I jerk awake and look at the clock. Almost midnight. Soda'll be home soon. I get up and stretch, my back popping, and decide to go check on Ponyboy. He went up to his room a few hours ago to work on his theme for school, but with the way he gets distracted, he's probably either reading a book or daydreaming. I head up the stairs and push open his door. Well, he's not reading.

He's sitting at his desk, hunched over, his head lying on his arms, asleep. I crack a grin, going over, and see that his arms are sprawled out over an open notebook - his school theme, I realize. He's gotten quite a few pages written, and I wonder what he's writing about and how long it'll be. Just so long as it's not late getting turned in.

I lift Pony's head to slip the notebook out from under it, and he doesn't even stir. I toss the notebook, still open, down and pull Pony away from the desk before lifting him up and setting him in bed. He mutters something, shifting position as I pull the covers up over him, and I turn back to his desk. I'm about to flip his notebook shut when my name catches my eye.

Darry love me? I thought of those hard, pale eyes. Soda was wrong for once, I thought. Darry doesn't love anyone or anything, except maybe Soda. What in the world…? What is this? I can't help it - I keep reading. I didn't hardly think of him as being human. I don't care, I lied to myself, I don't care about him either. Soda's enough, and I'd have him until I got out of school. I don't care about Darry. But I was still lying and I knew it. I lie to myself all the time. But I never believe me.

It stops there, and I stare at the page. He thought - thinks? - I don't care... But - how can he think that? How… I look over at Ponyboy, sleeping peacefully. I'm normally an advocate of him getting a full night of sleep so he can concentrate in school, but this…I can't just let this go. I shake his shoulder slightly, and he groans, rolling onto his side, burying part of his face in the pillow. "Wake up, Pony."

Finally, the one eye that's visible flicks open. "Dar?"

I hold up the notebook. "What's this?"

His eyes flit over to it drowsily. "Mah pap'r," he mumbles, his eyelid sliding shut, and I know I should let him sleep, but…

"Hey," I say softly, and he manages to open his eye again, looking up at me tiredly. I didn't know you could pull off the puppy eyes with only one eye, but my little brother manages it. Please let me sleep, his expression pleads silently. I do my best to ignore it, looking back at the notebook in my hand as I sit on the edge of the bed. "What's this mean? 'Soda was wrong…Darry didn't care about anyone or anything…'" I look at him, silently pleading with him to tell me what this is about. "You thought…" I glance at the notebook again before looking back at him. "You thought I didn't care about you?"

His brow furrows in slight confusion for a second, then he sits up, slumped against the headboard, the side of his face that's been pressed against the pillow all red. But he seems more awake, if only slightly.

"Well?" I prompt him, and he exhales, running a hand over his face tiredly.

"You just…you didn't really show that you cared."

I open my mouth to protest - I mean, I've given up everything for him and Soda - but he cuts me off. "I get it now. I do. I just didn't realize it before. I mean…you yelled at me all the time. I always felt like I wasn't good enough."

I don't know what to say. I hadn't known it bothered him so much. "Ponyboy…"

"It's okay, Darry. Like I said, I get it now. I just didn't see it before."

I stare at him. He'd really thought I didn't care. "Pony - I'm so sorry…"

"It's okay," he repeats, a slight grin on his face, trying to make me believe it.

No, it's not okay. I feel awful. I lean over and wrap my arms around him, pulling him against me. I guess he's still pretty tired, because he immediately snuggles against me, tucking his head under my chin and letting out a small, satisfied sigh, as if to say, 'Finally - I can sleep.'

I set my chin on top of his head and run my hand up and down his back absently. He'd thought for how long that I didn't care about him… I'd just wanted him to turn out better than me, to make something of himself. I hadn't meant to come off as uncaring. I shut my eyes and hold him a little tighter. "I love you, Ponyboy."

But he's already asleep.

XXX

"Pony, dinner's ready." He doesn't respond, so I open the door and poke my head in. He's been holed up here all day, working on that assignment for school - and on a Saturday, too. Now I see him in the same position he was in a few days ago: sitting at his desk, slouched over with his head in his arms, fast asleep. I go over, trying to decide if I should wake him up or let him rest. I glance down at his notebook, now almost half-full, and catch a few lines.

Darry did care about me, maybe as much as he cared about Soda, and because he cared he was trying too hard to make something of me. When he yelled, "Pony, where have you been all this time?" he meant, "Pony, you've scared me to death. Please be careful, because I couldn't stand it if anything happened to you."

I look down at Ponyboy's sleeping figure and smile, running my fingers through his over-greased, bleach-blond hair. "Finally figured it out, huh, kid?"

Yeah, it's just fluff. So sue me.