I've been worn out recently, so I'm glad I got this chapter down. What makes me happier is that it's longer than the other chapters and my writer's block faded towards the end of the story. Nonetheless, hope that if my writing is bad you won't vomit. I wanted to stray away from the core idea of this story just a little bit, but I really did try with this one. Please rate and review when you have the chance, and as always sorry if I'm inaccurate in any way.
Steve wasn't sure how long he sat there, flinching every so often at the sound of sudden noise. In his state of mind, it could've been seconds, hours, or even days. His head was like a beast, scraping his ribs and eating away at the flesh—wreaking havoc on all of the five senses he knew. In the time he let him swim freely in his own mind, he was so disoriented he was hardly aware of the time that flew. The only proof of time passing was that the waiting room had started to fill up with people, causing him to snap out of whatever drug-like trance he'd slipped into. And that's when Steve noticed he had received no news of his best friend.
He finally stood up and approached the front desk, catching the eyes of the receptionist. "His name's Sodapop Curtis," he spoke up, letting his arms lean towards the desk. Steve had forgotten just how exhausted he was and it finally started to take a toll on him. But he shook it off, knowing that sleep was a lost cause at this point.
"Are you immediate family?"
"Yes," Steve lied, though he was more telling the truth than telling lies. He'd understood to not go with the two brothers when they'd first received news of Sodapop—not only out of respect but dread that he'd find out it was too late. He was far from prepared to hear it in the flesh.
The woman shuffled with some files on her desk and a few moments later her eyes let out a spark. "All I can tell you is that Sodapop's in surgery right now and won't be allowed visitors until the approval of medical staff on that floor. His doctor is not available at the moment. I'm sorry,"
Steve cursed under his breath and made a beeline for the exit. When would he find out the details about Sodapop's condition? It was a never-ending waiting game and as much as he was needing to know, reason socked him in square in the head. It was time to go and waiting for news was not going to help his best friend's declining state. He paced the parking lot, the hospital building towering over him while he looked for his car desperately, scanning the lot from one side to another. And that's when he remembered Two-Bit took his ride.
He stopped in his tracks, completely dumbfounded by the realization. Steve put a hand through his hair and tried to think through the fog in his mind just what to do. So his feet began to walk before he could react, strolling in the path that would most likely land at the Curtis brother's home. Steve concentrated on every step he took in an attempt to shut out every thought that plagued his being. That was until he felt something wet land on his cheek, causing him to look up at the sky.
The clouds blanketed the view of the sun, enclosing one another as they transformed from bright white to a deep gray. The crackling, rumbling sound of lightning like God speaking Himself struck Steve's ears. His feet took the wheel, striding to the home away from grenades he couldn't see. He wasn't sure where he was going to land—all he knew was being soaked from head to toe, the way his lungs ached with each gasp for air.
Steve questioned to himself why it had become so damn hot, why the air filling his mouth had become difficult to breathe. That's when the sidewalk beneath him transformed into the dirt like a dream, broken branches and plants scattered across the floor. He bent his head upward to see the neighborhoods of Tulsa—proof that he hadn't landed back in a jungle—only to see trees that obstructed his view, muddy rivers and very shade of green that could make him nauseous at the sight.
He just kept racing, shrubs brushing his skin as he scurried like rats in a sewer. Steve's head spun in every direction, sweat forming on his brow. He just had to run away from the grenades, away from the shouts in Vietnamese. His head couldn't wrap around how he'd arrived at the shithole, only that he had to run and get the fuck out of there somehow. Stars exploded in his vision marking the end of his adrenaline rush. His strength was not enough to resist the familiar hold of gravity, pulling him to the floor.
When his hands made contact with the ground he was surprised to feel blades of wet grass tickle the skin on palms, causing his eyes to fly open. The jungle was gone, only a patch of grass and his clothes drenched in mud. He blinked several times, seeking to make out what had just happened. But he remembered these kinds of episodes re-occurred, only the last one was so long ago he couldn't remember what date it had been.
Steve stood up carefully, wiping the mud off his hands on his jeans. His eyes wandered the surroundings, relief washing over him like the rain that poured from the sky. He was far from any place he recognized. But he carried on and walked eastward in hopes he'd find himself on the east side, as lost as the thoughts in his mind.
No matter how much Darry's body called out for sleep, there wasn't anything he could do to get his eyes to close. Instead, he watched his little brother sleep, finding satisfaction in how his chest expanded with air evenly—the memory of Soda's effort to breathe fresh in his mind. Ponyboy's gentle breaths were music to his ears, lulling him to sleep he couldn't reach.
The atmosphere in the Curtis residence was like a still river—quiet, without stirring action. Two-Bit had been asleep for some time and Darry hadn't exactly done anything Except call in for work. He figured it was time to get some food in his brother, but knew Ponyboy well enough that the idea would lead to protest. Not that he was hungry himself, it was more so he felt responsible for him in times like these.
For now, it would have to do. Getting Pony to sleep was enough—if not all he could do at that point. That was when Darry was brought back to the time after Johnny's death, a rude awakening that Ponyboy was going to fall in a slump if there wasn't someone, anyone to remind him that Sodapop wasn't gone. Still, Darry needed to tell himself that he hadn't lost his brother. Sodapop was still breathing, even if a machine had to do it all for him.
Yet more important was to come to grips that there was still hope, even if it was hidden underneath layers of doubt. Many, many layers. It was something Darry tried so hard to get a hold of, but couldn't. No matter how many times he failed, he would still keep trying.
He heard Two-Bit call out from nesr the front door, cutting into his trail of thought. "Steve?"
Darry was determined to investigate judging on how there was a hint of surprise in the tone of Two-Bit's voice. He approached the living room, revealing a soaked and shivering Steve. "What happened, man?"
Two-Bit had rushed to get a towel, draping it on Steve's shoulders. "Yeah, man. You look like a pig all covered in mud like that,"
Steve didn't respond, eyes dropping to the floor like weights. He clutched his head in what looked an awful lot like a death grip, trembling hands running through his hair. Darry led him to one of the chairs in the dining room and he sank like lead. What alarmed him was that not one complaint escaped Steve's mouth— not a single objection to how he didn't look so manly or that he didn't need help. That was not the Steve he knew.
"You there, Steve?" Darry asked, swinging his hands in front of him. Steve's eyes wandered like a newborn child's, oblivious to Darry's obvious appearance. But then his eyes set straight on his, locked on his but filled to the brim with the blues.
Two-Bit shook his head, setting his hands on his forehead. "Oh, Stevie. Now I'm startin' to feel guilty for taking your car,"
He finally spoke up, earning a sigh of relief from his friend. "It's fine... Damn, I should've known,"
"Can you tell us what happened?" Darry asked, placing a gentle hand on his still quivering form. He realized Steve's flushed cheeks and took a mental note to check if he was coming down with something.
Steve rubbed his face with the towel. "Not much to say. Started walkin' and that fucking storm ruined everything,"
Two-Bit could see in between the lines that something more sinister had gone down. He'd never thought of Steve as a good liar. "No, man. You're hiding something, I ain't no fool. Tell us,"
Steve gave a shaky sigh and slouched forward in an attempt to block out the stares his curious friends delivered. "Thought I was back in 'Nam, next thing I know I'm lying in the grass like an idiot. For God's sake, maybe I was there,"
Two-Bit and Darry gave awkward, cautious stares at one another. Thankfully, Two-Bit was there to shine a light on the darkest of moods. "Nah man, you weren't there. Don't worry about that, nuthead," Two-Bit affirmed, giving Steve's shoulder a punch.
Steve groaned, failing to keep in the chills that wracked his frame. He found it odd that while the room had felt like a summer's day just moments before he was suddenly freezing. Darry put the back of his head on his forehead, parental instincts kicking in even for an adult like Steve. "You're a little warm. Take a shower and go get some sleep,"
He took no time to protest, scampering off to the bathroom in what seemed like light speeds. Two-Bit went back to the couch and collapsed out of exhaustion— but not exactly physical exhaustion. "Damn, he just can't get a break, can he?"
Darry took a seat at the dining table and shielded his eyes with the palms of his hands, defeated by his worst current enemy—feelings. "He hasn't been this bad since he came back," then, he suddenly stood right back up. "Should I go check on him? I hope he ain't too sick, I didn't get a good look at him-"
"Hey, hey. Don't get yourself worked up. Let's consider this for a second—Steve's my responsibility, and Pony's yours. Got it?"
Darry felt some of the weight lift off from his shoulders and for the first time in what seemed like forever, he gave a genuine smile. "Thanks, Two. I'll think about that." he yawned, finally taking note of his body's reminder of tiredness. "I'm gonna get some sleep. Wake me if anything happens, alright?"
Two-Bit reflected Darry's grin back at him. "Got it,"
Darry made his way towards the bedroom, but before that he'd peek at his little brother through the door. At this moment, he was brought to light only how many times he'd done this action as an impulse in the course of six years. It was like his head couldn't comprehend the fact that Ponyboy was an adult— all that popped into his mind was his childlike face.
There wasn't anything more gratifying than the sight and feel of his bed. Not a stiff, colorless bed and a thin sheet he was given as a blanket. Better yet was the tingly, cleansing feeling of calm wash over him. Still, the storm raging inside of Darry like the one outside the walls and comfort of home was far from over.
I apologize if this chapter is a little boring. To me, this was more so exploring my creativity and writing skill than an actual chapter. I actually felt sad writing this, but I can't promise that there won't be any less angsty content. Poor Steve. :(