WHAT MAKES A MAN

three months ago

"He's coming home soon."

Darry's voice, still on the brink of sleep, breaks the silence.

I turn in his bed, his dark green eyes meeting mine. "I know."

"I bet you're excited," he murmurs, his hand grazing down my arm in a gesture of worry and comfort. "The calendar's gonna be shredded to the ground by the time he arrives."

I scoff and tangles his fingers with mine, and God, I want to remain here for the rest of my life. For the last year and three months, I've loved Darry more than I've loved his brother. For the last year and three months, I've slept in Darry's bed each night.

For the last year and three months, Darry has become my home.

"I'm scared, Dar. I'm scared for him."

Darry's demeanor changes from asleep to direct, and his eyes are conflicted as he looks away. "I know. I'm scared for him, too, but all we can do is be there for him."

All we can do is not be together.

The sentence lingers behind, though neither of us say it. It sits in the silence like we've plastered it on the wall, and I suddenly sit up in bed, looking down at Darry from where he lays, still not looking at me.

"I love you, Darry," I say, and my heart twists. "I love you."

Darry sits up, the milky dawn light shining through his window making his eyes turn an even brighter green. His hands trace up and down my arm, towards my collarbone, and stop on my cheek, where they linger for only a moment. My skin burns with his touch, and I want to cry as it fades away.

He sighs, his warm breath hitting my face. "I love you," he whispers as I rise from his bed, about to sneak back into Soda's bedroom, where a cold bed greets me.

I lean down and kiss him, noticing how he reaches for me, like he wants me to stay. For a split second, I almost stay; I almost return to a warm bed, with a warm body beside me.

But my heart wins, and I leave him there.

present day

Soda never tells me how bad the nightmares are.

I know they're particularly bad when I wake up in the bedroom to no one beside me. They're even worse when Darry has to hold Soda down as he writhes and screams in bed, unable to wake himself up, tortured by his own dreams. In order for me to get some sleep, Darry gave me his bedroom; my past and my present, all in one room.

As I walk into the kitchen to find Soda sitting on the couch, his hair a mess and his eyes not even moving to meet mine, I can tell he's had a bad night. I give him a small wave in hopes he'll notice I'm there, but to no avail; he doesn't even acknowledge my presence.

Ponyboy sits at the kitchen table, watching our interaction, not saying a word. I come to sit beside him, and he immediately pushes a napkin towards me, giving me a look to keep me silent.

Bad night. Darry's still asleep. I guess Soda was really having a fit and tried punching him.

I stare at Pony in disbelief, but he shrugs and leaves to get his backpack from his bedroom. I try and make nice of the situation so I stand up and settle on the couch next to him. I put one hand on his knee and he immediately flinches at my touch, like he's been electrocuted. "Hey, hey," I soothe, taking my hand away and raising both so he can see them. "I'm sorry. I just thought you could use some company."

He stares at me, his eyes clouded and dazed. My chest hurts as I hear Pony come out of his bedroom, murmur a goodbye to Soda and I, then disappear out the door. I can only hope that Darry will soon follow his brothers lead, so I don't have to sit here in the deafening silence.

An hour passes and Darry is nowhere to be seen, so I rise from the couch, take one look at Soda—who has finally fallen asleep on the couch—and turn towards Soda's bedroom. My lungs suddenly fall into my stomach as I get closer, my body slowly feeling numb with each step I take.

I can hear Soda whimpering from the living room, and as I cast a glance, I can see his body curling in on itself. I can see the torment in his sleeping face, the scowl he wears, the way his legs move restlessly on the couch as he runs from something bigger, more terrifying than himself.

I recognize that I have to wake Darry in order for this to go as smoothly as possible. But I stop, Darry forgotten, turn back to Soda, and walk towards him instead. I turn the corner and notice that Soda's gone, nowhere to be seen, and for a split second I think he might've slipped out from under my radar.

But that second fades to a distant memory as Soda's body weight presses me against the wall, his hands searching for my zipper, his voice low in a growl as he says, "Don't struggle. This will all be over soon. I know you have no fucking idea what I'm saying, but I know you're in for a great time."

I'm about to beg God to take me, to save me, when Darry's huge form takes Soda off of his feet and sends him crashing into the floor. The two brothers wrestle on the floor, and I remember that Darry is no longer the stronger one; Soda easily gains the upper hand, clawing at Darry like he's a rabid animal, and it takes Darry blowing a solid hit to Soda's jaw to make the fighting stop. With a hiss, Soda retreats to his bedroom, the door slamming so hard I think it's come off the hinges.

My body is cold as Darry moves toward me, careful with his movements. I want nothing more than to shrink into myself and crumble into pieces. I'm shaking too hard to stand on my own, leaving Darry to pick me up and place me back in his bedroom. It takes every ounce of my strength to tell Darry to leave, that I'm fine, but my tears and cries betray what I'm saying and he picks up on that.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there," he banters on and on about how he should've been there, how he should've warned me, how he should've asked Pony to wake him before he left for school. A triad of should have's—a rich man's excuse for "sorry." But I know he means it; he means it more than Soda probably ever did.

I let him apologize over and over until the sun sets and rises again with morning. I let him hold my hands, even run me a bath, and let him take care of me. I let him sleep next to me, unable to close my eyes, unable to cleanse the dirty feeling off of my skin.

I'm suddenly wishing that silence between Soda and I had stayed, because I'm not sure what exists now.