Hey! I had just realised after I published this that I had no AN or Disclaimer so I had to edit it.
If you didn't realise, this is set when Ponyboy is in the fountain when he and Johnny are jumped by Bob Shelton and his mates.
Warning: Blood, a tiny bit of gore/description of stabbing.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders or any of these characters, simply the words. The Outsiders is owned by S.E. Hinton.
Johnny Cade has large brown eyes, a wet shirt and a switchblade in his back left pocket.
He's cold, the water from the fountain is soaking through his shirt, but he hardly notices. His mind is screaming at him, and memories are causing his limbs to quiver and shake, a reminder of how little control he really has over anything. Even himself. He can see broad backs of two tall youths in front of him. One of them is clutching the struggling body of a boy, pushing him in the fountain. Ponyboy.
Someone grabs Johnny's arm and throws him on the ground. He slams into the pavement and his head connects, dazing him. He can hear his own short, sharp, terrified breaths. In, out. In, out.
A tall figure looms over him. Dark and imposing, rings glitter on his outstretched fist. He draws it back and Johnny is hit with a sense of déjà vu so overpowering he struggles to breathe. He remembers the blade in his pocket and fumbles for it, his fingers skidding and sliding along its smooth hilt. He flips it out behind his back, not wanting the boy to see the weapon, his last defence.
The boy is drunk, he can tell, and that makes him more dangerous, less controlled. He has drawn his fist back for a second too long, his eyes cloudy with the glazed over expression the drink has given him. Johnny knows he means to hit him, though, it's the inevitable outcome. That's how it always will be.
The boy in front of him is older, bigger, stronger in every possible way, but the alcohol is clouding his mind as well as his eyes and there Johnny has his advantage. That, and the smooth, shiny hilt he clutches in his hand. He lunges forward with strength he didn't know he possessed and buries the long silver blade into the boy's ribs.
His opponent's mouth opens in shock, his eyes widen. He lets out a breath of surprise, a gasp acknowledging the unexpectedness of the situation, and falls backwards, his balance upset by the force of the blade and Johnny's momentum. Johnny lets go, and finds himself leaning over the boy, their positions reversed. He doesn't know if he is dead or dying, or if his blade had made any effect at all, until he sees the boy's eyes glaze over from something more than alcohol. There is blood staining his shirt and Johnny's hands.
The other boys are running. They have seen the knife, the blood, they have seen the evidence of the crime. They run now, Jonny knows, but they will be back later. They will never let him get away with this.
The boy is definitely dead. His chest has ceased to rise and fall. The shirt that is painted with blood is still, unmoving. There is no sign of life in the shell of a boy that lies on the pavement. Johnny watches him for just one more second. It has not hit him yet, that this boy is a person. He has family, and a girlfriend and dreams and goals and he is dead in an empty street at night, his blood poisoned by alcohol and spilling out of his front.
Johnny can't let it hit him or he will cease to have control over anything. He can't let the terrible truth of his actions come crashing down upon him. Not yet. Ponyboy needs him.
Ponyboy.
He hauls the limp boy out of the fountain. He is weak and soaked and for a second Johnny fears that there will be two bodies lying here tonight. But the younger boy is breathing raggedly, the harsh sound filling Johnny with relief, so Johnny lies him on the pavement gently. He glances back at the body lying in the moonlight.
He doesn't even know his name.
Jonny Cade has large brown eyes, a wet shirt, and a switchblade that's dark to the hilt.