Darry wasn't eating much.
It wasn't much of a shock by this point. He rarely ate with the voracious appetite he once had, something Sodapop had only really started to take note of now that everything had fallen back into a routine.
If Soda were honest with himself, he'd acknowledge that Darry's suffering appetite was cause for concern, because it always had been.
Even so, Darry plastered that confident smile on his face and Soda found himself thinking he's okay, we're all okay.
Tonight, Sodapop was cooking dinner because Darry had fallen asleep in the armchair seconds after returning from work. When Ponyboy had gone to wake him up – he was hungry – Sodapop shook his head.
"Don't," he said quietly. "I'll make dinner tonight."
It was simple enough. Darry had pulled out some chicken to defrost that morning, so all Soda had to do was stick in the oven. Ponyboy helped him peel some potatoes and Soda cooked up some carrots.
"What color are you going to make the mashed potatoes?" Ponyboy inquired.
Sodapop chuckled. "I think I'm just going to let them be tonight." He figured there'd be a better chance of Darry eating if there were normal looking potatoes on his plate.
He was wrong.
Darry played it off like he was hungry and excited about the meal Sodapop had prepared. But as the meal went on, Soda saw that his brother was just rearranging the food on his plate so that it looked like he'd eaten more than he had.
"You should eat some more," Soda said, when Darry set his fork down.
"I'm full, Sodapop," Darry answered swiftly, and gave him a smile. "It was really good, though."
Sodapop ignored the praise, cocked his head to the side, deciding to ask the question he'd been itching to ask for over a week now. "You feelin' all right?"
Darry seemed to cringe at the question, but acted as if he hadn't heard. He just coughed into his elbow and stood up. "Thanks for cooking tonight, little buddy." He started clearing the dishes. "Ponyboy, you got homework?"
Ponyboy frowned and looked at Soda questioningly.
Soda waited for a few beats. "Dar, it's summer vacation, remember?" he said slowly, a strange sinking feeling in his gut. "Ponyboy got off school last week."
Darry seemed to process what Soda said, and then he laughed, sunny and bright. "I know. I was just kiddin' with ya, Pone. Come help with dishes."
Ponyboy shot another glance at Sodapop before obeying.
Somehow, it was painfully obvious to both of them that Darry hadn't been kidding.
He's okay, we're all okay.
xxx
Ponyboy and Darry both slept in the next morning. It was Sunday, and Darry had the day off. Ponyboy had been sleeping more and more ever since he'd gotten back from Windrixville. He was a growing teenage boy, after all, with no responsibilities.
Ponyboy roused around 11:00, and was surprised when Soda told him he'd been out-slept by Darry.
"I heard him coughing last night," Ponyboy said with a shrug, heading to the icebox for some chocolate cake. "Maybe he didn't sleep too well."
Sodapop frowned hard. "Yeah, maybe."
xxx
When there was still no sign of Darry by noon, Sodapop decided to go check on him.
He opened the door to his bedroom quietly, not wanting to wake his brother. But Darry was already awake. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, his hands bracing his knees. His eyes were closed.
"'Bout time you got up!" Sodapop said loudly, causing his brother to start. He smirked and crossed the room to open Darry's blinds.
"Good morning to you too…" Darry mumbled.
"Try 'afternoon,'" Soda corrected, turning around to face his bleary-eyed brother. "You hungry?"
Darry paled even further and said, "Uh, no." He sniffed and coughed without bothering to cover his mouth. "Think I'm sick."
Soda swallowed hard. "What's wrong?" he demanded. He started towards Darry, who held up a hand, keeping him back.
"Just a cold or somethin'," he said, raising his eyebrows at Sodapop's obvious concern. "Don't overreact. Jesus."
"Just a cold…" Soda repeated. Of course he'd figured Darry had been coming down with something with all the coughing he'd been doing, but his brother didn't usually let something as measly as a cold put him down for the count. He'd just take some cold medicine, a hot shower, and deal.
"Yeah," Darry confirmed hoarsely, and let himself fall back onto the mattress.
Soda studied him before nodding. Maybe he just needs a break. "Okay, man. Well, why don't you rest up? I'll take Pony and we'll hunt down some action. Stay out of your hair."
Darry gave him a thumbs up, so Soda brought him some soup, some meds, and some water, and then he and Ponyboy headed to the drag races.
xxx
It really was just a cold. That was the troubling part. There was no fever and Darry stopped being a snot factory after just two days.
Still, whenever Darry wasn't at work, he appeared content on staying in his bed, seemingly averse to leaving the room or even getting up to go to the bathroom.
Sometimes, when Soda stuck his head in to check on him, he'd be reading the newspaper or he'd be asleep. But more often that not, he'd just be on his back, staring up at the ceiling.
Vacant.
"What's the matter?" Soda asked him one day - flat out - taking a seat on the foot of his bed.
Darry was staring intently in the direction of a spider crawling on the ceiling, but his eyes weren't following its movement.
"Darry," Soda said again, and Darry flinched a little, looked at him blankly. "Did you hear me?"
"I'm just tired, Soda," Darry said with a sigh, acting like it was no big deal.
Yeah, or depressed, Soda's brain supplied helpfully. It wasn't the first time he had allowed himself to think it.
They had all found themselves at extreme lows during the past year – it wouldn't be natural if they hadn't. They knew how to wait it out, how to deal with it. But this seemed like something more. Something that resembled dysfunction. Something serious.
He needed to get Darry out of the house.
"Let's go out for dinner, huh?" he said with more enthusiasm than he was feeling. "How 'bout that new hotdog place? It's perfect weather out there, man."
"I know. I was out there working in it all day," Darry said, after too many seconds.
"So… that's a yes?" Soda asked hopefully.
"Yeah," Darry said, slowly pushing himself up. "Okay."
xxx
Doug's Dogs was really popping. It was a new stand set up outside of the park with picnic tables for "dining." Gourmet foot-long hotdogs for fifty cents, you couldn't really beat it.
"This is kind of lame," Two-Bit commented as they stood in line. He was watching two kids fight over a ball cap. He and Steve had come along.
It did seem like more of a family-type gathering, but Soda had heard great things about the hotdogs. He'd heard from four separate DX customers that he had to try this place.
"I bet Johnny would've liked to come here," Darry said softly, fidgeting with the ring on his finger. It was the first time he'd spoken on the walk here. "He always liked hotdogs in his mac and cheese."
Soda felt Ponyboy balk beside him. Johnny and Dallas's names were sort of taboo these days, but Darry had said Johnny's name so effortlessly that it was clear he'd forgotten that detail.
When they got up to the stand to place their order, Darry patted his pockets, looking lost. "Uh," he mumbled after a few seconds.
"What?" Soda asked, anxious.
"I-I might've left my wallet at home," Darry said, sort of breathy. "Damnit. I'll go back and get it. So stupid." His face was deep red with embarrassment.
The guys all stared at him, wondering why he was getting so worked up.
"You don't have to go back, Dar," Soda told him gently. "I have my wallet."
Darry blinked. It was as if he hadn't even considered that prospect, and when he'd let it sink in, he gave them all a sheepish grin. "Oh," he said. "Okay."
"I think somebody's going nutty," Steve joked under his breath before addressing the cashier with his order.
Soda would've laughed…
But it wasn't funny.
TBC…
