Hey Guys! I feel pathetic! 3 reviews and 1 favorite or follow or whatever and I'm like hey I should write another story. Probably just so I don't have to clean.

Anyways if any of you who read my story and actually read the author notes, where I said how much I believe that I suck at writing. I swear I am not trying to get attention and sorry if it came off that way. I can see how it would being like Tell me how much you hate my story in the reviews. And then secretly being like now people will tell me im a good writer.

That's not how I am, I just enjoy criticizing myself I guess? I don't know. I'm rambling. Sorry. Story Time!
Disclaim. You know the drill.

XxxX

Who's to know if your soul will fade at all

The one you sold to fool the world.

I walked down the street, my icy blue yes surveying the scene. Kids, parents, and pets. No serious threats. Just families playing with their animals.

I begin to wonder if they can see through me. Though they probably can't. This mask I put on is starting to be more than that. Its starting to be who I am. The cold hard looks I throw out at random people. The rude comments I make. The dirty things I whisper in girls ears as I pass them. The things Dally used to do. The things I used to hate. The things I used to have to watch, and turn my back on because Dally was my buddy. The things Johnny and I used to cringe away from, or turn beat red when they happened. The things I do now. What I am. The things I used fake. But now I don't fake it. I am it.

I used to hate watching Dallas walk down the street and make snide comments at socs. I used to hate it when we sat behind girls like Cherry Valance and he would whisper things in their ears. I used to hate it when he jumped kids and then told us the stories. I used to hate how he got so boozed up. I used to hate how he fought socs, or how he was cruel to everyone. How he looked at the world with a cold hatred for everyone that walked it. Except for me and Johnny. Though I know he would never admit to it. He didn't just love Johnny. He loved me to. And I wonder if it was because he wanted me to be the next him, unlike with Johnny, whom he wanted to "stay gold" as Johnny would have put it.

But for the past 3 years I do the same thing. I faked liking it for 2 full years, when it seemed like something I had to do. But now for the past year, I love it. I love how it makes me tuff, I love how it makes people not touch me, and instead shy away from any contact. The disapproving looks thrown at me from strangers makes me laugh. I smoke more, and I love the taste of alcohol. But three years ago today, I hated that stuff. I hated the smell, it smelled almost sour to me, and foul, repulsive. But now its something I use to get away from the stupid idiots I am forced to partially interact with every day of my existence.

I guess I just fit the space that Dally left to be filled. And I guess I can't say that I didn't realize what I was going to become from the moment it started. The first time I turned down watching a sunset I realized that I wasn't the same kid I was 2 weeks before. And from then I started to work out, figuring I wasn't going to take no crap from socs. My vocabulary went down, my fight rate with Darry went up, until he decided there was no point in arguing. I cut school, I got in more fights, I went to parties, I even got into jockeying. I probably haven't even picked up 4 books and actually read them in 3 years. I can still run like a bullet from a gun though. The only thing about me that actually stayed the same. I stopped greasing my hair, and Soda pointed out after my first trip to the cooler that my eyes changed colors. He said he didn't like it. I told him to bugger off in a cruel cold uncaring voice, that I never used to use with him. And he looked hurt. And I couldn't even bring myself to care. I didn't love Soda anymore, I didn't love Darry or Two-bit. I had a stone wall around my heart. And the only one who penetrated it was Steve. Someone I used to hate with a fiery passion. Someone who hated me with the same amount. Now I would take a bullet for him, and he probably would for me. And even though he is older than me, I feel like its my duty to protect him. Just like Dally had with Johnny.

Steve still went everywhere with Soda, but when he wasn't with Soda he was at the bar with me, or hounding on some broads we didn't really even care about. And tonight, at the rumble (I probably should have mentioned this earlier, there is a rumble on this night, and its kind of an anniversary thing that has been happening ever since the one that happened three years previous. So uh yeah.) my main goal was to protect Steve. I wasn't worried about myself, I knew I could handle anything. But Steve, I was going to make sure he didn't get ruffed up to bad. Anyone got a good hold on him would deal with me. I finished my walk from bucks to my old home that I had vacated last year. Everyone was already in the living room, hair greased and neatest fighting clothing they could find on. I smiled my cruel wicked smile at the sight of two-bit downing a beer, of Steve and Soda arm wrestling, and Darry throwing on a tight muscle exposing shirt. We all still loved fights. After all of these years.

XXRUMBLE TIMEXX

I got my hands on the biggest guy I could find, and beat him senseless, then I rounded on the next victim of my fury. Once he was laying senseless on the cold earth, I checked on Steve, who seemed to be having quite the time with two large socs. I grabbed one around the waste and through him onto the ground. He looked up at me just as I nailed his face.

The Socs were running away, just like they did every year. They always brought more people, but we were always ready for their attacks.

That's when I saw the soc grab something out of his pocket. A heater, I recognized almost immediately, and it was pointed directly at Steve, who's back was turned. I ran forward, knocking into him as the shot went off, and felt a sharp pain in my chest. My life flashed before my eyes and I knew that it was all over.

Steve's POV

I felt someone ram into me and send me flying into the ground. I looked up ready to jump up and take on anyone who wanted to fight. And then I realized it was Ponyboy. I heard a crack and looked to the right, where a soc was holding a heater. I looked back at Ponyboy as he hit the ground and realization dawned on me. I half ran half fell over to his side, shaking him and begging him to wake up, though I knew it was no use. He was gone. Ponyboy Curtis was dead, because of me. I looked back at the soc who was currently getting the Shlit beat out of him by four or five guys, and then I looked around me, at the remaining of our gang, Darry, Soda, Two-bit, and even Tim and Curly Shepard. They all looked remourseful, but not nearly as bad as I felt. He was dead before he hit the ground, and it was because of me, because he wanted to save me. And Ponyboy Curtis, just like Dallas Winston had always got what he wanted.

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Okay well I personally feel like that was better than the last, minus the Steve's mini POV. But you have your opinions

By guys!

P.s. Review for me? Please.