Hey everyone! Here's a re-write of something I had up a year ago maybe?? It's been a while, and I took the original version down a long time ago as well, so I doubt anyone remembers much about it! Johnny and Dally are alive in this, by the way — I love them too much to not include them. Onto Chapter 1!
It had become more or less a routine lately. Steve would show up at their place at some early hour of the morning to claim their sofa until it was time to head to the DX with Soda, hang with the guys the rest of the day, spend a night or two at his own home, and then show up once more at theirs.
Soda had tried to talk to Steve many times about the whole ordeal, but every time he brought it up, Steve would make up some excuse not to talk about it. Too tired, not in the mood, not ready, and the list went on and on.
Today, however, Soda intended to see to it that he changed that.
"Darry," Soda announced as he, Darry, Pony, Steve, and Two-Bit were having breakfast on a Thursday morning, "Perhaps we should just let Steve move in with us, what do you think?"
Steve's head snapped up at that, and he sent a mildly irritated look in Soda's direction, fully aware that this was another of Soda's attempts to get him to talk about his recent behavior. He didn't quite appreciate that Soda was making his personal business the topic of breakfast.
Darry was able to sense Steve's discomfort at present, however, and purposefully tried to steer the conversation in another direction.
"I think he can do whatever he pleases and I'd be alright with it. Now, hurry and eat so you two aren't late to work! From what you've told me, Pat doesn't play around with lateness. Ponyboy, you've got to get ready for school."
Pat was the new manager of the DX. Goody had upped and resigned, which neither Soda nor Steve could understand the reasoning of, and hired one of the most uptight and hostile middle-aged men they'd ever met. Five minutes late was essentially the same as not showing up at all to Pat.
Soda mumbled, "Alright," unhappily and sat in silence the rest of the morning until it was time to leave. He stood from the table with a pointed sigh and remarked, "C'mon, Steve, we had better start walking now."
"I'm ready, I'm ready," Steve replied moodily, standing as well and pushing past Soda to start to the DX without bothering to looking back and see if he was following.
Nothing put Soda out of sorts more than having Steve upset with him. It was like talking to a brick wall sometimes with Steve.
"Aren't you going to wait for me?" Soda called down the sidewalk.
No response.
Aggravated already, Soda ran to catch up with Steve, who didn't bother to acknowledge his presence, instead opting to pretend he wasn't there.
"Dally and Johnny don't have it great at home, but even they don't spend every other night at our house. I think I have a right to be concerned," Soda said irritably. He loathed the silent treatment.
"If you don't want me hanging around, you could have just said so," Steve growled, picking up his pace so that he was ahead of Soda once again.
Frustration at Steve's refusal to admit there was a problem was all Soda could feel. "That's not what I meant and you know it! I'm not allowed to worry about you all of a sudden, huh? What's wrong with you?"
"I didn't ask for you to worry about me. I'm perfectly capable of handling some things on my own."
"Obviously not," Soda retorted. "I'm trying to be serious here, Steve. If your father's started drinking again-"
"So what if he has?" Steve bit back, turning to face Soda. "I don't understand how this is any of your business at all!"
Whatever emotion Soda had been expecting, blatant anger wasn't it. This was so unlike the Steve he knew (or thought he knew, apparently).
"There's no need to get angry. I'm sorry I brought it up, I guess."
If there was a hint of bitterness in Soda's voice, well, that was of nobody's concern but his own.
"It's just that you don't know when to drop something, Sodapop! For the past two weeks we haven't been able to have a single conversation without you trying to get me to talk about my father. Dear God, I'm ready to lose my mind!"
Soda wasn't about to justify Steve's insulting rant with any sort of response, so he merely rolled his eyes and continued onward, which only served to irk Steve further. After a few minutes of suspicious silence, Soda glanced over his shoulder only to discover Steve's retreating figure heading back the way they'd come. He halted once more and called somewhat patronizingly, "The DX is this way, just in case you've forgotten, Steve!"
"Shut the hell up," Steve returned oh-so-sweetly.
It was a lost cause, Soda supposed. His mind raced with trying to come up with any type of reason at all that Steve would have for acting so petulantly towards him. The most recent incident replayed in his head over and over again until it was all that occupied his thoughts.
He had to quit dwelling on it the second he stepped foot into the DX, however, because there was Pat, charming as ever, standing in front of him with a scowl on his face.
"Arriving two minutes before opening time is cutting it close, Curtis. Where the hell is Randle at? He had better walk through this door before eight unless he's virtually too ill to get out of bed or we're going to have a problem on our hands!"
"I wouldn't put it past him to skip," Soda tossed out carelessly. The shrill sound of a ringing phone cut through the air like a knife seconds later, and Pat growled, "I'll get that."
He yanked the phone from its holder and muttered, "Who's this?"
Following the briefest of pauses, Soda internally winced at Pat's change in tone of voice.
"Feeling off, huh? Is that so?" he groused, shooting a glance over to Soda, who immediately realized that he may have just dug quite the grave for his best friend. "Sodapop here told me a different tale. One of you is lying to me and I won't tolerate it!"
"Actually, he did seem to be coming down with something when I spoke to him," Soda tried, anxious to have his story match up with whatever Steve's was. Regardless of whatever stupid argument they had, Soda knew that Steve would never intentionally throw him under the bus, which made him feel all the worse about just saying that Steve was skipping.
"He had time to pal around with you earlier, though?" Pat scornfully responded. "I'm not buying it. Don't bother to come to work tomorrow, Randle, until you learn some discipline. Get to work, Curtis, before I decide to find you a replacement, too!"
Soda didn't know what compelled him to do it, but he silently heeded Pat's warning with a slight dip of his head and turned to head to the garage. The decision weighed on him as soon as he stepped foot there and caught sight of the project Steve had been working on (and proudly boasting about) for weeks - it was a Covair that's hood had been smashed in but was now looking nearly brand-new.
Guilt welled up inside him. He took a seat on top of the last stair step and dropped his head into his hands, running a hand through his hair slowly.
Working here meant the world to Steve, and Soda knew it for a fact. The more he thought about what he'd just done, the worse he felt; why should he still be working here when Steve couldn't?
Because Darry needs help with the bills, the little voice in his head nagged, but then, he thought, Steve had been giving Darry part of his paycheck as well.
Of course, Steve didn't know that Soda was aware of what he did, but Darry had let it slip one night when the two of them were up late going over the details of their budget.
He'd only ever really tried to do his best by the gang, especially Soda, and this was how he was repaid? All those nights when Soda couldn't sleep, he'd call Steve and even if Steve hadn't been awake, he'd never minded providing Soda with a much-needed distraction.
Or, how about those times when the two of them were younger where Soda had to deal with plenty of assholes trying to make a laughingstock of him? Steve had been there to defend him every time without hesitation.
In fact, He couldn't recall a single moment in time all the way back to the second grade when they first met that Steve had once been disloyal to him in any way.
Soda flinched harshly as the sound of Pat's booming voice interrupted his wallowing in guilt.
"Is this your idea of working, huh, Curtis? Until I find a suitable stand-in you'd better step it up and get busy. I've already dismissed one of you today and I'm not afraid of dismissing another!"
"Well," Soda started, standing and meeting Pat's glare, "I don't think it was very fair of you to just get rid of Steve like that. Do you think you'll find a better mechanic? There ain't nobody like him in all of Tulsa when it comes to cars!"
Pat wasn't having the backtalk today and let Soda know that in no uncertain terms. Once he'd finished his rant, he tossed a wrench at Soda with a bit more force than necessary and slammed the door to the garage shut.
The silence was nearly suffocating to Soda. He crossed the garage in a couple of strides and turned on the radio, making sure to crank the volume all the way up in some sort of useless attempt to fill the void created by Steve's absence.
Repairing the engine of an expensive-looking Mustang, undoubtedly a Soc's, gave Soda little thrill as long as Steve wasn't there. He had a habit of hopping in the driver's seat of whatever fancy car they were repairing and would do some of the best Soc impersonations Soda had ever witnessed.
Hours dragged by ridiculously slow and the ache to have Steve here with him grew stronger and stronger until he couldn't focus. He abruptly stood and wrenched the door to the garage open, shouting lividly, "Pat, I need to talk to you!"
Why am I always mean to Steve like this? :( Hopefully you liked this one, and I have chapter two completely re-written as well. I've started on three. There's six chapters of my old writing, so once I've done with those, it'll all be new! Let me know what you think of this or even what you want to see in the coming chapters!! xo