Happy birthday, Johnnycake.
They still remembered him.
His friends still cared. He was eternally sixteen, and they still took the time to think about hi every now and then. If he had been there, really actually, he would have put his head down between his shoulders and mumbled a shy little thanks. He'd have been embarrassed, maybe, he'd have cried a little when nobody was watching. The last birthday he got to have, he woke up to his father talking about how worthless he was, and a kick in the ribs.
Johnny Cade stood there, a few inches away from his old friend, and smiled. He'd gone his whole life secretly believing they'd all be better off without him. If he could change anything, he wouldn't. Not anymore. Because if he wasn't alive, maybe Pony wouldn't be either. If it meant reliving years of abuse, he'd do it for his friends, because nobody was given the love that he'd been given. Greasers loved harder than anybody, and that was the truth.
Ponyboy remembered his birthday. After all these years, he still remembered. Johnny took a step closer and he wrapped his arms around his old friend in a strong hug.
‘ Thanks, man. ’
