A/N: A very short story. Explains itself. -Hannah

Ponyboy stumbled in through the doorway. He had no idea whatsoever of the current time, nor whether or not he had actually stepped into his own house. All he could feel was his own rapid heartbeat throbbing and the fuzzy, numbing whirr that filled his entire mind.

"Pony?" he managed to decipher Darry's rugged call. "It's one in the morning. We've had this conversation before."

Darry's steps across the room slammed in Pony's ears, making him twitch.

Ponyboy stared up at his brother, eyes stinging and drying out in the searing light that fried his vision but didn't seem to affect anyone else. "I was just out, Dar..." he drawled. "ain't gon' hurt no oneee..."

Darry clenched his jaw. "You're 17 , Ponyboy. As far as I know, you ain't a free man yet. Your curfew is 11:30, and it will be for the next 6 months."

Pony felt anger well up in his tight chest. "When HE was 17, you let him go anywhere, amytime! Hell, at least I'm still in school, for god's sake! I ain't a fucking kid anymore!" he turned around so fast that Pony swore he felt his brain slam against his skull, then stormed off to his room, knocking a few things off the coffee table as he left.

Darry put a hand to his forehead and slumped his shoulders in a tired defeat. He'd known this would happen the second Steve had stepped off the plane, face as lifeless as stone and cold as ice. He'd just seen it in Pony's bloodshot eyes. He'd just realized why his precious brother had been covering his arms for the past two months.

And why he'd found that empty orange canister next to the tub.