I do not own The Outsiders or any of its characters. All rights go to the amazing S.E Hinton. Nor do I own the song What Hurts The Most by Rascal Flatts.

You would flirt with the girls at lunch who truly believed you had captivated their hearts, you would wink, and they would giggle. I never had friends, so I observed you. I thought about what it would be like to gather attention like you did, from boys though of course. Some days the cheerleader girls would come over, but only when no jocks were around. Heaven forbid they were caught talking with a greaser.

You were the first greaser I ever saw cry, other than myself of course. It was after your parent's death. I was walking by the park and you sat there, Steve Randle by your side with a hand on your shoulder, head bowed in remorse. I could see he was trying to be comforting, whispering cliché words of consolation, but everybody knew he had the emotional capability of a brick. He made you laugh with his attempts though, and for that, I was grateful.

I went to the DX sometimes. Snack stops mostly. I didn't have a car, but still felt like I should go there occasionally for no other reason than because I could. You would be in there, working the cash register for the majority of the time, and I could tell you wanted nothing more than to be able to understand cars as well as Steve could, the same way he wished he could charm girls as well as you could.

You changed when you started dating that middle class girl Sandy. She brightened you even more than previously, every girl was jealous. But they all knew of her real side. Everybody was just all too excited once it ended months later, after she got knocked up by that gang banger from down the river. People felt relieved, boys and girls alike, that you had finally had something go wrong in your life. They never valued parents like you Curtis boys did.

You didn't go to work the first two days when your brother and his friend were missing. Ponyboy was it? But even so, when you did return, you weren't really there. Anyone with average eyesight could see the bags under your eyes, the weight you had lost on your arms.

Even when your brother had returned, you still had this guarded reserve around you all time. Was it because of that Cade boy being in hospital? I heard the table next to me gossiping how it was 'his own damn fault.' But they also said it was his fault that Bob had died so I ignored them.

I saw you and your gang of friends make your way to the rumble. I had been kicked outside when you all ran past; none of you even noticed me, much like the rest of society. You all seemed cheerful, jovial. I never understood the ways boys valued fighting, becoming the alpha of one another. Even with a dying friend in the hospital you wouldn't dampen your spirits.

Dallas Winston was the talk of the school. It angered me beyond rational thoughts too, because no one talked about Johnny Cade. He was as invisible as he was before death.

I watched from the bottom of the bleachers as your youngest brother came back to school. He was walking into the school yard, not even aware of the fact Steve and that joker Keith Mathews were flanking him. Had they not been there though, blood would have been drawn that day.

I went back into your work one day, you still didn't recognise me. I was considered a regular too. But that's okay, I didn't expect any more.

Everybody knew about his newly devolved habit. It was the talk of the school, hell, the whole town. A-grade student Ponyboy Curtis was just like every other greaser. A drugged up nobody.

He got worse when you got sent off to Vietnam. I watched him. You weren't there and I felt like I was doing a service, watching over him, although not actually doing anything. He went from the light stuff to heavy drugs within weeks. He even brought down Curly Shepard and Tom Davies. Tim Shepard had spat with your older brother Darry, who oddly enough, new nothing about it. Why would you not tell him before you left?

I saw Darry crying through your front window one day. You left your whole family to fend for themselves. I know it wasn't your decision, but I actually felt angry at you for it none the less. Darry was left with double bills, a brother with a drug problem and social security checks more frequently with the new governmental standards.

You were back within four months. Four months too long. Ponyboy was classified an addict by definition. He quit for you though, for your sake. He underwent weeks of nervous fidgeting. I saw how he was in maths class, breaking out in a sweat as if it were a summers day. He even hit a girl one day. But neither of you worried too much about the suspension. He was away from harm at home anyway.

You nearly lost Steve that year. You just kept pushing and pushing until he finally snapped. Well, snapped your nose that is.

You know what the ironic thing is? Ponyboy Curtis did die that year. Newly driven car too. You and Darry spent the last couple of years saving up for it. A nice truck it was. Red. His favourite colour and I honestly thought you were jumping for more joy than he was when you presented it to him. He didn't even get the chance to sit in it before you were trying to show how well the steering wheel was. 'The control is amazing' you had said. That right there was the irony of the situation.

Ponyboy Curtis, sixteen, lost control on the ice roads. Collision with oncoming vehicle. Died on impact.

People always talked about how you had a light in your eyes like no other. I saw it sometimes, but then again, I saw it go more than others to. When Ponyboy Curtis left the earth, so did the light in your eyes.

Nobody ever saw Keith Mathews again after that day. He found his breaking point. Rumours were he also found his baby mumma. A tall blond who loved his antics.

Darry and you just sat numbly for two whole days, neither ate, didn't even need to go to the toilet. It was quarter past seven the next day when you let out the first sob. It wasn't a lone tear, many followed. Darry held you tight. While he would never sob, he let out a heavy stream of tears.

You married a beautiful woman, you and Darry both. While your children had each other as cousins, you would always have each other as brothers. Ponyboy was not one of the forgotten souls; he was a legend among your heart, and mine.

To dear Sodapop Curtis, my name is Aubrey Grand, and I apologise for intruding in on your life. I was simply observing.

I'm not afraid to cry every once in a while even though

Goin' on with you gone still upsets me

There are days every now and again I pretend I'm okay

But that's not what gets me

What hurts the most

Was being so close

And havin' so much to say

And watchin' you walk away

And never knowin'

What could've been

And not seein' that lovin' you

Is what I was tryin' to do.

-Rascal Flatts. What Hurts The Most.

Review all your opionins! They would be greatly appreciated.

Oh and the song is aimed to be between Soda and Pony. Not Aubrey.