Warnings: Mentions of death + grief, but this is a comfort fic!!
Summary: He thought he lost you for good…
Author’s Note: OKAY OKAY- I gave this one a different name because when I place this in my Darry Curtis masterlist, I don’t want this to seem like the part four when I still have that one cooking. This is to keep you all sane + add a bit of a comforting depth to my ‘Always a Knock’ series, which you can find here :)
Word Count: 1.2k.
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Darrel’s body was limp, lying amongst a heap of blankets balled towards his lower half on the couch. After pining over the loss of his little sister, it felt abnormal to rise without that aching sensation in his chest. He could’ve sworn he had no recollection of falling asleep, especially not after vividly remembering the way he hunched over your clothes he had picked up from the morgue. He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Darrel felt rested, rejuvenated, and almost… at ease?
The white clock that hung over the doorway to the kitchen read 8:03, and by the looks of it, the sunshine coating the living room floor told him it was morning. He rose from the squeaky sofa and sleepily stomped his way towards his brothers’ shared room. He twisted the knob, pushing it open enough to peek around inside. Sodapop smiled from his side of the bed, pointing at Ponyboy, who remained fast asleep. Sodapop snickered softly. He found it rather amusing to hear him snore so deeply and so loudly as if he hadn’t rested in days.
Odd. Darrel didn’t remember leaving his brothers in such a blissful state the previous night. He cleared his throat, “You guys okay?”
Sodapop nodded, pressing a finger to his lips to hush Darrel. “Doing fine. Don’t wake Pony just yet, go wake her,” he whispered, pointing his thumb to the wall that neighbored your bedroom. “I’ll tickle Pony awake. You know I’ve been wanting to get him back.”
Darrel visibly tensed, taken aback by his request. Wake you up? He sprinted to your room without second thought, hoping— praying to any higher being that you were alive. He prayed that you were alive, and well, and real, and that maybe the disoriented feeling he tried so hard to dismiss held meaning. He prayed the accident was all a dream, nothing more than a vision that overcame his sleep.
He pushed the door open, nearly busting the wood off the hinges. And sure enough, you lay with one leg tucked beneath your striped covers, your hands grasping onto the pillow you spooned. You were fast asleep, but alive and well. And what a sight it was to behold for Darrel. The second he laid eyes on you, he could confirm his own suspicions: Your death was nothing more than a cruel dream he managed to envision through the darkest hours of the night.
It all flooded back to him that very second. Darrel had come home so unbelievably tired from work that evening. He remembered collapsing onto the couch falling asleep in the same position and angle he woke up in. It all went wrong the second he had caved into the desire for his ‘after-work-nap’. That was when you left the house, and that was when the officers came rapping on the front door. Someone must’ve tossed blankets on him whilst he was dreaming of your tragic demise.
Darrel tripped over the slight mess of your bedroom floor, pulling you close to his chest and squeezing until you arose. He mumbled to himself quite a bit, though not much was audible to you.
You grumbled in annoyance, your body begging to be set back down. “Darry?” you whined.
He exhaled in relief. “You’re alright. Oh, Lord, she’s alright…” Darrel panted.
“Get off,” you begged groggily, eyes still closed. Your hand pushed at his shoulder roughly, though you didn’t have much strength after waking up so unexpectedly.
Darrel only hugged you tighter. He kissed the very top of your head and stroked a hand through your hair as gently as he could manage. His cheeks became sore from how hard he had been smiling. It seemed to never end, for he was overjoyed to hold you, speak to you, and have you back in your bed where you should’ve stayed— according to his dreams, at least. He quickly shook the thought away. “I thought I’d lost you. Let me have this,” he chuckled.
‘Lost you?’ Was he out of his mind? Your eyes fluttered open, wearing a displeased look on your face. “Huh?”
“I had a dream,” he said simply. “You went out, and there was this huge pickup truck. You and a bunch of other kids were all huddled in the back of the truck like— like you were all slabs of wood or something. An hour or so goes by, the police come and tell me you’ve passed, I go lookin’ for you, and next thing I know, I’m back home with Soda ‘nd Pony. We’re bawling like babies— all of us. Soda’s crying, I’m crying, and we’re holding onto your clothes like it’s our holy grail.”
You eyed him suspiciously, watching Darrel pant. After speaking just as fast as an auctioneer, you didn’t blame him for being so out of breath. He slowly pulled away from you, keeping himself propped up over you with his hands.
“That’s… that’s real interesting, Darry. Good for you,” you yawned, body begging to go back to sleep.
Darrel placed you back on your mattress, eyes roaming over your sleepy state. “It felt so real,” he whispered, a hand rubbing along your calf. “Too real.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” you mumbled into your pillow.
“Yeah, but that… that scared me something awful.” He thought for a moment. “You know I couldn’t get along without you. Neither could Soda or Pony. It just wouldn’t feel right without you.”
You pulled away from the warmth of your pillow and sighed. He wasn’t letting this down easily. “I think… I think you just miss Mom and Dad,” you finally whispered.
Stunned, Darrel shifted to sit beside you on the very edge of your bed. He sat in the same corner of your mattress as he did in his dream, holding onto your clothing like a lifeline. Only this time you were here. There was no brown paper bag with your clothing cut down the middle. You were lying right beside him.
He exhaled slowly, “I think you’re right. I worry about you a lot… and maybe that’s because I couldn’t stand to lose you the way we lost Mom and Dad.”
Sounds of muffled laughter and a squeaking mattress could be heard through the walls. Ponyboy pleaded for Soda to stop the playful attack on his sides, claiming he ‘didn’t want tickles’. But Darrel kept his eyes on you, the faintest of smiles forming along his cheeks. You knew that smile. Before you could even think to make an escape, he pounced on top of you, his fingers jabbing into your neck and along the sides of your chest. He watched you squirm and writhe as you kicked and giggled relentlessly. “Darry! Stop!” you begged, attempting to crawl away from his tickle attack.
He grinned proudly, grabbing one ankle to prevent you from kicking at him anymore. He tickled the bottom of your foot, watching in sadistic pleasure. “I’ve got you now!”
Ponyboy came running into your bedroom, seemingly trying to hide from Soda. He leapt for your bed, taking the empty space beside you. Only then did Soda come crashing down on top of you, one hand used to tickle each of his little siblings.
And at last, Darrel felt peace. Seeing you living, breathing, and smiling after experiencing a world without you was all he needed. He felt grounded, like maybe the stress life constantly brought to him didn’t matter as much anymore. He had you to keep him sane. It was the nights he came home exhausted and deprived of seeing those he loved that made him forget the little things. Just having you back safe and sound was all he could ask for. He couldn’t imagine life without you.
YIPPEE HAPPY ENDING FOR ONCE!!! THANK YOU FOR READING!!!
Darry tries to tell himself that you're a big girl and can take care of yourself.
But if a Soc dare lay a finger on you, its not just the Curtis kids they have to worry about, its every single Greaser in Tulsa.
Sodapop is pretty chill when it comes to worrying about you.
The only time he gets worried is when you get knocked down and stay down too long.
Ponyboy doesn't try to protect you, rather, he stays by your side and has your back.
When you are hurt in anything other than a fight, though? Something is very off.
There was one instance when you received a gut punch you weren't expecting.
The pain was searing and didn't go away for days.
It turns out that your appendix was about to rupture.
You had been hanging out with Two-Bit, buying some random things for a random occasion, when you collapsed from the amount of pain your side contained.
He panicked and took you to the hospital, only calling Darryl when you were in the emergency room.
When Darry arrived at the hospital, Two-Bit left to find Sodapop and Ponyboy.
Their sister never got sick, so it had to be bad.
Pony, Johnny and Two were the most available to help you during the weeks following while you recovered from the operation.
You hated that you couldn't do some things by yourself, but also grateful for the boys.
When your restrictions were lifted and the doctor had cleared you, God was there a celebration.
All of the boys came over to the Curtis house and Had a party.
Can you do a curly shepard headcanon where you are the curtis sister and you are having a secret relationship with curly
heya! i'm so glad to see people requesting more curly bc i don't see much written for him. i love that we get to know more about him in That Was Then, This is Now. i know this is probably not you were expecting, but ig it's just my own personal opinion on someone being a curtis sister and dating curly. if it was more of a general reader then i would've made it much different. (: <333 - mae
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
Being a Curtis Sister and Secretly Dating Curly Shepard Hc's:
° Your brothers are insanely protective of you, which means that they'll always have an opinion when it comes to your s/o, no matter who it is. Honestly, they just want the best for you, which means no bums or hoodlums: A.k.a anyone like Dallas Winston, Tim Shepard or Curly Shepard are off limits!
° You weren't a stranger to Curly Shepard, having seen him around school and with your brother's gang, but most often because he would hang out with Pony and the gang in the vacant lot, kicking a football around. So y'all were friendly at least by this point.
° As I've mentioned before, Curly isn't canonly smart at all and began flirting with you in front of your brothers and gang: Each of their heads turned to Curly lightning fast! He got cussed out and almost beat the tar out of as if he was complete filth for pulling a move like that on you.
° In fact, Sodapop was definitely the worst of the bunch because of the quick bursts of anger he experiences often. He's the most protective of you other than Darry and doesn't think anyone is good enough for you. That was the day that Curly Shepard knew better than to do such a dumb thing in front of your brothers. It was also the day that he developed a big thing for you, as he saw you as a challenge worth acquiring. He does dumb things all the time, not having much courage. However this time he went in impulsively, knowing he had to have you.
° It was also the day that you saw him in a new light. You'd always listened to your brothers, however, now you felt that a little fun behind their backs wouldn't be so bad…
° Surprisingly for not being intelligent, he's actually really good at flirting. He's got a smoothness to him, a recklessness that won you over quite quickly and the rest seemed to be history! Well, except for the fact you had to keep this on the down low even from Dallas because this is the one time he'd snitch on you. He wasn't even keen on Curly being a match for you, having pulled you off to the side on the front porch after Soda had to go on a long ass walk that night Curly tried pulling a possible move on you.
° "Listen kid, I don't think it's such a hot idea. Curly's an alright buddy for us guys, but not for you, ya savvy?" Dally said, drawing in a deep breath as he smoked.
° "Really? You too?" You looked amused, eyebrows raised, almost miffed. “I know what ‘not for me’ means. You think I’d date him, don’t you?”
° "It ain't cruel, but to save ya a lotta trouble. We all want what's good for ya, kid. You know that right?"
° "Yeah sure."
° “Now don’t get mouthy with me, kid!” Dally said real stern and mean, his eyes like two hot coals.
° You nodded, backing off from the topic which caused him to smirk a little and ruffle your head playfully.
° It all becomes a massive secret from the moment it starts, but Curly makes that challenging when he's literally so mouthy and such a bad influence on you. You've never quite been a goody goody, but Darry has always been stricter on the likes of you and Ponyboy than on Soda, which makes you resentful. Despite being a year younger than Soda - making you around Curly’s age.
° But even you drew the line one night when your brothers and gang were all out and Curly turned up at your window drunk. You rolled your eyes as he hiccuped, sat flat on his ass on the dirt outside after falling the short height from your window sill. He was bitter as you snorted at him, miffed he’d arrived. That was the one and only time he ever tried something dumb like that. You chewed his ear in for weeks! Didn’t let him live it down for awhile after either.
° Canonly Curly is sort of a coward in the sense that he’s all bark and no bite. Unless his gang is there. He acts like he’s not afraid of what your brothers and their buddies will do to him once they find out, but for now he’s enjoying the ride while it lasts.
° He thinks it’s a good idea to put on shows sometimes to make you crazy with jealousy, because Curly can be a bit of a dick, but he realises it’s just not worth all of the hassle.
° God forbid when he inevitably goes back to juvie. You’re understandably emotional, but you can’t exactly tell your brothers why you’re so upset. You try hiding it but Soda’s really good at reading your non-verbal cues.
° Curly is definitely not the best influence on you, probably causing you to become more reckless and mouthy. It’s a wonder that you haven’t been stopped by the cops by now. Darry and your brothers probably hold an intervention when it gets worse. Curly will goad you to do stupid shit.
° Inevitably your brothers will discover this secret. It was Two-bit who found out, and although he didn’t like to be a snitch, the talk he had with you didnt go so hot. Your promises ended up being empty and he got worried. Two has a soft spot for you since you remind him so much of his kid sister. With his grey eyes gone sombre, he came clean to Darry who blew his top immediately when he picked you up from school. Man you hated Two-bit for a while.
° Curly got into shit himself from Tim and the gang. It didn’t end well, but it didn’t ruin the gang's ability to back the other up.
° I’m sorry to say it but once they find out, everything is over between you and Curly. It just isn’t happening. Not under Darry’s roof and you don’t have the dough to get your own place, not whilst you’re still in school that is. You’re most likely grounded for a long time too. You so much as get caught speaking to him and you’re in big trouble. Darry is a momma bear!
° Sodapop tried to understand but he feels betrayed that you didn’t trust him enough to come clean. You guys are close like that. He gets over it quickly, albeit a little sore.
° Pony comforts you a lot in his gentle way. He doesn’t really get it but he takes your mind off of things by taking you to movies.
° Overtime you realise your brothers and their friends were just looking out for you. Curly isn’t really the cream of the crop. He’s not striving for much and has a pretty messed up police record. Darry reminds you that you dodged a bullet, but you still don’t exactly see Curly the same way he does: You still are fond of him, sneaking him glances and smiles. Hell, you even snuck behind their backs in order to talk with him: He dug it, but you knew it hurt him. You never realised he dug you like that.
° When you parted ways with somewhat understanding, you kissed his cheer. “Goodbye, Curly. You take care’a yerself!” He still remembers your honey sweet voice and the way you looked so good walking away from him.
° (I totally know that this is probably not what you wanted to hear, but it’s just my own personal view. Although Ponyboy is friends with Curly, calling him a good kid - Curly kinda has a rough streak. The Curtis boys would react the same if even Dally or Tim tried to pull something like that on you too. They’re protective, and being as you’d be the only girl in the household, they’d see it as their duty to protect you. They’d want the best for you, which probably means dating someone more like Johnny or another good person: Someone that would treat you right and be a good influence on you. I hope that makes sense.)
Could I request the gang reacting to Curtis sister reader getting a Boyfriend?
Sure thing coming right up
Soda is pretty laid back he’s like “cool congrats” because he knows that you’re happy,, he’s always on your side no matter what
Ponyboy is more like 😳 because he’s not sure how darry will react, he’s bracing for an argument to ensue (plus he doesn’t have any experience with relationships)
Darry… is really trying to be cool with it. Like SERIOUSLY trying to be cool with it, but he’s skeptical, the last thing he would want is for you to get hurt
Two Bit could give a shit tbh but he puts on a smile and tells you he can go on double dates with him and Cathy if you want any to
Steve is a little jealous cuz he lowkey has a major crush on you but it never played out,,, he pretends to be happy for you and moved on with his life
Dallas is like 🤷♀️, and he’s like “tell me when he cheats” bc he’s a pessimist and has never had a serious/loyal girlfriend
Johnny is like “shut up Dal” (he’s the only one who can get away with saying that) then he goes “congrats y/n :)”
Imagine being the Curtis' sister and being there when Johnny and Ponyboy show up at Buck's after killing Bob...
Word Count: 657
Warning: Mentions of murder, but it’s in self defense.
A/N: This was requested by Anonymous.
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You had gotten a call from Dal a little after 11:00 asking you to come to Buck's. He'd gotten into a fight with Tim Shepard, which meant he wanted you to come over and baby him. You told Darry you were heading over to Dal's, and was gone before he really had time to protest you going to Buck's. You got there and saw what state Dally was in. A bruise on the corner of his mouth, and a matching one on his eyes.
"Tim and I had it out and he busted up my ribs." You rolled your eyes and followed him upstairs. He told you about the fight as you examined his ribs, leaving out what prompted the fight. You told him he'd be okay, and got up to leave, but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back down onto the bed. You sighed and laid down with him, running your fingers through his hair.
You must have somehow fallen asleep through the blasting of Hank Williams because you woke up to pounding on Dal's door. Dally didn't even lift his head when he called out.
"Occupied!"
"Dal," Buck said, cracking the door just enough to poke his head in, "you got a couple of kids out here askin' for you. Say's it's real important." Dally crawled over you to get out of bed, kissing your cheek before following Buck out of the room.
It must have been real important because Dal was gone for several minutes. You sat up, and rubbed your eyes, wishing Dal would hurry so you could go back to sleep. When you heard him coming back up the stairs, you laid back down with a smile.
"Pony, are you wet," he asked, as he opened the door. You sat up again at hearing your brothers name. You sprang out of bed as your brother came through the door and you grabbed him and Johnny both, pulling them in quickly.
"What the hell are you two doing here!?" You were more concerned about Pony, knowing if Soda or Darry ever found out it'd be the end of him. You saw the look on Dal's face and stepped back from the younger boy's, understanding how serious it must be for him to have invited them in. "What happened?"
As Pony dried off and put on a dry shirt, he told you and Dally exactly what had happened. About Darry hitting Pony, about them getting jumped in the park, about Johnny killing that boy. You sat and listened to it all, chewing the inside of your cheek, trying to process the information like you knew your mom would have. You sat on the bed next to Pony and pulled him into you, resting his head on your shoulder.
"I ain't itchin' to be the one to tell your brother's about this," Dal commented, and before Pony could respond you did.
"We aren't going to, Dallas." You let go of Pony and grabbed Dal's leather jacket, which you usually wore if you got cold, and handed it to your brother. "Look, there's a place Dally and I used to meet up, back when we were sneaking around. It's a good place to lay low." Dal took over from there, handing Johnny a wad of cash for food, telling them how to get to Jay Mountain, and about the church at the top that should do well enough to hide them for at least a couple of days. The four of you walked out to the front porch and you looked between the two younger boys.
"You two are going to be fine," you promised, hugging Johnny tightly then Ponyboy. "We'll do what we can to help from here." Pony nodded and gave you one last hug before he and Johnny took off again, heading to catch the train out of town.
Warnings: This is angst. Topics include grief + mentions of a deceased body.
Summary: This is a heavily requested part 3 to my Always a Knock series!! I highly suggest you read parts one and two if you haven’t already.
Author’s Note: EEEE PART 3!!! I’m so glad y’all are enjoying this as much as I have been writing it. Well, besides a tear here and there, it’s been fun.
Word Count: 2.7k.
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The following morning had come so fast that Darrel hardly blinked before he saw daylight. Any amount of sleep would suffice under these circumstances. His head already pounded before he lifted it from the steering wheel. Today was bound to be the more stressful day of the two he spent in this limbo of grief and mourning. The night of the accident leading to the surprise visit to the morgue earlier this morning was the most stressful period of time he’d experienced. It couldn’t have been any later than seven in the morning now, considering the sun barely peeked through the surrounding trees of the parking lot. It was unsettling how life could move on so carelessly. The birds still sang their merry tune, cars still flooded the streets, and the sun still rose again, signaling a new day was beginning. How come the world continued on without you when Darrel’s world shattered the second he laid eyes on that police car? It wasn’t fair.
He took a moment to ponder. Life never stopped for Darrel. He would have to explain that he needed today off from work, find an easy way to break the news to his brothers, and figure out how he would manage a funeral on such a tight budget. While one hand jammed his seatbelt into the buckle, he glanced to the brown bag in the passenger seat. “Come on, baby, let’s get you home,” he whispered, his voice still raspy from the night before.
The drive home was silent. He wasn’t in the mood for music. Not even to distract himself from his racing thoughts. The last time Darrel had to give such horrible news was eight months ago. He had done everything he could to beat around the bush, leading to a messy breakdown from each of his brothers. He didn’t want it to end that way. Grief came in all different ways, of course, but he wanted things to go smoother this time around.
Darrel twisted the key into the brass doorknob. To his surprise, Ponyboy and Sodapop were fast asleep on the sofa. Each claimed their own sides, resting their heads on the armrests. Darrel tried his best to keep the door quiet as he shut it behind himself. He kept the brown bag with your clothing tucked beneath his underarm, striding to your bedroom. He pushed the door open, feeling that unmistakable wave of grief wash over him yet again. Everything was just as you left it. Your hairbrush messily tossed onto your vanity, shoes kicked across the floorboards, and your unmade bed were quiet reminders of your past.
Darrel set the bag onto the edge of your bed and quickly left before he lost control again. He had to remain composed to deliver such news. He figured this could wait until the boys had eaten, and maybe had a chance to fully awake. Darrel tiptoed into the kitchen, occasionally checking the couch to make sure he didn’t disturb them. He made himself busy in the kitchen, preparing a rather large cup of coffee. Darrel was at loss of an appetite; food hadn’t even graced his thoughts since last night. But for his brothers, he figured they would appreciate some eggs and buttered toast to wake up to.
The gentle patter of Sodapop’s bare feet against the kitchen tiles stole Darrel’s attention from the frying eggs in front of him.
“You’re back,” he mumbled, still half asleep. “What happened? Pony and I were worried sick. We figured you’d be back before daylight.”
“I’m alright,” Darrel dismissed, moving the pan around in slow circles. “You hungry?”
Soda nodded. “What happened?” he asked again, hoping for an answer this time around.
“We’re going to talk about it when Pony is up. Go sit down, I’m making y’all some breakfast.”
Anyone with a brain understood what that meant. Dodging the question not once, but twice painted a picture worth a thousand words. Soda slumped into his seat at the table, holding his head up with his chin on his palm. He drummed his fingers along his cheek impatiently. “Pony could sleep for hours, you know that,” he countered firmly, but not argumentatively.
Darrel used a spatula to maneuver the egg whites around in the pan. His lips pursed slightly, “Let him rest, kid, he probably needs it.”
“You do too. All you do is work. ‘Round the house, up top someone’s roof… Darry, you need a break.” Sodapop’s eyes glistened with sleepiness. He glanced towards the sofa, eyeing Ponyboy who lay wide awake. Soda kept quiet, hoping to stall as long as he could before this scheduled ‘talk’ became a reality.
“I know it. I’m taking today off,” Darrel replied. He stood with his hands on his hips, keeping a watchful eye on the eggs. “Maybe tomorrow, hell if I know. I’ve just got a lot going on.”
“What really happened?” Ponyboy asked, projecting his voice from within the living room.
Darrel inhaled deeply, rolling his eyes in frustration. He had been awake all this time. “Come on and eat,” he huffed. Breakfast was served among three plates, though Darrel’s had nothing more than a slice of toast on it. He brought the butter dish, half-eaten jar of grape jelly, and silverware to the table.
Ponyboy trudged towards the table, seemingly less concerned than Sodapop. “She okay?” he yawned.
“She’s alright,” Darrel reassured through a frown. “You eat first— I don’t want you goin’ hungry on me.”
Ponyboy scarfed down the first few bites of his egg, his gaze flickering back and forth between his brothers. They seemed to have known something he didn’t, and it ticked him off a good deal. He noticed how Darrel picked at his toast, only tearing it into bits to make it seem as if he’d eaten some. Soda struggled to slather grape jelly across his eggs without stealing glances at Darrel. The air was thick with tension. Ponyboy could sense you were anything but ‘alright’. He set his fork down and spoke between swallows, “Why were you gone all night? We thought you’d be back within an hour.” Ponyboy nodded towards Soda.
“Cops wouldn’t let me go without— without stopping by,” he finished, executing his answer somewhat decently. Darrel realized in that moment that he was beating around the bush again. And while it may have been painfully obvious already, he couldn’t hide for much longer. He sighed, fumbling with the bits of toast in his hand before popping one into his mouth. “You both know there was a wreck,” he began dryly, his eyes somewhere distant and far away.
But Darrel wasn’t present as he spoke, and that was a telltale sign that something terribly wrong had happened amidst the accident. He stared at the fabric of the tablecloth, unable to blink. Ponyboy silenced his chewing noises, speaking to Soda through facial expressions only. Darrel’s hand mindlessly rubbed against his thigh, a movement created to self soothe. He took one big breath and held it, “She passed away last night on account of drunk driving. That truck swerved off the road so goddamn fast it killed the driver and five others, our baby sister included.”
Darrel’s hands ran down his face in agony, his eyes bloodshot from holding back tears. The boys simply stared at him, lips parted and expressions dropped. He turned towards his shoulder, unable to keep composed. Soft, shaky breaths left his lips as a tear rolled onto his cheek and down his hand.
Sodapop was first to stand, nearly knocking his own chair over. He stood on Darry’s right side, holding onto his shoulder and shaking him violently. “No, Darry,” he heaved. “No, that ain’t true,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he tried his hardest to console his brother. Tears spilled from his own eyes, feeling a sharp pain attack his gut at the news.
Ponyboy sat and stared, losing his own composure second by second. His eyes grew twice in size and watered at the haunting realization of his eldest brother’s news. The only thing he could afford was to stare at the floor as his chest tightened. Ponyboy didn’t want to hug; he didn’t want any touch. He wanted to run right into his sister’s room, rouse her awake, and tell her Darry had cooked a swell breakfast just for her. That’s how his morning should’ve gone.
“All I’ve got left is a bag of her clothes,” Darrel said through quiet sniffles, allowing Sodapop to hold onto him as long as needed. “That’s all.”
It stayed quiet for a longer than the boys had been awake. Shaky exhales and sniffles came from each of the boys, but not a single one dared to speak. They would look over at one another, red-eyed and frowning, and glance back at your empty chair at the table. Maybe that’s what filled the air with such silence. You weren’t there to cheer them up with a joke, offer a warm hug, or cry along with them. This wasn’t the usual silence between them when you stayed at a friend’s house overnight, claiming you’d be back before dawn, and show up just as Darrel plated breakfast. This time, you weren’t coming back. The house you were so eager to get out of would never see your smiling face again, and neither would your brothers to tried everything humanly possible to keep you here.
Ponyboy gathered the courage to speak first. He gulped back the overwhelming lump in his throat and locked eyes with Darrel. “Can I see ‘em? Her clothes?”
Darrel looked up from the tablecloth, almost possessive at the thought of anyone else touching that brown bag on your bed. Even he didn’t wish to open it. Alive or not, those were your clothes balled up and wrinkled to hell and back. And Darrel respected your privacy, even though you had no way of seeing that for yourself. After staring the boy down, he finally nodded. “Yeah… we can look at ‘em,” he replied, a tender voice he rarely used now present.
The boys slowly walked into your bedroom, each feeling the same mixture of loss and dread. Darrel was first to grab the bag of clothing, clutching it against his chest. “These aren’t stained. Apparently,” he added on, his face slowly turning from blazing red to a more calm hue of apricot. Darrel sat on the very end of your unmade bed, across from your vanity that never seemed to keep clean.
Soda fell unusually quiet, claiming a spot beside Darrel. And Ponyboy? He made himself comfortable on the floor in front of Darrel, sitting right below his knees.
Your familiar scent still lingered around them, filling the air with memories of you. In some strange way, it felt like you had never left. Or maybe it was the fact that Soda and Ponyboy were still in denial. The news of your passing was too fresh to accept just yet. Darrel was beyond that stage. As soon as he laid eyes upon your cold and lifeless body, it set in— slowly, but surely, he came to accept the fact that it was you underneath that white cloth. He shuddered slightly at the thought, squeezing the bag tighter.
“Apparently?” Soda pressed, tilting his head in confusion. Though he wasn’t too keen on admitting it, he still felt that lump in his throat. He was an expert at hiding his emotions from others, but during situations like this? He was the family’s bawl baby all over again.
Darrel nodded. “I don’t think she was hurt too bad. I only saw her shoulders ‘nd up. No cuts… no blood… only a little bit of bruising…” he shrugged, forcing himself to relive those moments to be able to retell it.
“You saw her?” Ponyboy interjected. “Is that why you didn’t want us tagging along? You think we couldn’t handle it?”
The poor boy was grieving. That snappy tone wasn’t coming from his heart; Darrel knew that it wasn’t. He hung his head to look at Ponyboy. “I thought it’d be best if I go alone. You don’t want to look at that kind of stuff, Pony. I want you to remember what she looked like alive ‘nd well, not like how she did in that morgue.”
Sodapop nodded, “He’s right, Pony. Give it a rest.”
Darrel gave a small nudge to his arm in appreciation. “I only looked to confirm it was her, nothin’ else. Somethin’ below her shoulders could’ve been hurt real bad, but I think it was her neck. She just…” he cut himself off, at loss for words. “She was just lying there. Her neck was all bent and— and… you get the point,” he finished, unwilling to finish that thought. With a sharp exhale, he reluctantly pulled the bag away from his chest. “You ready?”
The boys nodded. Nobody was ever truly ready for moments like these. But what else could they say? The world didn’t stop moving because they suffered from such a loss.
Darrel tore open the bag, peeking at its contents. He reached a paw inside and retrieved what seemed to have been a skirt. It was cut right through the seams, serving as a painful reminder of where your body was, and how it was being handled. It was cut right off of your body, just like the rest of your clothing would be. He passed it down to Ponyboy with a gentle ‘here’. He took it graciously, studying it as his eyes welled with tears. Darrel then pulled out a faux leather vest that you would always insist on wearing without a shirt underneath. As hard as it was to pass it on, he held it over Sodapop’s lap patiently. The vest was dissected just as badly as your skirt. Darrel reached back into the bag for a piece of his own clothing to hold, quickly jerking it away at the soft texture of your undergarments. Those were yours, and as bad as he missed you, that was a line he’d never cross. He set the bag down beside himself and swallowed hard.
Ponyboy noticed Darrel’s pouty look and stood up straight. He handed the skirt off to his eldest brother. “Here, you can have it,” he said kindly. Even during moments of pure agony such as this, Ponyboy remained selfless and caring.
Sodapop’s tears slid down the faux leather of your vest as he slightly rocked himself back and forth. “My God, Darry, how’d you do it?” he cried aloud.
“Hey, now, it’s alright,” Darrel cooed, rubbing his hand along Sodapop’s spine. “You’re okay.”
Ponyboy offered a gentle smile. “That vest ain’t going nowhere. You’ve got her in your arms now,” he reassured.
Darrel felt an ounce of dignity at his little brother’s attempts to be strong. This wasn’t an easy situation for anyone— much less the youngest of the family. “Yeah, Pony,” he grinned, “We’ve got her right in our arms, look.” Darrel squeezed the torn skirt, showing Sodapop just how to do it.
His bottom lip quivered. Sodapop squeezed the vest against his own chest, continuing his soft rocking motions. And slowly, tears no longer streamed down his cheeks. He seemed to have grown at peace with the leather in his arms, unable to let it out of his sights, even for a mere second.
Ponyboy looked to Darrel for consultation. “Darry?”
Darrel lifted his gaze back towards Ponyboy expectantly.
“Darry, is she going to rest with Mom and Dad?”
He looked around your bedroom hesitantly. He didn’t have the heart to tell Ponyboy that there was only a slim chance of hosting a funeral at all, let alone reserving a spot beside their late parents. “I can-- I can try…? I don’t know yet, Pony. We’ve still got time.”
“Do we?” Soda asked doubtfully, leaning back on your mattress. “They can’t keep her there forever.”
“We still have some weeks before funeral plans become pressing. I doubt they’ll be quick to kick her out, Soda,” Darrel replied. “Besides, I— I’ve got a lot to catch up on. At least she’s being stored safely.”
‘Stored.’ Like some inanimate object who never experienced life like yours. It was dehumanizing to describe your body in that sense, but it was the truth. Because there was no life left for Darrel to protect. No matter how badly he wanted you back, he was never going to feel the satisfaction of being your protector and help guide you through life’s journey. He could protect you no more.
UM I MIGHT DO ANOTHER PART BC THIS WAS GETTING LONG + I PROMISED Y’ALL I’D POST TONIGHT. LMK IF UR INTERESTED IG?? 😭😭
Warnings: This is angst. Includes topics of grief + loss of a family member.
Summary: This is part four to my ‘Always a Knock’ series which you can find here. I highly suggest reading the other parts before reading part four :)
Author’s Note: Part 4 is a bit on the short side, but necessary so that part five can be the most soul-crushing finale you’ve ever read. I hope you enjoy!! <3
Word Count: 1.6k.
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Flyers upon flyers were sorted through at the dining table. The overhead light cast a yellow tint upon the pages, giving the illusion of life among the paper. Darrel had come across several funeral homes that he wouldn’t mind contacting; they offered embalming, a casket of choice, reservation for a private venue, and the service. The only problem? Darrel didn’t have that pretty penny they all seemed to want in exchange. To top it all off— if he called into work today and explained that he wasn’t going, that would be more money he could spend on funeral expenses going down the drain. He felt trapped in his own mind, wishing he find a way out of this nightmare. If you had stayed home that night like he wanted you to, there wouldn’t be funeral home advertisements in his hand. Darrel’s fists clenched around the thin edge of the paper, crumpling it without meaning to.
“Anything else?” Sodapop set a jagged paper on top of the funeral home referrals.
Darrel gave the grocery list a brief glance over, shaking his head. “That’s all. You be careful, alright? You taking Pony?”
Sodapop nodded, “He’s out front already. I’ll be fast.”
“Drive careful,” Darrel warned. He pushed his seat back, giving his brother a gentle hug as one arm snaked around his neck. He squeezed, keeping mindful of his strength. “I mean it. Be safe.”
Sodapop pulled away after giving a small nod in return. He took the grocery list and slipped it into the back pocket of his jeans. Not even a moment later, the engine roared to life as his brothers left the premises. Being alone was one thing, but being left alone with nothing but Darrel’s own thoughts was another. Darrel figured he could make good use of the time he had to himself. He could cry as loud as he pleased, speak aloud as if you could hear him, or take things a fully different route if he felt like it. But the logical side of his brain overpowered the emotional side, deciding that contacting a funeral home would be the smartest option. So with the stack of referrals he found appealing, he carried them towards his armchair that rested in the far corner of the living room. Darrel dented the leather with his weight, fiddling with the telephone in hand. He dialed the first number hesitantly, pressing the telephone to the right side of his face.
A moment later, a masculine voice replied. He cleared his throat, taking one big breath. “Tulsa Memorial Services, how may I help you?”
“My sister,” Darrel gulped, “I’d like to make a reservation for my sister.”
A moment of silence fell between the two. Faint scribbling could be heard on the other end of the line. “Can I have a name for this reservation?”
“I have a question, actually. Just wondering— do you allow payment plans? Preferably an installment plan?”
“We do. We start at as little as forty dollars a month. Cash or check. Payments and payment dates can be altered,” he replied.
Darrel smacked his tongue against his lip, absolutely baffled. Darrel nearly went bankrupt the last time he reached out on his parent’s behalf. The prices for a reservation had increased since his last call was made. He kept silent for a moment, wondering how he could ever afford such a price. Side hustles? A new job entirely? He didn’t have a clue where to start. “Can you… lower it?” he winced.
“Unfortunately I cannot. I can arrange your plan for each week, or for a three month payment at a time?” the man offered kindly.
“No, no, I’ll think about the monthly.” Darrel read over the pamphlet once more.
‘Standard Plan Includes: Body transportation, Embalming, Casket, Reserved room, Hearse, Certificate processing, and Graveside service’
“I think I’ll do the standard plan…?” Darrel winced, “Under the last name Curtis.”
The man on the other end of the telephone jotted his name down. After a beat, he spoke once more, “Monday at noon? Is that a good time to schedule an appointment, Mr. Curtis?”
“Perfect,” he concluded.
“I’ll see you then, Mr. Curtis. Take care.”
Darrel held the phone up to his ear longer than he needed to. The call had ended long ago, but he didn’t want to— he couldn’t— bring himself to accept that this ‘funeral planning’ was reality. Not some nightmare that his alarm clock would wake him from, this was reality.
With the boys gone, he figured a nap would do him some good. He had the day off after all, meaning he could grieve and mourn as it came to him. Darrel walked towards your bedroom door, pushing it open with his steel toe boots. The chilly breeze from your vent hit his skin like a blizzard. He stalked closer to your bed, unraveled the sheets, and buried his face in between the crack of your feathered pillows.
Your bedding smelled like you. That sweet, floral scent that lingered wherever you went attacked his nostrils. A wave of nostalgia hit him— nostalgia from when you would walk past him before heading out, his teasing voice murmuring lines like, ‘You stink,’ or, ‘What’s that funny smell?’ It was strange. He was so used to commenting on the strong scent you chose to wear, and now he was basking in it. But your scent would soon fade just as the rest of you would. There will be a day when your perfume no longer clings to your clothing or pillowcases. There will be a day where Darrel fails to remember the sound of your voice as your shared features become nothing more than a blur— a hazy memory.
Darrel’s ears grew hot. He shut both eyes and sank deeper into your mattress, feeling as if he was descending somewhere far away from this godforsaken world.
He woke to the sound of shuffling feet across the kitchen tiles. It had been two hours since Darrel first laid down underneath your covers. He rose, rubbing away at his eyes to greet his brothers.
Sodapop and Ponyboy engaged in a conversation full of inaudible whispers. With one bag of groceries on the kitchen counter, the two had their backs facing your bedroom door. Darrel began to reach for the paper sack, scaring the daylights out of his brothers without meaning to.
Sodapop gave Ponyboy a slight shove to the gut, his face pale. “Sorry that took a while.”
Darrel shrugged, “You’re okay. I fell asleep.” He rummaged through groceries, taking out a half carton of eggs, bananas, and chicken breasts. His eyes darted around the kitchen. “This all?”
Ponyboy nodded. “We figured cake could wait a bit. You know, since… we’ve just got a lot on our plate right now.”
Sodapop shot a deathly glare at his little brother. But Darrel, the attentive big brother he was, could sense that something bigger was going on. There was something they were not telling him, and they surely didn’t seem like they planned on it. He carried the eggs and chicken to the refrigerator, popping the door open. “So it took you both two hours to grab three things?” he pressed.
The boys spoke silently, arguing with nothing more than their pupils. “We stopped by Steve’s,” Sodapop finished.
Ponyboy fidgeted with his hand against his lap, cracking his fingers and picking at his nails for comfort. Darrel became wary of what exactly they had done, who they may have spoken to, and what they accomplished behind his back. He decided he didn’t need the stress.
“I’m heading down to the bank. Gonna bum a loan off them to last us next week,” Darrel announced with a yawn, slipping into his steel toe boots.
The boys exchanged glances once again.
“Darry, you don’t have to do that,” Sodapop blurted.
That was Ponyboy’s cue. He scratched the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly. “We didn’t just go to Steve’s,” he hesitated to continue, “Went to Two-Bit’s, Dally’s— we went all over town.”
Sodapop nodded, reaching for the yellow envelope stuffed into his flannel pocket. “We ain’t leaving you to take care of things on your own. That’s not what we’re here for.”
Darrel took the envelope and slowly tore it open. His cheeks flushed the moment the pads of his thumb felt flat rectangles from inside. He pulled out neatly flattened cash. Lots of it. “I don’t… I can’t take this,” he said, shoving the funds back and holding it against Sodapop’s chest.
“No, Darry, that ain’t even all of it. Two-Bit said he’ll be on the lookout for a job, Steve said he’ll put in extra hours down at the DX, and Dally even said he’d give us his stash he’s been saving for a car!”
Ponyboy snorted at the mention of Two-Bit’s new employment status, but nodded in agreement anyway. “That’s all they had. It’s just pocket money,” he added on joyfully.
“You know better than to go around asking for money. Did you tell ‘em what for?” Darrel demanded.
“Yeah, we told ‘em. But we didn’t ask, Darry. They offered,” Sodapop explained as he nudged his older brother’s forearm with the envelope. “Come on.”
Darrel ignored his pleas, pulling his brothers into a tight hug. Well— more like a chokehold. The envelope became smushed by the collision of the boys’ chests as their throats pushed into Darrel’s elbows. He exhaled shakily, tilting his head up towards the ceiling. “Thank you,” he whispered so quietly that neither of the boys could hear him. They felt his appreciation with every heartbeat from within his chest, every small heave, and the way he squeezed them into a hug as if grounding himself. They didn’t take the weight off of Darrel’s shoulders— they split it into three. Your funeral was an event they refused to pass over or place on hold. Family came first, even if it took members who weren’t blood related to get there.
PART FOUR COMPLETE?!?! THANK YOU FOR READING AND SUPPORTING, MY LUV!!!
hey beautiful! idk if you already have this but could you do hcs on right after pony soda and darry’s parents died? and reader is a curtis sister. sorry i’m in an angsty mood rn- 💀love you sm and keep up the good work!!! 😘
i love you too :)
the curtis brothers plus the gang would be in shock for a while since it was so sudden
the next morning you went to school just because you didn't know where else to go... after that you didn't show up to school for a long time
soda and pony would probably miss weeks and weeks of school following their parent's death
darry usually deals with things quietly and on his own, but he'd try his best to be there for his siblings
darry doesn't really like to talk about it... he just bottles everything up and tries to figure up to do next
soda asks you if you're okay every day, even though he's not really okay yet
you can tell that ponyboy has changed,, he's kind of empty and he can't find motivation to do much
mr. and mrs. curtis's deaths were hard on everyone and changed all of your futures
