Hiya everyone! I'm not completely dead to the world after all! I know it's been a long time since I posted, so for all of you out there who were reading Rise of the Ice Dragons, I'm sorry that I left you hanging. I'll start updating that story soon, but for right now I've decided that I want to write an Outsiders fic because I've been dying to do it for ages and ages now. So here it is!

This story is set a few days after Darry has hit Ponyboy and has run away with Johnny after he accidentally committed murder. In this story, Dallas and Johnny will both remain alive no matter what happens (because I heart them). It's told from Darry's third person point view. I also don't know whether or not this will be an eventual Darry/Ponyboy, because I ship that couple, but I'm not sure yet. We'll just have to see. :) I will definetly be updating this often, because I love the Outsiders and the characters and the storyline! Also, this chapter is pretty short, but I promise that they will get much longer. It starts out kinda angesty, but it will not end that way at all!

On that solid note, happy reading, everyone!

If Darrel concentrated, he could still feel the sting.

The burn wasn't just enveloping his hand; it raced across his body to curl forcefully in his chest. It hurt like fire, like Darry was being shoved in an oven and turned to ashes as his bones melted away.

It was like his own personal hell.

To be truthfully ironic, that's actually exactly what this was: Darrel's worst nightmare come to life. His brother, his baby brother, gone. Maybe for good. For the rest of forever. And it was all Darry's fault, because no, he had to get mad at Ponyboy, and yes, he had to hit him round his face so hard that he would most likely have the marks of a red handprint on his face for at least a few days. The mere image of what that must look like made Darrel blanch and feel like he was going to vomit.

Sodapop was worse, in a way, and Darry could understand that. His girlfriend had left him, pregnant with some other man's child, all alone, all by himself. His older brother was an evil demon and his younger brother was a soul damned to his cold hands.

When Darry thought about it, he inwardly confirmed that yep, Sodapop had it worse.

Though Soda had metal chains that were thrown on him by other people, Darrel had links of pure platinum binding his wrists and neck around a weight so heavy that he almost snapped his bones trying to move it. After awhile, bearing the brunt of the flaming iron holding him down was nearly manageable; at least, Darry could take a step forward without his insides splitting open for everyone to see.

But this...this brought the fighting man to his knees.

How could he go on without Ponyboy? So innocent and young and full of life and love. He was going to go somewhere. Make a better future, not end up like his brothers working so long that he feared his back might break, or forced to ring people up at some gas station down the street. Darry was afriad he had corrupted the innocence, stolen the life, pressed a fast-forward button on his youth and reaped him of any love he had left.

Darrel Shaynne Curtis sat at what was called the dining table, a newspaper that was a few days old laying in front of him. On the front page was a story on two young boys wanted for murder. They were currently on the run, and sources said that they were headed south, towards Texas. It even had pictures, but only one; of the murder weapon. A switchblade. If Darrel could have laughed, he would have. Stupid reporters thinking what Dallas Winston said was the truth.

Darry's head was in his hands, and if one looked closely they could see moisture gathering in his electric eyes. This was all his fault. His brother had run away because of him. He...he might not make it back.

And if Ponyboy Curtis didn't make it, Darry didn't think he was going to either.

"Sodapop, you gotta get up, you're gonna be late for work." Darry's voice was rough and scratchy from lack of use, but he still managed a cough or two and a few forced words. A cup of his favorite bitter black coffee and he would be good as...previously owned. Darry wasn't new.

"No." Was the simple response. Soda buried his face in one of the few pillows on the tattered old couch and was still.

"Please Sodapop. Please get up." Darry's throat also hurt, but he could get over it. Perhaps he needed that coffee sooner than he had thought.

"No. No. No."

"Get up, Soda!" Darry raised his voice a little, and reached out to grab his brother by the back of his shirt and drag him off of the cushions. "You can't mope for forever."

There was a dull thud, and a moment later Soda got up from the floor and brushed himself off. His eyebrows pulled together and he stared up at his brother. Darry stole a second from the universe to stare back and examine his brother. He had bags under his eyes, his face was pale and unhealthy-looking, and any sparkle found behind his brown orbs was crushed as the light was sucked out of them.

(Darrel didn't know it, but he looked far, far worse; his lips had become uneven in places because he had bitten them so hard they bled, and shadows of the darkest purple in the world rested below the pupils that once shone a bright blue and were now dulled to a washed-out indigo. He was much paler than his brother, to the point where if you added his sickly complexion to his eyes he looked like the walking dead. Literally.)

"SCREW WORK! I AIN'T GOIN', DARRY!" Sodapop yelled, shaking with sudden anger. His frame trembled, and he balled his hands up in fists to try and control it.

"Why not?" Darry asked calmly, refusing to start a screaming match. In the past few lonelier days, when Darrel ghosted through the halls, he would sometimes stop and stare at the peeling wallpaper and wonder who invented screaming. He thought about it for awhile, and then came to the conclusion that someone very angry had created yelling. Darry then thought to how much he yelled sometimes, and then wondered if it was because he had so much anger on the inside.

Every single time Darry did this, he would always look away from the wall in horror. Darry didn't think he was too angry (whenever he thought that, stories about Johnny's parents popped into his mind), just a little hard on everybody because he loved them. He was especially strict with Ponyboy, because he loved him the most and didn't want him to be stuck with his brothers for the rest of his life.

Stopping at that same spot on the wall and thinking had taught Darrel patience and how to use it.

Sodapop seemed taken aback when Darry didn't yell at him; usually he would have gotten a sharp whap on the back of his head and a shameful scolding.

"I-I..." Soda didn't know where to start. He hurt so bad. "I just don't wanna, Dar."

Darrel gave another long look to his brother, and this time saw the same pain behind his eyes that were resting in his own. He then knew his brother needed time. Maybe more time than Darry.

(Darrel also didn't know this, but if Ponyboy died Sodapop would recover after a few years. Darry would never recover. The reins of darkness would rear over him, and he would not resurface. Ever.)

Darry pulled away from his thoughts, and said, "Ok."

Sodapop blinked himself silly as Darrel turned away and began searching for his work boots.

"You're just gonna let me not go to work?" He asked, bewildered. Darry nodded absently and, spotting his boots in the corner, grabbed them and made a move to sit down on his chair.

Sodapop stopped him by shoving one finger in Darry's face. "Who are you and what have you done with my brother?" He demanded.

Darrel arched an eyebrow, something he had picked up from Two-Bit. "Standing right in front of you, Soda."

The blonde cracked a smile that was so rarely seen these days. "Nope. My uptight older brother would never not let me go to work. He'd shove me out the door with him. Or kick my ass. Or pull me into his truck. Or somethin' to that extent."

Darry found himself smiling in return, his grin stretching across his cheeks and waking up the muscles there. "Well, your uptight brother decided to take a vacation. For now, I'm lettin' ya get off work." He saw Soda's face light up a bit, but then he shook his head. "Only for today. Tomorrow you gotta promise to leave the house with me."

Sodapop nodded eagerly, and without any hesitation pulled his brother into a light hug.

"Thanks for givin' me a break and for lettin' me stay, Darry." He said into Darrel's shoulder. Darry hugged him back, and replied with a soft "No problem."

They parted. Soda sat back down on the couch, looking a little more alive, and Darry glanced at his watch. He proclaimed he had to go, or else he would be late.

"Bye, Darry!" Sodapop called as Darrel had put one foot outside the house.

"Bye, Sodapop! And don't forget to have the dishes done and trash taken out before I get back!"

"There's the Darry I know and love!" Soda responded cheerily.

Darry wouldn't say it, but that simple sentence did wonders to his heart. He was forgiven, in Sodapop's eyes. The fact gave him such joy that he did a handstand and then a somersault to celebrate, right there on the sidewalk.

As Darry opened the door to his truck, hopped in, and turned the key in the ignition, he felt some of the chains weighing him down lift. But only a few; Darrel had a far way to go before all of the thick heaviness melted away.