Something different. This is kind of all over the place, sorry for that.

Thanks to Hozier for writing "Work Song", which inspired the title. :)

Enjoy, and always, review if you wish.

A MAN WHO WORKS

Darry's always been a working man.

Tearing apart roofs and putting them back together was no easy task for an ordinary man, but for Darry, it was the easiest thing in the world. Raising two younger brothers was the toughest for sure, and I made sure that when Darry got home, Pony and I were on our best behavior.

He'd come home with bruises, bumps, even gauze wrapped around his head. He'd come home with a concussion once, and I about shit my pants thinking we were gonna be going to a boy's home if I moved anything around Darry. He took the beatings for us, took the hardships we were dealt at such a young age and put it into his work.

So it was odd to have him come home one day and look so defeated.

"Soda," he'd said, his green eyes – so much like my mother's – dark with something I couldn't quite pick up. "Get Pony and come sit on the couch."

I did as he asked without any question. I went into our baby brother's room, where he was standing up in his crib, his wide green eyes hitting me dead in the face with happiness at seeing me coming near. I heaved him onto my hip and walked out into the living room, setting him down in his play place and settling down on the couch only a few feet away so he could still see me.

Probably the only time I'd done something that quick, but I'm glad I did.

Darry wanted to cry. I could tell just by looking at him – his eyes were tired, dark purple hanging on strings beneath them. I knew something was off, and I'm sure Pony, even at that young age, knew something was wrong, but neither of us had the gut to speak.

"Something's happened," Darry finally said, but the silence still rang through the house, as if he hadn't spoken at all.

Within five months short of my sixteenth birthday, Darry was bedridden in every sense of the word.

I hated going into his room because I was, quite frankly, disgusted in what I saw. My older brother had done a total 360 turn, from moderately healthy to having a disease rip his entire body to shreds.

Doctors had been telling us for months now to prepare for the end. Told Darry he shouldn't be working at his state.

Darry gave them the finger and worked up until he wasn't able to lift Pony in his arms, let alone a piece of wood.

Not having a stable income killed him more than the disease, I think.

He lived up until Pony's sixth birthday.

That's the only gift Pony had wanted. He wanted Darry to see him turn six.

So at eleven o'clock, even though it was horrible of me to have my then five-year-old brother up that late, we went into Darry's room and camped out. I'd gotten a cake from the store and put six candles on top at 11:55.

We sang happy birthday to Pony at 11:58.

By 12:01, Darry's lifeline went straight.