A/N: IMPORTANT: This may sound slightly high brow at the beginning, but has a very stupid end. You have been warned. I got this story idea from something I read on the site FML.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders.

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He'd never felt lower. Everything, from street lights to schoolchildren, reminded him of Ponyboy. And thoughts of Ponyboy reminded him of happy memories, times when they would laugh, tell each other how their day went… He even missed Pony's sleeptalking.

Stuff like that reminded him of how times weren't like that now. They didn't laugh together anymore, because Pony was gone. He had vanished along with Johnny, and the uncertainties now plaguing Soda's mind were consuming him. Was he hungry? He hadn't exactly run with anything, unless Johnny had happened to have some cash on him. When you considered the fact that he was a greaser, that was pretty unlikely.

It had never been like this before. Not this… this gut wrenching sadness. He couldn't help but let his mind jump to the worst case scenario. This wasn't supposed to happen to Pony! He was the one that was supposed to get out of here, but that destiny had been cut short.

His thoughts were drifting to dangerous territory again. Soda didn't want to think of Pony in a car crash, or cold on the streets, or alone and hungry, wondering why his brothers hadn't found him. Soda couldn't help but think it was his fault he hadn't found any hint whatsoever of Pony's location. He'd tried bullying Dallas into telling him, but you didn't normally expect to bully Dally into anything and succeed. All he'd managed to do was extract a promise of the delivery of one measly letter and some money. He wasn't sure if Dally would stick to his word; he didn't exactly understand the brothers' relationship.

So he decided to go and see the one person who could make him feel even close to normal. Sandy's house wasn't far, which was convenient since Darry had taken the truck to work and the members of the gang who had wheels were probably off getting hammered. Soda walked the short distance quickly, wanting to at least get his heart rate up a little and stop himself feeling so damn lousy.

He didn't bother knocking at the screen door; Sandy's family knew him by now and besides, they were probably off at work, or gambling. Both of Sandy's parents had problems gambling, and it meant more debt than they should have.

Sure enough, nobody was home but Sandy, sitting on her couch and staring at the TV. She didn't leap up to greet him as she was wont to do, and as Soda came closer, his confusion grew. There was nothing on the television screen.

"Hi," he said, and his voice sounded much too loud in the quiet room. Sandy's head jerked up, but she didn't beam at him. Her mouth remained a perfectly neutral, perfectly straight line.

"Hi," she said roughly. She stood up, and even her body language more closely resembled how she was around Darry than around Soda. Stiff; respectful, but definitely stiff. Soda ignored this, thinking maybe he was reading too deeply into everything since his conversation with Dally. Maybe he was becoming paranoid.

But no, there definitely was something wrong with this picture. Sandy's gorgeous blue eyes weren't meeting his, but were staring resolutely at a spot just above his shoulder. Her hair fell unbrushed, and by the looks of her hands she had spent the morning biting her nails. "Is something wrong?" asked Soda as he felt panic begin to set in. Maybe he was being paranoid, but he couldn't handle it if Sandy's mother died and she needed a shoulder to cry on. He had enough problems of his own.

She now turned fully to face the window. "Soda," she began, her voice still hard, "I can't keep doing this."

He was paranoid he was paranoid he was paranoid he was paranoid. Soda refused to believe what his instincts were screaming at him: that Sandy had had enough, that she was moving on. He refused to believe she was dumping him. "Doing what?" he asked, and he was mortified to hear his voice come out a frightened squeak.

Sandy approached him slowly, her eyes slowly coming up to meet his. "I'm sorry," she muttered, "but I need a guy who can be more like Edward."

Oh God, she was dumping him! Why had he not seen it coming? Was he too wrapped up in his own problems to pay attention to Sandy? After all, that was why Sylvia kept cheating on Dally. But thinking of himself as being like Dally when it came to relationships made him physically ill. He didn't want to deal with this! "Who… who's Edward?" Soda managed to say, trying to fight the lump in his throat he had been battling for long before he came here. Lord, he'd just wanted some comfort!

Without missing a beat, Sandy pulled out her copy of Twilight.

Wordlessly, Soda sat down heavily on the couch. This was a thousand times worse than Dally and Sylvia's relationship. He'd just been dumped for a hundred year old pedophilic fictional vampire.

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A/N: I saw this posted on FML and decided to fanfic it. Hope you liked! Please drop me a review, but don't flame me because you were too stupid to read the first A/N.

Additional disclaimer: put here because it'd spoil the ending. I don't own Twilight. I do not wish I did. I would be embarrassed if I had written that. And before you get stuck into me criticizing before I try it: I've read the whole series, I have my opinion, you have yours.