Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Ponyboy woke up to an awful headache. He groaned, eyes squinting even though the morning light was dim. It couldn’t have been later than six in the morning. Probably even earlier than that. The room—Harley’s—was freezing. The window was left wide open, and everything inside was a little damp from the moisture in the air. He was lying on the floor, though he didn’t remember ever getting there. There was a gap in his memory that hurt to fill in.

He sat up and instantly regretted the motion. Nausea hit like a truck, his stomach flipping. He hardly had enough time to prepare for the upcoming vomit session as saliva thickly coated his gums. He hurriedly pushed himself to his feet and almost face-planted when his vision tilted. Somehow, though, he managed to reach the bathroom in time. He leaned over the toilet and spewed out everything he had consumed the day before. It hardly made him feel better.

His hands gripped the bowl so tightly his knuckles turned white. He vomited again.

Christ, he felt so hungover. What the hell happened?

It was then that Ponyboy remembered everything that had transpired at the nightclub and the roofied drink. His lips trembled, glistening with a mixture of spit and stomach acid. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Everything had almost gone south fast. If Harley hadn’t stumbled upon him when he did, then…

Ponyboy didn’t want to think about it.

“Fuck, if Harley hadn’t…” he grumbled to himself, unaware of the presence approaching him.

“If I hadn’t what?” Harley asked, suddenly behind him. It almost made Ponyboy jump. Instead, he threw up. Harley frowned. “Damn, I didn’t think I looked this bad.”

Ponyboy almost laughed, but his stomach acid was burning his throat.

He ended up vomiting a few more times. When his stomach calmed down enough, he flushed the toilet and collapsed on his back on the tiled floor. He rubbed his throat gently to ease the pain.

“You gonna head home later?” Harley asked, voice hushed to be somewhat courteous to the other inhabitants who were still fast asleep. One of the most respectful things he had done, but also, it was morning, and his voice hadn’t been able to reach full volume yet. Harley grabbed a bottle of painkillers from the medicine cabinet and handed it over to him before he leaned against the doorframe.

It took a while for Ponyboy to respond. He swallowed a few pills dry, letting the bitter taste (unsuccessfully) balance out the acid. He should go back, or at least call to tell his brothers he was okay, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so yet. It was fine to wait longer, he decided. It wasn’t like the gang was looking for him. He shook his head. “They’re not missing me. Unless you don’t want me here?”

“It’s fine. Do whatever you want.” Harley hummed. “But what are we gonna do? I don’t think there’s anything to eat. My mom was planning on shopping later today.”

“It’s okay,” Ponyboy reassured, touching his stomach. “I’m not hungry.”

But, just to spite him, his stomach growled. Weird, since he definitely didn’t feel hungry.

“When did you last eat?” Harley asked him.

Ponyboy thought about it. He hadn’t had the chance to eat yesterday. He hardly ate the day before that as well.

“A while ago,” he responded. He groaned and sat up, preparing himself mentally to go. Even he knew that he needed to eat more. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll feel hungrier later.

They didn’t leave right away. They waited until Ponyboy felt well enough to move around without vomiting, but they still left when many were still asleep. It was fairly dark out. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, bright enough to tint the world in blue and make the dawn air crisp. In the distance, pink and orange bled into the clouds like how colored water could dye white roses. Ponyboy wondered if clouds went through the process of transpiration like flowers did, seeing how the colors seemed to absorb into them.

It was peaceful. The only people awake were those who were going to work, the newspaper boy, and the milkman. Harley and Ponyboy moved in step with each other like two boys in a marching band, playing different songs yet somehow harmonizing. Harley’s shoelaces were untied, slapping against the ground with each step and picking up dirt and water.

“Your shoelaces are untied,” Ponyboy pointed out. He wasn’t sure why he brought it up. They didn’t actually bother him, but it kept them from talking about what had happened at the nightclub, not that they were going to talk about it. Harley was always good at not pressing for details. What he wasn’t good at, however, was talking himself out of impulsive thoughts.

Harley jumped into a puddle, maybe in response to him. Dirty water splashed all over Ponyboy’s jeans, and his damp shoelaces were now soggy and drenched.

Ponyboy sputtered, “Seriously? Are you four?”

“We’ve been walking for ten minutes, and all you’ve been doing is having a staring contest with the sky. It’s kinda creepy, man,” Harley responded.

“Sorry, just…” Ponyboy scratched the back of his neck. He took a deep breath—inhaled through the nose and exhaled from the mouth. The air condensed into a fog like he was smoking a cigarette. “A lot happened. I’ve been trying to sort through everything and figure things out.”

“Or you can do what I do and suppress everything.”

Ponyboy gave him a flat expression. “I’m no therapist, but that doesn’t seem healthy.”

Harley only shrugged. “Works for me.”

“And you’re a mess.”

He didn’t confirm or deny it. “What, and you’re not?”

Ponyboy shrugged. “I mean, I don’t wanna be. That’s kind of the point of me sorting my thoughts.”

“Sounds stupid.”

“Oh, shut up, man,” Ponyboy said, rolling his eyes before he looked down. By his foot, there was a worm that had crawled out of the dirt to escape its fate of drowning. Without thinking, he reached down, picked it up, and then threw it at Harley. The moment it stuck to his arm, he made a face.

“Is this a worm?” he asked, peeling it off his skin.

“Yeah,” Ponyboy responded, already regretting what he did. How lame. Why in the world did he do that? Couldn’t he be cool for one second? What if Harley thought he was too childish to be around? He swallowed the lump that grew in his throat at the thought.

“Gross, man,” Harley sneered. He dropped the worm back on the ground and squished it.

“Well, you started it.” Now, he was the one acting like a four-year-old.

“I splashed you with water, and you threw a worm at me. How is that in the same ballpark? They’re grody, man.”

Ponyboy almost felt bad for the worm under Harley’s shoe. It didn’t deserve such an untimely death. All it did was exist. “Hey, worms have feelings too.”

“You say that like they have souls to begin with. What, do you want to become a worm in your next life?”

Ponyboy snorted at the thought. And do this over again? “No thanks. I don’t want a next life.”

“I get that,” Harley agreed. He smirked. “But you didn’t deny being a worm specifically.”

“I’m not going to be a worm,” he immediately stated. If he had to choose something to be reincarnated into, he would choose something else. Something like… “I want to be a rock in my next life. Not a gem or anything. I want to be as lackluster as gravel.”

“Damn, same,” Harley agreed with a slow nod. “But I want to be a really tiny pebble that somehow always finds itself in someone’s shoe.”

“So, basically you want to be—”

“A minor inconvenience, yeah.”

Ponyboy chuckled to himself. “How am I not surprised?”

He was about to say something else, but the sound of an engine revving cut him off. Suddenly, a car sped down the road with its radio’s volume on full blast. It swerved, and, for a second, Ponyboy thought they were about to be run over. It was either from slippery roads, hydroplaning, or the driver was an asshole. Of course, it was the latter.

The wheels hit the large puddle they were standing in, sending a large wave over them. They were drenched from head to toe in an instant.

“What the hell, man?” Harley yelled after the vehicle as it sped away. He glared at it—a navy blue sedan—and memorized its license plate before it got too far.

“They did that on purpose,” Ponyboy bit. Great, exactly what he needed. His head still hurt, he felt like crap, and now he was soaking wet. It wasn’t even noon yet. God, he hated his life. Seriously, fuck everything right now. The driver was probably laughing his ass off, and that pissed Ponyboy off more.

“Asshole.” Harley was just as mad. His jaw clenched, fire burning in his eyes. “Wanna do something about this?”

“I just might.” He was being serious about it too. He stuffed the angel on his shoulder inside a small box and threw it in the far corner of his mind. He was frustrated and jealous that this guy was happy and living his best life while Ponyboy was struggling to find a reason to live at all. How dare they laugh while he was close to tears? So, screw good morals.

They trailed after the vehicle even though the car was long gone. It was likely their anger would fizzle out before they see it again. But by some stroke of luck, they saw it parked in a driveway roughly a mile and a half away from the puddle. The glint of blue had caught their eyes and Harley confirmed the plate number when they got closer. The driver wasn’t in the vehicle anymore as it sat empty and still radiating heat.

After a quick nod towards each other, they began.

Harley moved first. He took out a key and swiped it across the shiny paint job. Ponyboy didn’t hesitate to join in, pulling out his blade and slashing the tires. Each time he punctured them, he felt even more satisfied, as if the act of revenge was enough to put him at ease. For once, he felt like he was taking control of his life.

Side mirrors were snapped off, dents were made in the hood, license plates were pried off, and a window was smashed. Somehow, they managed to do all of this without alerting the owner. It was quite miraculous because they weren’t very subtle about it.

At some point, Harley nudged him, handing him some small fireworks. Ponyboy still didn’t know where he hid them. He took out his lighter and noticed that Harley wasn’t holding any for himself. What he did have was marijuana. At first, Ponyboy thought it was for them, but instead of handing it over, he dropped it on the ground several feet away from the vehicle.

“Why are you doing that?” Ponyboy asked with a frown.

“Planting something for the cops when they arrive,” Harley explained.

“That’s a lot. Seems like a waste.” It wasn’t actually a lot, per say. But Ponyboy would have loved to use it for himself.

Harley flashed him a sly grin. “Worth it to see him get arrested after he sees what we did to his car. Bet that would ruin his day.”

But what if the cops connect the weed to the vandals (them) and not the driver? That was the biggest problem he foresaw, but whatever. He lit the firework and threw it inside the car through the broken window. His fingers dragged on it for a split second longer just in case he wanted to change his mind. He took several steps back and waited, but the results were… underwhelming.

Sparks flew and loud, gunshot-like pops were made, but besides the smell of burning leather, there really wasn’t much that happened. It wasn’t like in the movies, where cars blew up in a fiery hellscape. It was nothing more than a flare.

He should have stopped there, but he made the mistake of making eye contact with Harley, who opened the gas flap and unscrewed the cap underneath.

“Go on,” Harley urged. “Light it up.”

Ponyboy did and balanced the firecracker on the lip of the gas tank. He stepped back, dragging Harley with him until they were a safe distance away. There were more popping noises. Finally, the owner of the car ran out, his hands shooting to his head.

“My car!” he screamed, running towards the nearest hose. He quickly turned on the water, but by the time he turned around to put everything out, the sparks hit the gasoline inside and flames flooded everywhere. It was a good thing Ponyboy decided to move, or he would have been torched. Even from his distance, he could still feel the heat of it all. It singed his eyebrows and stung his skin. Harley held out his hands like he was enjoying the warmth from a campfire.

And, while he was watching the flames dance, Ponyboy thought he should have felt remorse for his act of arson on the guy whose only crime was splashing water on him. Still, the only regret he felt was how much time he spent vandalizing the vehicle when it was going to get blown up anyway. Wasted him a good five minutes or so.

At this point, people started to trickle out of their homes to see what was happening, and Ponyboy was certain someone had already contacted the fire department. It wouldn’t be long before they arrived with the police.

The car owner whipped towards them, face red.

“You two!” he screamed, dropping his hose to storm up to them.

“Time to go,” Harley said, grabbing his bicep and pulling him away. The two of them ran from the scene, which was perfect for him. The flame’s brightness and the booming noises were bringing back his migraine. They didn’t have a destination since everything was still closed, so they continued to run until they felt safe enough to walk again.

“I feel better,” Harley began after a while.

“I feel…” Ponyboy started, but didn’t finish his sentence. He trailed off as if waiting for the right words to appear, but they didn’t, so he shrugged.

Harley’s step faltered for a second. He rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you feel sorry for him.”

“Of course not.” He didn’t feel anything but numb. How could he easily explain that to him? He should have felt something, but he didn’t. He didn’t even feel excited about the explosion. Sure, there was some satisfaction, but that didn’t make him happy.

“Good,” Harley nodded, “because that guy had it coming.”

They continued to walk, finally reaching a more commercial area instead of a residential one. Harley peered into the businesses.

“Think anything is open now?” Harley asked to start a conversation. His hand was on his rumbling stomach. “I’m really craving some rotisserie chicken.”

“Maybe,” Ponyboy drawled, kicking a stone and watching it ricochet off a trash can. Wouldn’t it be easier to go to a store for that kind of thing? “Why that specifically?”

Harley nudged him with his elbow. “You don’t get my vision. It’s the skin I want. That’s the best part. If we bake it, we can make chips. That, plus lying down in this weather and smoking? Sounds perfect to me.”

That did sound like a great time. He would have loved to join Harley, but there was one problem. “I’m not that hungry. You can go on if you want.”

“Still?” A small frown appeared on Harley’s face, and Ponyboy knew he had disappointed him.

He shook his head in defeat, nails pressing into his arms. He hated that he wasn’t meeting his friend’s expectations of him. No matter how much he tried, he was always going to be boring and needy. What if this was the final straw? What if—

His train of thought was interrupted when Harley patted his pockets.

“Damn, I forgot I dropped my weed,” he complained with a loud sigh. Seemed like he already regretted what he did.

“Do you have anything else on you?” Ponyboy asked.

Harley patted his pockets more, and, like a magician with a rabbit in his hat, he pulled out a small bag of gummies from one of his back pockets. He smirked. “Look what I found.”

“Yay, butt gummies,” Ponyboy said sarcastically, which earned an eye roll.

“Want one or not? Cause I don’t have to give you any.”

“I want one.” No hesitation. No delay. There was no way Pony was going to pass this up. He held out his hand, and Harley plopped one onto it. He threw it into his mouth and didn’t even bother to chew it completely before swallowing. Harley was about to do the same, but made eye contact with the driver of a truck that sped by them way too quickly. He froze and dropped his hand.

“Was that your brother?” he asked.

“Huh?” Ponyboy spun around as the familiar truck screeched to a stop. It reversed until it was right next to them. Ponyboy cursed under his breath. “Oh, shit.”

‘Brother’ turned out to actually be brothers. Plural. Pony quickly found that out when Soda rolled down his window, revealing both of them. He thought he was already hallucinating.

“There you are!” Darry screamed from the driver's side. Ponyboy instantly stiffened. For many long seconds, he couldn’t bring himself to look at his brothers’ faces. Not that he was able to before. They were sure to be angry at him for running off. No, it was more likely they were mad at how much trouble he had caused them. They had to spend time searching for him when they could have been doing something more worthwhile.

“Oh, hey,” he greeted sheepishly, dragging out his words awkwardly. His eyes were trained on a piece of gum stuck on the ground.

“We’ve been looking all over for you! Everyone’s been searching all night. We even got the Shepards to keep an eye out, and you were with Harley this entire time? You were…” Darry tailed off, eyebrows knitting together. He gripped the wheel tighter. “Pony, look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Cringing, Ponyboy forced himself to look up. His brothers didn’t look pissed like he thought they would. Instead, they looked… relieved? But that was preposterous. Ponyboy was definitely hallucinating, or he misread their expressions. It felt odd looking into their eyes, and it took everything to continue holding it.

“Why did you leave?” Darry tried again, gentler this time. His shoulders sagged, grip loosening. “We were worried. We didn’t know where you were or if anything had happened to you. You could have at least called and told us you were okay.”

This confused Ponyboy greatly. What could they possibly be worried about? He wanted to say something, but his throat closed up.

It was a lie. He shouldn’t let himself get fooled again. Darry and Soda were only acting concerned because Harley was there. They were saving face and nothing more.

When it was clear Ponyboy wasn’t going to answer, Soda butted in and smiled, though it looked tense. See? A lie. He climbed out of the truck with Darry and placed a hand on Pony’s shoulder. The younger greaser tried not to flinch.

“Hey, Pony,” he casually greeted. His eyes raked over his sopping clothes, and the smile dropped slightly. “You’re soaked. Was there a flash storm? What happened?”

“Well, it was definitely weather-related,” Harley muttered, and the two remembered he was there. Soda looked at his clothes as well.

“You’re soaked too.”

“You’re both going to catch a cold if you stay out here like this.” He motioned to the truck. “Come on, let’s go back home. It looks like it’s gonna rain soon. Harley can come too.”

But Ponyboy wasn’t ready for that. Especially not when he was about to get high. He took a shy step back, something that didn’t go unnoticed by his brothers. He shook his head and held up his hands.

“Actually, Harley and I were heading over to his place,” he lied, but Darry was having none of it. He crossed his arms, eyebrows knitting together.

“Ponyboy, I will drag you by your ear if you don’t sit your rear down in my truck,” Darry huffed. He’s kidding… Ponyboy thinks. Darry wouldn’t go that far, right?

“Yeah, let’s go home so we can tell everyone you’re safe,” Soda coaxed.

Ponyboy looked at Harley helplessly, waiting for him to step in and come up with a great excuse to get them both out of this. He tried to give him a signal with his eyes, but his friend only hummed.

“Do you have any food?” he asked. Ponyboy died a bit on the inside.

“Harley…” Ponyboy bit lowly.

Harley shrugged. “What? I’m hungry, so I want food. What’s wrong with that?”

“We were going to get food at the restaurant, remember?” Come on, man, take the hint.

“And nothing’s open right now.”

“The Denny’s is open. They have that whole 24/7 thing.”

“Yeah,” Harley said, tapping his chin. “But I got kicked out a week ago.”

Ponyboy blinked once; then another time, baffled. “Wait, how the fuck did you get kicked out of a Denny’s? They’re basically like a Waffle House that took one more minute to screen their hires.”

“They tried to sell me a pancake when I asked for a wheat cake.”

“And that was enough to get you kicked out?” Ponyboy tilted his head. That couldn’t have been the full story. “What’s the difference between the two anyway?”

“I dunno,” Harley shrugged. When Ponyboy gave him a look, he continued. “Look, they didn’t give me my order, so I thought they didn’t understand me, so I spoke louder for them.”

And there was the real reason. “So, you yelled at the employee.”

“No, I spoke louder. If speaking louder to aliens helps them understand our language, I figured it would apply there as well.”

“Sure, but aliens aren’t real, Harley.” It also didn’t work that way.

Harley crossed his arms and rose an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, are you an astronaut?”

Ponyboy sighed, “No.”

“That’s what I thought.” Harley stomach rumbled. He clicked his tongue. “All this talk about food is making me really hungry.”

“When are you not thinking with your stomach?”

Harley snorted at his words. “God, you make me sound like a sad type of whore.”

Darry cleared his throat, cutting through their conversation like a guillotine. Both he and Soda were looking at them weirdly, but Ponyboy guessed they had never seen him banter like that before. Sure, he had back-and-forths with people before, but they were more one pitted against the other. A competition where words were scaled. Harley and Ponyboy’s banter felt equal, in a way. Friendlier. Less on the teasing aspect and more on the encouraging side. They spurred each other on and expected each other to write the next part of the story.

“Hurry up and get in, you two,” Darry barked, already deciding that Ponyboy was coming no matter what. “I can’t park here forever.”

There really was no getting out of this. Ponyboy rubbed his arm. Now he just had to hope he won’t get caught.

Both of them climbed into the vehicle, which was cramped with all of them inside, but they made do. Ponyboy tried not to speak the entire way back home, which was a lot easier than he thought because there wasn’t any space for him to talk. For the entirety of the drive, Darry ranted about how his actions were reckless and stupid. He went on and on, probably with the intent of embarrassing him in front of his friend. Joke's on him though. Not one word was retained. He zoned out the entire way home.

When they arrived, Ponyboy noted the gang was all there, taking a break from searching all night. The moment he stepped inside, they hounded him, some more excited than others.

“Where have you been?” Two-Bit teasingly exclaimed, picking him up by the elbows and spinning him around despite his protests.

“Knock it off,” Ponyboy grumbled, keeping his body straight and looking more like a stretched cat than a teenage boy. “Put me down, won’t you?”

“Too bad. You’re not a dog.” Still, Two-Bit did. He gently placed him on the floor and looked at his now-damp hands. He wiped them on his shirt and quirked his eyebrow. “Maybe you are a dog. Did you run through a sprinkler or something? You’re soaked.”

“And that’s why he needs to get changed,” Darry cuts in, stepping inside. He took off his coat, and when he reached for Pony’s, he noticed his brother wasn’t wearing one. “Short sleeves? Aren’t you cold?”

“Not really,” Ponyboy answered, but shivered anyway.

Steve was watching him like a hawk. His eyes scanned over his arms, and Ponyboy was glad Harley had lent him the bracelets; otherwise, this would have quickly gone south. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, a look of confusion crossed his face. When Soda came inside, the two made eye contact. Steve shook his head, and relief flashed in Soda’s eyes.

The Harley walked in, and the tension grew in an instant.

“Why is he here?” Dally growled, pointing at Harley accusingly. Probably wasn’t the best idea to have two people who hate each other in the same room. Or, more accurately, a whole room of people who didn’t like him. Their backs were tense, just waiting for Harley to pull something crazy or say something wrong. Harley flipped him off.

“Because he also came pre-soaked and I didn’t want to leave him stranded,” Darry responded, pushing the two boys along. They walked past the gang, ignoring everyone’s glares.

“So, let him wander back home on his own. I don’t get why you gotta do that asshole a favor.”

“It’s just nice,” Johnny said quietly. He said something else, but his words were cut off when Ponyboy closed the door to his room behind them.

The two of them put on dry clothes. Harley wore some of Soda’s hand-me-downs while Ponyboy slipped on a sweatshirt. The sleeves were scratchy on his arms, but at least they covered them. He would have to return the bracelets later, but, for now, he continued to wear them just to be on the safe side.

“Jeez, this is worse than huffing Smarties,” Harley muttered under his breath, gaze on the door. Ponyboy didn’t respond to him. Instead, he sat on the bed and simply zoned out. The edible hit all at once and as suddenly as death. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there. It might have been minutes. It might have also been hours. The longer he sat there, though, the lighter his head felt. He dampened his lips with his tongue.

Christ, his mouth was so fucking dry. He wasn’t a stranger to this feeling, but, golly, did he want water and those chicken skin chips Harley had mentioned. Maybe like forty of them.

He knew he couldn’t sit here forever. He needed water and food, but he was getting too high, and the gang was out there. What was he going to do? He couldn’t just wait, could he?

“I’m hungry,” Harley complained, and his plan to sit tight was shattered. Right. He had forgotten that was why Harley was here in the first place. Ponyboy rubbed his face in his palms, trying to blink away the haze, but his vision was tunneling, and it was hard to concentrate on both Harley and himself.

“Then go get something to eat,” Ponyboy sassily responded.

“Can’t. Your gang doesn’t dig me very much.”

Right. That. Ponyboy pondered his two options: stay or go. If he stayed, Dally might jump Harley. But if he went with him, he might get caught. Then again, Ponyboy felt mostly fine. Maybe the edible was a dud or wasn’t properly made, but Harley wasn’t the type to mess up like that. He chewed on his nails. What should he do?

If he hurried, maybe he could get back to his room before he really started to show the signs. They’ve never caught him before, so what would make this time any different?

“Fine,” he decided. “Let’s grab something.”

They left the bedroom, and Ponyboy’s steps faltered when he saw that Curly had arrived at some point. He was drenched, worse than he and Harley were. The rain had finally started, pouring down a barrage of bullets. Curly must have gotten caught in it, though he wasn’t sure why he stopped here when he could have gone home. Ponyboy then remembered the gang had managed to convince the Shepards to keep an eye out for him. But that was hogwash. Curly didn’t have a good enough relationship with him to do that.

Curly was talking to the gang about something Ponyboy didn’t catch. Harley walked past, bumping shoulders with him.

“So, what do you have here?” he asked too loudly, which brought attention to them. Ponyboy turned his head away from the gang, trying his best to look normal. Was his back too straight? Was he blinking weirdly? Was he walking normally? He kept overanalyzing himself when he should have been focusing on creating an answer.

“Oh, we have, uh—” he started, pushing himself forward towards the kitchen, but he didn’t get that far before they were stopped.

“Holy shit. When did you become friends with him?” Curly asked, stepping forward in shock. Water dribbled down his face and slid off his sharp features.

Ponyboy blinked heavily, taking a tentative step back to keep distance. He knew his eyes were rimmed red, and he knew Curly would know he was high just based on that. “A while ago. He’s cool.”

“This guy is crazy, man.”

“That’s what we’ve been telling him,” Steve huffed as if he wasn’t the driving force that got the two together, “but he’s not listening.”

“I haven’t done shit,” Harley defended, eyes narrowing.

“Yeah, right,” Curly snorted, rolling his eyes. He could have listed a hundred things Harley had done if he felt like it. He crossed his arms and turned his attention back to Ponyboy. “Whatever, man, hang out with whatever assholes you want. Didn’t know you had it in you to befriend this piece of work. I’m gonna head back now.”

“It’s raining cats and dogs,” Soda reminded, looking out the window while taking cautious glances at Harley. “Might as well stay here until it passes.”

“He’s right,” Darry agreed. “Or at least, stay until Tim comes and picks you up.”

Curly curled his lips in displeasure, but nodded his head when the flash of lightning caused them to go blind for a millisecond. He sighed, “Fine.”

“I’ll call him and tell him you’re here.” Darry walked over to the rotary phone, and Ponyboy watched the dial spin with each number entered, mesmerized. This didn’t go unnoticed, of course.

“What’s on your mind?” Johnny asked him.

Ponyboy should have kept his mouth shut, but he couldn’t help but blurt out, “Phones are just wild, man.”

This earned him a lot of weird looks. Even Darry was surprised enough to mess up the number. Johnny tilted his head to the side to encourage him to continue. “What do you mean?”

It all spiraled from there. “Like, how do they even work? I mean, each phone is given a number, but how do calls connect without someone guiding each call out? Is this why we can hear other people’s conversations? Pretty invasive, if you ask me. No wonder everyone knows everyone’s business. I bet someone is always on the line just to listen to people’s conversations, but that doesn’t seem very convenient because what if you have to go to the bathroom or another room? They should figure out how to make phones without wires, like walkie-talkies.”

He continued on and on about this, and he didn’t know how he had so much to say about phones, but he did. The gang and Curly exchanged glances during his rant, just as shocked. Ponyboy continued, “I wish they would change the ringtone too. I get anxiety just hearing it go off.”

“Do you?” Two-Bit asked, playing along even though he was unsure what to make of this.

“I hear it in my nightmares.”

“That creepy, huh?”

“Can you imagine it just randomly going off in the middle of the night? Could probably make a horror movie like that. You get a call and there’s someone on the line saying you have a week left to live.”

Something finally clicks in Curly’s brain. His eyes widened.

“Holy shit, you’re high,” he blurted, and Ponyboy froze. Time seemed to go slower again as his heart tried to leap out of his throat. How the hell did he find out? He thought he was being careful. His eyes shifted around the room, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at anyone, too scared of their expressions. He tried to act normal (overly so), but Ponyboy didn’t know what that was anymore.

“What? No, I’m not,” Ponyboy said, unconvincingly.

“Yeah, you are. You just talked about phones for almost ten minutes straight, man. No sober person would do that. How much grass did you smoke?”

And that was all it took for hell to break loose.

“You’re smoking weed?!” Darry shrilled, causing Ponyboy to flinch.

“I knew it!” Steve exclaimed, pointing at Ponyboy. “I told you he was getting high! I fucking told you so!”

No. No. No. Shit. Ponyboy couldn’t breathe. Everything he had built was crumbling in an instant.

What should he do? Fuck. How the hell was he supposed to do? His nails dug into his palms, but he couldn’t feel the sting. The room moved around them, walls spinning and shifting. He needed to say something, but he couldn’t come up with one good explanation. He was so talkative before, but now that everything was on the line, he couldn’t come up with one thing to say.

Shit. They were going to send him away or call the cops on him. He needed to say something.

Think! Focus on a way out of this and not the smell of eggs someone fried earlier this morning.

“I didn’t smoke weed,” Ponyboy responded, finally.

“Don’t lie. No wonder your eyes have been red lately.” Darry growled.

“I think it’s better to know where he got it from,” Steve said. “Where’d you get the weed, kid? Did you buy it from Harley?”

“No,” Ponyboy answered honestly and immediately. Harley had never charged him for it, so, technically, he wasn’t a customer. “I didn’t buy from him.”

Sensing the sincerity, Soda sighed in relief. Maybe this was all a misunderstanding.

“That’s good,” he breathed, but then he processed how strangely Pony said that. “Wait, why did you emphasize the word buy?”

“He means Harley just gave him it,” Dally answered for him, making the whole situation worse. Immediately, all attention shifted back to Harley. Darry was on him in less than a second.

“You gave weed to my kid brother?” he growled, teeth baring.

“Yeah? He asked for it,” Harley answered, somehow managing to look calm, but judging by his twitchiness, he was likely close to snapping back at the gang. “You’re lucky I wasn’t robbing him.”

“He didn’t,” Soda said as if he knew his brother still. “He wouldn’t. Not that.”

Harley groaned. “It’s literally just pot, man. It’s just like a cigarette but healthier. Why else would it be green?”

“That’s not quite true,” Two-Bit said.

“Okay, whatever, just stop acting like it’s the end of the world.”

“Can’t look tuff smoking pot,” Steve commented.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he roped him into other stuff,” Curly added to the fire. “Harley deals.”

The gang circled the two of them. Half of them were looking at Ponyboy with disbelief, while the other half was a second away from socking Harley in the face. Most of them wanted to do both. The thought of Ponyboy becoming a druggie didn’t sit right with them. He was the one who was supposed to make it out, but he was falling faster than a butterfly with clipped wings.

“Ponyboy wouldn’t do that,” Johnny rejected desperately, shaking his head. None of this sounded true at all. Soda looked at Curly, throat tight.

“You sure Harley sells?” he asked, subconsciously crossing his fingers.

“Yeah,” Curly answered. “He does his business at school mostly. Been selling stuff that looks like candy. Probably why he hadn’t been caught yet.”

The gang went silent, blood running cold. The drawer. It had been filled with different types of candy. Soda had picked up a bracelet, which Ponyboy threw a fit about before he snatched it away. It seemed weird at the time, but now it was all starting to make sense. Like pieces of a puzzle, everything was put in place so perfectly that there was no room for excuse. Their stomachs dipped.

Ponyboy Curtis was a drug dealer.

“You were actually selling drugs?” Two-Bit asked Pony, horrified. He remembered when Ponyboy made the joke about getting money from selling drugs. He thought it was a funny comeback at the time, but after learning about this… Holy shit. Ponyboy hadn’t been lying. How did he miss it when the revelation had slapped him straight in the face? “I thought you were joking!”

Ponyboy choked. His heart was pounding in his chest. His life—his lies and secrets—were being peeled away, and he couldn’t stop it.

“You said it was for school,” Soda gasped.

“It was,” Ponyboy admitted. There was no hiding it now. He tried to square his shoulders and took a deep, shaky breath. “I sold them in school.”

Soda gasped, hand covering his mouth. “Oh, glory. Pony, no…”

“I don’t even know where to begin,” Darry said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do you know how stupid this is? How stupid you are?”

“All I did was sell some drugs,” Ponyboy defended, throwing out his hands.

“Don’t make it sound innocent.”

“At least I’m not out there murdering people.”

“It’s still illegal. They're going to throw you in juvie once the cops find out what you’ve been doing.”

“Well, they’re not gonna find out.” He’s been fairly careful about it. Not careful enough, apparently.

“They always do.”

“But they won’t,” Ponyboy said stubbornly, blinking heavily. Christ, his head was cloudy. There was too much going on. It took everything in him to keep track of what everyone was saying.

Both Curly and Dally noticed, of course. The way he blinked slower, how his eyes were unfocused, how it looked like he was only processing half of the words said. Ponyboy was struggling to keep up, and it was clear. Everyone was so blinded by their rage that they weren’t seeing that.

Darry kept hollering at him, and at some point, he checked out. Or maybe he was trapped in paranoia. It was hard to tell which. Ponyboy stared past his brother, unmoving if not for his fingers that were subconsciously pressing into his wrist.

“You’re wasting your breath, man,” Dally spoke up.

“What are you talking about?” Soda asked him, jaw clenched tightly. He was stuck between being mad and trying to understand.

“He probably didn’t get most of that. Not focusing.”

For a long minute, the gang stared at Ponyboy. The young greaser hadn’t even noticed they stopped speaking, which only pissed Darry off more. Darry’s face turned red as he roughly grabbed Ponyboy’s shoulders, jolting him out of the trance he was in. Soda was quick to intercept before Darry could yell some more.

“Hold on,” Soda said. He grabbed hold of his brother’s arms and gently pulled him away. Darry didn’t fight against it. “You shouldn’t be so rough all the time to him.”

“He needs to listen,” Darry growled, crossing his arms. “I’ll make him focus if he’s having a hard time.”

“Maybe we should wait until he’s not high,” Johnny suggested.

“You’d have to wait a few hours,” Curly mentioned. He walked towards the door and opened it. The storm had lightened up a bit. It was still not good weather to walk in, but it was manageable. Anything would beat staying here and watching the gang go off on Ponyboy. “I’m not gonna stick around for that. I’ll walk home.”

“We can call Tim,” Soda offered, but Curly was already on his way. The door slammed loudly behind him. His exit didn’t change anything, though.

For a long tense second, nobody said anything. The atmosphere was so tense that it was suffocating. Ponyboy switched to scratching his arm. None of them knew where to take it from here, and they certainly weren’t going to wait out the high.

“Hey, if you’ve been selling drugs, where does the money go?” Two-Bit asked, trying to fill the silence. To his knowledge, dealers made quite a bit. Yet, Ponyboy never acted like he had a lot of money.

“Probably been buying,” Steve muttered.

“I can do other things with it,” Ponyboy responded, which earned another look of disbelief.

“Yeah? Like what?”

Ponyboy faltered. Besides buying heroin? He’s been spending it on… Ponyboy pressed his lips into a tight line. Where was his money going? He gave some of it to Darry without him knowing, but he couldn’t admit that. He also stopped doing that a while ago so he could buy heroin. “…Stocks…”

The gang didn’t find him very funny.

“Well, I hope the money is worth going to jail over,” Steve spat.

“It’s enough to cover the trauma,” Ponyboy said, which baffled everyone. Because what trauma could there be?

“What trauma?” Johnny asked.

Ponyboy stopped scratching his arm. He shoved his hands into his pockets. He spoke the next part quietly. “You know… Did some things here, watched a movie, got shot.”

He said it so quietly and quickly that the gang almost missed it. The moment the last word was spoken, they felt their hearts leap to their throats.

“Can you…” Soda swallowed. “Can you elaborate on that?”

Ponyboy nodded slowly, thinking they were asking about the movie. “I watched this movie about this caveman and it—”

“No,” Darry interrupted, eyes wide. “You got shot?!”

Oh. They weren’t supposed to find out about that, Ponyboy remembered. He pressed his lips into a thine and shrank back. He wasn’t sure why he reacted this way. What happened wasn’t a big deal to him anymore since it happened so long ago. It was almost a fun story now. Ponyboy didn’t know what to say, so he just went with the simplest response. “Yeah, I guess.”

“How are you so calm about this?” A bullet went into him, for Christ’s sake! “Explain. When did this happen?”

“Well, I was walking and this guy was on meth or something—”

“Meth?!”

“Yeah, and he shot me in the shoulder. Harley took it out. It’s all good now.”

No, it was not fine. Darry felt a bit headache starting. “And you didn’t think to tell us or go to the hospital?”

“I didn’t think any of you cared.”

“Didn’t think… Didn’t think we cared?” Soda repeated, flabbergasted. “Pony, of course, we care.”

“That’s not what it sounded like whenever he talked to me,” Harley said. The gang was reminded that he was to blame for all of this.

“You,” Darry growled, grabbing hold of Harley’s shirt with shaky fists and trembling lips. He glowered at him with eyes colder than a glacier. Ponyboy had never seen him look so angry before. “This is all your fault. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t influenced him!”

“Hey, I didn’t influence anyone. Like I said, he came to me.”

“That’s a whole lot of bull. Did you force him to try anything else? Did you rope him into making drugs with you?” Soda spat. Ponyboy also never seen him this way. He had never seen such a fire in his eyes before.

“No, no.” Harley waved his hand. “We both wanted to make meth.”

Ponyboy didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry. We? So now Harley was able to speak French? If he remembered right (and he was pretty damn sure of it), Ponyboy did not want to cook meth. He never did. Harley was trying to drag him down with him.

A sudden punch sent Harley flying backward. His back slammed hard against a nearby wall. The house rattled with the force of it, and when Harley moved away, he had left a hole in the drywall, right where his elbow was.

“What the fuck, man!” Harley cursed.

Darry pulled back his fist, shaking his hand even though the punch didn’t hurt him. The gang moved like hungry wolves stalking their prey. Their hairs stood on their ends, their backs hunched. They looked like they wanted to kill Harley.

They wouldn’t, Ponyboy wanted to believe. But that didn’t mean they wouldn’t beat him half to death or scare him a little.

“Stop it!” Ponyboy pleaded, trying to push his way through them, but the wall they created was too difficult to pass. “Leave him alone!”

It was as if he were in a nightmare. With everything that had happened, it might as well have been. Harley did his best to protect himself from the gang, but there was only so much he could do as one person. He was screaming for them to stop, but it fell on deaf ears. His throat felt raw as he slammed his palms into each of their backs, just hard enough to tell them he was there.

And, honestly, Ponyboy didn’t remember what happened next. Small snippets of time were skipping. One moment Ponyboy was trying to get the gang’s attention, and the next, he was on the floor. Instantly, the room froze. The gang went rigid, eyes bugged out of their skulls. There was a ringing in Pony’s ears, his brain static.

Did… someone push him?

The push, if you could call it that, had neither been aggressive nor hard. It didn’t hurt. The movement was closer to a swat than anything, a mere motion to tell him to stop slapping their back. But paired with Ponyboy’s weakened coordination, it was enough to knock him off balance. Most of all, it was enough for Ponyboy to fill in the minuscule gaps in his memory.

Someone (he wasn’t sure who) had pushed him. This proved it, right? That the gang never liked him, not that he needed more proof of it. Ponyboy didn’t cry, though it felt like he should have. Like it was scripted for him to, but he couldn’t remember his exact lines.

“You okay, Ponyboy?” Johnny asked worriedly. He took a step forward to help him up, but when Pony shrank back, he froze.

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Harley said sarcastically. He rubbed at his arm that had been roughly squeezed. “He just decided to suddenly sit down.”

“You shut your trap,” Dally snapped, spit flying out of his mouth. He whipped around and punched him square in the face, hard enough for there to be a sickening crunch. He had been waiting to do that since Harley took a step in the house. “Get the fuck out of here, before I knock your teeth in.”

“Oh, I’m so scared.”

“Can’t you see you’re not welcome here?!” Darry screamed, voice dripping with vitriol. “Get lost!”

When Harley didn’t move, he grabbed Harley and started to drag him to the door. Harley stumbled on his feet, not able to fully stand for more than a second before he was thrown out the door.

“What the hell, man!” Harley hissed.

“Go,” Darry barked. “And don’t ever let me catch you here again, if you know what’s good for you.”

Harley clenched his jaw. He looked over to Ponyboy, pissed, causing the other boy to gulp. He turned away, expression hardened. “Whatever. Didn’t want to be here any longer anyway.”

Darry slammed the door in his face before he could say anything else. Steve patted his back. “You sure about letting him off so easily?”

“What do you suppose we do?” Darry sighed, looking tired. “We can’t call the cops on him without mentioning Ponyboy. The last thing we need is their involvement. I don’t want him to get arrested.”

Darry then turned to Ponyboy, who finally stood back up. He continued, trying to keep a steady tone, “You’re not going to see him later, you understand that, right?”

“What?” Ponyboy asked, feeling his heart drop.

“You can’t see him again.”

“No.” His eyes widened. He couldn’t do this to him. Harley was his only friend. He was the only one who cared enough about him. What was he without him? He shook his head, finally feeling the hot tears well up behind his eyes. “No, you can’t decide that.”

“Look at what he did to you, Pony! He’s obviously a bad influence. You’re sneaking out, skipping school, doing drugs, acting different, and now you’re making drugs? And don’t forget about your grades. I know they’ve been dropping. This is all because of him.”

“You’re wrong. None of that is his fault.” It was his own for being so fucking pathetic.

“You’re blind if you don’t see it. Too addicted.”

“I’m not addicted and I ain’t blind either.”

“Yes, you are, and you need to fix yourself. Starting with Harley. You aren’t allowed to hang out with him anymore.”

“Like hell! Why can’t you leave me to figure out my life on my own without you dictating it?”

“Darry’s only trying to help,” Soda tried, which was bullshit. None of this was helping him. If the gang wanted to do something right, they should leave him be.

“He only wants to ruin my life.”

“That’s not true…”

“It sure feels like it.”

“Ponyboy… you should listen to him,” Johnny begged.

“He really is trying to help,” Two-Bit agreed.

“Harley isn’t someone to get involved with,” Steve said. “You could do better.”

“He’s an asshole,” Dally added.

Ponyboy almost laughed. Everyone was against him. Not one person was on his side. Couldn’t they see that Harley was good for him? He was Ponyboy’s escape; the only reason he hadn’t jumped off a roof yet. The gang didn’t know what they were doing to him. It was them who were ruining him, not Harley. The difference between them was stark. Harley had never once made him want to weep his eyes out, while the gang made him question why he was still living on Earth to begin with.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ponyboy sputtered. His chest felt tight, and his heart was on the verge of splattering. He raised his hand to his chest, feeling the fast rhythm of his heartbeat.

“No, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Darry argued, abandoning his attempt at having a more civil conversation with his brother. He stomped over to him.

“I can’t just leave him. He’s my friend.”

“Well, make new friends! Not him. If I find out you even so much as talk to him, so help me God.” Like it was that easy. It took him fifteen years to get just one friend. And weren’t they the ones who were annoyed he had no one else to hang out with in the first place? They didn’t have the right to veto anyone who came into his life.

“You can’t make me not hang out with him,” Ponyboy argued.

“Yes, I can. You live in this house, so you live by my rules. If you don’t like that, then you can go.”

Ice washed over him. He didn’t mean it. Fuck, he didn’t mean it. But the words stabbed deeply. An icicle pierced his heart and shredded his chest. He wiped at his face, but the tears wouldn’t stop. Shit, why did he have to say that? “I don’t want a different friend.”

“Well, I don’t want a dead brother!” Darry bellowed in his face.

Ponyboy pressed his nails into his wrist. He tried to glare, but there was no way he could look tuff in this situation. And then, he said something he didn’t mean. “I hate you.”

The house fell silent. Everyone’s mouths were open. Darry’s, though, was closed. His jaw was set tight. He stood up straight, nodding his head like he accepted his words, but his eyes were cold, void of any emotion.

“Go to your room,” he said. Such a simple sentence, but one that was loaded with emotion and meaning.

It was final. Ponyboy knew there was nothing more that he could say anymore, but he didn’t have much else to say anyway. He couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him a second longer, so it was mutual. His legs were as heavy as lead. “Darry—”

“Go to your room!” Darry repeated, pointing down the hallway. Screw this.

“I’m going!” Ponyboy yelled back and stormed away. The idea of leaving crossed his mind. To go somewhere that wasn’t in this cursed home. Maybe he could escape to Harley’s house or go to a bridge or something. He wasn’t picky. But Darry’s voice rang through the house.

“And keep your door open!”

Ponyboy flipped him off even though he knew it would bite him in the butt later. He grabbed the door and slammed it shut so hard that the doorframe cracked. The house rattled at the impact, an earthquake that caused a fissure to rip between him and the gang. And, just like that, he was alone again.