A/N: Okay, so, having never seen the movies, I looked up The Outsiders on YouTube. I watched a couple music videos, and when I saw Soda (please believe me, I have no intentions of sounding like a rabid fan girl), I thought, "Oh, my god, he's SO HOT. I think I'm in love with him!" Haha, I'm not kidding, either. So, I had a rather unprovoked impulse (cough, cough) to write a Soda fic! And because my favorite character died (damn it) and Two-Bit's my second favorite character anyway, he also stars in it. Also, I wanted to break them a bit out of their shells. Anyway, to bring this freakishly long author's note to a close, remember, criticism and reviews are always welcome!
As Soda stood there in the bathroom, holding a handful of painkillers, he was wishing he could be a bit more like tough, strong Dallas Winston. He was trembling something awful, causing the pills cupped in his hand to rattle together and make the most irritating sound. Soda was so jumpy right then, as if he was about to get caught, even though he knew he wouldn't. Darry was at work, and Pony and the rest of the gang were at school.
Soda squeezed his eyes shut. No, not the rest of the gang was at school. Two of them were dead now, weren't they? And so were Mom and Dad. Both dead in a car crash and letting all their responsibilities fall on the shoulders of their two eldest sons. Letting them both completely give up on whatever dreams they might have had, if only to make sure that Ponyboy got his shot in life.
And Sandy…she was supposed to be at school, too, wasn't she? But she was in Florida with her grandmother, so freshly pregnant she couldn't even be showing the slightest bit yet. Soda felt his heart twist at that thought. He remembered why he'd ever liked Sandy. Her beautiful, warm blue eyes had drawn him in from the start. Her sweet, loving personality and strong compassion had made him fall for her. Soda wouldn't have minded so much that she was pregnant…it just killed him inside knowing that it wasn't his kid she was pregnant with.
She had gone and run around on him like Sylvia always used to do to Dally. It was strange, almost wrong to compare Sandy to Sylvia, but the truth was that they were perfectly alike in that fashion. Or maybe they weren't. Maybe Sandy didn't go around with other guys just for the sake of it like Sylvia did. Maybe she had actually fallen for another guy and couldn't find the heart to tell Soda. She had always been so passive.
If he thought about Sandy for another second, he was certain he would scream. Desperately, he pushed her gorgeous blue eyes from his mind, along with Johnny's scared black ones and Dally's tough, cold ones, and Mom's strict but loving dark brown ones and Dad's proud and easygoing blue-green ones. He couldn't think about them, any of them.
The others always told him how loving he was…so he was wishing he was a bit more like Dallas. With this feeling tearing him up inside, he knew he'd rather love too little than love too much. He just knew it.
Suddenly, he thought of Ponyboy. The kid looked up to him as much as Johnny did Dally. Ponyboy loved his laidback, happy-go-lucky style. Soda didn't want to hurt Pony anymore than he'd already been hurt. God, the kid was so close to breaking that everyone was worrying their heads off about him. But with all that was happening, the adult decisions that had been hurled at him when he was nothing more than a sixteen-year-old kid…
"G'mornin', 'Pop." The voice, slurred with sleepiness, startled Soda so badly that he jumped. The pills leapt from his hands like the colorful balls in a toy vacuum, and they scattered across the floor.
Two-Bit was the one standing in the doorway. He couldn't have just come in the door because Soda hadn't heard him, and Two-Bit always liked to make his entrance known. Glory, he must've camped out on their couch and decided to skip school for the day.
Two-Bit stood there for a long moment, rubbing his eyes sleepily and staring down at the little white things all over the linoleum with a confused incomprehension. Slowly, though, the light reached his eyes, and his hand stopped rubbing his eye and froze in place. "What the hell?" Now fully awake, he didn't even try to hide the shock in his voice as his eyes shot from the pills to Soda's pale, sweaty face.
"Glory, Soda, tell me you weren't."
Soda couldn't. So he didn't say a thing. Seeming to understand this, Two-Bit suddenly turned away as if needing a moment to calm down, running a hand through his greasy hair. After a second, he turned back towards Soda, a looked of bewilderment on his face. No, not bewilderment, Soda realized. Two-Bit was surprised as hell, but he wasn't confused.
"Toobs," Soda whispered shakily. Then, suddenly, he found himself sitting on the floor, his back pressed against the cabinets and his hands pressed to his face. "Oh, glory, Two-Bit, I'm so sorry…I…I don't know what got the best of me-"
"Don't tell me that," Two-Bit said, crouching down beside Soda. "You know exactly what it was." He was quiet a moment, then continued, "Buddy, you know I'm here for you, right? If you need someone to talk to, I won't judge you for better or worse, no matter what you say. You know me, I'm too lazy to judge anyone who's not a Soc. You know that, right?"
As usual, Two-Bit was finding a way to say the same thing a hundred different ways. Not being in the mood for it, Soda groaned, "Yes, I know it. I do, I really do."
Two-Bit uncharacteristically let a moment of silence fall between the two of them. "Then tell me," he said quietly, and stayed silent.
Glory, Two-Bit should understand that no person considering suicide could just come out and say what was wrong with them. Soda looked up at Two-Bit, and whatever he'd been about to say died on his lips. The look Two-Bit was giving him scared him. It was…it was a scared look.
Keith Mathews was not an easily scared boy. Feeling the guilt sink into his gut, Soda just found the words spewing from him. "It's just…so much has happened this past year…too much! I mean, Mom and Dad died, and me and Darry both dropped out of school just to support Pony, and then Johnny got jumped and hurt so bad, and then Johnny killed the Soc and he and Pony had to run away. Then Johnny died, and then Dally. And…and then Sandy just…just did that! And now Pony's scaring me something awful because I'm afraid he's gonna go off and do something stupid…and, oh, glory…glory…glory…!"
Surprisingly, Two-Bit stayed crouched there, listening patiently to Soda's rant. "It's like you can't love anything in this crazy damn world! I wish I was like Dally, he didn't love anything! I mean, there used to be seven of us, Toobs, lucky seven, and Dally was the only one of us who was really smart enough not to be reaching out and making that number bigger. Glory, there used to be seven of us, and now there's only five! And we're all holed up something awful, all of us scared to really love anything else right now…"
Soda's voice trailed off, and suddenly his eyes widened. "Glory, Two-Bit, I'm sorry. You got it just as bad as me. I shouldn't be complaining."
Two-Bit waved this off. "No, kid, I don't. I ain't an orphan, and I ain't never had my heart broke. I don't have it as bad as you. None of us do right now, I don't think, except maybe Darry, 'cause Steve still has Evie, and Ponyboy still has you two looking after him at every turn."
Soda swallowed thickly, thinking about it. He didn't like knowing he was worse off than the others. It made him feel pretty low, because none of them were that well off in the first place. "I just…," Soda murmured, trying to find the right words. "I just feel like we're…I feel like we're five little hearts, you dig? All shaking like a Halloween skeleton because we're so scared to love right now. Too scared to get any bigger."
"Five little hearts, huh," Two-Bit murmured. There was a long moment of silence as those three words sank in. Two-Bit, still being a junior at eighteen and a half, obviously wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but he had the patience and understanding of a philosopher. It was kind of funny, seeing those two qualities in a fight-loving, beer-drinking, occasionally rabid-eyed jokester who stole things for the sake of stealing them. Anyone who didn't know him as well as the gang would call Soda a lunatic if he even used Two-Bit and philosopher in the same sentence.
Two-Bit sighed heavily, finally allowing himself to sit. He sank down more than he sat down, now shoulder-to-shoulder with Soda. "You know, Soda, I can't really stop you if you really got your mind set on offing yourself. I can try, but the most I'd be able to do would be slap you silly and tattle on you, and that don't really help in a situation like this." He sighed again, raising a cigarette to his lips then offering one to Soda. Soda rarely smoked, but he grabbed the cancer stick like he was on the Titanic and it was the last emergency boat leaving.
The eighteen-year-old lit his cigarette, then lit Soda's. For a long moment, the two sat in silence. Finally, Two-Bit continued, "Don't try and make me out to be a douche bag who doesn't care and thinks you're stupid. You're probably hurting worse than even Pony, I bet, 'cause you got ditched by the broad you love." He shook his head slightly, as if thinking unpleasant things of Sandy. "All I really guess I can do is say this: If you can't keep living for yourself, then do it for us. Do it for the guys, and your brothers." He took a long drag off his cigarette, then turned to look at Soda.
"After all, in my opinion, five little hearts is better than four little hearts." Another drag. "Four broken hearts, really."
Soda was startled by these words, and he showed it. He turned quickly to face Two-Bit, so quickly that he almost whacked his head on the toilet. Two-Bit only sat there, mouth covered as he held the cigarette to his lips, watching Soda steadily. Soda found himself unable to do anything but stare back.
Suddenly, Soda realized just how much he cared about Two-Bit, how much Two-Bit meant to the gang. Two-Bit understood things well, but Soda honestly had to wonder if even he realized just how important he was. Probably not. No un-Dally-ish, un-Shepard-ish greaser thought he was even close to being the bee's knees. Soda found a sudden wish, deep in his chest, to tell Two-Bit that he wasn't like other greasers. He was more than just dirt…
"What's with the look?" Two-Bit asked, breaking into Soda's train of thought. Soda didn't reply, and Two-Bit laughed kind of mirthlessly. "You know, Sodapop, you might be feeling pretty worthless right now, but to the gang, you're anything but. I mean, no matter how much you try to shield it from Pony's bright, little, innocent eyes, I know how much of a devil you are. So do the rest of us. But…you know how to pick a guy up off the ground, dust him off, and make him feel like he's something again. We don't have anyone else of us like that."
Except for you. Soda swallowed thickly. He got to his hands and knees, and Two-Bit watched sadly as he re-gathered the pills. His eyebrows furrowed, and he ran a hand through his greasy hair.
"Oh, damn, can't you hear me?"' he said quietly, helplessly. "You can't do this…"
Soda picked up the last pill he could see and looked Two-Bit dead in the eye. "And I ain't gonna." He stood and threw them into the trashcan, earning him a surprised and relieved look from his older friend. "Just had to pick up the mess, was all. I didn't want Darry or Pony seeing it and flying off the handle." He looked down at Two-Bit, an anxious look on his face. "Listen, you ain't…you ain't gonna tell 'em about this, are you?"
Two-Bit got to his feet, standing only inches from Soda. Two-Bit was a few inches shorter, but there was a kind of strength to him that warned others not to mess with him. He sucked on his cigarette, his eyes boring into Soda's, seeming to analyze him.
"Shoot," he finally said, grinning at Soda, "as long as you cross your heart and hope to die never to hope to die again, I'll do my best to make sure God Himself don't know."
After a moment, Soda smiled. He took his pinkie finger and made an x over his heart with it. He brought it to his lips and kissed it, then held it out to the side for Two-Bit to see. "Pinkie promise," he replied.
"Good," Two-Bit said, clapping Soda on the shoulder. "Now, come on. I got a mad hankering for some chocolate cake, and I have a feeling that there's a pretty one in the icebox just calling my name."
Soda rolled his eyes as the two made their way out of the bathroom. "Shoot, Two-Bit, not even half the blondes you pine for are calling your name."
"Ah, shut it."
They shared a good laugh as they walked into the kitchen. When Two-Bit had told Soda about wanting some cake, it was more like telling Soda to cut some cake for him because he was too lazy to do it himself. So, the almost-seventeen-year-old soon found himself heading to the kitchen table with two plates of chocolate cake. Two-Bit grinned from ear-to-ear upon seeing it. Then, after a second, it faded.
"And about what you said a minute ago, about wishing you were as tough as Dally," Two-Bit suddenly said, putting out his cigarette on the heel of his shoe, "don't. Everyone always talks about Dally, how he's such a tough guy and all that shit. He wasn't. Lord help me for saying this, but he was one of the weakest people I ever knew."
Soda stopped dead in his tracks, turning to face Two-Bit with wide eyes. "What the hell are you talking about? Dally was a part of an organized gang back in New York. He beat up girls and little kids and never regretted a minute of it. No one could touch him!"
Two-Bit raised his eyebrows at Soda. "Oh, but someone did touch him. Johnny, remember?" he pointed out. "Yeah, sure, he was stone cold and hard as nails, but he wasn't tough. He only got that reputation because he refused to love anything, or care about anything, or whatever else, be it living or not. You know why he did that, don't you? He did it because he was afraid of getting hurt.
"He wouldn't let himself care because he knew he couldn't handle the pain." Two-Bit gave him a sort of sad smile. "He let himself care about us, and he let himself love Johnny. Bam, Johnny was gone, look what happened to Dally." The last few words seemed to startled even Two-Bit, and he looked away, ashamed. He knew how harsh that had sounded.
"Just," Two-Bit muttered, "don't be wishing you were like Dally. He wasn't someone to be wishing to be like…"
Soda understood what he meant. Dally closed himself off, hiding from pain, and he crumpled beneath a streetlight. The five remaining members of the gang had faced the pain head-on and were still standing. It was a strange thing to think about…and something that he had never really thought about. He was certain that, had it not been for Two-Bit, he never would've thought about it.
"You know, Two-Bit," Soda said without thinking, "you're a philosopher."
Seeing as he hadn't quite touched his cake yet, Two-Bit choked on nothing in particular - probably just plain old air, knowing him - then looked at Soda like he was a crazy man. "Yeah, yeah, and you're a nutcase," he replied, with great sincerity. Soda just laughed at him, shaking his head. "No, pal, I'm serious. You should consider checking yourself into the nut ward. Glory, a philosopher? Me, Two-Bit Mathews, by definition a psychotic antonym to 'law-abiding citizen,' a philosopher? You got your nuts and bolts mixed together, Pepsi-Cola."
Soda just laughed even harder.
He had to admit, it wasn't such a bad thing not being like Dallas Winston. Getting what you wanted wasn't always such a good thing. And, besides, at least he had the guts to care about someone. Glory, how love had stomped all over him and left him to die in the gutter! But somehow, despite all it did to him, how badly it hurt him, how much it seemed to hate him…
He still loved love with all his little heart.