❝Trust me, Pony, I’ve said d u m b e r .❞
he was quite adamant in refusing compliments,
especially ones regarding his ‘ intelligence ’ .
❝— - An’ Darry's th' best big brother. We both know that.❞
Despite his strictness and general stony attitude, Soda had a particular fondness for his older brother. The right words, an easy atmosphere could get him back the way he was before. When things were different, all those years ago. The Darry who was loved and loved in return. He was hidden, in that rocky, memory-hardened exterior. And, he was his brother, after all.
It was impossible to not love someone
who went through as much as Darry did,
solely for his brothers. If it was someone
else, they might’ve left the younger two for
dead, or throw ‘em in a boy’s home. It’d be
easier, wouldn’t it ? Less mouths to feed.
But Darry wasn’t like that, and you had to
admire the guy for it.
The last rays of sunshine filtered through
golden eyelashes. The colors of the sky
were always more beautiful, more ɪɴᴛᴇɴsᴇ
just before dying out into darkness. Would
the same happen to him, he wondered ? In
his imagined last moments, the sŧȺɍs scream
in his eyes and ѕυηℓιgнт courses through his veins,
the human embodiment of the most { vibrant } sunset,
spots of red blossoming all over, floating, falling, gone.
Leaving the world seeming darker than ever, this contrast
only accentuating the absence of colors that were present
just moments before.
but today ? today, ‘m a l i v e .
he wouldn’t take it for granted.
At the sound of his brother’s voice, a smile took over Soda’s face. A real one. Trying to avoid the wincing pain of hearing Johnny’s name ( and a pet name at that ) , the greaser turned to glance at his kid brother.
❝ … Okay. A’right.
— - 'Bout time you showed me
your little hangouts, anyhow.❞
somethin’ t’take with me.
❝ Shoot, Soda. You ain't the jarhead
you make yourself out t'be.
We all say dumb things. & least
you say 'em rather than do 'em. ❞
It was true, even he had to admit that much. Darry
was right --- he just didn't use his head sometimes,
and it sure got him in toloads of trouble. What was the
saying....everyone had an Achilles heel? If that was
the case, then Pony's were his feelings. They tended
to cloud his head, influence his actions... they essentially
controlled his every move. & while he could understand
what Dally had meant by get tough and dont get hurt ...
it was nothing but a false sense of security, in a sense.
You couldn't shove away your emotions ( even if you
believed you could ) -- and besides, what was the point
of having them in the first place if you refused to acknowledge
them ?
It had worked for Dally for so long ; but he had lost the battle.
He had ( burst ) and if anything, it only proved that bottling things
up could only end in the worse way possible.
That was life. Bottle things up or let them out --- you'd still hurt.
His brother's words rendered him silent for
a solid good minute, hands now shoved into
his pockets as his heels dug into the earth
below. It would be wrong to say Soda was
mistaken; Darry was the reason why there were
still together . He was their everything now --
their brother, their parents, and their rock. Yet
something about those words refused to click,
and the youngster's sudden quietness could have
possibly been mistaken for an air of protest.
Soda had always been his favorite ; the one who
( got ) him and the one who stood up for him.
He had been the glue that had patched up all their
quarrels, and essentially the peacekeeper between
two warring nations. Without him, he and Darry surely
would've lost the strong connection they once shared.
Dally had been Johnny's hero.
Lionhearted Sodapop, who was the sun in the flesh.
Bright and warm, reckless and daring, who made each day
worth living. His grin alone could make you feel impenetrable,
like you could touch the stars or something. That was the thing
about him ---- he believed in the goodness of the world.
& he was set on proving it.
But he was leaving soon. The sun would leave them
with nothing but their cloudy skies, gray streaks filtering
in and casting shadows everywhere. The metaphor was
of some comfort, however ; Pony had convinced himself
that Soda would most [ certainly ] return.
After all, the he sun always did. No matter how hard it
snowed or rained or thundered.
❝ Johnny had a knack for findin' crawlspaces
and hideouts. He could sniff 'em out like that.
----- It's just past the lot. I never even
would've given it a second look if it
hadn't been for him. ❞
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