A/N: I recently read a fanfiction where Sodapop has asthma, but how would life be altered if Ponyboy had asthma? This will mostly be in Curtis brother POV's, but tell me when you want someone else. I'll try to mix it up. Also, you obviously can't smoke with asthma… so I'm thinking of having him use chew instead (Red Man brand.) Tell me what you think, suggestions are appreciated. Sorry for the long author's note. Also sorry for the shortness, it's leading into more.

One more thing, this will probably be all pre-book, because obviously the fire can't happen. If you want the book altered though, I can try, but probably not.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Outsiders of benefit from anything that S.E. Hinton writes besides the enjoyment of reading it.

Sodapop's POV

I remember when Ponyboy was diagnosed. We all thought he just had a cold. A sines infection had been going around school, so we figured that was what happened.

He was curled up on the couch next to mom. Poor kid was only six. We knew something was wrong when he started to cough, but was unable to catch his breathe.

Mom rushed him into the hospital. We found out hours late that he had asthma. He was only in first grade, he had already discovered a love of running. He small figure made him fast. He gave it all up.

Nobody in the gang could smoke around him. Dallas made that mistake when he first came.

Flashback:

Dallas had just moved here. He took Johnny to a movie, but Johnny wanted Ponyboy to come. So, Dallas let the newly eight year old come.

In the middle of the movie, Dallas carelessly lit up an unfiltered Camels. Ponyboy, who was right next to him, breathed in the smoke. His air was immediately cut off, choking coughs expelling from his lips. Dallas's eyes widened, watching the small child gasp for air.

Johnny, who carried an inhaler, rushed into action that he had watch Soda do before. He got Ponyboy his inhaler, allowing his air to come back. Ponyboy explained to Dallas once his air was back that he was asthmatic.

The gang learned after that to not smoke around him.

When, or if, I smoked I always had to take a shower before sleeping with him. He has his fair share of instances, but he never complained. To him, there were many worse things than being unalloyed to run track. Instead, he made do. He didn't and couldn't run track, but to keep up with the gang's chain-smoking, he picked up some chew. Dad didn't approve, but said nothing. I personally didn't see how it was wore then smoking, but Dad didn't smoke.

To me, the earthy smell of tobacco and his shampoo would always smell like home, many nights spent with my arm wrapped around his frail figure.