboy tried his best not to escalate the situation, but after a while, it got nearly impossible. In the beginning, he would stay quiet and nod along. The hurt of their mom and dads death was still fresh, and he was still so scared. Fighting with his older brother who was now responsible for him was the last thing he wanted. He could push him out the door into the social workers car in a heartbeat.
But the arguments wouldn’t stop, and then he’d find himself arguing back, too. As a matter of fact, he probably begins arguments just as much as Darry used to. They’re over stupid problems that wouldn’t even be worth a conversation in any other house, but not here. And it’s exhausting. But neither of them can help themselves any longer.
Soda tries to console Pony when they go to bed at night. He tries to tell him that Darry doesn’t mean half the things he says, and that he loves him, both of them, and that Pony should be a little easier with his words, too. But after a while, after the arguments persisted, it got old. And the fear of Darry’s disdain and social workers only grew.
So he worked himself like a dog, trying not to think about the quick grunt of approval Darry would give when reviewing a good test grade, a mere toleration of his hard work. He tried not to think about the fact that if this was a year earlier, when their parents had been alive, he’d celebrate Pony getting anything over a 90%, and would take him out to the ice cream parlour if he had enough money for two sundaes in his wallet. And most importantly, he tried not to think about what Darry would say if he got anything less than a 96%- about how the state would come and take him away with the snap of a finger. He felt like it was all in his head; a strange nightmare he couldn’t wake up from, an alternate reality. But he knew it wasn’t.
So the closer the clock gets to eight o’clock, the further anxious he gets for Darry to get home and look over his midterm grades. He curses geometry as he tries to focus on the cartoon playing quietly on the television in front of him, and tries to ignore the big 85% written in red marker on the sheet sitting on the living room table. Everything else is fine; good even. A 100% in English, 100% in history, and 97% in science. Yet that 85% sticks out like a sore thumb, as if he failed the test entirely and the teacher left a personal insult on the paper.
After some time of shifting through the papers and packets of tests, a truck rolls into the driveway, announcing Darry’s arrival. Ponyboy’s heart leaps into his throat, and he’s quick to arrange the papers on the coffee table so that geometry is the last in the stack. Maybe, just maybe, if Darry saw the three good grades first, then the 85% wouldn’t hit so hard.
After another minute, footsteps are heard coming up the porch steps and the screen door opens, the front door following. Pony knows already that Sodapop isn’t with him, as he’s working the closing shift tonight and probably won’t be home for another hour with Steve. In a way, he’s grateful he won’t be here. Pony doesn’t know whether this will end in a big blowout or silent tears in his room, but either way, Ponyboy can see all of the fights getting to him and it may be better for him to just stick out of this one tonight.
The front door opens and Darry walks in. Pony watches silently, giving him a small smile which is just barely returned. He toes out of his boots and drops his bag onto the couch. It’s like he’s about to walk to the bathroom, but he must catch sight of the small stack of tests on the coffee table because he stops and tilts his head.
“You got your midterms back?” He asks Ponyboy, who nods his head in response. He grabs the tests in his hands, trying to make it so that Darry doesn’t see the big, red, blaring 85% on geometry, even though he knows damn well it’s inevitable. Darry holds his hand out to see them, a tired frown permanently etched into his face, and Pony hands it to him, his heart beat growing faster by each passing second.
At the sight of the two 100% on history and English, a smile grows on his face. It’s not a beaming grin, but it’s there, and for a second, Ponyboy thinks that maybe this will go better than expected. But then, he flips to the science test and it dissipates the tiniest bit, and so does Pony’s hope. And as expected, when he turns to the geometry packet, it falls entirely and a frown takes its place. It’s different from the natural frown he wears after a long day, however, and Ponyboy can practically smell the disappointment and annoyance rolling off of him.
“85%, Ponyboy? Really?” Darry says, voice tired and clearly irritated. Ponyboy has no words from him other than a sigh, and he casts his eyes down underneath Darry’s overbearing gaze.
He lets out a quiet groan and pinches the bridge of his nose between his eyes as if he has a headache. Pony thinks he probably got a migraine just from looking at his score.
“You know, Pony, if you’re gonna get a bad grade,” These words send stabbing pain into Pony’s stomach, “You could at least give me an explanation as to why.”
“I…”, Ponyboy begins, trying to think of an explanation that might please Darry, but there isn’t one, and he knows better than to bring up mom and dad. “I’m just not good at math, okay? I’m not like you.” He tries to explain this in the most non-confrontation voice he could muster, but it doesn’t seem to keep Darry from getting anymore annoyed.
“God, well maybe if you would’ve put down the freakin’ book or stopped watchin’ TV all of the dang time, you’d have done better.” Darry spat, running a hand through his hair and scowling down at Pony as if he was the biggest mistake of his life. At least, that’s what Ponyboy saw when he lifted his eyes to Darry. He saw the big brother who threw away his life to deal with Pony and his problems, who probably wanted nothing more than to drop everything and run away to New York or somewhere. The big brother who couldn’t look past his bad qualities because it was his burden to fix, yet he found it to be nearly impossible. Because Pony was stubborn and obdurate, all in Darry’s words.
Suddenly, Ponyboy stood. He couldn’t do this anymore. He walked around the coffee table, tests be damned. Darry could keep them for all he cared. He wanted to go to bed.
But then, a hand grabbed his arm.
“I’m real serious, Ponyboy. Anything than an A could get the state angry. Keep it up and they’ll throw you in a boys home.” Darry said, voice low and frustrated.
Pony ripped his arm away, trying not to let the words sting, and curled into bed, still in his day clothes.
As he drifted off, he tried not to think about the day when Darry would stop tolerating him.
In a twist of canon, Ponyboy ends up worse for wear after the church fire in his own hospital bed.
This idea has been circling in my head for quite some time now so I was very excited to finally get it down!!
Also I know I haven’t posted in nearly two months… but I haven’t been sitting around and working on nothing! I found a daily upload challenge for November in August and I’ve been writing for it since. I’ve only got five done so far, and I’m losing motivation for it pretty quickly, but whether I finish it or not, I’ll still have a couple of short one-shots for yall on November 1st!
——————
“Christ, Pony, get outta there!” Pony heard Dally scream from the broken window, and he could just make out his outline through the haze of smoke and bright fire. He had already pulled Johnny out through the window, and Ponyboy hoped he was okay. If Dally was up and screaming into the fire for Pony, however, he must be. He’d never leave Johnny’s side for him if he was hurt.
Pony tried to shout back to him, that there was another kid he had to find. He heard them screaming their poor little head off somewhere in a back room, muffled by the roar of fire and crackling wood.
However, he could hardly get anything more than a croak out. The smoke was overbearing, like he was drowning in it. He could hardly take in a single breath without feeling like he was being choked to death. So instead, he just pulled his jacket collar over his nose and mouth, and progressed deeper into the inferno. He felt bad leaving Dallas hanging, but he wasn’t about to let a kid crisp to their death.
D’s shouts were suffocated by the fire and breaking building as Ponyboy advanced further to the back room, but the kid’s yelling got louder. After what felt like several minutes, but couldn’t have been longer than thirty seconds, he reached a door- it seemed mostly intact, and shut, too. Pony pulled his sleeve up over his hand and jiggled the door knob, but it wouldn’t budge. Damn, maybe a bit too shut.
Ponyboy banged his fists on the door in desperation. Fear was creeping in now. He was so impossibly hot, the heat stinging and biting every part of his body. He felt like he was going to faint at any minute- his throat felt so swollen and he could hardly draw in a breath at this point. He wondered dimly if he was having an allergic reaction to the smoke. Could that happen? He wouldn’t be surprised at this point. He was suddenly grateful he didn’t have any, this wasn’t a pleasant experience. But he’d find the time to have sympathy for people with peanut allergies later.
After a second or two, Ponyboy quickly realized uselessly jiggling a doorknob isn’t gonna get this kid out any faster. He was almost agitated that the kid wasn’t doing anything to help him open the door, but then he realized their screams were quieting. With a rush of terror and alarm, he backed away from the door and positioned himself, before running into it and slamming it with all of his might, which wasn’t much, but it seemed to begin to work after the second time. Luckily, the old, wooden door didn’t seem to be holding up to well itself, the fire and smoke seeming to get the better of it. After the fifth ram, it caved, and Pony was able to slip though the opening.
He doesn’t know how, but the room was filled with more smoke than the rest of the church, despite there not being much of a fire inside. It hit Pony like a truck- he hardly was able to step fully into the room before the smoke bombarded his face and body, and he felt his throat constrict more than before. In a panic, his hand gripped at his throat, and he tried to draw in a few breaths. Albeit shallow and uncomfortable, he’d manage. He just had to get this kid out of the room.
Pony immediately dropped to the floor, where there was less smoke and it was the tiniest bit cooler (which certainly wasn’t much). He could hardly see a few inches in front of him, what with the smoke that made his eyes sting and water like never before and the haze that was beginning to settle down from the smoke that stuck to the ceiling. He felt around the ground with his hands, flinching away with a choked gasp whenever he landed on something searing from the heat.
“Kid?” Ponyboy croaked, which made him begin to cough like a mad man. He tried to suppress them so as to not scare the little kid, assuming, praying, they were still conscious enough to hear it. But it only made his chest feel as though it were about to explode, and once he started it was nearly impossible to stop.
Despite this, he crawled on, letting the tears flow freely as he tried his best to keep his eyes open to find this damn kid. He was getting more sluggish by the second- his arms were getting awfully sore from supporting his body weight for so long, and his legs were practically useless now; he felt as though he was just dragging them along.
However, finally, he saw a little figure through the smokey haze. A girl. She was covered in soot and was curled into a ball, head buried into her knees, making her almost invisible against the dark and murky walls of the dimly lit, small room. He crawled over to her, and put a hand on her shoulder, shaking it. He tried to be gentle, so as to not scare her, but desperation got the better of him and he shook her harder than he meant. Her head slowly lifted with a groan, and Pony pulled himself to his knees.
“I’m gonna-” Pony began, but was curtly cut off by a fit of coughing. The little girl only looked at him with a tear streaked face, looking nearly as weak as he did. “I’m gonna get you out, okay? Can you stand?”
The girl nodded her head, and Pony set his eyes on the boarded up window in the corner. He thanked God it was there- he didn’t know what he’d do if there wasn’t an escape route from this room. The rest of the church was probably crumbling at that very second, and the two were only a bit safer in this room because the fire hadn’t spread here yet since the door had been closed. Bright blue sky shone dimly through the cracks in the wooden boards, and he swore he was able to see shadows looming through it. He thought he could hear voices, and the wood was creaking as if someone was trying to pry the boards off of it, but he wasn’t sure if it was people coming to save them or the rest of the church beginning to collapse on its structure.
Nevertheless, he began to stand on his shaky legs, holding out a hand so the girl could follow in suit. She seemed to be stronger than him, luckily, as she stood quicker, but she didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around him and bury her head in his scorched flannel jacket. Pony wrapped his arms around the kid, shielding her from the smoke as best he could, and began to push on the boarded windows. He didn’t even bother to try and scream for help- that would surely take him out. His throat felt like it had been torn apart by wolves, and he felt so lightheaded that he was scared he’d pass out with the girl in his arms, bringing them both down.
On the other side of the window, though, there did seem to be people there, who picked up their pace. One by one, the wooden boards were pried off, each giving him a bit more hope. Finally after what felt like a million years, the window was opened just enough for a person to crawl through.
“Pass over the kid!” A fireman shouted, and Ponyboy did his best to comply. He hauled her up with every last bit of strength he had and passed her over to the fireman, who grabbed her quickly and placed her into the care of another firefighter.
Then, the fireman reached for him through the window. However, before Ponyboy could attempt to haul himself out, blackness danced in the edges of his vision. He didn’t even have the chance to plead with himself to not pass out, before he felt his legs give out, and there was nothing.
——————
When he came too, Ponyboy didn’t understand where he was. It was bright, and not the type of brightness that would illuminate from a fire. It was unnatural, white. It made his head pound, and made it ten times harder to open his eyes.
He didn’t know how long he struggled with himself to pry his eyelids open. Everything felt weird and fuzzy, as if someone had turned off his brain and all that was left was static. He tried to lift a hand, but he could hardly even feel it- it was like his head was detached from his body and he couldn’t find the rest of it.
Despite his best efforts, he tried not to allow himself to get worked up. But it was so dark and bright at the same time, his body felt heavy but it felt like he was floating, and something in his chest and mouth was wrong. Somewhere in the background, he heard a beeping noise that was once faded into the background, blended in somewhere with the haze he found himself in. It got progressively louder and faster, however, and it became hard to ignore. The pounding in his head sped up with it, and in a panic, he finally managed to pull his eyes open.
Unfortunately, all Pony was met with was even brighter light- his eyes watered instantaneously and the stung nearly as bad as they did in the fire. He felt the tears cascade down the sides of his face, disappearing into his hairline, and he felt panic rise as his vision hesitated to clear. After a few seconds, however, it became more bearable, and slowly, he was able to distinguish his surroundings beyond the bright, fluorescent lights.
He found himself staring at a ceiling- but not the ceiling at home or even the old, crickety wooden beams of the church he’d been living in for the past week. This was different, with its popcorn texture and industrial white color. He tried to move his head, to look around the room, but that was nearly impossible, too. Not only did he feel so weak that it felt like his bones were made of jelly, but it was like something kept him tethered to his spot. At least with his hands and arms, he could twitch them the tiniest bit, but not his head.
As Ponyboy regained further consciousness, different sensations began to make themselves known. The most obvious being in his chest. It felt heavy and stiff, as if he couldn’t breathe- but deep, methodical inhales came to him anyway. There was a loud gush that followed whenever his chest would rise and fall. He knew he wasn’t doing it on his own though, he didn’t feel the rush of air down his throat. All he felt was this… firm, almost tube-like object trailing down into his lungs. Wait, what?
With sudden alertness, Pony managed to lift a hand. It was slow and shaky, because his limbs felt like they were made out of lead, but he was able to drag it up over his chest (feeling the deep, unnatural breaths along the way), and up to his jawline. His hand trailed over to his cheek, and he realized that there was some sort of tape right along the corner of his mouth. His eyes widened from their previous half-lidded position, and he pushed his hand to feel along his mouth, and was met with a clumpy, cold piece of plastic, trailing further into his mouth where his hand couldn’t reach.
That’s when it all hit Ponyboy at once.
The tube, connected to some sort of machine that wouldn’t allow his head to move, was kept tight in place in his already constricted throat, and he desperately fought the urge not to gag. He didn’t think there was enough food in his stomach to throw up anyhow, but the last thing he needed was to suffocate on his own vomit.
Pony felt at the plastic disappearing into his mouth, gripping at it with weak fingers to try and remove it. He didn’t care what it was- he wanted it out. He felt like he had no control over his own body, with his lungs rising and falling mechanically thanks to the machine, hardly having the ability to keep his eyes open. He felt stiff and uncomfortable bandages wrapping parts of his body, and he desperately wanted his brothers.
He tried to call out for someone, anyone, but his voice was dead from all the smoke, and even if it wasn’t, he probably couldn’t make a sound anyhow. Pony continued to fumble with the plastic mouthpiece with frail fingers, feeling frustration and terror build up in his chest. Tears continued to roll down his face, and naturally, his own breath picked up, and he struggled to breathe against the machine. The monitor next to him picked up speed, and through his weakened splutters and pathetic coughs, he heard something begin to beep with intensity and alarm.
He flinched, the noise loud and painful, and before he even knew what else was happening, a door somewhere in the background flew open and hit against the wall behind it. In no time, figures appeared in his vision above him, blocking the view of the ceiling. Pony’s eyes darted across the person’s features, but he wasn’t able to take much in- everything was still blurry and he could only slightly tell that the person above him, a woman, seemed to be trying to tell him something. He felt a gentle hand against his face, and in the corner of his eye, he saw another person tampering with the machine that must’ve been connected to his mouth. Then, out of nowhere, he felt a distant prick in his arm. He flinched at the feeling despite the fact it didn’t hurt all too much, and soon enough he felt fatigue beginning to creep in again. His erratic breathing came to a halt, and the machine took over. And so did sleep.
——————
When Pony woke again, he found himself in the same predicament.
The machine had not been removed, and if anything, he felt worse.
The static-y, numb feeling had dissipated into discomfort on the brink of painfulness. His skin felt tight and dry in certain areas, with a lingering sting just beneath it. He felt sore, and so exhausted, but now that he was awake and had been introduced to the pain, he knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep again. His head was still pounding with the heart monitor next to him, the gush of air from the machine making itself known every couple of seconds.
His throat didn’t feel so constricted anymore, but it didn’t stop him from bringing his hand to his mouth, feeling that damned piece of plastic still present. Tears welled in Pony’s eyes without his permission- he hates this. He wished it’d be taken out, he wants his brothers. Where are his brothers? Do they not know he’s here?
If Ponyboy had the ability to breathe on his own, it would be picking up. But instead, the only thing that accelerated was the heart monitor next to him and the throb of pains all over his body. He felt tears slide down the sides of his face, forced to stare up at the ceiling through blurry vision. He vaguely remembered someone standing over him, voice and hands gentle, and he wished he could call her back, but instead he was confined to the bed, unable to move.
But then, a gentle hand did come back. It was larger and not as soft, but it laid against the side of his face as if he would crumble if they were too rough. Pony’s mind was still foggy from the medication, so he wasn’t able to hear the voice as clearly as he’d like. But it was there. A man’s, and a familiar one at that. He couldn’t place his finger on it, however, until his face came into view above him.
Pony wished to say that his tears dried when he saw Darry appear in his vision, but if anything, they came quicker. But they weren’t from fear, and anger, or any negative feeling he might’ve held for his brother a week prior. The tears were of relief.
A week of uncertainty, fright, and tension dissolved away as Darry’s voice rang in his ears, his words of reassurance and comfort soothing Pony. Suddenly, another person comes into view, but Darry says something along the lines of “go get a nurse” before they could do much.
Darry wipes away his tears as the heart monitor beside the bed slows. Pony wished he could say something, anything, but the machines stopped him effortlessly, and all he could do was stare up at Darry through wet eyelashes. Darry continued to whisper sweet nothings, and Ponyboy continued to calm.
Then, a door somewhere in the background opens. It’s not as harsh as it was when he first woke up, but that doesn’t stop a person from running in like there’s something chasing them. They skid to a halt at the opposite side of the bed peering over Darry’s head, and grabbed Pony’s hand. Pony recognizes it as Sodapop immediately, and the tears don’t hesitate to come back. He’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t in so much physical discomfort, but he quickly realizes that Soda’s own eyes are glistened with unshed tears as well. Soda lets out a chuckle at the realization, and brushes back Pony’s messy hair from his eyes.
Then, the nurse that must’ve come in with S interrupts them.
“Sorry to cut in here, dear,” She tells Darry, who complies and moves over, but his hands don’t leave Pony. She appears at the side of the bed, and looks down at Pony.
“Ponyboy, can you hear me alright? Blink one for yes, two for no.” She asks, voice soft, and Pony blinks once for yes. A small smile appears on her face.
“Very good. Well, fortunately for you, you have been cleared by the doctor to be taken off the breathing machine. Is that alright?” The nurse asked, and Ponyboy blinked once for yes, hard.
Everyone lets out a little chuckle at this, and he feels Sodapop squeeze his hand. The nurse nods, and fumbles with a latch somewhere on the side of the bed. “I’m going to lift your bed now, so that you’re sitting up. If you find yourself in any pain, squeeze your brother’s hand and we’ll lower you, alright?”
Pony blinked once again, and the nurse began to push the backrest up. Pony was set up vertically, and man, if being able to see something other than a ceiling and lights weren’t a relief, then he wouldn’t know what was. A pain in his core flared as he was moved up, but he stopped himself from squeezing Soda’s hand. He doesn’t want to put this off more than he has to.
As the bed was latched into place, the pain settled and all that was left was the familiar throbbing of distant pains, and the uncomfortable feeling of the tube in his mouth and throat. It made his chest feel a little less constricted however, which he was grateful for.
The nurse grabbed a napkin from the bedside table, and tucked it into the front of his hospital gown.
“Okay, Ponyboy, here’s what will happen. I am going to disconnect the tube from the machine. The air will stop coming, so it may seem tough to get in air those few seconds, but it won’t be long. As I take out the tube, I’m going to need you to cough out, alright?” She informed him, looking him in the eyes, and Pony blinked for yes. She gave him a smile and turned to his brothers.
“Are you alright with this?” She asked them, specifically Darry. He was his guardian after all, he still had to approve.
He nodded his head immediately, knowing how uncomfortable Pony must be feeling right now.
But Sodapop asked what everyone was thinking.
“Will it hurt?”
“No,” She answered Soda, then turned her attention to P. “There will be slight discomfort, but it shouldn’t hurt. I understand that you’ve inhaled lots of smoke, so it will be scratchy and tight coming out, but you should be fine in a few seconds, dear.”
On instinct, Pony began to nod his head, but the pain stopped him before the machine could. The nurse continued to disconnect the ventilator, and she was right- it definitely wasn’t a walk in the park to try and breathe around a tube shoved down your throat, but she was quick to position herself and prepare to pull it out.
“Alright remember, cough as it comes out, alright?” She reminded, and Ponyboy blinked hard once.
Pony felt Soda squeeze his hand once more, and Pony gripped it hard as the nurse made to hold the tube in her hand to pull it out. Darry’s hand laid on his shoulder now, his thumb rubbing gently against his collarbone.
Then, with little warning, the nurse pulled the tube from his throat. He hardly had the time to cough before it was yanked firmly out, but he hoped it was soon enough. But it was over quicker than he expected it to be, and the coughing he did afterwards surely had to make up for it. His eyes watered for the millionth time that day as he tried to compose himself, his brothers rubbing his back and he hunched over, his throat on fire. But it passed quick, like the nurse said it would, and he sat back against the bed, trying to catch his breath. It felt good to be able to breathe on his own account, and albeit it was a bit wheezy, it was a million times better then having a foreign object do it for him.
Somewhere in the background, the nurse told him he did good, and she wheeled the machine out of the room. Pony’s eyes followed it with a glare, but once the threat was out of the room, he sagged against the pillow and had to fight to keep his eyes open.
Darry lowered his bed further down and Soda dragged a chair closer to the edge of the bed.
Pony tried to speak, but all that came out was a croak. His voice was shot despite the fact that there weren't any physical objects to stop him, and his brothers shushed him immediately.
“Don’t speak kiddo, you’re alright,” Darry said, wiping away the remnants of tears off his face. Soda pulled out the napkin tucked into his hospital gown, and discarded it onto one of the bedside tables.
“Go back to sleep, alright? We’ll be here when you wake up.” Sodapop said, brushing his hair back with his hand, a comforting feeling he hadn’t felt in nearly a week. That alone was enough to put him to sleep.
——————
When Ponyboy woke up next, he felt more comfortable than he had in a while.
Now that the machine was gone, he was finally at ease. He hadn’t slept in an actual bed in a week, and now that he was able to rest on something other than a dusty, stone floor, he almost didn’t want to wake up. The pain was still lingering, but so was the medicine, and he could actually breathe on his own account, so he didn’t have a large sense of urgency to awake. Sleep was beginning to pull him under again, but suddenly, there was a hand on his head, ruffling his hair the tiniest bit.
“C’mon, kiddo, wake up. The doctor wants you to eat something,” Soda whispered, voice soft and hand gentle. At this, Pony pried his eyes open, blinking back the tears that came from the light. They still stung like hell thanks to the smoke, and he had to blink a couple of times before he could see without blurriness, although it still lingered in the edges of his vision.
“So’,” Ponyboy began, but his voice broke and his throat stung, so he stopped himself quickly. Soda wasted no time grabbing a paper cup and poured some water into it from a pitcher sitting on the nearby desk. Pony lugged himself up, ignoring the stabbing pain in his torso as he propped himself against the pillows. Soda handed him the cup of water, and Pony downed it greedily, Soda’s hand supporting his shaky one so he wouldn’t drop it.
“Darry said he’d be right back. He had to go talk to someone from the billing department,” Soda explained, when Ponyboy looked around the room, confused as to why it was just them two. “Adult stuff, ya’ know?” He said, falsely exasperated.
Ponyboy nodded with a smile, and opened his mouth to say something, but Soda stopped him before he could.
“Don’t you say anything, alright? Your throat is torn ta’ shreds. The doctor wants you to have some soup and a real meal before you try, alright?” Soda told him as he wheeled over the tray table to maneuver it over P. He helped him sit up a little more, and set up the meal in front of him.
“Vois la,” Sodapop exclaimed with dramatic flare after pulling off the cover to the tray. It revealed a rather pathetic looking meal with soggy vegetables and watered down chicken noodle soup, but at least it was baloney. “Your five star meal, sir.”
Pony let out a breathy laugh, and Soda beamed with delight, although his eyes shined as if he were holding back tears. Pony would’ve questioned it if he was able to find his voice, but maybe it’d save Sodapop some awkwardness anyhow.
Soda unraveled his utensils from the napkin and placed them in front of him. He didn’t even have the time to ask Ponyboy if he wanted help with eating before Pony was shoveling a spoonful of soup into his mouth. After confirming that Pony would be able to eat on his own fine without choking or dropping a utensil, Soda started to do the talking for him.
“Well, Dally and Johnny are fine,” He began, and Pony’s head shot up to look at him, beckoning for him to continue, “They got a little burnt, but you got the worst of it. And so’s that kid. You saved her life, P. I mean, honestly, her parents are willing to pay for your hospital bills and everythin’.” Soda said. Thank God his friends are alright. And thank God that little girl is, too. She sounded so scared and weak when he finally got to her, and she hoped she hadn’t been put in the same predicament as he.
Pony finished his last slurp of soup before he realized he couldn’t have anymore. He felt ravagingly hungry, but then he started to fill his stomach and suddenly, he felt too tired to eat anything more. The medicine was beginning to work its magic again. He settled down into the bed again, and Soda pulled away the rolling desk.
“You need more sleep, Pone, you look exhausted.” Soda says, running a hand through Pony’s tangled mess of hair as he rested back onto the pillow. Pony only nodded his head.
“Love you, S,” Ponyboy muttered, voice sounding more like an actual living human than a dead one. Pony saw Soda crack a smile through his half-lidded daze, and Soda wiped a tear out of the corner of his eye.
“Love you too, kid.”
——————
A/N: I was going to add another scene with Darry but I got too lazy I fear…
Is this realistic? Probably not. Do I care? No! :D
The ending is lowkey butt, but my fingers were getting tired of typing. I might add a chapter 2 eventually (srsly dont take my word for it we all know it doesn’t work out 90% of the time) 😛
when i first read the outsiders, i didn’t know hank williams was a singer. so after the fountain scene and pony and johnny were going to bucks, and pony was talking about how buck dug hank williams i thought it was a person he knew that he had a crush on/his boyfriend. so when pony said it was gross, i thought it was just him being homophobic until my english teacher told me a few weeks later that that was not indeed the case 😭
i’m amazed at people who manage to write something for their fics everyday. like i’m trying to get a one shot done right now and it takes me five minutes to even get a sentence down because i’m trying to figure out what the character would say, or searching up synonyms for adjectives. if i wanted to make a fic that gets updated daily, i’d need to start like two years in advance just to complete the chapters and then post them. it’s like they have powers 😭😭
have y’all ever read a fic description and think “this would be fire if it were centered around this character instead of that one but it’s not” and it lowkey just crushes your soul every time you see it get updated 🥀
It’s finals season and Ponyboy works himself just a bit too hard.
In honor of finals season being over I made Pony go through the same thing i did (except i didn’t get sick im just making him sick for shiggles) ❤️
—————
It had been a long day- between all of his teachers handing out packets upon packets of final review to their students daily, the tests, and the chores that needed to be done at home, he was utterly exhausted. Not to mention he was beginning to feel kind of under the weather; there was this itch at the back of his throat that had only developed into that sort of pain where it hurt to swallow, and his head was pounding all day. Now headaches weren't anything new, but Pony was pretty sure he might've had a fever, yet he couldn't find the thermometer to see how bad (or nonexistent, he hoped) it was. Not that he was about to ask Darry or Soda, they didn't need to know he wasn't feeling good.
So, Pony put up a front for the night and did everything he was told- helped with dinner, did most of the dishes, and even hung out in the living room with the gang for an hour. Unfortunately for him, however, this left no time open for him to do his homework, and now it was ten-something at night and he was only just about finishing up. Not that this was a diabolical time to be doing homework or anything, but given that he's been passing out on the couch for the last couple of nights out of pure fatigue at around nine, it was a bit late for him.
However, Ponyboy persisted. He lost count how many times his head nodded, how many times he yawned, and genuinely considered taping his eyelids open because they would not stop drooping. There was a lot to get done, and not a lot of time. Finals were next week, and the grades you receive would finalize what classes you got into. Pony was already set for mostly advanced classes (except science and math- he was a humanities person at heart), but depending on how good or bad you did on the finals, those opportunities could be taken away in the blink of an eye. And next year was his junior year, so it was important he got into good classes. Or, at least that's what Darry and the guidance counselor kept beating into him.
It had taken some time, but finally he moved onto math, the subject he almost always saved for last. He needed to do a crap ton of history multiple choice questions from the textbook, do some reading comprehension for English, finish up a lab for science, and finish a worksheet from health class on top of all of that.
Luckily enough for him, the math packet their teacher, Mr. Pram, gave them was a relatively easy topic, so he wasn't exactly planning on completely hunkering down for it.
Which is probably how he was able to convince himself that he could rest his eyes for a minute and take a break. The fact that Soda was snoring away on the bed next to him probably wasn't helping none, either, and unfortunately the advil he had taken earlier wasn't doing anything to fight this cold away, but it was fine. Plus, he didn't have much more to go. He'd be up in a second to finish and then he could crawl straight into bed. It'd work out perfectly.
At least, that's what he thought, until he found himself being shaken awake what felt like seconds later. He awoke groggily, feeling a lot worse than expected, and the desk underneath his cheek and forearms was so nice and cooling, he almost closed his eyes again.
"Pony?" A voice above him spoke and shook his arm again.
Pony stifled a groan and lifted his head from the desk, hair tousled and math formulas lightly imprinted onto his cheek from the pencil led on the paper. He squinted against the dim desk lamp as he tried to distinguish whose hand lay on his shoulder, finding it to be Sodapop.
"Jeez, Pone, any longer laying like that and your neck would be so sore it'd be stuck in that position forever! You're lucky I woke you up," Soda joked, ruffling his brother's hair gently. He faltered when his hand met with an unusual warmth, however, and his sleepy smile dissolved into a frown.
"What time is it?" Pony asked as he gathered his math homework together. He was annoyed that he couldn't finish it, but now that Soda caught him, there'd be no shot he'd let him stay up and finish it. There wasn't much left, anyhow, only a question and a half. He could finish it in the morning.
"It's two am." Soda told him, watching Pony clumsily collect his papers and shove it off to the side of the desk. "Hey, you feeling alright?"
"Yeah, why?" Pony asked, albeit dismissively, not accounting for how much worse he actually felt. He could only focus on the fact that it was two am. How could he let so much valuable time go by so fast? He wanted to punch himself.
"You sure? You're feeling a little warm there..." Soda said, removing his hand from Pony's shoulder and placing it on his forehead. He didn't get to feel much before Ponyboy ducked away from his brother's hand.
"I'm fine, Soda. I'm cold, not warm." Ponyboy muttered as he shoved his math folder into his bag haphazardly. He was hardly paying attention to his words; otherwise he would've realized sooner that saying he was cold was basically equivalent to just admitting he for sure had a fever. But at this point, he just wanted to go to bed.
"Yeah... I'm gonna get Darry." Soda confirms, not even giving Poy a chance to respond before he's out the door and walking down the hallway to Darry's room. Pony just let out a tired sigh and watched him go, before picking himself up from the desk chair and collapsing onto the bed over the covers. His eyes fell shut effortlessly, but before he could doze off, the door creaked open again.
"Hey, Pone," Darry greeted, his voice tired and husky from sleep. Ponybpy's eyes snapped open at the sound, and he immediately felt bad; Darry's got enough on his plate without needing to wake up in the middle of the night to tend to his brother with a measly cold. He should've just told Soda to come back to bed.
"You're not feeling good?" Darry continued, and Pony realized he already had the thermometer in his hand. Soda came around and sat down on his side of the bed, giving Ponyboy an innocent smile. If his head wasn't throbbing, Pony would've rolled his eyes.
"I'm fine," Ponyboy said, repeating what he'd told Soda. Darry didn't seem to buy it as he laid a hand on his forehead. He tried to discreetly clear his throat as Darry's hand pressed against his forehead, then cheek, then neck, but it came out more like a cough and made him sound like a dying bird.
"Sure." Darry said blandly. He took the thermometer he was holding in his other hand, and slid the cap off. "Open up, kiddo," He said, holding the thermometer to Pony's lips.
"Dar', please, I'm fine." Ponyboy tried to tell him, pushing away the thermometer from his face, but Darry wouldn't listen. He opened his mouth to say something, but Soda did before he could.
"You know, Pone, if you don't open your mouth to take your temperature, Darry here is gonna need to put that thermometer in some other place you're not gonna like," Soda threatened, a sly grin on his face as Pony went red with realization. He looked at the thermometer waiting patiently at his mouth and then up at Darry's face, who also began to smile.
"It's true. Won't be fun for you, Pony." Darry agreed, and Pony gave up, letting Darry put the thermometer under his tongue.
"Can you get some damp cloths, Soda?" Darry asked, and Soda nodded and hopped off the bed. How he could be so agile at two in morning, Pony didn't know, but it kind of inspired him.
After a moment of listening to the sink in the bathroom run, Darry popped the thermometer out of Pony's mouth and checked the temperature.
"Jeez, Pony, 102. How long have you been feeling bad?" Darry asked as he placed the thermometer down onto the bedside table.
"Not long," Pony told him, "Honest!" He continued when Darry gave him a look.
"My head an' throats were hurting a bit-" Pony cut himself off to break into coughs. His eyes filled with tears as Darry's hand rubbed up and down his back and after a minute or two, he got himself under control again. "-But it wasn't bad until now. I thought it was a cold."
"Yeah, I don't know about just a cold, buddy. Colds don't usually give you a 102 degree fever." Darry admitted honestly, and the concern in his eyes became more and more apparent as the seconds ticked by. He proceeded to guide Ponyboy under the covers, making sure the pillow was nice and fluffed underneath his head.
"Jeez, where's your brother?" Darry muttered underneath his breath, and as if on cue, Sodapop walked back into the room, a dripping pile of washcloths in one hand as a glass of water was gripped in the other.
"Okay, I got the stuff!" Soda announced placing the glass down on the bedside table gently, but letting the washcloths splat rather ungracefully onto the nightstand, lightly splashing Darry in the face who was seated on the edge of the bed.
"Thanks, Soda." Darry said, giving him a less than grateful smile as he wiped the water off his face. Soda smiled sheepishly, before climbing onto his side of the bed.
Pony gave a huff of laughter, but it quickly dissolved into a fit of coughs. Soda's smile slipped as he brushed Pony's hair away from his clammy forehead, and Darry picked up one of the washcloths from the nightstand.
"Christ, Soda, I asked you to get the washcloths wet, not drown them. I don't wanna waterboard the kid," Darry said incredulously, but wore a playful smile anyway. He wrung the cloth over the mini garbage can so it would collect the water, and unfolded it so he could lay it across Pony's forehead.
"Sorry," Soda laughed and shrugged his shoulders, his hand still brushing back Pony's hair. Once Darry showed he was ready to place it onto his forehead, Soda held Pony's hair away.
Ponyboy shivered involuntarily when the chill of the damp cloth hit his forehead.
"It's so cold," He stated as he pulled the covers higher over his shoulders. Darry patted his arm.
"It's not, you're just warm. It'll make you feel better, though," He said, and he went to grab the water glass on the nightstand. "Have some, it'll help your throat."
Darry tipped the glass to Pony's lips and he swallowed greedily. It helped soothe his throat and he could have drank a whole jug of it but Darry took it back when he was about half way done.
"Alright, that's enough for now," He said, letting out a chuckle when Pony groaned and fell back onto the pillow. "Sorry, I don't think you should have so much just yet."
"Can I sleep now?" Pony asked, the pain in his throat getting the better of him as his voice came out as a meager croak. Darry must've taken pity on him because his eyes softened and he ruffled Pony's hair gently.
"Yeah, kiddo, get some rest. I'll needa go out and get you some medicine tomorrow morning." He said, patting Pony's cheek lightly as he stood. "You're on watch tonight, Soda. Make sure he doesn't die."
"Yes sir," Soda responded, straightening like a soldier would and saluting him as he walked out. Darry rolled his eyes with a huff of laughter before leaving and closing the door behind him.
"Yaknow you work yourself too hard, right? That's why you're sick." Sodasaid, flopping down under the covers next to Ponyboy, who rolled his eyes.
"It's not my fault all of my teachers think that their students only have one class." Pony mumbled, sniffing through his congested nose. He settled more against the pillow and closed his eyes, the washcloth becoming more comforting than cold against his blazing fever.
"Yeah. Well, at least you get a break tomorrow." Soda offered, trying to make the situation a bit brighter.
"Is it really a break if I'm sick?" Ponyboy responded, not bothering to open his eyes. Sleep was already pulling him under.
During a specially chosen, one day camp over the summer for his track team, Ponyboy stupidly forgets to drink any water and faces the consequences.
—
A/N: No I didn't post the day 31 prompt on April 5th what are you talking about....
———
Ponyboy could've sobbed in relief once he saw Darry's truck pull into the school's parking lot. It had been the longest day of his life; it was sweltering out and Coach Grant had really put them through the ringer today. The fact that he forgot his water in Darry's car this morning didn't help, and he knew that the water from the water fountain would leave him dead before whatever heat sickness he had right now. His friend had let him take a few sips from his water bottle before they did the last few exercises of the day, but that had been at least an hour ago at this point; he was sure all the water had left his body within five minutes in sweat.
Pony hauled his track bag onto his shoulder, which felt a million times heavier than this morning for some reason. He stood back up on shaky legs and walked over to the curb, wincing when he had to step out of the cool shade into the blistering heat of the sun, and waited for Darry's truck to pull up in front of him.
He lugged the door open as soon as the truck stopped and threw his bag onto the seat, apologizing when he did it too harshly and accidentally nudged Darry in the leg.
"How was it?" Darry asked, not really acknowledging Pony's bag or excuse, and instead just pushing it away so it sat between the two of them. But Ponyboy wasn't paying much attention, and before he even shut the door, he was reaching under the seat to retrieve the stupid water bottle he left the morning. His mouth was dryer than the Sahara desert and he'd never wish this type of thirst on anyone- it was pure torture.
"Oh, yeah, you left that earlier. Sorry I didn't notice until I came to pick you up." Darry said, but it seemingly went unnoticed by Ponyboy as he hastily unscrewed the cap and began to chug the thing. He grimaced as his tongue was met with uncomfortably warm water, no doubt because it was simmering in Darry's truck all day, but he didn't care. It was better than nothing.
Except, after he chugged almost half the water bottle, he realized it's not better than nothing as the almost hot water did nothing to soothe his aching throat or body temperature. He screwed it shut and climbed into the truck, wiping the back of his hand over his sweaty forehead and pulled the door shut behind him. Normally, he would at least try to hide his illnesses from his brothers, even if it meant telling them he didn't feel good but not giving them the true lowdown of his symptoms. But right now, he was too exhausted to care.
"Jeez, you okay?" Darry asked, looking at Pony concerned as he laid his head against the window. He gave him a half-assed nod and Darry gripped the wheel a bit tighter as he took his kid brother's appearance in: flushed cheeks, nearly drenched in sweat, exhausted, and so thirsty he'd be willing to drink from a bottle that's been sitting on the bottom of a non-air conditioned car? Darry had his own experience with heat exhaustion in the past from various football practices in late summer, and it was never pretty. He hoped that's not what Pony had as he practically watched him doze off in the passenger's seat, but that was wishful thinking.
He reached out to feel Ponyboy's forehead, but his hand flinched away at the sudden sound of a car honking at him from behind, and Pony just about shot up from his seat at the noise. Ponyboy winced when the movement only worsened his dizziness, and he realized with dismay just how nauseated he felt all of the sudden. He watched as Darry gave a stink eye to the annoyed parent waiting for his spot to pick up their kid through the rear view mirror and started to drive off, and Pony rested his head back onto the window. He wrapped his arms around his stomach; along with the newly found nausea, the cramps in his abdomen from the last drill Coach Grant had them do never fully went away and it was starting to get annoying. Usually he's able to bounce back pretty quick from any sort of track practice, but now it felt like weights kept him tethered to the seat and he could hardly move an inch without it sucking all the life out of him.
"Pony?" Darry called softly from beside him, and he cracked his eyes open as the back of his hand pressed against his forehead. He glanced out the window and realized that they were almost home already, and that they were stopped at a stop light about to turn onto their street. "How are you feeling?"
Pony merely shrugged his shoulders, but Darry sent him a stern look and he started to tell him his symptoms.
"I'm tired and really hot," He mumbled. In the back of his mind, he realized he was probably being rude; Darry was nice enough to pick him up after a long day at work and was trying to understand why he felt bad, but Pony could hardly get himself to form a complete sentence.
"Yeah? What else?" Darry asked, pulling his hand back so he could drive again and turned onto their street.
Pony shrugged, trying to figure out what else was wrong. Or, honestly, what wasn't wrong. Everything felt worn and crampy, especially his legs, and he felt like at any second he'd pass out and crack his head open on the dashboard. The dizziness and headaches hadn't stopped either, and the nausea... it was like nothing he ever felt before! And it had gotten significantly worse within the past, what, five minutes? He doesn't know how long they'd been driving home for. It could have been an hour already for all he knew, but the sun was still beating down so it couldn't have been.
Darry bit on the inside of his cheek and pulled into the driveway once they reached their house. Pony peaked his eyes open again and didn't see anyone else home, probably besides Soda since he had the day off. That doesn't mean the others couldn't have been there though, and he silently hoped they weren't. If he was gonna be sick, he'd rather just have his brothers around to see it.
"Alright, we're home," Darry announced, trying to keep his voice low.
Ponyboy nodded and sat back up slowly, grateful when he saw Darry grab his bag next. He opened the door sluggishly, trying his best to not agitate any of his symptoms, but it was inevitable. The sun had hardly let up and even though he didn't have the added weight of his bag, he didn't really feel any lighter. He slowly planted his feet onto the ground and basically slid off the seat, needing to hold out a hand behind him to lean onto the truck. Darry came around the other side, Pony's bag hung over one shoulder and his work bag on the other, looking at him concerned and waiting for him to get his grounding and start to walk into the house.
Pony pushed the truck door shut behind him with more force than he realized he had, and immediately he felt the effect of the force on his own body. His arms fell like jello to his side and his knees nearly buckled, and Darry shot forward, ready to catch him if he passed out. He didn't, but all the excitement worsened the nausea in his stomach by ten fold.
"Hey," Darry said, and Pony felt him place an arm on his bicep. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself not to throw up on Darry's shoes, who had moved to stand in front of him to block Pony from the sun. "Let's just go inside, okay? Get out of the heat-" Darry started again, his voice soft, before he stopped short upon seeing Ponyboy shake his head.
"I'm gonna throw up," Pony muttered, trying to take deep breaths. He wanted so badly to go inside; it didn't have air conditioning like any of the new houses on the other side of town, but they had some ice and a fan, and that's all they needed (or so Darry says). Either way, it was a hell of a lot better than staying out here, even with Darry's body shielding him from most of the sun. But Pony knew that taking just one step would have him hurling all over the grass.
Turns out that's not all it took. Darry said something else, but Ponyboy wasn't paying much attention to what he was saying. Everything was swirling and he had never felt so hot, even though he was being shaded. Darry must've insisted that they go into the house, and he moved his hand to wrap his arm around Pony's shoulders and guide him inside. When Darry moved, the sun immediately beat down straight onto Pony, and his stomach churned like never before and he was throwing up his lunch before he even knew what happened.
Darry flinched back a step, grimacing at the sight and sound because he was never able to stomach throw up that well (no pun intended), but made sure not to lose his grip on Pony's arm because he knew that if he'd let go, the chances his brother would keel over were definitely probable. He rubbed Ponyboy's back as he shakily spit the last of it out onto the grass below.
"Ready to go inside?" Darry asked after another moment, his hand still firm on Pony's back. Ponyboy nodded, his face twisted up in pain as he scrunched his eyes shut, the nausea settled down the tiniest bit, but everything else only got worse. His head pounded terribly, and he hoped he wasn't getting another migraine. The last one had made him feel nauseous and miserable enough, and he doesn't need that stacked on top of whatever the hell he has now.
After another second, and started to stand straight back up from where he was knelt over onto the grass, and Darry wrapped his arm around his shoulders again. Pony felt bad for him; not only did he need to deal with a sickly kid brother now, but this whole time he's been carrying both their bags which were pretty heavy, and he probably just wanted a nice, relaxing afternoon at home, but instead he has to deal with this nonsense. Now, he'll needa' hose off the grass, too.
He tried not to get too upset about it as Darry helped him walk up the porch steps. He remembers something Darry said the last time Pony had been sick, and that he shouldn't feel bad, but it was kind of hard not to.
Darry opened the door and led Ponyboy in, a hand on the small of his back. The living room was empty, but the radio was playing in the kitchen and he could hear their old, rickety fan in the background.
"Soda, that you?" Darry called out, and Pony winced the the sudden loudness. Darry whispered a quick apology and guided him to the couch, helping to ease him down. Soda let out a 'yeah' from the kitchen, and Ponyboy hoped it was just him- being sick in front of Johnny and Two-Bit were doable, but he'd rather let whatever he was sick with kill him before Steve or Dally had to deal with him.
"Get some water," Darry ordered, and although he kept his voice down this time, Pony whimpered at the volume that stabbed at his head. He apologized again, and pushed Pony's sweaty hair back off his forehead.
Soda popped his head into the room just then. "What?" He asked, apparently having not heard Darry.
He was being that quiet, and it hurt Pony's head that bad? Damn.
"What happened?" Sodapop asked upon seeing Ponyboy laid on the couch, and he immediately walked over to the couch in long strides.
"I think it's heat exhaustion. It's too damn hot for those kids to be running, I knew I shouldn't have let him go," Darry said, running and hand through his own hair as he looked down on Pony. Ponyboy just laid his arm across his eyes- he didn't like everyone suddenly fussing over him and he just wanted to sleep whatever this was off. If only he could ignore the agitating quickness of his pulse in his head.
"But his skin feels so cold?" Soda questioned as he placed his hand against the back of his forehead and cheek. Ponyboy flinched at first, but he quickly lent into the Soda's hand on his cheek; it was nice and cool in comparison to his own hot body temperature. How could his own skin feel cold if he was actually hot?
"Yeah, but that's what happens. See the heat rash? Plus, he threw up on the grass just now." Darry said, voice sounding utterly exhausted. Pony heard Soda hum in acknowledgement.
"Well, maybe it'll be healthy for the grass! There has to be some good nutrients in there for it, right?" Soda offered, always the glass half-full guy. Ponyboy huffed a laugh, and the nerd in him wanted to tell him that, no, it was not indeed good for the grass, and that they would probably have a random patch of dead, brown grass on their lawn within a day, but he didn't have the energy.
Pony heard Darry chuckle. "Well, I'm not so sure about that, buddy. Go get some cold water, will you? Fast," He said, and Pony heard him scurry off into the kitchen.
Pony peeled his arm away from his eyes and squinted up at Darry, who was still standing above him on the couch.
"I'm tired, Dar'," He mumbled, practically feeling his eyes drooping shut. The only thing keeping him awake was the fact that he was about to get his much needed water, and the hand that patted his cheek every three seconds.
"You can go to sleep in a few minutes, kid." Darry said with a sigh. He sounded so tired, and Pony couldn't help the next thing that came from his mouth.
"I'm sorry." He confessed, his voice shy. He knew Darry told him to stop with that, but he can't help it when he sounds so helpless and exhausted of all this-
"What'd I tell you about apologizing? Sure, I'd like it if you'd take care of yourself more often, but this isn't somethin' to be sorry for kiddo," Darry said, with a hint of finality in his voice and he stroked Pony's hair back again.
Ponyboy nodded, shutting his eyes again, before Soda came back into the room, and glass filled to the brim with ice water. He opened his eyes and was reaching for it before Soda was within six feet of him. Pony grabbed it as soon as he was close enough and began chugging it, the coldness soothing his throat and quenching his undeniable thirst. He heard Soda make some sort of smart joke, but he didn't have half the mind to pay attention. He finished the glass in record time, and handed it back to Soda who was ready to collect it.
"More?" Sodapop asked, ready to run back and get another glass-full, but Ponyboy shook his head, officially focused on the exhaustion that was taking over. He nodded, getting ready to sit back down and plant himself at Pony's side for the evening, but Darry stopped him.
"Get some ice and a washcloth, will you? And the fan," Darry asked, and Soda nodded, heading back to the kitchen to collect the things he was asked for. Darry turned his attention back to Pony, who was struggling to stay awake, and gave him an empathetic smile; having heat exhaustion certainly wasn't a fun experience. He ran a hand through Pony's hair again and spoke as softly as he could.
"You can go to sleep now, little buddy."
And so he did.
----------------
A/N: This is so ass I'm so sorry 😔 but now that March of Pain is officially over (for me), I'll start writing part twos to some of my other stuff <3
now that i’ve consumed so much outsiders content i live in constant fear that i’ll get randomly jumped any time i walk somewhere remotely sketchy (i live in the suburbs and don’t have beef with with anyone)
