A/N

So... I forgot the disclaimer yesterday... So you know, I don't own The Outsiders, because if I did, Dally would have lived and stuff... But anyway~! I forgot to tell you guys some stuff yesterday, besides the disclaimer-thingy... Here they are:

1) Two-Bit is sixteen in this, not eighteen-and-a-half like in the books, and is soon to turn seventeen. My reasoning for this is because I need a valid reason for Two-Bit not to get custody over Karen (the name I decided to use for his sister) besides the facts of him having no job and being totally lazy. So there. Also, the reason why I chose Two-Bit's mom to die and not Steve's dad or something is because I really enjoy taking a fun-loving character high on smiles and rainbows and turning them into the saddest little creature ever. That and there aren't enough Two-Bit-centric hurt/comfort fics out there. (Well, there are, but 99.9% of them are OC-centric and romances.)

2) Mr. Curtis will be referred to as Darrel, and Darry will just be... well, Darry.

3) Mr. Matthews will be referred to as Keith or Keith, Sr. unless said otherwise.

4) There is a little bit of cursing in this chapter... It is rated T for a reason.

5) The word count for this chapter is 1,459. Enjoy! :)


Is it wrong to wish it was someone else? Two-Bit thought to himself, his arm in a cast and his face stony as he stared straight ahead, not looking at the priest, not looking at the gang, not looking at his mother's friends or that bastard that could honestly claim to be his and Karen's father—especially not him. To him, Keith, Sr. was not someone he was related to, not someone he even knew, and that bastard thought that he could walk up and come into his life right after the passing of his mother? (Two-Bit ignored the facts that he was still in high school, and that his eighteenth birthday was another year or so away, and that he had no job, so there was no way he could care for himself and Karen. Hell, he barely remembered to care for Karen's cat, much less himself!) Well, Two-Bit wasn't having any of it; he planned on being as stubborn and ridiculous as possible, and it being him, he knew he'd succeed.

He rolled his eyes when he caught sight of his father shedding more than a few tears—the bastard hadn't even seen his mom in seven years, hadn't talked to her in five. Keith, Sr. was just digging for pity-points, and if he didn't stop, he'd be missing a few teeth courtesy of Two-Bit himself.

A hand was suddenly on his shoulder, and he turned to look at the sympathetic face of Mrs. Elizabeth Curtis, the woman who was practically his second mom. She gave him this sad sort of smile, and he just sighed through his nose and gave an attempt at smiling back. He then turned away from Mrs. Curtis (who demanded that all the boys in the gang call her Mom or Elizabeth) and to his sister.

To say he was worried about her was an understatement. The young, nearly thirteen-year-old girl had been unemotional since she had gotten news of her mother's death. At first, she was in denial. ("Keith Wayne Matthews, Jr., stop lying to me!") Then, she threw accusations. ("This is all your fault, Two-Bit! I hate you!") And now she was silent. He didn't care that she yelled at him or blamed him (because it was his fault…), he just wanted her to talk to him. She could kick, punch, and beat him until oblivion for all he cared, just as long as she talked to him while doing it. Call him pathetic, but he needed to hear his baby sister's voice.

His gaze finally landed on Karen's face. Her eyes, usually brown and bright like their mother's had been, were murky and stormy scared, as if she was trudging through a blizzard when it should be summer. Her eyes were the only things that gave away her true thoughts, as her face was cold and emotionless, her mouth in a flat line, and her freckled cheeks dry.

Two-Bit wondered to himself when she'd break.

Later that day, after hours of some sincere and some not-so-sincere condolences and nostalgic stories, Mr. Curtis asked if he could talk with Two-Bit. Two-Bit merely shrugged in response and climbed into Darrel, Sr.'s truck—the metal was twisting, the tires screeching—and he hoped the man wouldn't go into an "I-know-what-you're-going-through" speech. The ride was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. Two-Bit silently wondered where they were going, and what was going to be said-please, no empathy. They continued on driving until they reached the park, the one where only couples and little kids go.

"You wanna walk, or stay in the truck?" Darrel asked, and Two-Bit merely shrugged as his reply. He didn't particularly care, and it didn't matter to him. (Because it seemed that nothing mattered anymore.)

Darrel sighed at the boy's silent answer, remembering a time when he was all laughter and jokes and quips-a time when there was light in those gray eyes of Two-Bit's. Now, however, there was nothing but darkness, it seemed. Not only did it scare Darrel and Elizabeth, but it scared everyone in his group of friends-Darry, Sodapop, Ponyboy, Johnny, Steve, even Dally! Because when light left a person's eyes, when they no longer held anything bright or starry, they became like Dallas Winston. They become tough, and nothing can touch them. They become tough, and then they don't know how to feel anymore.

"We'll walk, then," Darrel decided, not saying any of his concerned thoughts. Not his, not his wife's, not even unfeeling Dallas Winston. "It'll calm your head. Clear your mind."

Two-Bit nodded, and Darrel frowned at his continuing silence. They got out of the truck, feet stomping on cold granite, and began to walk through the tranquil area. The two stayed closemouthed for a while longer while they walked, until they came to a stop at the fountain. Then, Darrel said to Two-Bit, "You know that you and your sister are welcome at our house anytime, right?"

Two-Bit nodded at this, still silent, but looking confused. It had always been that way, ever since Two-Bit met the Curtis brothers six-and-a-half-years ago. They could walk into their house anytime they needed or wanted.

"Good." Darrel nodded. "Now, son, I'm not going to go into a speech on how I know what you're going through." Thank God, Two-Bit thought, for small miracles.

Darrel went on, "I do think that it's a good idea for you to talk to someone, though, or at least talk." Here he gave Two-Bit a significant and pointed look. Taking the hint, he replies softly, "What do you want me to say?"

Darrel resisted a smile that still shone through, "I don't expect you to just start wisecracking as usual, as if nothing happened, because something did—" Two-Bit winced (your fault, your fault) "—and people just don't bounce back from things like this. However, you should talk every once in a while, whether it's just to say hello."

Two-Bit was quiet once again, looking down into the clear water of the fountain. He bit his lip, unsure on how to reply.

Darrel just sighed and said, "You can come and talk to me if you ever need to, Keith." At the use of his real name, Two-Bit's head jerked up. He honestly forgot that Darrel knew his real name. Heck, he forgot that the entire gang knew what his real name was. (In fact, the main reason why no one called him Keith was because it was one of the few things he was actually sensitive about. Not even the gang knew why, though. Not even the gang….)

They stood in silence for a while more, and then Darrel said, "We should be heading back now, hmm? I bet your sister and father are worried." Two-Bit barely held back a scoff. His father hadn't been worried about him in at least nine years, and as for his sister? Well, he certainly wouldn't worry for the one who killed his mother.


"Well? How'd it go?" Elizabeth instantly asked once Darrel got home from talking with Two-Bit. She and Darrel were in their bedroom, Elizabeth having dragged her husband in there as soon as he stepped through the front door. Darrel and Elizabeth had been gone at least an hour, so Elizabeth assumed that Two-Bit had broken down or something similar. Her hopes, however, were crushed when her husband simply shook his head and sighed. "What are we going to do?" she despaired in a whisper, "You know that poor boy hates his father."

"I can't do anything if he won't talk to me!" Darrel said gently back. "Its… disconcerting. He's usually so rambunctious and such a jokester… and now I can barely get him to say more than two words."

"I bet it's because of what Karen said to him," Elizabeth sighed, suddenly looking much older than she really was.

"What did Karen say?" Darrel asked, suddenly more concerned than he was before.

"She said… I was there when Two-Bit was told by the doctors that Marie had died. He didn't want to tell Karen alone, remember? So I drove him to his house and he told little Karen."

"What'd she say?"

"She just went wild, screaming that Two-Bit was lying, and then she started on about how it was entirely his fault."

Darrel sighed, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "The kid is too young to have that thrown on him," he grumbled.

"What are we going to do?" Elizabeth asked.

"Just… be there for him, I suppose," Darrel replied. "I'm not sure there's much else we can do."

Unknown to the lovers, the entire gang—sans Two-Bit, of course—was behind their door, listening in in concern for their friend.