Work Text:
“The longest recorded time without sleep is approximately 264 hours, or just over 11 consecutive days. Although it's unclear exactly how long humans can survive without sleep, it isn't long before the effects of sleep deprivation start to show.”
━━━━━━☆━━━━━━
Ponyboy wished he could point out the moment in the last few days that he had given up trying to sleep, but in truth the days had begun to bleed together.
After about a week of being out of school, he had noticed something that had become a problem faster than he expected. When he’d been in school, between the panic of preparing for finals week, worrying about Johnny and Dally who’d been in the hospital after what happened and the fear of being taken away from Darry—he never got much sleep. He’d pushed through each day, telling himself that the minute the summer hit he would be able to sleep.
Just a few more weeks, he would tell himself, a few more weeks and I can relax.
And yet, a week into summer and he felt worse than ever. Despite things being much better, with Johnny recovering at their house, the gang seeming in higher spirits, and Darry's relationship with him getting better—nothing stopped the panic in his chest. It was like he kept waiting for the next horrible thing to happen, kept waiting for someone to yell or break the fragile peace in the house. It hadn’t helped that everyone acted like they were stepping on eggshells around himself and Johnny.
If someone wasn’t keeping a careful eye on Johnny's recovery or bandages, they were over critical of him—they acted like they weren’t but it was overwhelming.
Sodapop, for once in his life, was too much for him as his older brother got worried the minute he even stood up by himself. During school, even more so afterwards, Two-Bit was always with him—he might as well have been babysitting him which made Ponyboy more embarrassed than anything. Steve kept an eye on him from a distance, more so out of worry for Sodapops wellbeing then his own; but, he still watched and got on him for smoking too much with his hurt ribs. Since everything had gone down, Ponyboy and Dally had gotten much closer leaving him to receive the same treatment Johnny got. Darry for his part was actually trying to give Ponyboy some space, maybe he was just as worried about breaking their fragile peace.
A while ago, Ponyboy would have liked the attention but now he felt suffocated.
Every time he moved, he could feel the weight of their gazes and every stumble was met with a subtle frown or murmured whisper. The more it went on the more he felt the guilt digging at his chest especially when he saw the strain it took on his brothers.
And, he couldn’t sleep.
Which had become a bigger problem if he was being honest.
At the start of the summer, he’d really tried. Ponyboy would attempt to go to bed early in the day, even avoiding movies (—part of him didn’t want to admit going to movies made him break out into sweats—) so he could get more sleep. But, it didn’t help. Instead, he would lie awake for hours, staring into the ceiling until inevitably he either gave up or….
The nightmares would wake him.
Even when he would finally manage to fall asleep, he’d only get a blessed 2 to 3 hours before something would wake him up with a start. More of those nightmares that he couldn’t remember, flashes of emotions lingering in his gut that left him reeling. That’s how they always felt feelings stuck in his chest that he couldn’t put an image to. He’d sit there and think ‘this is as worse as it can get’, waiting for the feelings to fade in the darkness.
Then, he started to remember.
The first night that he had a nightmare where he remembered was the last night that he’d managed to get more than a few hours.
He’d fallen asleep early in the day, exhausted from finals and the celebrations. The rest of the gang had been over to celebrate the last day of school, drinking and smoking all while Darry grilled out. It had been great to finally relax a bit, no one was worrying or angry over anything and had just been enjoying the day. By the end of the night, he crawled into bed and for the first time he fell asleep without any issues.
Maybe that should have been his first sign something was off.
He couldn’t remember all the details now, but when he first woke up in the middle of the night, the nightmare had echoed in his mind like church bells, loud and relentless. Flashes of Johnny’s face, distorted and melting, filled his vision as he shouted at Ponyboy for being out too late. The grotesque images that followed were even worse—his parents' bodies, charred and lifeless, flopping through the burning church, calling out to him. The horror was a never-ending cycle of panic-fueled thoughts, all tangled with images of fire and death, and it just wouldn’t stop.
He had woken up screaming, the sound so loud it jolted the whole house awake.
For several minutes, he was inconsolable, his cries echoing through the small room as Sodapop frantically asked what had happened, desperately trying to get him to talk. Since the start of the school year, the two brothers had decided to sleep in separate rooms so Ponyboy could study late without disturbing Soda. But now, hearing his brother’s distress, Sodapop was right there, trying to piece together what had shattered Ponyboy’s sleep.
Darry, along with the others who had rushed to the hallway, was at his side in an instant. Without a word, he pulled Ponyboy into his arms, pressing his head against his chest, guiding him to breathe through the overwhelming panic. Darry’s steady heartbeat was like an anchor, helping to calm the storm raging inside.
As the panic subsided and the tears slowed, Ponyboy’s face flushed with exhausted embarrassment. He whispered an apology for waking everyone up, his voice barely audible. Only Darry and Sodapop heard him, but they hushed him gently, telling him not to worry and to just try to rest.
The others eventually drifted back to the living room, but Ponyboy couldn’t sleep. He pretended to until they left, lying still in the dark, his mind too restless to let him find any peace.
Now, over a day later, the lack of sleep was catching up with him, weighing him down more than it had yesterday. The exhaustion was overwhelming, but the fear of falling back into those nightmares kept him wide awake.
“Pone?” Johnny's voice through his thoughts, and he turned his head towards his friend who was sitting next to him on the porch.
“Hm?” Ponyboy turned towards Johnny, book in his lap abandoned while he’d been lost in thought, and the greaser watched him thoughtfully.
“You haven’t turned the page for a while now,” Johnny commented, clearly trying to play his comment off as nonchalant to keep Ponyboy from feeling embarrassed.
“Oh, I, uh, was just taking a break.” He lied through his teeth but Johnny allowed him to play it off and turned back to the sky.
His ears flushed a little and he looked back down at this abandoned book which had been sitting on his lap while he sat with Johnny. The two had been enjoying themselves outside by smoking and sitting quietly as Ponyboy read, letting the sun get closer and closer to the bottom of the sky. He found his chest tightening just at the sight of the near sunset, knowing he’d have enough night of restless sleep once more.
Johnny didn’t say anything more, but every once and a while Ponyboy could see him glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.
He only managed to get a few more pages in when Johnny quietly, almost gently, turned to him and asked him a question.
“You been sleepin’ much?” Johnny asked simply, as if commenting on the weather but Ponyboy knew him well enough to pick up on the bits of unease in his voice.
“….mhm,” He mumbled a reassurance, a spark of guilt at lying to Johnny—especially Johnny of all people—went through his heart but he pushed it down.
Johnny had gone through far too much already to have to deal with his sleeping issues, it wasn’t like Ponyboy had lost his family in the process of what happened in Windrixville. Or, gotten the scars that marred the older boys back. Or, was told by doctors for a few months that he might never walk again.
And it wasn’t just that, he wasn’t exactly lying, he would eventually sleep… it just hadn’t been recent.
“Well, ok,” Johnny kept that soft tone with him, a little put off by Ponyboys lack of answer, but it wasn’t that uncommon for him anymore.
Pomyboy was much quieter than he had ever been. Things had been better over the last few months, but he was still different from before—so quiet and nervous at times that Johnny and himself were almost twin like. The two of them had gotten closer than ever before, after being around each other for so long it had made them dependent on one another. They were the only ones that knew what the other had gone through and it was easier for them to sit together during bad days than go out of their way to explain everything to the gang.
It was the main reason that Johnny fell himself thrown off by the short answer, but he knew what those days were like. And, the younger greaser was reading his book and was known to get enamored quickly so he pushed it off.
“If you gotta talk about anything, come find me. You dig?”
“…yeah, I dig.”
—
On the morning after the third day of having no sleep, he started to forget things.
Nothing that would have been overly important or obvious to others around him, just small things that caused him inconvenience.
He’d set down a pen or book and would end up looking for it for hours before remembering where he’d last left it. Darry would ask him to do a chore before he left for work and he would do everything less in the house except for things he was asked to do. One of the gang had told him that they needed him to meet them somewhere and he’d completely no show.
Not only did it make himself more irritated at his situation but the rest of his friends and family seemed to be on the verge of losing it.
“It’s not like I meant to forget,” He grumbled, in the middle of cleaning his room after forgetting to do it earlier and having Sodapop remind him before Darry got home.
“That’s all it seems like you ever do anymore, Pone,” Sodapop sounded more concerned than actually upset, but Ponyboy still went tense at the comment.
“I told you, it was an accident,” He bit out, shoving some of his outfits into the closet without the organization that he usually had them in. “I don’t try to forget things, Soda. It just happens.”
Sodapop didn’t respond immediately, his brother seemed to be toying with the words inside of his mouth—unsure of what to say which wasn’t like him at all.
His brothers did that a lot lately, as if he would start crying if they said the wrong thing.
“You know, you can always talk to me or Dar if something’s going on, Pone.” He began walking into the room a little more, stepping over some of the items which were strung about. “I know you’ve been having those nightmares again—“
“It’s nothing,” Ponyboy cut him off, wincing at his own harsh tone before sighing and standing up to face his brother. “Really, it’s not a big deal Soda. I haven’t been having nightmares the last few nights, I swear.”
Sodapop gazed at him with a soft expression, biting his lip as he contemplated the question he wanted to ask.
Ponyboy wished his brother would go back to being the happy go lucky person that he was used to—Soda never used to be so careful around him. But that wasn’t fair, all of them had changed, especially himself and Johnny.
“You comin’ buddy?” Steve leaned his arm against the door frame, sparring Ponyboy a quick glance and look at the site of his attempt at cleaning.
“Yea, just give me—“
“Soda please,” Ponyboy waved him off, taking the opportunity to turn back around and keep working on the mess. “I’ll be fine, seriously, go have fun.”
He could feel both of their gazes on him as he turned around, arms full with a bundle of dirty clothes. The two of them were staring at him, Steve’s eyes narrowed while Sodapop just looked plain worried. He shifted uncomfortably under the weight of their gazes, quietly pushing past the both of them but stopping short when Soda gently grabs the crook of his elbow.
“Honey, why don’t you lay down for a bit?” Sodapop suggested, looking down at him with that troubled squint he got from their mother.
“ Soda, ” He groaned, an unreasonable irritation filling his gut as he whipped his arm out of his brother's grasp. “I don’t need to take a nap, I’m not a little kid.”
“I wasn’t saying—“ Sodapops eyes went wide at the snapped remark and before he could argue Steve stepped up to him.
“Hey what’s the matter with you! Lay off your brother, will ya’? Steve snapped, but Ponyboy just made an irradiated noise and walked away from the both of them.
He turned the corner where the door to the basement was and waited quietly for them to walk away. But as he paused, he leaned in to hear them whispering to each other.
“Lay off him, Steve,” He heard Sodapop whisper, his brother's words enunciated exhaustively as he spoke to Steve.
“The hell is with him? I ain’t ever seen him argue with you like that, maybe Superman but—“
“I…you know how much everything that happened with Johnny affected him. You heard that nightmare he had the other night, man.”
Ponyboy winced, leaning his head against the wall and forcing a deep breath into his lungs as he listened.
“That don’t excuse how he actin’, you know that.”
“Just give him a break alright?”
Steve was quiet for a moment, and Ponyboy thought they might have left but then he heard Steve quietly ask something.
“You sure he been sleeping? The kid looks exhausted.” Steve's voice was almost concerned, and Ponyboy found himself scowling at the idea that he was. When had he ever cared?
“I don't know, he said he has? I just, I’m worried about him,”
“I know buddy, I’m sure the kid will be fine. C'mon let’s go, the guys are waiting for us.”
He glanced over his shoulder as they headed out of the house, sighing to himself as he headed down the stairs and dropped the basket of clothes on the stone ground by the washer. Before he could really think about it, he went back upstairs and quickly cleaned the rest of the room before Darry could get home.
He was tired.
It was almost 9 pm and he knew Darry would be home soon, would it hurt to try and sleep just a little?
—
‘Oh, it could.’ He thought the next day as he had only managed to sleep for less than an hour before he’d woken up at 11 pm.
‘It definitely could,’ He thought once more, as he remembered that today was one of the days that most of their friends would be coming over for a cookout.
He was sitting in the living room, listening to the sounds of the guys playing a game of cards while he tried his best to pay attention to the book he was reading. Turns out, when you’ve slept less than an hour in four days reading was harder than usual. He loved the book he had gotten from Darry, a small gift after he’d managed to get his grades back up at the end of the year. But, god if he couldn’t hardly read the words on the page at this point.
He tried to bite down on the irritation as he placed down the book on the side table.
Ponyboy found himself growing irritated quickly after the lack of sleep, snapping at people he didn’t mean to snap at or even just feeling like crying.
He thinks that he’d rather die than cry in front of the gang, for the second time in the last month.
‘Steve already thinks I’m a baby,” He thought bitterly, as he turned his attention to the group of them playing on the carpet.
From where Ponyboy was sitting he could see all of their cards along with Johnny who was sat next to him, and it was clear that Dally was bluffing the group of them. The way his eyes darted around, coupled with his too-casual grin, gave him away.
Two-Bit glanced at Ponyboy and raised an eyebrow, subtly showing him a pair of aces. Ponyboy tried to suppress a smile and looked across the table where Steve was tapping his fingers impatiently. Soda, who didn’t really seem to care if he won or not, ignored Dallys bluff and smirked playfully.
"I'll see your bet and raise you two," he said, tossing a couple of cigarettes into the center of the table. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms confidently. Dally leaned forward, face passive but coolly confident.
"You sure about that, Soda?" he taunted, pushing his own cigarettes forward. "Maybe you should just fold now and save yourself the embarrassment."
Dally was a good bluff.
Ponyboy, who was sitting directly behind him caught Steve’s eye and subtly shook his head before nodding towards Two-Bit. Steve blinked at him once, a suprised looking briefly crossing his face before shoving it back to a poker face.
“I’m all in,” Steve spoke up, causing all of them to look at him with shock and Johnny to lean into Ponyboy's side trying not to laugh as he caught the exchange.
“I’m folding,” Sodapop said, leaving Two-Bit to glance at Steve and Dally before dramatically sighing and folding as well. The two of them leaned back, watching Steve and Dally, the latter who seemed just barely more on edge.
They both laid their cards down, revealing Dallys pair of eights and Steve’s flush. Dally scoffed as Steve whooped, pulling all of the cigarettes towards himself gloating victoriously. Dally was waving him off, feigning irritation but he couldn’t have cared much about losing.
Steve looked up at Ponyboy and tossed him one of his cigarettes that he’d won, making Dally whip around a look of indignation crossing his face as he realized what had happened.
“You cheaters, the pair of you—“ Dally looked back and forth between the two of them, ignoring how Two-Bit and Sodapop broke down laughing as well.
Johnny was no better half leaned into him as he laughed, not bothering to hide the fact that he’d watched the whole thing go down. Ponyboy couldn’t help the smirk that crossed his lips as he tucked the cigarette off to the side where his book was sitting. Before he could react, Dally got up and slung him over his shoulder causing him to yelp in surprise.
“Not so cocky now are ya, brat?” Dally teased him, swinging him around as Ponyboy half fought against him and half laughed.
“Hey don’t drop my kid brother, he’s had enough hospital visits for a lifetime,” Darry called out as he walked into the house, dropping the groceries on the counter and making his way around in the kitchen.
“Relax Superman, the kid weighs about as much as a sack of potatoes,” Dally replied nonchalantly, ignoring the way Ponyboy hit his back in retaliation and began dropping him to his feet.
Before Ponyboy could say much, he was hit with a wave of exhaustion and felt his knees go weak as his feet hit the ground. Both Dally and Two-Bit, who was nearby, immediately reached out and caught him before he could fall. Leaving Ponyboy to take in a few deep breaths as his head spun around and his vision darkened on the edges.
“— Hey!”
He didn’t realize that anyone had been talking until he felt Dally shake him a little and saw Sodapop get up off of the ground.
“Pony, you alright?” His brother panicked, quickly shoving his way in and gently settling Ponyboy onto the couch. “Pony?”
“Sorry, sorry—I’m fine,” He replied a little dazed, his face began to flush as he saw all of the gang had stopped what they were doing to watch him. “Really, I just got dizzy, that's all.”
“You eat today?” Darry popped up next to Soda, leaving Dally to step back and hit on one of the recliners.
Ponyboy thought for a moment, more so about actually telling Darry the truth instead of knowing whether or not he’d eaten. After a few seconds, he shook his head bashfully and watched as Darry tried his best to take a deep breath and not get angry.
“Alright,” Darry said, turning back into the kitchen to pull out a few small snacks while the others pretended to make themselves busy. Most of the guys walked outside to the porch, while Darry and Two-Bit stood in the kitchen cooking. Soda took the opportunity to sit down next to him trying to quietly talk to him with the little privacy they had.
“Soda please,” Ponyboy tried to interrupt him before his brother could start not wanting to get into a fight just because of his own sleep deprived emotions.
“I know you don’t want to talk about it but,” Sodapop whispered, looking dismayed the more that he took in his younger brother's face. “You ain't been acting much like yourself, you get me?”
Ponybou felt tears well in his eyes at Sodapops words, and flushed even brighter all for it while looking down at the ground.
“I’m fine, really Soda,” His voice came out weaker than he intended and he could see the way Sodapop knew immediately, frowning softly. “I’ve just been recovering from the stress of school, it’s nothing.”
“Wha—Pone, this ain’t,” Sodapop paused as Darry came into the room, and Ponyboy glanced over his brother's shoulder to see Two-Bit walking outside, uncharacteristically quiet.
“..I told you to eat something while I was out today,” Darry kept his voice light, purposefully, but it didn’t help much as Ponyboy took the criticism and gritted his teeth, pretending not to recognize.
“Forgot.” He mumbled, eyes still casted at the floor ignoring the feeling of their eyes on him.
“…what’s botherin’ you?”
“ For the last time, ” He bit out, stopping short when he caught Darry’s look of warning and instead took the plate that was offered to him. “ I don’t want to talk about it.”
It was a bologna sandwich.
Great.
He tried to stand up and move the sandwich off to the side, but his brothers immediately stepped in and paused him. Darry placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and slowly pushed him back down to the couch, but the hand lingered there as if a calming comfort. Ponyboy felt the urge to shove his face into his big brother's chest and cry— he hated feeling like a big baby.
He was so tired.
“I know it’s been a hard couple of months, little buddy,” Darry said placatingly, he kept his voice quiet but Ponyboy could tell from the lack of noise from outside that the others were pretending not to listen. “It’s just, we’re—“
“We’re worried about you, Pone. This aint like you, to be so…” Sodapop trailed off, an unsure tilt to his voice as if he was talking to a wild animal.
Both of his brothers were being so calm with him, not jumping on him or putting him down for not telling them something. It wasn’t like anything had been in the months before the incident at the church or death of Bob, they were trying. But, his mind felt so muddled, his emotions hitting him harder than they’d ever hit before and he couldn’t force himself to say a thing.
There was a huge lump in his throat that he couldn’t get past leaving him, choked, not even able to look at either of them.
“I—I forgot to eat, there’s nothin’ else to it.” He felt the disappointment that immediately hit the air and tried to blink the tears out of his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
He wasn’t really sure what he was apologizing for. Maybe for making them worry? Maybe for lying? He was just sorry for a lot of things lately.
“Go lay down, Ponyboy,” Darry tiredly told him, his hand left Ponyboy’s shoulder and for a moment he mourned the loss of the heat—of the comfort .
He managed a nod and quickly got up, heading back to his room, trying not to look like he was running away. He pretended not to hear the way his two older brothers immediately went back-and-forth; asking each other questions about him as if he wasn’t a room away. In the quiet of his own room, he shoved a pillow over his face, smothering the sounds of his too quick breathing and shaky tears.
After a little while, he heard a few of the others come back into the house, and he laid in the bed trying to sleep.
Later, he heard a few people begin to talk about a movie or where to sleep for the night and he closed his eyes.
Into the darkness of the night, the sun long gone from the sky—he heard the footsteps of his brothers going to their rooms. Heard his friends getting settled in the living room, the sound of Two-Bit and Dally heading off for the night. Heard Johnny and Steve get settled into the living room, a peaceful silence.
And all the while he laid in bed, until finally.
He slept.
—
In the few moments he had to realize he was awake, he thanked God, or whoever was listening, that he had the time to stop himself from screaming before the others could hear.
The dream had hit him like a ton of bricks, he was already sobbing when he woke up with his hands clasped over top of his mouth. Caught in the middle of pure terror and falling into the half relief and half frustration of the nightmare. It became all the worse when he realized he had only even fallen asleep for an hour. He forced himself to pull it together and took in a few deep breaths, harshly wiping at his face.
The sun was mostly in the sky, highlighting his room with light and he took in a shuddering breath as he stood.
He felt like a walking corpse, moving about the room to get ready and barely aware of the sounds of everyone getting up and ready for the day. He could hear his brothers getting ready for work, and after a moment a quick knock hit his door signaling for him to get a move on. He winces as the sound pings around in his head, and closes his eyes for a moment to breathe.
“You tagging along?” Dally asks him while Ponyboy is pushing around the eggs and sausages on his plate, ignoring the way Sodapop frowns at him.
“What?” He asked dumbly, having not paid much attention throughout the morning aside from when Darry had left for work.
“I said ,” Dally punctuates with an eye roll, pointing his own fork at Ponyboy. “Are you tagging along with me and Johnny today or not?”
“We can stop at the library and get that book you want,” Johnny offers, leaving Ponyboy to wonder if this was all a ruse to get him out of the house.
Nevertheless, he nodded, he was sick of this house and sick of looking at his bed or the books that his mind was too exhausted to read. It was just the three of them in the house not after long— Steve and Sodapop had left for work and Two-Bit hadn’t shown up today. He was grateful that neither of them made him finish the food on his plate, instead passing it over to Johnny. He wasn’t hungry much and besides Johnny had lost too much weight during their time on the run so he needed it more.
Johnny shot him a look, almost like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t think it was the right time.
Dally and Johnny finished their food, and the three of them got up heading to Dal— nope, Bucks —truck. They all piled in, Ponyboy taking the back seat while Johnny and Dally sat up front. Dally was the one doing most of the talking while they rode, Johnny and himself nodding along to one of his stories so he allowed himself to zone out. He had tried to pay attention at first but it was easier to just let himself get lost in his head, eyes half closed.
The exhaustion was getting to him, he knew it, even this long was too much for him.
But he had tried to get rest for so long, last night was the worst of them all—the relief of finally drifting off only to be met with an hour of sleep and a dream he could hardly remember. He felt like his body was shaking and vomit near the back of his throat during the first few hours awake. Even now, his body was rejecting the waking hours of the day.
His eyes stung badly, head pounded, and mind slow enough to take a few moments to register conversations. The worst was how snappy he was getting, it was the main reason he didn’t hardly chip into conversations—he didn’t want to say something he’d regret. The thought of getting food made his stomach turn, he wondered if he could get them to leave him at the library while they ate.
He wasn’t so lucky.
“Where we going?” Dally asked, more so Johnny than Ponyboy who was thoroughly out of it until Dally had addressed them both.
Johnny shrugged, making Dally turn his attention to Ponyboy who was fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.
“Kid, what do you want to eat?” He called back, but Ponyboy didn’t seem to hear him, his fingers still digging through the frayed strands. “Hey, you listenin’ to me? Ponyboy !”
Ponyboy jumped, head shooting up as he looked at Dally with wide confused eyes.
“What?” He asked dumbly, resisting the urge to wince as Dally grit his jaw and rolled his eyes heavy with irritation.
“How many times am I gonna have to repeat myself to you today, huh?” Dally snapped, but his eyes were tight almost like he was concerned.
“ Dal,” Johnny hissed, making Dally whirl around on him and give him a look that would have given Ponyboy a heart attack but Johnny just stared him down.
Dally gave in—like he always did with Johnny—and glanced in the rearview mirror at Ponyboy.
“What do you want to eat.” His tone was flat as if he was forcing himself to not grit out anything, Ponyboy shrugged. “Fine, I’ll decide. The two of you are gonna be the death of me, I swear.”
—
Ponyboy was not having a good time.
He thought he could handle it as they pulled into the drive-through, convincing himself that if he just held his breath and skipped getting food, he’d be fine. But that plan fell apart the moment Johnny and Dally both gave him a hard stare when he tried to say he wasn’t hungry. Now, he sat with a burger in his lap, feeling worse by the second as they drove towards the other side of town.
“You need to eat something, Pony,” Johnny had gently encouraged him a few minutes before turning back to his conversation with Dally.
Ponyboy managed to take a bite, but his stomach twisted in response. He tried to keep it down, but then the car hit a slippery patch in the road, causing a small bump. The combination of the jolt and the greasy smell of the food was too much. His stomach lurched violently, and he quickly reached out, tugging on Johnny’s sleeve like a frightened child.
Johnny, still half-listening to whatever story Dally was telling, glanced back. It took only a split second for him to do a double take when he saw Ponyboy’s face. Whatever Johnny saw must have been bad because his expression went pale, and his voice turned frantic as he called out to Dally.
“Dal, you gotta pull over—now!”
Dally didn’t hesitate. He took one look at Ponyboy in the rearview mirror and immediately yanked the truck to a stop at the side of the road.
Ponyboy barely managed to throw open the door before he was stumbling out on shaky legs, retching up everything he’d eaten in the last day. His body trembled uncontrollably, and tears welled up in his eyes as the vomiting turned into painful, dry heaving. The acid burned his throat, and he flinched when he felt a hand on his back, but the soothing motion of someone rubbing between his shoulders eased the tension slightly.
He couldn’t hold back the sobs that erupted from him as the pain and exhaustion overwhelmed him.
Johnny, who he recognized by his smaller frame, waited until Ponyboy was done before wrapping his arms around him, pulling him close. He gently helped him back into the truck, supporting most of his weight. Ponyboy could barely focus, his head resting heavily on Johnny’s shoulder. He could hear bits and pieces of the frantic conversation between Johnny and Dally above him, their voices filled with worry and urgency.
“Pony? Hey, hey, stay awake, okay?” Johnny’s voice cut through the haze, sounding both scared and soothing.
“You better not be fucking dying, kid, or I’ll kill you myself, you hear me?” Dally added, his usual bravado tinged with real fear.
Ponyboy tried to respond, but his body felt so heavy, so tired. He thought that maybe if he just closed his eyes for a moment, he’d feel better. Just a little rest—that’s all he needed.
Yeah, that’d be nice.
—
When he woke again, it was night outside and he wasn’t in the truck anymore but instead in his own bed.
All at once he noticed with a breath of relief that brought tears to his eyes that he felt good. He didn’t feel amazing or like he could go for a run, but he didn’t feel that awful shaking or the nausea or even the headache. It had faded to a very, very dull irritation in the back of his mind, leaving him feeling relaxed.
He rolled over in bed, glancing at the clock next to the side table which read 10 pm—and he’d left the house at 9…am.
‘Darry might kill me’ He thought, but the release at feeling better overshadowed any other feelings he had.
Rolling out of bed, he could hear a few noises coming from the living room but nothing too loud—unlike his house during all hours of the day. He got closer to the door, feeling much more sturdy on his legs, and paused to listen in. He could hear a few voices, one or two of the gang and the others his brothers but he couldn’t make anything out.
He would go back to bed, but honestly he was starving.
So, slowly and quietly he opened the door that lead into the hallway. Over the years he’d been told by more than one person that he was as quiet as a mouse when he wanted to be. He’d even snuck up on Dally without meaning to before and almost got himself a black eye. He’d gone down this hallway enough times to know where each squeaky board was, making it easy for him to get into the room without letting his presence be known.
“You gonna go check on him?” Sodapop asked, facing the table where himself and Dally were playing cards.
“Yeah—“ Darry went to stand up, turning halfway around but stopped short with a face of surprise as he saw Ponyboy. “Pony?”
The others immediately turned around, showing him that Dally, Sodapop, Darry, and Johnny were the only ones in the house. All of their faces varied from relieved surprise to angry concern but Sodapop shot off the floor going to him. His brother wrapped his arms around him, Ponyboy was grateful that his irritation for his brother had faded with his headache and he buried his face into Sodas shoulder.
“Oh honey, how are you feeling? What happened, you should have told us you were sick,” He fused over him, Ponyboy felt guilty for the breath of air that left his chest as he realized every thought he’d just been sick.
“I told you before I left to eat and rest," Darry’s voice was firm, but the lines of worry etched on his face betrayed him. His gaze swept over Ponyboy, lingering on the dark circles under his eyes, the paleness of his skin. "You haven’t been eating enough—that's why you’re sick. No more skipping meals, you hear me, kid brother?"
Ponyboy swallowed, his throat dry. He wanted to argue, to tell Darry that it wasn’t just about skipping meals, that there was more going on inside him than any of them knew. But the words tangled in his chest, weighed down by the exhaustion that clung to him like a heavy fog.
“Mhm,” he mumbled instead, allowing himself to lean into Sodapop’s touch as his brother pressed the back of his hand to his forehead.
Sodapop’s fingers were warm, and Ponyboy closed his eyes for a moment, just a moment, letting himself drift. He felt like he could collapse right there, and part of him wanted to. But he couldn’t—not in front of Darry, not when they were all looking at him like that.
“If I’d known feeding you was all it took to keep you from puking in my truck, I would’ve force-fed your ass before we left,” Dally’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and biting, but with an edge that wasn’t quite as hard as usual. He tossed a card onto the table, the sound sharp in the quiet room. His eyes narrowed, but Ponyboy could see the flicker of something else there, something he couldn’t quite place.
“Sorry—” Ponyboy started, but his voice wavered, and Dally was already cutting him off with a laugh that was more exasperated than angry.
“Shut up and go to bed, kid,” Dally muttered, his eyes sliding away as if he couldn’t bear to look at Ponyboy for too long. “You’re not doing anyone any favors by pushing yourself.”
“He’s right, honey,” Sodapop’s voice was soft, the term of endearment slipping out without thought as he brushed a stray lock of hair out of Ponyboy’s face. There was a forced lightness in his tone, an attempt to ease the tension, but the smile he gave didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ll feel better after you sleep it off, okay?”
Ponyboy nodded, too tired to argue. Behind Sodapop, Johnny stood by the doorway, his hands stuffed into his pockets, his shoulders hunched. He’d been watching Ponyboy since he’d walked in, and now their eyes met across the room. Johnny’s expression was carefully blank, but Ponyboy knew that look. He knew it meant Johnny was seeing right through him, seeing the things he was too scared to admit even to himself.
Ponyboy shifted uncomfortably, his legs feeling like lead as he tried to break the gaze. But Johnny didn’t look away. There was something in his eyes—something that made Ponyboy’s chest tighten. He knew Johnny understood, knew he’d probably figured out what Ponyboy was too afraid to say out loud.
The room felt too small, the air too thick. Ponyboy wanted to escape, to find some corner where he could be alone with his thoughts, where he didn’t have to see the worry etched into the faces of his brothers, where he didn’t have to feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on him.
“I’ll go to bed,” he whispered, more to himself than to anyone else, as he pushed away from the table. His legs wobbled beneath him, and for a moment he thought he might actually collapse. But then Sodapop was there, steadying him with a hand on his arm, guiding him towards the hallway with a murmur, “Easy there, honey.”
And as he let Sodapop lead him to his room, he couldn’t shake the feeling that, somehow, Johnny knew exactly what he was going through—and that scared him more than anything else.
—
“Did you try to go to sleep at least?”
Ponyboy found himself on the porch not even four hours later, having waited till everyone had gone to bed to sneak himself out of the house. Sodapop had offered to go to bed with him, like he did before Windrixvill but with the nightmares Ponyboy wouldn’t let him. Sleep, it seemed, only would meet him once his body could no longer run from it. He was grateful at least that he’d gotten some rest today, even if he still felt drained.
Now, sitting on the wooden steps of the porch, he felt a small measure of peace return. A lit cigarette hung from his fingertips, the gentle burn of it steadying his trembling hands. The cold night air wrapped around him, and he took a deep breath, letting it settle the turmoil in his mind.
It was in that quiet moment that he heard the soft, familiar sound of Johnny’s footsteps. The door swung open gently, and even without looking, Ponyboy knew it was him—Johnny was always quiet, whether he meant to be or not.
“No,” Ponyboy responded, not bothering to lie. There was no point. Johnny could see through any falsehoods, and besides, there was a comfort in being honest with him, in not having to pretend.
Johnny huffed softly, a sound of understanding and mild frustration as he slowly lowered himself onto the steps beside Ponyboy. He winced as he moved, a reminder of the pain that still lingered in his back. Ponyboy noticed the wince and instinctively wanted to help, but he held back, knowing Johnny’s pride wouldn’t allow it.
They sat in silence for a moment, the night wrapping around them, the quiet between them comfortable and familiar. The only sound was the faint crackle of the cigarette and the distant hum of the city that never quite slept.
Johnny took a slow drag from his own cigarette, letting the smoke curl around them in the cool night air. He didn’t say anything at first, just stared out at the empty street ahead. The silence stretched on, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that spoke volumes, that said more than words could manage. But Johnny knew they couldn’t stay in the silence forever.
“Pony,” Johnny finally began, his voice low and careful, “you can’t keep doing this.”
Ponyboy glanced over at him, not fully understanding. “Doing what?”
“This,” Johnny said, gesturing vaguely with his cigarette before dropping his hand back to his lap. “Sneakin’ off alone, not tellin’ us when you’re hurtin’. You keep all this stuff bottled up, and it ain’t good for you. You know that, don’t ya?”
Ponyboy’s eyes dropped to the ground, the toe of his sneaker scuffing at the worn wood of the porch. He didn’t know how to respond, or maybe he did but didn’t want to. He could feel Johnny’s gaze on him, patient and unyielding, waiting for him to say something.
“I just…” Ponyboy’s voice trailed off. “I don’t want to worry you guys. You’ve all got enough to deal with.”
Johnny let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head. “We’re already worried, Pony. We can see when you’re not doin’ so good. Not talkin’ about it don’t make it go away, it just makes it worse. For you, and for us.”
Ponyboy stayed silent, his mind drifting back to the church in Windrixville, to the fire, the smoke, the screams. He could still feel the heat on his skin, the fear that had gripped him when he realized what he’d done—running into that burning building without thinking, without a second’s hesitation. And Johnny had followed him, right into the flames. For him.
“You remember the church,” Johnny said quietly, as if reading his thoughts. “How scared we both were? I don’t think I ever told you this, but… I wasn’t just scared of the fire. I was scared of losin’ you. When I saw you run in there, I thought I was gonna lose my best friend, and there wasn’t nothin’ I could do to stop it.”
Ponyboy looked up at him, startled by the raw emotion in Johnny’s voice. Johnny wasn’t one to talk much about his feelings, but now it was like a dam had broken.
“And after that… after we got out,” Johnny continued, his voice trembling slightly, “you stopped talkin’ about it. Like it didn’t happen. But it did, Pony. We went through that together, and you don’t have to keep it all inside. Not with me, not with Darry, not with Soda. We’re here for you, and we want to help.”
Ponyboy swallowed hard, his throat tight. He didn’t know what to say, how to explain the guilt, the fear that kept him awake at night. “I just… I don’t know how to talk about it. It’s like… if I say it out loud, it makes it real, you know?”
Johnny nodded, understanding. “Yeah, I get that. But keepin’ quiet don’t make it any less real. It just makes it harder. You don’t have to do this on your own, Pony. None of us do.”
Ponyboy took a shaky breath, feeling the tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He blinked them back, not wanting to cry, not here, not now. But Johnny was right—he couldn’t keep carrying this weight by himself.
“I’m scared, Johnny,” Ponyboy whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m scared that if I start talkin’ about it, I won’t be able to stop.”
Johnny placed a hand on Ponyboy’s shoulder, a comforting weight that grounded him in the moment. “Then don’t stop. We’ll listen as long as you need us to. You ain’t alone, Pony. We’re all in this together, just like we were back at that church. And we’ll get through it together.”
For a moment, Ponyboy just sat there, letting Johnny’s words sink in. The cigarette burned down to the filter in his hand, forgotten, as he finally allowed himself to feel the support of the person beside him. He wasn’t alone. He didn’t have to be.
“I see it when I close my eyes,” he whispered, not looking at Johnny. The words slipped out before he could stop them, and the moment they did, he regretted it. But there was something in Johnny’s presence that kept him from clamming up. The words kept coming, as if they’d been waiting for this chance to escape. “I see them kicking you in the ribs, I see the water from the fountain, the fire, the wood falling on…”
His voice faltered, trailing off as his gaze dropped to the yard. His hands began to tremble again, the fear and memories closing in. “And it won’t stop, Johnny. No matter how much I try, I can’t get it to stop. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep—God, Johnny, I just want to sleep, man.” His breath hitched, panic rising as he tugged at his hair. “I can’t without seeing it all, over and over again. You dig me?”
The last words came out with a desperate edge, as if he was begging Johnny to understand, to help him feel less crazy for the way his mind was trapped in those nightmares. Johnny took his hand, removing it from his hair which he’d been pulling tightly, and as he did Ponyboy could feel him trembling.
“Mhm,” Johnny choked out, and Ponyboy’s head shot up, his tear-filled eyes locking onto his friend’s. Johnny’s face was tight with emotion, his voice strained. “I… I dig you, Pony. Trust me, I do. I can’t stop seeing Bob, y’know?”
Johnny’s hand shook as he wiped it down his face, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill. But Ponyboy could already see the cracks in his composure, the pain that Johnny was carrying too. Ponyboy’s own tears fell freely, and for a moment, they just sat there and tried to pull themselves together.
Johnny took a deep breath, squeezing Ponyboy’s hand a little tighter. “You’re not alone in this, Pony,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “We both went through it… and it’s messed up, but we’re still here. We’re still fightin’. And we gotta keep goin’, even when it feels like we’re drownin’ in it.”
He paused, his breath catching slightly as he forced himself to keep going, to say what had been gnawing at him since everything had happened. “I can’t lose you, Pony. I just… I can’t. I don’t think I’d make it if I did.”
Ponyboy’s breath hitched at Johnny’s words, the rawness in them cutting through the haze of his own pain. He could feel the tears welling up again, and this time he didn’t bother trying to stop them.
“I’m sorry, Johnny,” he half-sobbed, his voice breaking as he clung to his friend’s hand like a lifeline. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to make you worry. I didn’t mean to make it worse.”
His words tumbled out in a rush, a torrent of guilt and fear that he’d been holding back for too long. “I just—everything got so heavy, y’know? I didn’t know how to… how to handle it. I didn’t know how to tell you guys without… without dragging you down with me.”
Before Ponyboy could finish, Johnny pulled him into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around him in a protective hold.
“Don’t apologize, Pony,” Johnny whispered fiercely into his ear, his voice thick with emotion. “You ain’t gotta apologize for feeling like this. We’re in this together, remember? You don’t gotta carry it alone.”
Ponyboy buried his face in Johnny’s shoulder, his body trembling as the tears flowed freely now. “I’m so sorry, Johnny… I’m sorry.”
“It’s ok, it’s ok,” Johnny hushed him, rubbing soothing circles on Ponyboy’s back. “You don’t have to be sorry. Not to me, not to anyone. We’re all just tryin’ to figure this out, and it ain’t easy. But we’ll get through it, Pony. I promise you, we will.”
They stayed like that for a long moment, clinging to each other in the quiet night, the only sound the faint rustle of the leaves in the breeze and their ragged breaths slowly evening out. The world seemed to shrink down to just the two of them, two boys who had seen too much, been through too much, but were still holding on to each other. Ponyboy eventually was the first one to pull away, sniffling as he wiped at his eyes.
“Thanks, Johnny,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, honest.”
Johnny gave him a small, reassuring smile, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You don’t have to find out, Pony. I’m right here. We all are.”
As the night stretched on, the weight on Ponyboy’s chest seemed to lift just a little, the tightness in his throat easing as he finally let himself lean on Johnny. The feelings were still there, lingering at the edges, but it didn’t feel quite as overwhelming with Johnny by his side.
His eyes felt heavy and for the first time since everything happened, he wasn’t scared to close them.
—
“You just found ‘em like that?” Sodapop whispered, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he peeked into the room.
“Yeah,” Darry replied quietly, his voice filled with a mix of relief and something softer, almost like gratitude. He stood in the cracked entrance of the bedroom, watching the peaceful scene inside. “I was looking for Johnny, and found them both.”
In the bed, Ponyboy lay fast asleep, looking younger and more at peace than he had in months. The tension that had haunted his features seemed to have melted away, leaving behind only the calm of deep, restful sleep. Johnny was beside him, half-sprawled across the bed, his arms wrapped protectively around Ponyboy. Their limbs were tangled together, and in the soft light of the room, the dark circles under their eyes appeared lighter, less severe. For the first time in what felt like forever, they looked like the teenagers they were, rather than men hardened with the weight of the world.
Sodapop’s smile widened, a quiet joy in seeing his little brother so at peace. “You think they’ll be good while we’re gone?” He asked, though the answer was already clear in his mind.
“Yeah,” Darry nodded, his eyes still fixed on the two sleeping boys. “Yeah, they will be. Come on, Pepsi let’s go.”
And in that quiet room, with the night having given way to dawn, it felt like the beginning of something new—a healing, a hope that had been long overdue.
Darry gently closed the door, leaving them to their dreams, knowing that when they woke, they wouldn’t be alone.
━━━━━━☆━━━━━━
"I-I'm here. I came for you."
"Why?"
"...I thought you might be lost."