may i ask which characters from the outsiders youre open to writing for??
i’m open to writing for any characters from the outsiders! i might just have to reread the book and rewatch the movie to get a proper grasp on some characters because i would hate to mischaracterize.
my only absolutely not is writing smut for ponyboy and johnny. it just feels icky to me.
note: i'm sorry, y'all. that's all i really gotta say about this one. really, i am...
pairings: none.
tw: angst. car wreck. police. death. funerals.
description: what's the big deal about birthdays anyway? darry doesn't even want to think about his, and he doesn't want a huge fuss.
word count: 3k
𓂃𓈒⟡・𓂃𓈒⟡・𓂃𓈒⟡・𓂃𓈒⟡・𓂃𓈒⟡・𓂃𓈒⟡・𓂃𓈒⟡・𓂃𓈒⟡𓂃
With half-opened eyes, still blurry with sleep, Darrel saw the sunlight just starting to peak in through his window shades. He groaned, covering his face with his pillow. The day he had been dreading for weeks was finally here, whether he liked it or not. His 20th birthday. There was no more avoiding it. From under his pillow, he heard his bedroom door creak open, followed by some not-so-quiet footsteps. Before he could uncover his head, his little brother, Sodapop, had tackled him in his own bed. He grabbed the pillow, tossed it off to the side, and began tickling and poking Darry in the ribs.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!", Soda hollered, grinning so big and wildly, you'd have thought he had just won the lottery.
Soda stood on the bed and started jumping up and down. No matter much brooding Darry had been doing before, he couldn't help but to crack a smile at Soda's antics.
"How does it feel to not be a teenager anymore, big brother?", Soda said between breaths, a little winded from all the jumping.
"Soda, you're gonna break the damn bed! Quit it, will ya?"
Sodapop plopped onto his back and sprawled out next to Darry.
"I don't feel any different. Today is just like any other day. It's not a big deal," the elder brother grumbled, his previous smile gradually falling from his face.
"Try tellin' that to Mom! She's already halfway through making your special birthday breakfasttttt!", Sodapop said in a singsongy voice. "You better get up soon or Dad will eat all your baconnnnn!," he continued after getting up from the bed and heading back out of Darry's bedroom.
Darry sighed deeply before forcing his body up from the mattress to start getting dressed. It's not that he didn't appreciate the fact that his family wanted to celebrate him. He was extremely thankful to have such wonderful parents and two great little brothers who loved him so much. It's just that, every year older was a painful reminder to him of falling another year behind where his peers were. They were moved out from home, going to college, making something of themselves. Then, there was Darrel. Twenty years old, still living with his parents, working part-time at a grocery store. $1.25 per hour. 20 hours a week. Mr. and Mrs.Curtis wanted to make sure he still enjoyed some time off, so they convinced him to only work part-time. At least that way, he could still have the time to mess around with his brothers, see movies with his friends, date if he wanted to. Sometimes he even went on skiing trips with some of his old football buddies. His parent's believed he didn't need to work himself to the bone. He was too young for that kind of life. He deserved to have fun like other people his age.
It was understatement to say it was disappointing to see his friends and former classmates doing what he would give anything to be doing, but he tried his best to not let it get to him. He had been working hard to save up for school. His parents didn't want him to give up, but they weren't able to afford helping him with the costs. It made them feel awful, but he reassured them that it would be worthwhile and make it all the better to have had worked for it himself. Sometimes, even he believed himself when he would say it to them.
After about two years of saving, he now was only $160 off from having enough for a whole year at The University of Tulsa, give or take. That was tuition, room and board, meal plan, books, everything. $1,300 was all that stood between him and his dreams. If he kept working while he went, he might just be able to keep up with the costs and get all four years done. He could've already had it all, but as soon as he got a job out of high school, he started to give his father $20 every month to help with the bills. His dad refused it at first, but finally, out of need, not want, he reluctantly agreed to accepting the money.
It made Darry feel good to know he was doing something right for his family. He had also done one nice thing for himself too. He bought a used truck. A real clunker, rust bucket of a Ford. But for $250, it was steal in his eyes, and he was proud of it. He didn't want for much and usually didn't grant himself any kind of rewards, but the truck was the first and only exception. Now with his truck, he also required some money for gas here and there. After all was said and done, $1,139.61 sat in his savings account, just waiting for its time to shine. He was hoping once summer was here, he'd have enough money saved to apply and attend the fall semester at TU.
After getting dressed, he left his bedroom and headed to the kitchen. He was met by his mother standing at the stove, slaving away like usual. She turned to greet him, wiping her hands on her apron and reaching up to pinch his cheeks.
"There's my darling birthday boy! Finally gracing us with his presence!" She stood on her tiptoes to give him a kiss on his cheek.
Darry's face burned while he scratched the back of his neck shyly.
"Mornin', Mama. Hey, I thought I asked ya to not go crazy with the birthday stuff this year...," he said hesitantly. He saw the colorful streamers strung up above the table. A few balloons littered the floor, here and there.
"And you thought I'd listen?", Mrs.Curtis asked while turning her attention back to the eggs sizzling on the stovetop. "It's not everyday my first baby turns twenty years old!", she said matter-of-factly.
He knew better than to argue with her.
"I reckon you're right," he replied, giving her a smile. "Thanks, Mom."
He walked into the dining room where his father was sitting at the head of the table, reading the morning paper. Sodapop and Ponyboy had already taken their seats as well.
"Happy Birthday, Darry!", Ponyboy cheered.
His voice sounded upbeat, but his heavy head was propped up by his elbow on the table, his eyes struggling to stay open. Darry chuckled at him. Pony never had been a morning person.
"Thank ya, Pone," Darry said while ruffling the younger boy's hair.
Darry took a seat on the opposite side of the table from his brothers. Mr.Curtis laid the paper down and grasped his eldest by the shoulder.
"Happy Birthday, Son! You don't look a day over 35!", he jested and then erupted with laughter.
"Thanks, Dad," Darry responded, while rolling his eyes. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
Mrs.Curtis brought the eggs to the table, took her seat, and then everyone dug into the large feast. After breakfast, Soda and Pony departed for the day.
"I'm going to Sandy's for a little while after school!", Sodapop declared and then dashed out of the house after Ponyboy.
"Be back in time supper!", Mrs.Curtis responded as she waved them off.
Before Darrel Sr. left for work, he gave Darry a bear hug, picking him up off the ground and swinging him around.
"He's a chip off the ol' block, ain't he, Hun? Just like his pops! I'm proud of ya, Darry! You've become a fine young man!"
"Means a lot, Dad," Darry told him, after his father put him back on the ground.
Mr.Curtis kissed his wife and then was on his way. Darry had some time to kill before his shift at the store, so he helped Mrs.Curtis clean up from breakfast. Afterwards, he grabbed his work smock and said his goodbyes to his mother while walking out the door.
"Chili and cornbread tonight! Your favorite! We'll do presents after! And I told Ponyboy to stop by the bakery across town for that special frosting you love!", she shouted to him from the kitchen.
"Sounds great, Mom. I'll see ya after work!", Darry called back to her.
His shift went fine. Lots of bagging groceries, stocking shelves, and helping old ladies get their items to their cars. He clocked out around 5:30pm, hopped in his truck, and made the drive home. He was surprised to see his father hadn't returned from work yet. When he got inside, Sodapop was watching TV, and Ponyboy was working on homework at the dinner table. Darry could smell the chili cooking on the stove as soon as he entered the house.
"Where's Mom and Dad?", he questioned.
Soda answered without even looking away from the screen. "Ponyboy forgot the frosting, so when Dad got home from work, he took her to go get it."
Darry glanced into the kitchen and saw two layers of chocolate cake cooling on a wire rack on the counter.
"I wish I woulda known. I woulda told her not to bother with it," Darry said before taking a seat in his father's armchair.
Ponyboy bit his lip as he looked up from his notebook with guilt.
"I'm sorry, Darry...," he mumbled.
"You'd forget your own head if it wasn't attached to your shoulders," Darry quipped. "But, don't sweat it, Pony. She still woulda gone anyway, even if I told her I didn't want it."
The brothers sat around and waited for their parents to get back home. The clocked ticked. And ticked. And ticked. An hour went by, then another. The TV was shut off and homework long completed. Anxiety was running high in the house, but no one spoke a word. Soda twiddled his thumbs and looked at the carpet. Ponyboy sat in the floor flicking a penny to spin it on the surface of the coffee table. It whirled in blur of copper, and he watched closely, counting the seconds until it collapsed with each spin. Darrel sat back into his father's chair, staring right at the front door, silently begging it to open and for his mother and father to cross the threshold once more.
Blue and red flashing lights flooded the room through the large window. Darry didn't move an inch, still staring down the door. Maybe if he didn't move, he could still believe that this wasn't happening. Soda and Pony were on their knees atop the couch cushions, facing the window and watching while two of Tulsa's finest made their way through the fence and up onto the porch. They removed their hats, and one of them knocked on the door. Three strong, confident knocks. Sodapop and Ponyboy's heads snapped back to look at Darry. He redirected his attention to his brothers, only 16 and 13. Their eyes already filling with tears. They were just kids. He had never before taken notice to how young they really looked. Practically babies. His brows pinched together, his face settling into a stony, icy glare. He stood, walked to the door, and opened it for the police officers.
"Are you Darrel Shaynne Curtis Jr.?", the taller officer asked.
"Yes, sir," Darry stated.
He knew what was coming. He decided right then and there that he was not going to break. He had to be strong. He had to be tough. He had to be everything his brothers needed and more. The officer's words were coming in waves to Darry's ears. He wasn't catching everything, but the important information was heard.
"I'm so sorry to tell you this, son......Car crash......train tracks......no survivors......"
"Don't call me, son," Darry thought to himself.
"...Did you hear me, son?", the officer broke through Darry's daze.
"Huh?", Darry whispered, looking back up into the officer's eyes.
It was impossible to ignore the sobs coming from his younger brothers as he tried listening to the cop speak. Ponyboy hid his face in Sodapop's chest.
"I said, I'm gonna need you to come with me to the funeral home to identify the bodies." That sentence left his mouth like it was the most common occurrence in the world.
Darry swallowed the gag that tried to make it out of his throat at the mention of bodies. Dead bodies. His Mom and Dad, just dead bodies in a cooler now.
"Of course. Yes. I can do that...," Darry trailed off.
He glanced down at Soda and Pony on the couch.
"I'll be back as soon as I can...," he reassured them.
Darry shuffled to towards the drive's side door of his truck, running purely on muscle memory. He followed the deputy's car to the funeral home. Even as he gazed blankly upon the still figures of what was once his beautiful, golden mother and easygoing, fun-loving father, not a single tear had been shed from his eyes. He spent what felt like many hours there speaking with the police and the man who ran the funeral home. The funeral director was more sympathetic than the policemen had been. He spoke with Darry about what needed to be done and the cost of everything. Even with the funeral director helping cut costs as much as possible, it was still too much. He told Darry that he could go home and think it about for a day or so before having to make any decisions.
Darry didn't even remember drive home. One minute he was in the parking lot of the funeral home, the next minute, he was pulling up outside of his house again. The sun was rising on a new day by this time. A bag of what personal items from his parents could be salvaged was sitting in the seat next to him, as well as the papers from the funeral home. He grabbed it all and carried it inside with him. The house was still and quiet. A stark comparison to how it had been just 24 hours ago. He walked right through the living room, dropped the bag and papers on the dining table, and continued through to the kitchen. He pulled the chili off the eye of the stove. It had stayed on the heat all night; it's a wonder it didn't burn the house down. The chili was charred, the spoon permanently stuck to the bottom of the pot. What caught his attention now were the cake layers that remained unfrosted. Sitting on that wire rack, just where his mother had left them. Before he knew what he was doing, he had grabbed the rack and threw it, his hands shaking with anger. It made a dull clank when it collided with the wall and another when it hit the ground. The cakes fell to pieces, scattering chocolate crumbs all over the whole kitchen.
Darry shut his eyes and took a few deep breaths, in through his nose and out through his mouth, to steady himself. He stepped forward and opened Ponyboy and Sodapop's bedroom door to check on them, only to find they weren't there. He wondered for a second where they may be before the realization hit him. He walked down the hall to his parent's bedroom. After pushing open the door, the sight before him only deepened his heartbreak. Soda and Pony asleep in their parent's bed. Ponyboy's arms wrapped tightly around a cardigan belonging to Mrs.Curtis. Soda's arms wrapped tightly around Ponyboy. Their cheeks still heavily tear stained. He closed the door as quietly as he could.
Trudging back to the dining room table, he sat down. He slid Ponyboy's notebook over to himself and opened it up. He looked over the paperwork from the funeral home and started reviewing the prices and writing things down. The cost of the funeral services: $1,400. Plots: $300. Headstone: $125. Obituaries: $10. If he chose to forgo the visitation and services, opting instead for direct burial, he'd save $500. Selecting plots farther away, near the back of the cemetery, at the bottom of a sloped hill could save another $50. He could skip the obituaries altogether, saving $10 more. His parents deserved the best, he knew they did, but it just was not possible. It felt like he was disrespecting them by trying to cut corners, but this was the only way anything at all could even be done for them. He crunched the numbers, and then crunched them again, taking away things that didn't seem to be completely necessary right now. After about an hour or so, his decisions had been made, as difficult as they may have been. It would still use every penny he had saved over the last two years. No more hope of school. That was a fairytale now, and he didn't have time to focus on anything but the realities laid out before him.
Darry rubbed his face roughly with his hands, standing from his spot to stretched his legs. He walked to the porch and grabbed the newspaper. Once returned inside, he sat in his armchair and unfolded it. He wasn't the least bit shocked by the front page of The Tulsa World. Even so, he had to admit, it still stung just the same. Bold lettering spelled out the major headline of the day: 'TRAIN-AUTO COLLISION CLAIMS THE LIVES OF TWO TULSA NATIVES'. They were quick with it, he had to give them that. He flipped to the Classifieds and started looking at new potential jobs. There was no doubt that he would need to find another one to keep up with the bills. He felt a little bit of shame for being thankful this had happened at the beginning of the month, because that meant all the bills had recently been paid. It gave him that little bit more of extra time to find a higher-paying, full-time job.
He was hoping once summer was here, he'd have enough money saved to get his parents a headstone...
𓂃𓈒⟡・𓂃𓈒⟡・𓂃𓈒⟡・𓂃𓈒⟡・𓂃𓈒⟡・𓂃𓈒⟡・𓂃𓈒⟡・𓂃𓈒⟡𓂃
note: "omg, you wrote another angsty story?? who would've guessed it?? don't you get tired of it??" no, actually, i do not lol!
Darry and Steve don’t hang out much but they bond by watching tv together (often in comfortable silence or they yell at the tv)
they watch stuff like Dance moms, Wife swap, say yes to the dress, The Traitors, etc
I could also see them watching things like Shameless (this one’s a maybe idk) or Abbot Elementary (also a maybe, I haven’t seen it but I’ve seen clips)
Somehow they’ve seen the entirety of RuPaul’s Drag Race. Steve saw Drag Race and thought it was about cars. It wasn’t but they got too invested and watched the whole thing
