A/N: This is the first in a series of ten one-shots, as part of The Past and Present Playlist Challenge, which was presented to me by mylobear. This is based off of the song Paradise by Coldplay. Things I don't own are bolded. I hope you all enjoy, and please review. :)
S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders, and Coldplay owns Paradise.
His hands jammed into his pockets, hair as carefully greased back as always, the teenage boy made his way to the local park. He wanted to get there, but wasn't in much of a hurry either. The park held too many memories, memories that, up until this point, had been too painful to try and remember. He'd been in a depression ever since it'd happened- he was hoping this little visit would help him.
Heaving a sigh as he crossed the grass, crunching through the already falling leaves, the boy made it to his destination. He'd begun to walk slower and slower as he neared the fountain- he'd never wanted to see that fountain again.
He knew he couldn't avoid it forever. He was here for a reason, after all. He might as well face it. There was nothing anybody could do to hurt him anymore.
Ponyboy Curtis stared into the clear waters of the fountain, studying his reflection. His hair, still blonde from when he'd had to bleach it, deeply embarrassed him, but more importantly, it was too much of a reminder of him. It had been him, after all, that had bleached his hair. It brought back too many memories- memories that Ponyboy did not want to have to relive over and over every time he looking in a mirror.
Looking back at his reflection, Pony dully made note of his greenish gray eyes that were also a sore spot for him. He also swore they were more gray than green, but everyone else agreed; they were indeed green. Pony had always hated boys with green eyes. He didn't know why, but he did. And he himself was no exception.
I shouldn't be the one standing here now, he thought. I shouldn't be here. I should be dead. I deserved to die. Johnny should be standing here. Johnny should be alive. Not me.
Slumping his shoulders dejectedly, Ponyboy spat into the fountain and trudged over to the swings. With another sad sigh, he plopped himself down and rocked himself back and forth gently, his feet not leaving the ground.
If I could fly...I could've saved Johnny. I could've saved us both and all those little kids...and heck, Dallas too. It's my fault Dallas is dead. It's my fault Johnny is dead. Why does anyone care about me anymore? Don't they know I'll just end up killing them too? I'm a threat. They shouldn't be around me anymore, or they'll end up like Johnny and Dallas. I ruin everyone's life. I should be dead. It's not fair of me not to be dead.
The sun beat down on his bleached head as he swung, ever so slowly. Back, forth. Back, forth. The chain creaked harshly; it was in dire need of oiling. The toes of his sneakers dragging through the dirt, Ponyboy simply sat. Sat as he wallowed in his sorrows, his despairs, his fears and memories he wished he'd forgotten. As he lost himself to his thoughts, a sudden noise made the boy jump. He whipped his head around, fearful it'd be Socs coming to look for him. However, there was nothing to be seen. Well, not until he noticed the dog.
It was a small, thin, dark dog. Its ribs were clearly sticking out, even from this distance. It looked neglected and even abused, as Pony noticed the large red scar on its back. The poor creature reminded him of someone, a certain person...
With a jolt, a image jumped into his mind. An image of a quiet, abused, young boy, looking like a small, dark puppy that's been kicked too many times. Ponyboy collapsed back onto his swing, lost once again to the world, but this time buried within his memories, memories of an unfortunate young greaser that didn't get his fair shot at life.
When she was just a girl
She expected the world
Pony and Johnny were sitting in the lot, watching the sun set and the stars start to come out. They were so engrossed with the sight that it was a long time before either of them spoke.
Finally, Ponyboy broke the silence. "Sure is pretty, huh, Johnny?"
"Yeah," Johnny answered slowly.
Pony turned to his friend with concern. "You alright, Johnny?"
He shrugged. "Ain't no different from normal, I guess. I just," he paused, "I wish we lived somewhere else. Were they was no Socs who liked to jump us. Or at least, I wish I didn't have to live with my folks."
Pony looked down, studying his nails. "Aw, you don't mean that, Johnny."
Johnny shuddered. "Maybe they're my own folks and all, and maybe I oughta love 'em, but it's so hard when all they do ignore me or beat me when they're drunk and don't got nothin' better to do. I'm tired of it, Pony. Tired of trying to get them to treat me like their son."
But it flew away from her reach
So she ran away in her sleep
"Sometimes, I think," Johnny gulped, "I think I might kill myself or somethin'."
"What?" Pony bolted upright, startled. "No, you can't think like that, Johnny! Why would ya ever do somethin' like that?"
Johnny shrugged. "I don't know. But sometimes, it seems like nobody cares 'bout me no more. Nobody needs me. What's the point of staying here and gettin' the tar beat out of me by these damn Socs?"
"Johnny, you stop talkin' like that right now, and you listen up. I need you. The gang needs you. Heck, even Dallas needs you. We couldn't make it without ya, bud, so don't you ever think like that again," Pony said fiercely.
Johnny didn't say anything for a while. "I guess you're right Pone," he said dejectedly, "but you know what? I'm awful tired of trying so hard."
Dreamed of para- para- paradise
Para- para- paradise
Para- para- paradise
"How come we're the ones who got all the problems? How come life's so hard for us? How come the Socs get everything so easy, and we got it so hard?"
"I don't know, Johnnycakes. All I know is, it's what we got, and we gotta live with it."
Johnny was starting to shake. "It ain't worth it to fight no more, Pony. Them Socs are always gonna win. They'll always win, even if we whip 'em in a rumble or somethin'. They always come out on top."
Pony didn't know what to say, mostly because what Johnny had said was true. It wasn't fair, the way they were treated like dirt just because they were greasers. It was even worse for Johnny, who had to deal with the Socs, and then go on home to his parents, to his dad who'd whoop him a good one just for walking in the door, and his mom who'd either ignore his existence of holler at him so loud you'd hear her all the way clear from Texas. Life wasn't fair for Johnny Cade- maybe it wasn't fair for any grease, but especially Johnny.
He was brought to by Johnny's voice. "It must be nice," he murmured softly.
"What?" Pony asked, confused.
"Livin' somewhere with no greasers or Socs, no fighting or nuthin'. Where it don't matter how much stuff you got, or what car you got, or anything. There's gotta be a place like that, right? It can't be like this most everywhere."
Pony flipped onto his stomach. "I don't think there is a place like that, Johnnycake. But if there is, I'd want to be there."
Johnny sat silently for a moment, gazing up at the stars. "Yeah," Johnny murmured quietly, "Yeah, me too."
Pony slowly returned to the present, but Johnny's words remained fresh in his head. Sometimes Johnny had scared him, the way he'd talk about stuff like that, but it made him wonder all the same. What if there was a place, with just ordinary people who all got along? A kind of paradise.
He remembered another day, when they were older, not much more than a few months before Johnny had killed Bob. The gang had coalesced in the Curtis living room, and many were griping about the daily problems they all faced as greasers.
"Man, I just love being a greaser, don't y'all? Ain't this just the high life?"
Steve gave a derisive snort after Two-Bit made this announcement. "If you call getting jumped, and then getting so drunk you can't fucking remember who you are, because you don't have anything better to do with your life, living the high life, then sure, we're fucking there."
"Fuck that man, we're living in a shit hole," Dally growled, slouching down in the old beaten up armchair. "We never get a fucking break. It's the world against us."
Soda just sighed, thumbing his DX cap that he'd since removed from his head.
"I'm serious, here. We just must be some lucky buggers, what with all how great our lives are. You know, drinking, stealing, hustling, this is the life, baby. Only one way to live- greaser style!"
"Man, will you just shut your drunken mouth? You're such a fucking idiot, I don't know why I even hang with you anymore," Steve said with disgust.
"He's gotta be right about something. At least we got our reps to look after, that's something those Socs can't get with their money."
"Dal, the only thing you got that a Soc doesn't is your own personal jail cell. I'm sure they're just dying for something like that. At them social clubs, they must all be 'Hot damn, that Dallas Winston sure has some bitchin' jail cell! I wish I had one just like it! Too bad I'm not a hood!'" Two-Bit slurred, starting to slide off the couch.
"You fuckin' bastard, I oughta smash your jaw for saying that," Dally threatened, lunging at his drunken friend.
"Will y'all just stop?" Johnny cried. Everyone else nearly jumped out of their skin, so rare was it for Johnny to talk in front of all of them. "It ain't that bad. Will you all just quit fighting?"
"Johnnycakes..." Two-Bit said, sobering up a bit, unable to finish his thought.
Dallas' eyes blazed. He wasn't easy to stop once he got started. "Damn it, kid, you want us to just lay down and let the Socs jut run over us? Huh? 'Cuz I ain't gonna do it."
Johnny's lower lip trembled and he started shaking like a leaf. Everyone knew how much he looked up to Dallas. "Naw, just...stop fighting with each other. It...it don't solve anything, so just stop. Y'all will be just as bad as them Socs, you keep doing this. We keep fighting, we won't have nothing left. We're all we got, right? No one else cares 'bout us."
Dally stopped, standing silently for a moment. Everyone in the room held their breath, as they waited for him to blow. "Yeah, guess you're right, kid," he paused, turning to face the younger greaser. The corner of his mouth turned up into what could someday aspire to be a smile. "You're an okay kid, Johnnycake, you know that?" He said, walking over to ruffle his hair, making Johnny scowl and grin at the same time.
"C'mon, Dal, that hair took me a long time!"
Johnny had always been the peacekeeper among them, Pony thought. He was always the one that was there for everyone else to lean on. Most people might argue that Darry was the rock, the anchor, of the gang, but it had really always been Johnny. Darry might be the strongest, most level-headed, and most mature of them, but Johnny was the glue that held them together. He brought out the best in all of them, even Dally.
"I bet they were cool ol' guys," he said, his eyes glowing, after Pony had read the part about them riding into sure death because they were gallant. "They remind me of Dally."
"Dally?" Pony said, startled. "Shoot, he ain't got any more manners than I do. And you saw how he treated those girls the other night. Soda's more like them Southern boys."
"Yeah...in the manners bit, and the charm, too, I guess," Johnny said slowly, "but one night I saw Dally gettin' picked up by the fuzz, and he kept real cool and calm the whole time. They was gettin' him for breakin' out the windows in the school building, and it was Two-Bit who did that. And Dally knew it. But he just took the sentence without battin' an eye or even denyin' it. That's gallant."
Pony always remembered that day in the church well- the whole fiasco would always remain ingrained in his brain, but he would always remember the words that Johnny had said to him. He'd remember what Johnny meant about being gallant, about Dallas. But the one thing that he would never forget, that would always lurk in the back of his mind, was the last time he saw Johnny.
And in the night, the stormy night she'll close her eyes.
In the night, the stormy night away she'd fly.
They'd just came from the rumble, Ponyboy and Dallas. They'd rushed to the hospital, hoping beyond hope that they weren't too late. Desperate that he'd pulled through, at least one more night...he needed to hear that they won, but more importantly, they needed to see him one last time.
After a run-in with a cop and a heated argument with the receptionist, the two friends raced down the hall, to Johnny's room. There were a couple of nurses outside, all shaking their heads sadly when the boys approached. They caught snippets of conversations.
"Such a lovely boy..."
"It's too bad, after what he did..."
Dallas almost ran right into one of the nurses, and then practically seized her by the collar. "Where is he?" he demanded, sounding violent and scared at the same time.
The nurse, her face white as a sheet, pointed to the door down the hall, one the doctor was just coming out of. He spotted the boys instantly.
"I'm sorry boys. You can see him, but he's almost gone."
That was all Dallas needed to hear before making a mad dash to the door, almost knocking Ponyboy over in his haste. He turned back and dragged the poor kid after him, before bursting, albeit quietly, into Johnny's room.
Dally swallowed, wiping the sweat off his upper lip. "Johnnycake?" he said in a hoarse voice. "Johnny?"
Johnny stirred weakly, then opened his eyes. "Hey," he managed softly.
"We won," Dally panted. "We beat the Socs. We stomped them-chased them outa our territory."
Johnny didn't even try to grin at him. "Useless...fighting's no good..." He was awful white.
Dally licked his lips nervously. "They're still writing editorials about you in the paper. For being a hero and all." He was talking too fast and too calmly. "Yeah, they're calling you a hero now and heroizin' all the greasers. We're all proud of you, buddy."
Johnny's eyes glowed. Dally was proud of him. That was all Johnny had ever wanted. "Ponyboy."
Pony barely heard him. He came closer and leaned over to hear what he was going to say.
"Stay gold, Ponyboy. Stay gold..." The pillow seemed to sink a little, and Johnny died.
Ponyboy sniffled, not realizing until now that he had started to cry. Hastily wiping at his eyes, he staggered to his feet and walked around, in somewhat of a daze. He stopped again at the fountain, peering into its depths. The water wavered, making his reflection distort like an image in a funhouse mirror.
This was the first time he had allowed himself to think of Johnny, to open up his mind, let the memories of him fill his head. He'd always been afraid, before now, to let go, but he was smarter now. He realized that, no matter what had happened, Johnny had been his best friend, and he couldn't go on living as if Johnny had never existed. He owed it to Johnny to remember him, to make others remember him for the person he was. Not as that broken boy in the hospital, or the hood that murdered a fine young boy, but as his best friend. The boy who didn't get his fair shot at life.
Pony flicked a small pebble into the fountain, watching it land with a small splash and then settle to the bottom.
And dreams of
para-para-paradise.
Para-para-paradise.
At least he got what he wanted, Pony thought, he's living in a place with no greasers, no Socs. Just people. He's living in a paradise.