Thank you all who reviewed. You guys made me feel really happy and relieved. I teared up a bit. ^^

Steve's memory in this was inspired by a picture I found on Tumblr a while back. I can't take full credit on that small part.

Enjoy!

o-o-o

"So, he was found in the basement?" a crime scene investigator reiterated, ducking down to pass by the bright, fluorescent yellow police tape that encircled the house. He was immediately caught off-guard with the strong odor of bleach, but it wasn't an abnormal scent to him. He crinkled his nose in disgust, opting to breathe with his mouth instead.

"Yes," a policeman clarified with a gruff voice.

The two of them descended the rickety staircase to the basement that was filled with many numbered place cards, tape, and police officers. The CSI took a once-over of the basement with calculating eyes before they locked onto the two rooms in the back. He pointed at them. "What are those rooms?"

"Ah! Follow me, I'll show you. It's actually really interesting." The policeman gestured with his hands, leading the CSI to the two rooms. He stopped in front of the first room, holding the doorknob tightly with his gnarly hands. "This room looks like a room where a singer would record music. I have no idea what's it for." He opened the door, and, sure enough, it did look like it was used for recording music. Foam panels covered the walls, door, and floor. In a way, it looked like it belonged to a mental hospital to keep patients from hurting themselves. The CSI took note of the large portion of foam that was sawed off and missing. He wondered exactly what happened to cause that. He could think of a few reasons for it to be like that; none of them were reassuring.

"It's dark in here," the CSI murmured before reaching into the bag that he was carrying with all of his necessities for investigating crime scenes. He shuffled through the mess inside before he pulled out a black light. Turning it on, the CSI shone it inside the room. He moved slowly, squinting his eyes to help him catch the smallest anomaly.

He frowned when he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Man, was this criminal good. He didn't even leave any evidence.

The CSI started to retract his arm, about to give up and move to the next room, when he saw the slightest bit of brightly lit spotting. A small smirk reached his lips as he bent down to rummage through his bag again. He slipped on rubber gloved with an overly-dramatic snap and pulled out a pair of scissors. He then bent over to the spot, snipping it and pulling it in the light to observe it.

"What is it?" the policeman asked, looking over the CSI's shoulder.

The stain on the foam was dark and crispy. It was unmistakable. "Blood."

The policeman wasn't surprised. "Whose blood is it?"

"Don't know." The CSI dropped the foam in a little evidence bag. "That's what we will be testing for. It's most likely the victim's, but it could also be the offender or someone else that fell prey to them. Whoever it belongs to, it will nevertheless be useful in helping us put the criminal behind bars..."

The CSI checked the room again just in case he missed anything before he turned to the policeman again. "What about the other room?" he asked.

"Well," the policeman drawled out, scratching at his sideburn. "I don't really know what it is. It just looks like a storage room. But it's weird…"

"How so?"

"Look for yourself." The door opened and the CSI was shocked to see that it was perfectly clean and tidy. Not one particle of dust was present. He now understood why the policeman said that it was weird. Who keeps a storage closet this clean?

"My guess: this is where they kept the cleaning supplies to remove all the blood and bile as well as hold weapons," the policeman hypothesized.

It would seem like that at first glance, but this could have been a front, or it could have been used for multiple reasons. Again, the CSI crouched down to try to look at the closet at all angles. His eyes shifted around. It looked normal, way too normal. Something was definitely off about it. What would make them clean the room like this? That's when he saw it. The tiled floors were uneven. One tile, in particular, was slightly lifted and detached from the others like it was recently lifted up from the floor.

Something was buried under the house.

The CSI shot up, turning to the group of policemen behind him. "We need to dig here!"

A few people rushed over, grabbing some of the shovels that were placed next to other garden equipment. They started to break the tile apart in the small closet, digging the rusty shovels into the soft soil. Dust flew everywhere, making the once clean closet turn into a mess. The air was so bad that they had to all cover their faces with their shirts to filter the air. They kept digging until they practically dug a grave, the hole being six feet deep down.

That's when one of the policemen let out a startled yell as he dug his shovel into the loose soil, lifting up a human skull.

The CSI stared at the skull in shock. He was expecting a fleshy body or a buried murder weapon at most, but this was a skull. It was practically completely decomposed. How long has the criminal been in the house? It couldn't have been that long. The briefing he received before he arrived at the crime scene told him that the original owner of the house was last seen a few months ago. An exposed body would take around a decade to decompose. Was the criminal carrying the body around this entire time? How special was this person to them? Would they try to get steal it back?

More piles of dirt flew out of the hole. It went on like this for a few more minutes before the policemen stopped digging suddenly, a look of horror on their faces. The CSI looked down to see what they were staring at.

In the hole, there was a decomposed female skeleton.

o-o-o

Two-Bit bounded into the room. "Hey, Rapunzel," he greeted with a huge grin on his face. It faltered a bit a second later as he sat down. "Darry wants us to talk to you about all of the good times we had together."

Ponyboy didn't respond and Two-Bit sighed.

"It was hard to pick just one. But, remember the pranks that we pulled? There was this one we did to Darry, remember?"

"Come on, he's fast asleep," Two-Bit laughed, dragging Ponyboy by the wrist towards Darry's bedroom. Darry had recently crashed after overdoing himself at work.

"I don't know about this," Ponyboy mumbled, looking reluctantly at Two-Bit.

"It's going to be so funny!"

"Not after, it won't. Darry's going to be on our backs."

Two-Bit didn't listen and pushed Ponyboy into the bedroom, the sound of Darry's snores filtering through their ears. Darry was lying on his back, hugging a pillow, his blanket thrown off by his legs. Two-Bit put a hand over his mouth, trying to hold in a laugh. He then turned to Ponyboy and put a finger to his lips to remind him to stay quiet. He then looked around the room before picking up a shoe.

"Two-Bit…" Ponyboy hissed, making sure the keep his voice low. Darry groaned, causing both of them to freeze. Darry let go of the pillow, letting it roll off the bed and onto the floor. The two of them relaxed. Two-Bit instantly went back to his previous task.

Carefully and diligently, he placed the shoe on Darry's forehead. He let go and hovered his hand around the shoe for a few moments before retracting them completely. Two-Bit chuckled lightly and Ponyboy couldn't help but laugh. He wanted to give it a shot. It looked like a lot of fun.

"Your turn," Two-Bit whispered.

Ponyboy rolled his eyes with a huge grin. He looked around the room. If he was going to do this, he was going to aim high.

That's when he saw it. A smirk curled Ponyboy's lips up. He picked up a pen that was on the dresser, bending over to hook Darry's discarded, dirty underwear from his laundry basket. Two-Bit laughed loudly before stifling it when another groan came out of Darry. Ponyboy held his breath as he slid the underwear onto Darry's face, poking at it until it sat like a mustache right under his nose.

The two went off like that, stacking whatever they could on Darry. Amazingly, Darry did not shift even the slightest bit. That's when Two-Bit decided to put a lamp on his chest. He carefully placed it on, but as soon as he withdrew his hands, it fell, crashing onto Darry's face.

Darry's eyes shot open and it took less than a second for him to process everything. He sat up, letting everything slide off of him. The underwear peeled off of his face before he turned to glare at the two teenagers who looked like they were deer caught in headlights.

"Crap. Run! Run!" Two-Bit screamed, pushing Ponyboy out of the room with a laugh.

"Get back here!" Darry screamed from behind them, and they burst out laughing as they fled the house.

Two-Bit stared at Ponyboy afterward, looking around the room for something. His eyes fell upon the vase of fresh flowers. Taking one out, he teasingly placed it on Ponyboy's forehead before leaving the room. "I'll be back soon, so don't miss me too much okay?" He winked, before shutting the door behind him. The smile fell from his lips.

o-o-o

Steve pulled up a chair, leaning his chest on the backrest, resting his elbows on it as well. Ponyboy and him never got along. He didn't have many nice memories with the kid. Steve had to really rack his brain for something. He didn't even consider any of the better ones nice, but Ponyboy might like them. It was better than nothing.

"Listen, kid," he began, "I don't really have many good moments with you, and I don't really like you too much, but just remember that I was the one who taught you the basics of driving."

Steve was waiting in the parking lot, tapping his foot impatiently. Cars were already leaving the school and Steve was about to go as well when he saw the light auburn-haired boy in the cluster of students. The two of them held eye contact and Steve could already feel the glare of annoyance being shot at him.

"What are you doing here?" Ponyboy asked when he walked up to him.

"Darry and Soda asked me to pick you up," Steve answered. "I don't want to see you either."

"But I could have walked or taken the bus."

"Your brothers don't trust you, I guess. I totally agree with you. You should return home alone and grow a few."

Ponyboy growled at him, crossing his arms. "Let's just go…" Ponyboy reached up to open the passenger's door when Steve cleared his throat.

"What?" Ponyboy snapped.

Steve tapped his knuckles on the driver's side. "Hop in here."

Ponyboy stared at the driver's side dumbfoundedly. He looked at Steve questionably. "What?"

"Get in. You're driving." Steve hopped into the passenger's seat, strapping in. He usually doesn't put on a seatbelt, but Ponyboy was going to drive. He valued his life.

Ponyboy got in but didn't move to do anything. He sat stiffly in the driver's side of the seat. "I don't have a permit. I'm too young to even get behind the wheel."

"It's fine. You're with me. As long as you aren't pulled over, we're fine."

"Darry's going to kill me," Ponyboy mumbled before putting on a seatbelt as well. "He doesn't want me to drive."

"Exactly why I'm teaching you how to. Darry and Soda are too protective over you to drive." Steve grabbed onto the handle above his head. "Look down to your pedals. The leftmost is the clutch, the middle is the brake, and the rightmost is the accelerator. To start the car, press down the clutch and put the car into neutral. Then turn the car on."

Ponyboy nodded throughout the explanation, most of it passing over his brain. But could you blame him? It was a lot of information being thrown at him at one time.

He bit his bottom lip when Steve told him to start. The parking lot was completely empty at that point, a perfect time to practice driving. He started the car, following Steve's instructions. He started to drive but failed miserably. The car jerked every few seconds, stopping suddenly, making both of them feel sick to the stomach. After a while though, Ponyboy got the hang of it, although he still was terrible.

Eventually, Steve told him to stop. "I've had enough. I am not letting you drive on the freeway. Switch places."

Ponyboy rolled his eyes but agreed. He wasn't ready and both of them would die if he went on the freeway. Ponyboy switched places with Steve, feeling the exhaustion caused by stress catch up to him. "Hey, Steve?" he said after they exited the school, the car driving smoothly.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you…"

"Yeah. No problem, kid. Don't tell anyone about this."

As Steve finished his story, Ponyboy didn't react to him being there. He just continued to stare at the ceiling blankly. Steve didn't think much of it and shrugged. He did his part. It was going to take time for Ponyboy to recover. But, man, did he hope it was soon. He wouldn't be surprised if Ponyboy got back to normal tomorrow. The kid always had the habit of being everywhere he goes somehow, usually by clinging to Soda's side.

It was the most annoying factor about him, but he was hoping for Ponyboy to become a thorn in his side again.

o-o-o

Dally entered the room next, leaning against the wall next to the door and propping one of his legs up coolly. It was weird to be alone in the same room as Ponyboy. Someone else was almost always there with them. Johnny was usually there with them, making finding a memory with just the two of them difficult.

"Hey, kid," he greeted awkwardly. He scratched the back of his neck, clearing his throat. "Listen, I don't remember many mushy moments between us. Nothing your brothers would approve of. But, it's a good thing that none of them are here to hear this."

Ponyboy pushed open the door to the gas station, the bell chiming. The cashier glanced in his direction before turning back to what he was originally doing. Ponyboy waltzed over to him, leaning on the counter until the cashier looked back up with a raised eyebrow.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Yeah, actually, you see my brother and I are passing by, and we're a little bit lost. We're doing some sightseeing along the way, and—"

"Sightseeing in Tulsa?" The cashier almost snorted.

"There's an exhibit we both want to see. You might have heard of it…"

As Ponyboy was talking, Dally entered the gas station store, walking into one of the aisles. He made a beeline towards the bottles of alcohol. Dally scanned the shelf for a good brand, picking one up after a short search. He glanced at Ponyboy and the cashier who were preoccupied with a map. Perfect.

With a smirk, he slid the bottle under his jacket, holding it with an elbow. He picked another bottle up, tucking it to the other side. When he went to pick up another, one of the bottles that were under his jacket slipped out, falling to the floor. Dally shot his hands down to catch it. Luckily, he managed to do so, but the bottom of the bottle clanged against the edge of one of the shelves, making the head of the cashier snap up at him. Ponyboy glanced back as well with a panicked expression.

"Hey, what's going on back there?" the cashier called out. "You better not be trying anything funny!"

"I almost dropped something," Dally answered. "I caught it. Don't get your panties in a twist. It's not like I broke it, man."

"Excuse me?" The cashier's face was red, veins popping. "What's with your attitude, kid?" The cashier stepped out from behind the counter and was about to storm over to Dally when Ponyboy knocked down a pile of knick-knacks off of the counter. They scattered across the floor with a loud crash, going everywhere.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" the cashier cursed, spinning to Ponyboy.

"Sorry! I wasn't paying attention to where my arm was!" Ponyboy apologized, crouching down to pick everything up. While he was crouching down, he pretended to slip on one of the items. Ponyboy fell forward with his arms stretched out, hands groping for something to catch his fall. His hands wrapped around a cloth, but it didn't catch his fall. He fell flat on his face, but that was the least of his problems. Above him, he heard a yell of shock and he looked up to see that the cashier's pants were at his ankles. He blushed in embarrassment, letting go of the fabric.

"Dammit, kid!" The cashier went to pull up his pants. As he was doing that, Ponyboy watched Dally slip out of the store, the bell chiming again.

"Sorry! I'm really clumsy!" Ponyboy scrambled to his feet, stepping backward. "But it was your fault if you think about it!"

"Excuse me?" The man glared at him with hard eyes making Ponyboy gulp.

"You should have worn tighter pants or a belt!" With that, he slipped out the store himself and jogged around the side of it to where Dally was.

"You should have seen his reaction when you pulled down his pants!" Dally cackled when Ponyboy joined him.

Ponyboy huffed. "I hope that was worth it. I didn't really want that."

"It was, man. Look!" Dally opened up his jacket and Ponyboy could see that he was holding eight bottles of liquor. Somehow.

"I don't think that alcohol makes up for what I just witnessed."

Dally rolled his eyes, slightly struggling to reach into his back pocket to pull out a book. It was a copy of the novel, Fahrenheit 451, a book Ponyboy always wanted to read but never gotten around to it. "I snagged this for you too. Don't think I don't do anything for you."

Ponyboy grabbed it and flipped through it, practically beaming. "Thanks…"

He wasn't expecting Ponyboy to react to his "heart whelming" story. He wouldn't either.

But it had him thinking. Dally slipped out of the room, loping to the hospital gift shop. He looked at all of the books for the familiar title, but, couldn't find it. He sighed in disappointment before he picked up another book, Gone with the Wind, and hoped that Ponyboy would like it when he recovers.

o-o-o

Darry sighed, tapping his fingers against the armrest of the chair. He was trying to think about some sort of memory to tell Ponyboy. Now that he thought about it, there weren't that many that he could recall. He supposed that he could talk about a moment from back before the deaths of his parents, but he didn't think it would be as impactful or something Ponyboy wanted to listen to.

Does he really not have any memorable, happy times with his little brother? Was he so transfixed on his jobs and making sure that Ponyboy was getting good grades in school that he totally disregarded the fact that they were drifting apart?

He wasn't proud of it, but the memory that kept coming into mind revolved around school and grades.

Ponyboy sighed at his desk, flipping a page of his history textbook when Darry barged in his room. A paper was in his hand and Ponyboy glanced up with a bored and tired expression. "What?" he asked, already feeling annoyance bubble in him. "I'm reading the textbook like you asked me to do."

Darry shook his head. "I'm glad that you are, but that's not why I came in here."

"Then why are you here?" Ponyboy practically snapped at him and Darry practically cringed on the inside.

He shook the piece of paper in the air. "Your report card came in the mail."

Darry watched as his brother turned pale, flinching. He fiddled nervously in his seat, eyes shifting somewhere, anywhere, that wasn't at his brother. "I tried my best," he stammered, sweating something fierce. "I tried my absolute hardest. I'm sorry for my bad grades—"

"Relax, Pones," Darry cut him off, frowning at Ponyboy's reaction. "I'm not here to scold you."

"You're… not?" Ponyboy snapped his head back to Darry with questioning eyes.

"No! You did great. Straight As!"

"Oh." Ponyboy let out a huge sigh of relief. "Is that all you wanted to say?"

"Well, I also came to ask you if you wanted to go out to get ice cream or something. A reward for you doing so well."

Ponyboy raised an eyebrow. He wasn't used to Darry treating him this way. "Really?"

"Yes! Is it really that hard to believe?"

"I just… didn't expect you to offer to get me ice cream, is all."

Darry could feel his lips twitch. He dug in his pocket and pulled out his car keys. "Let's go, or I might change my mind."

"Yeah, let's go." Ponyboy grinned and jumped onto his feet, following his older brother to the truck. They drove in awkward silence, making Ponyboy sort of regret his decision in joining Darry for ice cream.

He should have stayed inside the house.

"So…" Darry started, at a loss for words. He didn't know what to talk about. "How are you doing in track?"

"Alright," Ponyboy answered, letting them fall back into silence until they obtained their ice cream from Dairy Queens.

The two of them sat down at one of the tables outside because it was "nice out" and Darry didn't want to risk getting ice cream on his seats.

Darry then decided to try starting a conversation again. Ponyboy just wanted to eat his ice cream and go back to his room.

"So…" he started and Ponyboy glanced at him with a really-you-are-going-to-try-again expression. "Any new books that you like?"

Ponyboy's eyes instantly lit up at the question like a switch was turned on inside of him.

'Oh, thank God,' Darry cried out in his head.

"Yeah! I'm reading Catcher in the Rye! It's about this guy named Holden who…"

Darry nodded, smiling at how bright Ponyboy became. He had little to no interest in what Ponyboy was talking about and tuned him out. He just enjoyed seeing the excited expression on his brother's face. It made up for everything. He wished that Pony smiled all the time. He had a really nice smile.

Darry sighed. When Ponyboy recovers, he vowed to spend more time with him. He couldn't stand the fact that that moment he just recalled was one of the best that he had with him. He hated the gap between them and how they were always arguing. He wanted everything to change. He wanted to learn more about his brother, because, besides the fact that Ponyboy was a smart person who didn't use his head, like movies and books, and liked to run and draw… he knew next to nothing.

He frowned. They weren't always like this. They used to be really close. When did they even drift apart?

"When you recover, I'm going to change everything," Darry declared, standing up to send Soda in.

o-o-o

There was an awkward silence in the room. Everything was tense and the thick atmosphere could probably be felt from outside the room.

Soda was sitting in a chair, fiddling with the sheets on Ponyboy's bed to distract him from his urge to move the hair out of his brother's eyes or to hold his hand. He couldn't do that again. Not after the reaction he received the first time he tried. The image of Pony's deformed and twisted body was scarred into his brain.

"Please, get better soon," Soda whispered so quietly that he barely heard it himself. He sighed, pushing himself backward to lean back against the backrest of the chair. He had to talk to Pony, he remembered. He had to help him get better.

They had a lot of great memories together, so retelling these stories should have been a breeze.

But it wasn't.

It was almost ironic. They were practically the closest brothers in the world, but Soda couldn't remember anything. Maybe it was because he had to think of something in the heat of the moment. Maybe not.

He frowned, eyes casting downward in shame and frustration. Why couldn't he think of anything? He clenched his fists, gritting his teeth.

'Think of something! Anything!' Soda was screaming at his brain, but with each second that passed, he felt his chest become heavier.

He couldn't do it.

He felt like a failure of a brother. Everybody else probably had no problem talking to Ponyboy, yet, he just couldn't. It felt like there was a lump in his throat and that he was going to suffocate from the pressure. The walls were closing in on him. He had to get out and leave. It was hard to breathe like someone was pressing on his stomach. He had to go. Oh, God, he had to leave.

"Sorry, Pony," he choked out, sweat making his skin shine. Run. Run. Run. Soda shot up from his chair, rushing out the door to the room.

o-o-o

Johnny stepped into the room. Ponyboy turned his head towards the noise, staring blankly pass him but with fear eminent on his face. Johnny looked apologetically at his friend. He should have closed the door more carefully. Pony was probably thinking he was going to be tortured again.

"Hey Ponyboy," he greeted softly. Ponyboy didn't react. "I'm so relieved that you're back."

Again, he was left in silence. Johnny was expecting as much. He sat down next to the bed, twiddling his fingers and shifting around in uneasiness. He searched his mind for words but came up fruitless. Johnny sighed. He thought talking to his friend about good times they had would be easy, but it wasn't.

He dragged his fingers through his air. His anxiety was unbearable, his sweat making his shirt damp and gross. Johnny opened his mouth, a breathy sound emitting, but he couldn't form any words.

It shouldn't be this hard. Pony was his best friend. They had long, deep conversations without any problems before. This shouldn't be anything different. In fact, it should have been a hundred times easier.

But it wasn't.

He was comfortable with Ponyboy and they knew everything about each other… but… he didn't recognize the boy in front of him at all. It looked like his friend, minus the skeletal appearance, but he didn't act like him. There was no trace of his friend left. Ponyboy was just a body without a soul. He practically was dead.

But he knew that he had to speak. If it meant being able to fully get his friend back, he had to force himself to talk, no matter how uncomfortable he was.

Where would he even start?

That's when the perfect memory came to mind.

"Remember that time you took me hiking?" Johnny recalled, chuckling lightly at the memory. "Golly, I thought you were trying to kill me."

"Ponyboy! Hey, wait up!" Johnny called out, scurrying along the dirt path. Ponyboy stopped, turning around with a brilliant smile on his lips. Johnny would never admit it, but, at that moment, Ponyboy looked absolutely stunning. The light that shone through the canopy of leaves above them danced on his skin. The color of his hair and eyes went aesthetically well with the fall colors of the flora, making it seem like he was completely one with the environment.

Pony repositioned his backpack, leaning on one leg. "Hurry up! We're going to miss it!" he hollered back.

After a few moments, Johnny finally came to a stop at Pony's side, breathing heavily. "What are you taking me to see, man?"

"You'll see." Ponyboy spoke those words with a sing-song voice, making Johnny even more curious.

"How much longer do we have left? We've been walking for hours. It's going to be dark soon."

"A few more miles, I think."

Johnny gasped, looking at Ponyboy with a horrified expression. "What are you trying to do? Kill me?" He only received a giggle in return. "What's Darry going to think if you're late?"

Ponyboy froze as if finally coming to the realization of the dilemma. But whatever was running in his head quickly passed. He shrugged. "This will be worth it."

They hiked for a few more miles before Ponyboy decided to step off the trail to the bottom of a small cliff. Johnny knew what he was thinking about doing and he didn't like it one bit. He stared at his friend with a stupefied expression, shaking his head rapidly. "You're trying to kill me."

"Come on, Johnnycakes, it's just over this cliff. It's not even that big. It's just a few feet above us!"

Johnny sighed, looking uncertainly at Pony. With a sigh, he reluctantly agreed, starting his climb up the small cliff. Ponyboy was a lot swifter, making it to the top a lot faster than Johnny, who was struggling. He never rock climbed before and, man, was it difficult. His muscles screamed at him to just give up and find an alternate route. The next time he looked above him he saw that Ponyboy had already scaled the cliff, reaching down with his hand extended. Johnny grabbed a hold of it and dug his toes into the side of the cliff, letting his friend pull him up.

When he finally stepped onto the ground, he rolled onto his back dramatically. "Why couldn't we find another route?" he whined.

"That was the easiest path," Ponyboy answered with a shrug, wiping the sweat off of his forehead with his sleeve. "Now, get up. We made it just in time."

A hand was extended again and Johnny took it, allowing Ponyboy to pull him up again. They walked to the other end of the ledge they were on, plopping down.

"Made it in time for what?" Johnny asked again, looking at the trees that were below them. He wondered how high they hiked.

"Just look!"

Johnny did, unsure of what exactly Ponyboy was referring to, but his breath got caught in his throat when he realized what it was.

The sun was setting, making the clouds turn into different hues of gold, orange, red, and pink. He never realized that the sky could be any color other than blue or black until that moment. The sun was positioned halfway behind the line of trees as if it was tucking itself into a blanket. It was calm. Tranquil. He never took the time to observe the sunset, but, man, was it sure pretty. He couldn't keep his eyes off of it like he was in a trance. Now that he witnessed the sunset, he couldn't help but see Ponyboy in it. If there was anything that would describe who Ponyboy was—what his personality was, how he impacted people around him—it would be a sunset. Hands down.

He looked over to Pony who had a small smile on his lips, eyes sparkling. Johnny couldn't help but grin himself. He turned his attention back to the sky, watching the sunset until the sun ducked under the horizon, leaving them in darkness.

"Golly…" was all Johnny could get out, absolutely speechless. Ponyboy hummed beside him, a peaceful smile on his lips.

"I wish the sky was always pretty like that," he whispered, a hint of drowsiness in his voice.

"I do too…"

As Johnny finished his recollection, a small smile was on his lips. He almost forgot about that memory, but it was one of his favorites. A small tear fell down his face, and Johnny quickly rubbed it away. While Johnny was busy trying to recollect himself, he didn't notice Ponyboy glance in his general direction with teary eyes.

Ponyboy was confused. The voices that usually spat negative words at him were making him remember some of his favorite memories. It made his chest feel warm and made him feel almost relieved.

Then a thought struck him.

What if he was dying and he was witnessing his life flashed before his eyes?

No, it didn't feel like he was dying. He wasn't in pain or anything. He felt very much alive and tethered to the earth. The voices were just letting him remember euphoric memories. It didn't make sense. None of it did.

The voices kept telling him that he was safe and Ponyboy wanted to so desperately believe that. If only he could use his eyes.

But what if he was safe? Should he regain hope and risk becoming even more hurt?

He heard someone shuffle next to him. It could have been Vincent. It had to be him. But it wouldn't hurt to try to talk to whoever was next to him. He just wouldn't let him get his hopes up because he knew that it was Vincent next to him.

He opened his mouth and croaked out, "Johnny?"