I woke up with a start. Confused, I looked around. There was nothing out of the ordinary to have jerked me out of my heavy slumber. I listened very carefully. Maybe something in the other room woke me. But all I heard was the steady, dull drone of the television, the loud blare of the radio, and the cheery, lilting voices of the gang…or what remained of it. Then I glanced at the digital clock, and knew why I awoke. Some inner voice, a special alarm clock, had shouted, telling me that this was the day, this was the one.

Leaping out of bed I stumbled into my baggy jeans. They twisted around me and I fell, banging my hipbone into the corner of a chair. I yelped.

"You alright in there, Pony?" my oldest brother Darry called.

"I'm fine," I called angrily, trying vehemently to pull the jeans over my red boxers. The gang was family, but I still had my modesty.

As soon as I had the jeans on I looked around for a T-shirt. When no shirt at all was to be found, I abandoned the idea and raced out of my room. I had wasted enough time already.

I bumped into the wall and was sent sprawling on the floor, missing Two-Bit, sitting on the floor watching his idol Mickey Mouse, by a hair. He tore his gaze from the TV to fix it on me.

"Whoa, kid," he said. "Where's the fire?"

Fire. Fire. Johnny. Fire. Fire killed Johnny. Johnny. Fire.

I shook my head and staggered to my feet. On my way to the door I tripped over the coffee table and spilled into Steve's lap. He raised an eyebrow and gripped my bare shoulders to help me up. I jerked away from him. He frowned at me.

"What's wrong with you?" he demanded.

With the exception of Darry and Soda, my brothers, no one was allowed to touch my bare skin…no one but Johnny. And he had.

For a brief second I stared at the spot on the wall just above Steve's head, remembering Johnny's big black eyes. Remembering his soft lips on my neck. Remembering his gentle, feathery touch. Remembering the look on his face as he talked to me for the last time. Stay gold…I knew what he meant. He meant I love you, Ponyboy.

Johnnycake, I love you too. I love you so much it hurts.

"Pony?" Soda asked, concerned. Darry clicked the remote, and to Two-Bit's chagrin the television blinked off.

I shook my head and backed away, stubbing my toe on the coffee table's leg. I was immortal to the pain. I wheeled around. Time was being wasted. I had to see it. I yanked the door open and gasped.

Colors—red, pink, gold, orange, amber, dark blue, inky black—seeped across the sky. The horizon was trimmed with a ginger-red. Golden tendrils of the sun's last light clung to the increasingly darkening sky. Dimly I was aware of figures closing in around me. They wanted to touch me—I could feel it. I'm glad they didn't, though. This was my sunset. Mine, and Johnny's.

Since Johnny…died…three months ago, I had looked at sunsets, hoping to find the one that I knew Johnny the angel would send me, one as a token of his love. Eventually, I figured he had not loved me. Now I knew the truth.

Tears escaped the cage under my eyelids, but I did not care to wipe them off. In the inky black color to the pale gold, I could see Johnny, his big black eyes and cap of unruly dark hair. The puppy that was kicked too many times. The boy that I loved way too much.

I brought my fingers to my lips.

Then I blew a kiss to the wind as it shifted toward the sunset.