Hey everyone! I'm so sorry about this kinda-late update; I was super sick and then life decided to hit me with writer's block. That and I took a quick break from writing to read a whole bunch of books. And I've got a couple ideas buzzing around my head for more stories that I'm writing the rough drafts to. But now I'm back! The end of this chapter is a little messy, but it's only like that because the real plot is now coming into play!

Enjoy!

It was an odd thought to have at the moment, but when Darry really looked at himself in the mirror, he came to the sudden realization that he should shave.

Running a hand along his jaw, Darry decided that it was only stubble, and it would take less than twenty minutes to shave it all off. Yes, it was getting kinda late (about six thirty at night; Darry needed to start dinner soon), but now that the eldest Curtis had it on his mind, he knew that he wouldn't be able to shake it off and he'd be battling the urge to shave all through supper. It would irk him.

He stole a minute to look in the mirror. Darry's eyes had shadows, his skin seemed slightly waxy, and his stubble was just prominent enough to make him look like a drunken man who hadn't left his house for days. He blinked at his reflection as two words popped into his head of their own accord: chain smoker.

He reached for the shaving cream and applied it quickly, making sure not to get any near his cut. He was starving, and was certain his younger brother was also, seeing as he had vomited his breakfast and due to the incident occurring that day had skipped out on lunch.

"Darry, what's for dinner?" Ponyboy yelled from the living room. Darry paused in his actions for a moment to listen. No crackly sound of a television greeted him, and at that second he was glad. Pony was probably reading a book.

That was the nice thing about the youngest Curtis. He felt the need to wind down sometimes, just like Darry.

Darry's mind snapped to the present, and he pondered the question. "Pasta!" It was really the only quick meal he could think of making. Darry wanted sleep as soon as humanly possible.

"Too many carbs!"

Darry rolled his eyes. "That's what I'm cooking. If you want something else, you buy it or cook it yourself!"

Ponyboy was most likely debating whether or not it was worth it to put up a fight. He seemingly decided against it. "Never mind, pasta is good."

That's what I thought. Darry mused, carefully taking out his razor and starting swift strokes that rid his jaw of the stubble. Laziness always won. Well, most of the time it won. Laziness had no such luck when it came to Darry.

A few minutes passed as Darry shaved, before he finished and rinsed everything off. Whenever he was newly shaved, he felt cleaner, for a reason he was not sure of. He dragged a hand across his mouth, and winced when he brushed his cut. Grabbing a small band aid from one of the bathroom drawers, he covered the middle of the slight wound, which was also the deepest part, and proceeded to exit the bathroom and make his way to the kitchen.

Darry took fifteen minutes to cook the noodles, and then called Ponyboy to dinner. The young teen eagerly leapt towards the table, but Darry almost threw himself in front of Pony to stop him.

"Whoa, there, Pony. Are you ok enough to eat?"

Ponyboy resisted the particularly strong urge to lift an eyebrow and cock his hip. Yes, of course he was sure, it was food! Food was good! And he had only thrown up this morning because of all of the blood and gory shit. He could handle pasta.

"Yeah, Dar, I can eat. I'm hungry!" Pony added that last part when Darry mimicked Ponyboy's thoughts and raised a single eyebrow. At this, Darry permitted him to lunge at the food and dig right in. Unlike his brother, Darry sat down almost regally with his back taut and his shoulders straight, quietly serving himself the bow tie noodles.

Every now and then, Ponyboy would glance up from his dinner and sneak peeks at Darry. He had realized that the oldest Curtis had shaved, but he didn't recognize how young it would make Darry look. Group that fact with the bandaged cut on his jaw and his purple-ringed eyes and he looked like he had been staying up all night studying for his high school finals. Pony wondered if all of the girls threw themselves at his handsome brother back in his actual high school days. Ponyboy felt like just sitting and staring. How was Darry so young?

Pony bit his lip and thought about that fact for a moment. It was true; Darry was only twenty (about five years older than Ponyboy himself; the youngest Greaser's birthday was in a week and a half), he just worked like someone twice his age and acted like someone thrice his age. His muscles stood to prove it, but he didn't look like one of those overly-bulky dudes who lifted weights every day. Yeah, the ladies must have liked his older, smarter brother. After all, he was-

"Ponyboy, were you lying to me? Because I'd like you to eat, but if you can't, then don't. I don't want you gettin' sick again." Darry's voice cut through Pony's thoughts, and the oldest Curtis gestured to his brothers plate, which had remained untouched for a full minute. Darry concluded that this was strange, seeing as Ponyboy had been attacking his food not sixty seconds ago.

Shit, Curtis! Stop staring so much and start doing! Ponyboy scolded himself inside his head as he drew his mind to focus.

"I'm fin-ood." Ponyboy's brain was still half-murky with ponderings of Darry's true youth, and his mind couldn't fathom what word he wanted to use. "I mean grea-some. I mean, I'm okay!" The Greaser hastily corrected himself.

Darry was a little unbelieving, and opened his mouth to protest. Ponyboy shot him a look that pleaded for him to let it go, and the eldest Curtis huffed a little, but busied his now-open mouth with the work of eating.

After a few more minutes, Darry announced, "Bed when you've finished eating, ok, Pony? I know it's only seven thirty, but you've had a..." Darry bit his lip, not sure how he wanted to form his words. "Rough day. So bed."

The inner child residing in Ponyboy's brain greatly protested this judgment, but the exhausted teen who was lounging next door firmly quieted the child and begged for Pony to snatch at the chance. Not like he really had a choice, but still. Ponyboy nodded at his older brother and ate more noodles.

What could a little rest hurt, anyway?

For the past week, Darry had not gotten one single full night of rest. Not two. Not three. Not one. Zero. He soon realized that he missed sleep very much, and after seeing that Ponyboy was laying in bed safe, he allowed himself to strip off his clothes, climb into bed, and forget about the rest of the world for the time being. Just one night of pure sleep to recharge his batteries, and then he'd be up and running, good as previously owned.

The oldest Curtis should have known that sleep doesn't come that easily. At least, not for him.

Darry had closed his eyes for what felt like two minutes, dreaming of Socs and rumbles and the color green, when somebody decided that it was about time to shake him awake. They started out slowly at first, before the motions of the hands on his side grew panicked, at the same time a whisper had risen into loud talking.

"Darry, are you up?"

The eldest Curtis sighed invisibly through his nose, dragged one slow hand across his face, and said sleepily into the darkness of his room, "Now I am. Is that you, Po-" Darry yawned a little. "-onyboy?"

There was a figure standing next to Darry, illuminated by only a sliver of light that filtered through a crack in the door. The outline of his younger brother nodded mutely, and Darry rubbed at his eyes and sat up exactly as he had the previous night. Casting Pony a weary glance, he sighed again (now audibly) and asked, "What's wrong?"

"I had a nightmare." Ponyboy whispered, drawing his hands away from Darry's side and holding them behind his back, twisting them for something to do.

Oh. Darry thought. So Pony wanted to talk about it like yesterday?

"You wanna talk about it again?" Darry voiced his thoughts to Pony, but the young Greaser shook his head. Darry gave a confused look.

"I can't remember it like last night. That one was weird and scary because I could remember it, but now it's gone back to just making me feel real afraid." There was a pause as Pony drew in a shaky breath, but that didn't help the fact that his next words came out in one giant rush. "AndIwaswonderingifmaybeIcouldstaywithyoutonightbecauseSoda'snothereifthat'sokwithyou."

"What?"

Ponyboy cleared his throat nervously. Oh, what had he been thinking? He was disliking his own idea now that he was here saying it to his brother, but no way in fuck was Pony going back to his room in the dark all alone. Not after that scary-ass nightmare full of blood and purple and blue. Nu-uh.

"C-Could I sp-sp-end th-the night with y-y-you?" Ponyboy's awkward doubt showed through the stutter that became his voice whenever he was anxious; he hated that almost as much as Darry hated his own Southern accent.

Darry blinked at his brother, caught off-guard by the favor he asked. It wasn't that he wished to immiediently refuse the request, but the nature of it and who's mouth the words were escaping evaded all usual protocall.

(Ponyboy never, never went to Darry for comfort. He always turned to Sodapop. Darry had been slightly hurt by this constant, unchanging loyalty and choice, yet couldn't help but wonder why Sodapop got more attention from their youngest brother. At the time, Darry had thought it was because Soda was closer to Pony's age, or that he was nicer, or because Sodapop simply had more time. Ponyboy would take to the grave the real reason; his older brother's constant coldness felt similar to rejection, and the youngest Curtis was scared to ask for fear of that same rejection. To this very day, the fear of that rejection hounded on Ponyboy like an illness he couldn't ever get well from.)

Only a few seconds passed, but they seemed like hours to Pony, who, watching his brother's shocked face, had the wild urge to start biting his nails. He should really break that habit soon. To Darry, they felt like years, time stretched out between the siblings, the farthest it had ever stretched before. The pair knew that this moment, this deciding moment, was huge, even though it meant different things to each person; if Darry said no, that screamed privacy and I'm-not-ready and I-need-to-be-alone-for-now and rejection and nothing's changed. Pony would feel even more unloved than he previously had. If Darry said yes, that meant that he was willing and sorry and ready to move forward from the past.

"Sure, Pony." Darry (slightly surprised at his own words) shifted over, more towards one end of the bed, and lifted the sheets as an invitation to join him.

Ponyboy was so relieved that he let out an invisible sigh as he let the tension melt from his taut shoulders. He didn't have to change into night clothes (he wore a loose dark green shirt and boxers), or brush his teeth, or anything, so he had no reason to stall getting into the bed, even though he felt as if he should. Mentally shaking himself off, Pony turned to shut the door behind him, effectively drenching the room in darkness he was ever-so firmiliar with, and climbed next to Darry as his older brother pulled up the covers.

The first thing that hit Ponyboy as he settled was vanilla. It smelled of vanilla under Darry's covers: not positively reeked like Sodapop's sea-scented shampoo, but it was like a blanket of it's own as the scent wrapped around Ponyboy. It was warm, too; not hot enough to become sweaty in, but just warm enough to be toasty.

Ponyboy cast a glance at Darry, and though he looked tired, Darry opened his arms to his brother, asking a silent question. His icey eyes were unusually hazy, a strange feat to behold in person as his gaze was normally sharp, calculating, and focused.

Pony already felt safe and content, but answered positively, wriggling over until he was in Darry's arms. The young Greaser couldn't help but take a silent sniff; yup. The vanilla smell was Darry, all right. It was also much, much warmer in Darry's arms, and Pony felt an unspoken circle of protection surround him. At the moment, he didn't mind.

He stole a second to examine his older brother's face, and again was surprised by Darry. Ponyboy hadn't noticed that Darry wore such a hard, set facial expression all the time, but now, up close, looking at his relaxed eyebrows and closed eyes, the reality of his brother's now-soft face screamed at him as to how he had never realized what Darry might really look like. Darry's guard went completely down when he slept.

After a few more seconds, Ponyboy felt Darry's arms tighten around him as the oldest Curtis blinked himself awake. Pony was puzzled as to why his brother hadn't fallen asleep yet, but in the next instance he found out.

"I never told you I was sorry." Darry whispered, glancing downwards to where Ponyboy had tucked his chin into the crook of Darry's neck. He had to say it and he didn't know why, yet he gave in and went and said it.

Part of Ponyboy was patronizingly groaning at the prospect of a long, unforgiving talk that would mean nothing in the morning, but it was quickly squashed when his other curious counterpart gave it a strong glare. "You don't have to, Darry, I forgive you."

"But I never told you I was sorry, Pony." Darry repeated. "I'm sorry that I hit you."

"I'm sorry that I ran away." The cold of the night, the wind, the blood came rushing back at him at the same time Ponyboy recalled purple shadows and dark bags and exhausted shoulders. "And I'm sorry that I made you worry so much."

"Worrying is what big brothers do, honey." Darry chuckled a little. "Worrying about you specifically is what big brothers do."

"Hey!" Ponyboy said, poking Darry in his chest. His older brother reached down to swat his hand away, and laughed when Pony made a wounded face. "I'm almost fifteen, Dar. Soon you won't have to work so much, or worry so much, and I'll be able to get a job and help and stuff."

"No matter how old you get, Pony, I'll always look after you." Darry pressed his lips to Pony's forehead, secretly glad that Ponyboy cared enough about him to go get a job of his own. His younger brother unconsiously cuddled closer, reveling the rare attention.

Ponyboy smiled. "Thanks Darry." He meant it with everything in him.

"You're welcome, Pony." Darry flashed a quick smirk that Ponyboy almost missed, even though he was less than five inches away from Darry's face (golly, but did that sound wrong!). The oldest Curtis rested his head against the back of his pillow. "Go to bed now, you rascal. Try not to have any more nightmares, mmmkay?"

The youngest Curtis complied, lending himself over to sleep for the time being and enjoying the warmth gathering next to his heart.

Everybody in the world had a best friend. Everybody. It didn't matter if you were a Soc or a Greaser, rich or poor, high-class or low-class, smart or stupid, loud or quiet, girl or boy, because no matter what, out there somewhere you had a best friend; somebody who understood you and trusted you and loved you dearly. There were few people in the world whom had actually found their real best friend, not just a person that they claimed to be so. But those who achieved such a goal were very lucky, a stark contrast to those who had not. The shameful part of it all was that these people got into fights with their true best friends, and left them on the street corner for good. Yet then, there were those friends who stuck with each other through everything life could possibly think to throw at them.

Ponyboy's best friend in the history of the universe was Johnny Cade.

And you could just tell by looking at them; the tight clutch of their arms around one another, the tears leaving tracks down their smiling faces, and the obvious view of the thread that symbolized their bond strengthening and glowing.

As Darry watched the two hug, the word inseparable came to mind. He felt happy for them, but couldn't help the sinking feeling inside of his stomach as his eyes caught sight of Sodapop and Steve locked in much the same embrace, for Sodapop's best friend in the history of the universe was Steve Randle. Darry had no best friend to call his own. It made him sad sometimes, trying to convince himself that he was busy and had work and didn't have time for best friends, but he only ended up feeling more lonely.

Nobody to connect with. Nobody to really talk to or to make you feel better.

Dallas sighed from his spot next to Darry, a small smile peeking out from behind his lips as they parted in an o shape to blow cigarette smoke. Darry sent him a raised eyebrow as he swatted at the front of his face, ridding it of the foul-smelling smoke. Since Darry didn't smoke a lot, he never got used to the odor and frequently coughed and gagged whenever somebody smoked around him. Most of the gang had taken notice that he didn't appreciate it and always moved to the other side of the room if they wished to smoke. Dally was the only exception, because he abided by no one's rules, unspoken or not.

"Hey, are y'all done making out over there?" Dally called without a care. The four had not been able to hug their best friends for days, and had refrained until they got home from the hospital to let their true affection shoe. The best friends broke apart slightly sheepishly, but nonetheless paused a moment longer to whisper in each other's ears, Pony in Johnny's ear, Soda in Steve's. Dally rolled his eyes, seemingly bored with the ordeal, but Darry could see something flash and sparkle behind them when Johnny retreated from Ponyboy's arms to his side. Darry also could not squash the small hint of satisfaction he felt when Ponyboy also decided to come nearer and stand next to his oldest brother.

A moment of silence, and then, from Darry's left, "Damn."

Darry tried to fight his grin with everything he had. That small, rueful word seemed to describe the life he was living. "Language, Ponyboy."

Pony shook his head, unashamed as he kicked at the gravel of the road a little. He glanced up for a second, at the Curtis household and his current residence, before saying, "So Johnny and I wanna know: what did y'all do while we were gone and he was stuck in the hospital?"

The bright blonde-haired hood and the icey-eyed worker exchanged a look. The previous week had passed by easily and with regular routine; Dally going out for fights every other night, sometimes with Johnny accompaning him to some place like...where ever they went together at night. Sodapop constantly visiting the hospital to see Steve and sometimes spending the night there. Two-Bit was usually at a bar somewhere (like right now), out satisfying his many prized blondes (Dallas not included, as the hood had once threatened the drunk Greaser). Darry and Ponyboy inched closer as each day passed, delicately sharing their thoughts, though still getting in a few arguements, they could always step back and take a look at the bigger picture. Darry went to work, worried over Pony and Soda, came home, cooked dinner, took a shower. Everything was ordinary.

Confronting what had happened the week before that, however, was a slight challenge.

"Sodapop wouldn't get off the couch-"

"-had to fight some Socs who challenged us on Darry's own motherfucking lawn-"

"-jumped in front of a train, the idiot-"

"-beaten by the same Socs, and we ran out of supplies, so-"

"-went without TV for a whole hour, can you believe it-?"

"-a damn sight nicer than how she looked. Anyway-"

"-caught me and we started having a go at each other-"

"-who was real pretty, Pone, and real nice. She showed us the elevator-"

"-don't know what they were living off of until I came home to cook-"

Ponyboy and Johnny were highly overwhelmed, and, in unison, raised both of their hands and yelled, "STOP!"

The gang cast each other glances, before breaking out into smiles.

"To sum it all up, kid, Sodapop was being a lazy-ass and wouldn't get off of the couch one day, Darry jumped in front of a train, Two-Bit got beat up, we had to fight a whole gang of Socs, and there was this one night that I got two broads in my bed at once. It was great, they were practically panting for me to-"

"Dally, they don't need that mental image!" Darry cut the hood off just as he was getting into the story, seeing Ponyboy's face turn a light shade of green and Johnny's face begin to burn a bright scarlet.

Dally only laughed around his smoke as Darry gestured for everybody to head inside. There was a lot of catching up to do.

In the darkness of the Curtis living room, Ponyboy and Johnny sat cross-legged from one another and as close together as was humanly possible, to make sure that nobody could hear them whispering despite the late hour. The red-haired Greaser's hands were beginning to shake, and his best friend with a scar on his face and still-healing burn wounds on his back was growing worried. Would they be able to understand each other once these words were uttered? Would this be the end?

"Pony, are you really that nervous to tell me what you gotta tell me? You don't hafta if you don't wanna." Johnny said to the shivering Greaser.

Ponyboy shook his head, anxious but determined.

"So Johnny..."

"Yeah?"

"I've been thinkin' about gettin' a girlfriend..."

"Ok..."

"A-And I realized I d-don't want one."

"That's ok, Ponyboy, not everybody wants a girlfriend yet. You don't have to be like Dally and Two-Bit gettin' girls every night-" Johnny said that last part with a strange tone of bitterness, a strong contrast to his comforting tone.

"No, Johnny. I don't want a broad i-in m-m-my b-bed. Ever."

"Gosh, Pony." Johnny gasped quietly as he recognized what Ponyboy was trying to confess. "But there's nothin' wrong with that. I bet you there're a lot more people out there like you than you think."

"Thanks Johnny. But I-I have a-a-a crush." Ponyboy bit his lip and paused, usure whether or not he was ready to admit this out loud. The name danced around his stoamch, making him feel cold and warm all at the same time, driving him infuriatingly crazy. Yet his feelings rang with such clarity. Could he deny them if he tried hard enough? Suddenly, it hit him that Johnny telling him there were more people like him had a more present-tense meaning. "Wait, Johnny...do you have a crush?"

"Um...y-yeah..."

"Who?"

"D-D-Dally." Johnny swallowed. In the dark, he blushed heavily, his thoughts being temporarily dominated by the blonde. "Who's y-your crush?"

"Oh, Johnny, please don't hate me."

"Of course not, Pony! You're my best friend!"

"It's Darry, Johnny." Ponyboy whispered frightfully, now fully shaking. "It's Darry."