Sorry if it's just a tiny bit OOC. I wrote pretty much all of this at around midnight last night. I was forced off the computer when I was just about done. Yeah, so the song for this chappie is Are You Lonesome Tonight? by Elvis. Again. If you haven't already guessed, it's a theme. The song itself isn't really all that fitting, but just a few lines are just adorable. By that, I mean the ones I included. My dispicable Mary-Sue wasn't in this chapter, and if you're wondering if she even plays an important part, then I say YES, but you'll just have to wait. Read and Review, PWEASE :3
Is your heart filled with pain?
Shall I come back again?
Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?
Steve tried to open the door gently, but he tripped over nothing and had to catch himself on an end table near the door. He stumbled over to the couch. He eyes were blurry with unshed tears. His mind was in a haze. He felt sick. He flopped onto the Curtis' couch, belly-down. He felt the tears well up, and he tried to keep them from overflowing. He was a greaser, after all. Steve could pretend in front of the gang like it didn't bother him when his dad kicked him out, or sometimes even hit him. Like tonight… He slammed his face into a sofa pillow. Steve had always wished for Soda when he was upset like this. He could always come here to sleep, if he needed, and Soda would be there in the house. Soda was Steve's best friend, and that was what Steve needed right now. Except, well, he couldn't just wake Soda up in the middle of the night because he needed a hug! Steve tried to dry his tears, and pretty much succeeded when he heard soft sounds of movement.
Pony couldn't sleep. There wasn't anything in particular keeping him up, but he couldn't drift away. He had begun telling himself stories in his head just so he wouldn't be staring blankly at the ceiling, and that was when he'd decided to get up. A snack may make him sleepy, and if it didn't, then well… well, it probably would. He ran a hand through his un-greased hair and yawned audibly. His bare feet padded across the linoleum. Pony shuffled through the cabinet, and finally found what he was looking for- an unopened bag of Lay's. He might get it later from Darry for doing it, but he opened the bag anyway. He began popping chips in his mouth as he entered the living room. He stopped in his tracks when he saw that someone was already spread out on the couch. It wasn't really a surprise in itself- the gang was always crashing over unexpectedly. He was about to go somewhere else when, on closer inspection, saw that the greaser was way too still to be sleeping, and his body seemed tense. Out of curiosity he quietly snaked across the carpet. Once he was in range he could tell, even in the dim lighting, who it was laying on the sofa.
"Steve…?" Pony called softly.
After a moment Pony thought maybe Steve hadn't heard him, or perhaps he'd been mistaken in thinking it was Steve all along, when the teenager's head rose. Even with only the moonlight to go by, Pony could see the puffy-ness of Steve's eyes. He could barely make out the bruise surrounding his left eye.
Another run-in with his old man, Pony thought absent-mindedly. He held back the urge to reach out and touch the older boy's bruise, to brush his hair away from his forehead, to comfort Steve in any such way. Instead, looking at the boy's glistening eyes, he held out his bag of Lay's and asked, "Do ya want some?"
Steve glanced back and forth from the bag to Soda's tagalong kid brother. Slowly, he sat up on the couch and took the bag from Ponyboy. He didn't make eye-contact with the boy, but Ponyboy took it as a sign that he was invited to sit by Steve on the couch, and he did, making sure there was a safe and almost-comfortable distance of a half a foot between them. He peered over at Steve, careful not to get caught staring. He was slouched over, looking somewhere between extremely pissed off and unbearably hurt. He popped the ruffles into his mouth, one after another. He didn't look like he was ready to spill just yet, and that was okay with Ponyboy. He looked out the window, and saw the small gibbous of the moon vainly trying to brighten the world. He could see the dark outlines of the clouds against the lighter dark of the sky. Morning wouldn't come for hours… then the comfortable mask the night brings would be gone. Pony suddenly felt self-conscious and turned to see Steve scrutinizing him. Pony blushed, feeling his ears grow hot. It wasn't like it was anything big, but Steve's gaze was almost frightening. It was as if he was trying to strip him naked to see what was underneath. It was embarrassing. Steve must have sensed this, for he looked away and cleared his throat.
"Why aren't you asleep?" the older teenager asked gruffly, not looking at Pony.
"I couldn't," Pony replied. "I was just layin' there. I don't know why."
Steve nodded. They fell into silence.
"Hey… Pony?"
"Hmm?"
"Can you come over here?"
Pony looked over at Steve, suddenly suspicious. Steve still refused to meet his eye. "Why?"
Steve grimaced, eyes closing. After a second, he said, "I just- I need- I feel real bad, Ponyboy. I don't know why. Well, I do, but it's just dumb. Just tonight, can you please just hold me? Just tonight? I feel like shit. I don't know what to do." Steve started to falter on the last sentence, barely squeezing it out in a quiet squeak. His hands were clenched.
Pony sat there for a second in shock, lips parted. Slowly he scooted over to the older boy, and hesitantly wrapped his arms around the teenager's neck, pulling him down so his face rested on his chest. At a loss for what to do, Ponyboy began to stroke Steve's hair and murmur softly to him. He didn't say anything, really, just whispered the older greaser's name over and over, telling him it was all going to be fine. It was okay, Steve. He would get through it. Steve…Steve…
They both fell asleep, Steve wrapped in Pony's arms, lying side by side.
I wonder if you're lonesome tonight…
You know, someone said that the world's a stage
And each must play a part
Fate had me playing in love
…With you as my sweetheart…
