Hi guys! I started this fanfic 4 years ago when I was an ~edgy~ depressing 14 year old, so please be aware that it might be quite triggering to people (suicide, etc). I've recently gotten back into the Outsiders n I think I'm gonna start writing this again in my free time! It'll be a LOT less depressing, and hopefully better written so we can see some actual character development this time! lmao. I'm aware that this story is fairly repetitive, and I'm hoping to fix that and really be able to expand on the characters. Anyways, stick around, if you want. Be sure to leave reviews, they're what keep motivated to write!

Love always x

Chapter one:

I like drinking alone, I like smoking alone, I like walking home alone, I like reading alone. It gives me time to think with no distractions. I like eating alone and watching tv alone. But when I see a happy family laughing and smiling, I realize that even though I like being alone, I hate the loneliness that accompanies it.

Tim's hardly ever home, neither is Curly. Angela is home most nights, not that that's a good thing; me and her ain't never got on, all we do is argue. Mum and her asshole of a boyfriend Doug are home too. He fuckin' hates me as much as I hate him, trys to be my dad and boss me around. That leaves me, Brandon Shepard. The youngest of the Shepard family.

I resemble Tim and Curly quite a bit looks-wise; brown hair styled at the front into a quiff, piercing blue eyes and a nasty smirk. Now, judging from my looks and family background you'd think I'm like Tim, the meanest hood in Tulsa or maybe even act a little like Dallas Winston. I'm not as bad as them, I'm only thirteen going on fourteen years old and I haven't even done half the things Curly's done, he's barely fifteen.

I've only been in reformatory once, for three weeks. I smashed someones car window when I was stoned, you're probably judging me for that right now; go ahead. I get into a lot of fights because of my attitude, I'm impulsive according to Tim. I don't know what that means, he left before I could ask him. Maybe I'll get round to asking him one of these days. Me and Tim haven't really had a strong relationship over the past few years, he's just been caught up with the gang I guess. Me and Curly are quite close, but he's basically Tim's little bitch which gets on my nerves a little.

So that brings me to today, as I mentioned before I enjoy my own company more than anyone else's, apart from maybe my best friend; Mitch. Angela was out as were Tim and Curly. Sat with my legs up on the broken coffee table that was being held together by some tape. Today was probably one of the worse days of my life, I'd been beat up real bad. I can't really go to the hospital, they'd put me into a boys home faster than lightening.

No one was home so I decided to just sit there and wallow in self pity, a couple of ribs were broken for sure and I didn't even want to see how bad my face was. These last few years have been rough, my dad died when I was six; I remember him. Things were alot simpler back then for all of us. We used to be a happy family, me, Tim and Curly would play football with each other and Angela would play with the nice girls down the street.

Things are different now.

I was tired, mentally and physically; I let myself fall into a deep sleep still fully dressed on the sofa. The slamming of a door is what woke me up from my slumber and man, did my ribs hurt. I could barely breathe, I gasped for air for a while before I felt someone looking at me. I turned around to see Tim, staring at me with an eyebrow raised. His hair was greased back, sloppier than usual and he wasn't wearing his usual leather jacket.

"The fuck happened to you, kid?" He asked me, taking a few steps towards me. I must have looked pretty bad for him to ask me, he's used to seeing me with black eyes and just turning a blind eye.

"Got in a fight." I replied bluntly, avoiding eye contact. I didn't really want to explain to my big brother how I got my ass kicked for being cocky.

"With who?" He asked again, I sighed and rubbed my hands over my face; flinching when I touched a cut on my forehead.

"Just some guys" I told him, holding my damaged rib cage and attempting to get up from the sofa.

"They get ya' in the ribs?" He pressed, walking closer to me. I shrugged and started to twiddle my thumbs. "Lift up your shirt" He said sternly, I shook my head and sighed. I hate loosing fights, makes me feel awful. "Bran." He warned, I gave in and took off my white shirt which was now covered in blood. He studied my chest are for a few seconds before poking at one of my ribs. I flinched in pain and took a small step away from him.

"That hurt?" He asked, looking me dead in the eye. He has a few scars on his face alongside the one he got from when he was cut up with a smashed Pepsi bottle that I never noticed.

"Yeah" I replied coolly, reaching down to get my shirt off the floor, I winced in pain as I bent down.

"Busted a couple of ya' ribs" He concluded, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting up; out of habit I held my hand out for one. He chuckled and put his pack back into his jean pocket. "Too young to be smokin, kid" He teased, blowing smoke in my face.

"Aw come on, Tim. You've been smokin' since you weren't a day over eleven," I grinned at him, he smirked before ruffling my hair and walking into the kitchen. I sighed and slowly walked up to mine and Curly's shared bedroom. There's another thing I hate, sharing a bedroom with possibly the messiest person in history. He just throws his shirts on the floor without a single thought. I limped into my bedroom and threw myself on my bed, slowly sliding off my converses and stretching out for a good nights sleep.

But of course, my sleep was interrupted before it could even begin as Curly came bouncing in, stinking of weed and alcohol. "Brand-onn-n" he slurred before getting into my bed with me. He had his own bed on the opposite side of the room, just to be clear.

"Curly, move," I told him, being forced to move over in the bed. He moaned a drunken noise and started to cuddle into my arm like a baby. "You're so fuckin' weird, man" I whispered trying to push him off me still. I was exhausted so I didn't exactly have the energy or patience to deal with his drunk ass. He was passed out so I just decided to give in and get some well needed sleep.

I was woken up in the morning to a door slamming somewhere downstairs, Curly was still holding onto my arm like a little kid. I cringed and pushed him off the bed, his face was priceless. I laughed and got some clothes out of my closet. "That wasn't very nice, Brandy" He mocked, using the nickname that was used for me as a kid.

"Shut the fuck up, Charles" I fired back, smirking at my witty comeback.

"Watch it, kid." He warned "What happened to you, anyway?" He asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and lying back on my bed. Why can't he go on his own fucking bed? "Got in a fight" I replied to him, running my hand through my hair. "With who?," he prodded, raising an eyebrow at me. "Just some guys from town" I answered simply asif it was nothing.

"Busted a'couple of ribs, no biggy," I said before walking into the bathroom to freshen up. I locked the door behind me and looked in the mirror I cringed when I saw a black eye, a busted lip and multiple cuts and bruises around my face. My ribs hurt like a bitch and it hurt to even breathe which was getting annoying. I showered quickly and dressed, I don't like spending too much time in the shower. I think too much. I greased my hair back and brushed my teeth, I then walked out of the bathroom. I could hear Angela and Tim having it out downstairs as usual. I slowly made my way downstairs to see Angela red in the face from shouting and Tim looking at her blankly.

"Curly was sat on the sofa chuckling to himself about the whole situation, I walked over to him and joined him on the couch. "What're they arguin' bout' now?" I asked, "Tim told her that she looked like a whore" He replied, still laughing. I couldn't help but laugh at it, Angela did dress like one. She feeds of attention and she'll do anything to get it. Angela eventually stormed out of the house and Tim gave a small chuckle. Hell, this is the first time we've all been here in ages, well almost all here before Angela had a fit.

"Curly, Mark wants back up tonight with this shit he's got planned out. I don't know what it is but you better get your ass there for nine." He demanded, Curly nodded like a lost puppy begging for food as always. I've always wanted to get involved with Tim's gang but every time he says no, I don't understand it. I looked at him, doing my best puppy dog eyes. He raised an eyebrow at me before chuckling again. "No" He said bluntly before walking out of the house, Curly followed him shortly after.

This pissed me off, It's like he doesn't think I can defend myself! I'll show him, I thought to myself. If he won't let me tag along then I won't, he never said I couldn't coincidentally be there, did he?

Once again I was left to my own company. I walked into the kitchen to search for some food, as usual there was nothing in; not even fucking bread. The fridge was completely bare apart from a gone off jar of Mayonnaise, the cupboards weren't much better; only having some tinned sardines and an empty beer bottle in. I sighed and decided to go find food someplace else. I was half way to the door when someone knocked on it. I opened it to be met with another Greaser. He looked older than Tim, not tougher though.

"D'ya know where Tim Shepard is?," The man asked, he towered over me; he must have been over six foot. I looked up at him and raised an eyebrow "Nah," I replied bluntly, I wasn't in the mood for some guy to be questioning me. "You sure, little kiddie?" He mocked, I glared at him and ran my hand through my hair.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Now fuck off," I hissed, he raised his eyebrows at me and smirked. "You're a cocky little fucker, ain't ya." I could hear the anger in his voice, the last thing I need is to get beat on again. I need to learn when to shut my mouth, man. I didn't reply and continued to stare at him, doing my best un readable expression that I'd learnt from Tim.

"Well, when ya' see him; tell him I'll be lookin' for him," He told me coolly, swiftly walking down the path. I waited a few minutes to make sure he was gone before walking down the path myself. I wonder what Tim's got himself into this time, he ain't gonna be happy when I tell him later though. My stomach wouldn't stop growling, I was starving. I didn't have dinner yesterday either, I'll steal food if I have to. Here I am, walking around the Tulsa alone on a Sunday afternoon. Tim would call me an idiot for walking on my lonesome, well maybe if we had food I wouldn't have to.

"Brandon?," A voice from behind me called, I couldn't quite pin point who the voice belonged to though. I turned on my heel to see Storm and Mitchell jogging up to me. Storm is my buddy, we're not great friends but we look out for eachother. He has bright blonde hair and blue eyes, everyone says he's Dallas Winstons long lost brother; maybe he is. "Hey" I greeted them, Mitchell got me in a headlock and ruffled my hair aggressively. Mitchell is a year older than me and you can really tell too. He is quite a bit taller than me, he also shaves so he looks way older.

"Mitch, quit it" I laughed attempting to get out of his grasp. He finally let me go and took a step back; "Whatcha doin' out here by your lonesome?," he raised an eyebrow at me. Storm just stood there with a blank expression on his face, looking directly at me. He's taller than me too, but shorter than Mitch. "Was gonna get food" I explained, running my hand through my greased brown hair; the grease was wearing off already.

"Let's go then" Storm spoke up for the first time, taking lead in walking down to the shop. Mitch gave me a light shove and caught up with Storm. In the store we quickly drank one bottle of Pepsi and ate a sandwich each. We walked around town for a while, shouting abuse at the Socs and just causing general trouble. It was around 7pm when we went home./p

"I came home to find Curly and Tim discussing something on the sofa, I don't even want to know what they're talking about. Then I remembered about the guy who I had the encounter with today. "Hey, uh Tim?," I asked; he looked up from his conversation and looked at me questionably.

"There was a guy lookin' for you earlier, seemed pretty pissed" His face immediately had a look of anger on it.

"He do anythin' to ya?," He asked, looking surprisingly worried. "Nah, just said he'd be lookin' for ya" I explained, walking up the stairs to end the conversation. I didn't need his bullshit about caring about me when he clearly doesn't. I figured i'd wait for them to leave to go and help Mark, then follow them. I need a bit of action tonight anyways plus I was pretty curious as to what was going to happen.

I just gotta make sure Tim don't see me, or else I'm done for.