Darry wanted to scream, to bellow at Dally, censure him for their current strait. It was his fault after all, he thought, appalled. If he hadn't been fighting, they would've realized what time it was, that they all needed to get back home. This couldn't be happening, his mind pursued. This couldn't be happening! His fingers ticced, mind racing. Ponyboy and Sodapop! his mind bawled. They were all alone, and he was so far away, would he ever make it back?
"-Darry. Darry?" Dally's voice came to.
Darry looked back at everyone, who all directly perceived the dismay radiating in his expression. The breeze grew keen. It was suddenly too drab and he knew the world was going to fall in on itself. He knew that there was nothing he could do.
"Darry!"
"What?" the Greaser roared, before closing his eyes and taking a breath. His friend's voice melted in with his own thoughts, frantic and heated and cloaking pain, but in a heinous way.
"You never let me finish," Darry began willfully. His voice was barely audible and all he wanted to do was break back to his brothers. Nobody would hearken to him, though, if he rushed his words. It wasn't an option to run away alone now, he would lose the people who had been with him forever.
"What?" Dally asked sharply.
Pale blue eyes opened and Dally was surprised to see sincerity effulgent in them. "You're my family," the Greaser said, looking around at everyone else. "You're all my family. I want to be there for you all, I want you guys to be safe." He paused for a short moment. "That's why I didn't want you doing anything stupid, Dally. Guess I acted a bit mean, huh? You don't deserve that."
By the time he had attained to Dally's name, Darry's voice was mild, his stance, the expression he held, he was vulnerable. Everyone saw this, and wordlessly complied. It seemed Dally had been frightened out of his enraged state.
"Wasn't fair of me to stop talking when I did. I just wanted to get you back, Dally. But I know better now." He faltered, glancing away for a moment, then back at the Greasers. "I know we've gotta get back, too, to Ponyboy and Sodapop. Because they're part of the family, we need to protect them as much as we protect each other."
The others gazed at everyone else, and they ultimately nodded in a silent agreement. They knew not to push Darry tonight. Tonight he was more of a Greaser than anyone else; with raw emotion and the urge to get back and protect his own blood, they couldn't expect anything more out of him.
"Let's go," Two-Bit was the first to say. Darry glanced back at Johnny, then Dally, after nodding.
"Yeah," he muttered, his face still hard, though the air around him, the way he moved, Darry couldn't exactly put his finger on it, but he knew that he was forgiven, and that was enough.
They all started walking back to the house, feet heavy and hearts solemn, until Dally couldn't take it anymore, and broke out into a sprint. The rest of the Greasers followed without dubiety, four pairs of feet racing across the pavement, as fast as their legs could carry them, to their home and to their family.
Steve had heard everything. He had been there, waiting further off in the bushes. Nothing took up his agenda tonight, as the Greaser figured it was a faultless night to walk, to think. A gun was enveloped away between the waistline of his pants and adjacent to his skin. It would do no damage, and cause him no regret. There were no rules tonight. If everything got to him, he could merely do some target practice, maybe meet up with Two-Bit to see what fortunes they could lift in town.
He didn't intend to truly use the gun, maybe just to daunt a few people, laugh and not care about the residuum. Though when he had seen Dally and Johnny ambling into the park, he had quieted himself, no longer toying with the heater. Johnny's eyes were wide and although Steve couldn't make out his words, he could hear Johnny's voice was high in stress, nearly ripped away. The other Greaser simply fiddled with his switchblade and murmured something in riposte. This went on for a while, and by the time Darry and Two-Bit came by, Steve had a two-sided story on what was about to happen, and afterwards, watched them leave without a word. Unable to decide if it was worth it to go along and help protect everyone, or be alone without repressions, Steve stood up from leaning back against the tree. He would trail subsequently a ways, and if anything caught his eye, he would mutely let that divert him. Besides, even though Soda would be there, it would be torture having to act around him as they did everyday. Feeling dead inside without Soda had become an everyday feeling.
It started to drizzle out, showering the male's face with light raindrops. The air was still and bleak, the stars overhead twinkling shyly in and out of sight, while Steve's mind whirred. He should've taken some spirits from Two-Bit before this whole event.
But Ponyboy could take care of himself, and if not, if Darry couldn't stop worrying, why couldn't he just watch him? Why did he need Soda to? Steve's eyes flashed as he grasped that Darry might have found out about him and Soda. No way he was trying to keep them apart! Steve shook his head. He was getting paranoid. Maybe he could try to go to their house, poach Soda away. The Greaser's pace quickened, until he was almost jogging. Even just being in Soda's room with him would be enough, right? Of course it would be, he thought, shaking his head yet again-
Suddenly his heartbeat was breaking through his ears and his whole head pulsated. The skin on his face reddened. Laughter echoed and bounced off the walls in his head. It didn't occur to him that there were other people around until he realized he couldn't get up from his sudden flat-on-his-back position. Blood surged out of his nose and his focus was failing, blurry colors dancing before him. He couldn't even lift up his arms. His mind slowed and the guardian angel he didn't know he believed in seemed to abandon him at that moment.
"You hit him so low!" a voice boomed.
Steve groused, crowding his eyes shut and wincing at the pain it caused. Stars imploded in his vision, clouts knocking him unbalanced.
What he didn't know, was that the Socs' bat had cuffed him square between the eyes. Steve didn't even perceive them as Socs. They were all looming over him, humorously holding the Greaser down. He would struggle to sit up before they all took part in shoving him back down, his head crashing back onto the pavement with a sickening thud. He closed his eyes and elapsed into a dark paradise.
They're going to kill me, Steve thought frantically. He couldn't get up. He couldn't even get up! His eyes attempted at opening, but once again, the colors were too deafening and the voices were too bright, though he endured. It felt like flames were erupting beneath his skin. Taunts were being cast at him from every direction, that much he knew. Suddenly his head slammed to the side and hollers of laughter transfixed his ears. It came again, and again, with every hit, the dark blotches in his eyes grew more monumental. He moaned helplessly, calling out Soda's name. The Socs guffawed at this, and before he could tell what was happening, a sweaty, brawny hand thrust itself out and veiled Steve's mouth.
They were goading him, but with no restraints, with no consequences dragging behind any of the Socs if they actually killed Steve, there was absolutely no guarantee that the Greaser would make it out of this.
Didn't they get it? his mind wandered. He was already broken, incapable of fighting back, much less able to breathe at this point thanks to the Soc's hand. His limbs flailed weakly, barely passing as strives to try and get free. His mind raced, until he recalled the gun. How had no one noticed it yet? Steve didn't waste any time, but shrieked with all of his strength and moved his hand to his belt using all of his might. The Socs were taken aback at this for a fleeting moment, and Steve could tell. His muscles throbbed as he seized ahold of the gun. None of the Socs were conscious of what was happening, and eventually, Steve cradled the gun in one hand before constructing it high in the air, liberating himself of the Socs' grasps. He squeezed the trigger, and his body shook as the bullet fired into the sky, ready to lower his hand, and squeeze again.
The gunshot made everyone jump. Darry gritted his teeth and growled to go faster. Johnny exchanged a tense look with Two-Bit, and Dally's hand compulsively went to his gun. They were nearly home. They were almost home and they would not dare turn around.
A/N: I hope this was alright, lots of pain, I apologize. Steve doesn't deserve this.
