#sewerology

[greasermom-blog]

‘ sit still and let me take a look! ’

                  It stings! Oh how it stings! Pin pricks that slither up his shoulder blade and force a hiss between his tense jaw, sea water eyes glimmering with a sheen of true discomfort for a mild second. He hated this part, being the patient. Doctor he could be, rescuer even more, but the victim he loathed. Too many times had his bones cracked and skin split, and each time he’d healed without so much a thought a simply brush off of any attempts to nurse him – but there was simply no arguing with her. Hell in fuzzy sweaters is what he would refer to her if pissed, Betty Tozier walking angel unafraid to smite the masses so if she will it. Its what held his six foot two frame still as her words snap at him, the gentle and tender care in her touch and her stern mother like nature coating her words. Despite his silence, he appreciates her care. 

                Brows draw as he shifts ever so slightly to brand the nice wound, its torn and sad. The skin angry and raw with a fury like no other, and he can feel it all with ever pulse. Young man thrown into the world with fate looming he’d work to keep it at bay, work to help and hide any strife he may face. It’d earned him something alright, a brand – no medal for trying so hard and successfully injuring himself. He could hear it now the remarks and scolding Soda and Ponyboy would unleash if they found out, and the idea itself twitches at his lips. A tentative sigh is let loose of his lungs as his head shift to look over his shoulder at Betty, voice soft and curious as he speaks. “ Whats the verdict doc? “ 

[greasermom-blog]

‘ what’s wrong? ’

           What is wrong Darrel? What drags your broad shoulders down? What straps weights to the soles of your feet and threatens to sink you without so much a second thought? Life. The harsh reality of it all, the fear that harbors in his chest at night despite his willing to ignore it. It looms in every corner, whenever a neighbor strays too close or gets too curious. When the threat of a cop snooping around or drawing attention hovers outside their front door, its waiting. Its why frown lines have etched into his youthful face, why sea water eyes that use to twinkle with life and promise and potential are now freezing waters capable of drowning anyone. His heart! OH such a weary heart it has become, burdened by worry – gripped by strife! Too young to live such a life, but if he doesn’t who will? His brothers are all he has, his work is pointless if he were to loose them – but how hard he would work to keep them. 

          How he’d drive himself mad and push himself back against death and grief and the pain he feels daily, just to make sure they catch a glimpse of normal life. It stung the day Soda sacrificed that youth, and it scares him now that Ponyboy wishes to give up the same. He wants to whisper into the night, ‘ don’t grow up. don’t grow up. don’t grow up. ‘ an invisible please behind it, but the words never come but only at midnight when all is still and he’s alone. There is solace, however, in friends. Something he doesn’t find himself making many of, but alas in warm eyes and soft brown tresses there is something akin to one. Rosy cheeks and long lashes, beauty masking hidden pain and he can see it unlike others. Its almost like his own, a different shade but alas its still pain. 

           Lips are drawn downward in a grimace he wears and only can be erased in his sleep, eyes downcast as shoulders sag in a form of tired defeat. The cool summer night breeze caressing his damp brow as the dulling signs signal it is time to go home, and he’s found himself perched outside. A breathe of fresh air to fill his lungs, the stars above dim but alive – and how he wishes to feel alive again. Ears are perked by the soft voice that gathers his attention, gaze shifting to look at Betty with a fondness no one would claim he’s capable of. Voice tired before he shakes his head, the attempt of a smile only a stressed frown showing. “ Nothin’ i’m fine Betty. “ 

[packworn-blog]

sewerology replied to your post: LUNA  hasn’t celebrated christmas since she was...

betty is her Mother now

I ACCEPT THIS 

[prcmisedboy-blog]

‘ what are you staring at? ’

                    caught. crystal eyes that so gently hold her in his sight widen at her question, the pink flush that slips through his cheeks and neck is bright. the tips of his ears vibrant and beaming as he feels his throat close up, voice stuffed and silenced as brows arch high upon his face. tongue lost and mind frozen he’s caught in her gaze for a second, the sheepish tug at his lips hesitant. what could he tell her? the obvious answer he wanted to give her he didn’t quite find right, how cheesy would it be for him to respond with a simple and soft ‘ you. ‘ Oh! how he’d die of embarrassment, but perhaps the reason behind the flush in his features and the thudding in his chest is because its true. 

                    teeth snag a hold of his bottom lip as he forces a rough cough through his chest, clearing his throat and shifting his gaze. the flush remains just as bright as it had started, voice wavering for a moment as his eyes flicker to look once more at betty before he shakes his head softly. voice quiet and breathless, a piece of humor tacked on to the tail end of it so that maybe just maybe she wont pick up on his obvious gazing and stuttering heart. “ n-nothing, thought i saw something but its nothing. “ liar. 

[prcmisedboy-blog]

‘this is your favorite song, right?’

                               he’s settled in to his burger, crystal gaze lingering over the basket of fries before him. the softest question laid in his direction stirs him free of his trance as a brow lifts in question of his own, an attentive ear – sharp and keen listens to the music that swirls above all their heads. blaring from the box radio that rests in the window of the diner he can only beam at her in response, mouth chewing the remains of his bite before swallowing quickly and nodding with enthusiasm. the smile given warm and vibrant, she knew this was his favorite song? she’d paid attention?   maybe its the notion in itself that she cared enough to remember something about that made his heart smack into his ribs, and the tips of his ears to bloom pink. 

                              throat cleared and gaze shifting to meet her own he nods once more, furthering confirming her assumption. “ y..yeah it is! ive got this on tape in the truck, i play at least once a day. “ he remarks with a grin, the light behind his eyes burning and real before he cants his head to the side and a genuine look of curiosity flickers against his features. “ now i’ve heard you listen to many songs and sing everyone, but which one is your favorite? “