Hi everyone!

This is short as hell. I'm sorry!

Should I be doing college homework? Yes

Am I writing for this story instead? Also yes ;)

This is worth it. It always is!

-endless

liquid fire

Trying to live when you only want to die is harder than anything.

I've lived my life "high on life." I've never been scared of a rumble, or failing classes, or Dad yelling in my face. I've never been afraid of living my life to the fullest extent, even if it kills me.

But damn it, if only I knew what I would become. This killing machine with a gun in my heart, in my mind, ready to attack. This monster that breathes gunfire and smoke. This man that took advantage of battle formations, barely missing bullets, and fucking women who told me to stop in their native tongue. Taking everything about 'Nam and bringing it home.

I never meant to bring it home. Darry thought that maybe I could get past it with therapy, so we barely made it by with how often I was going. Not that I wanted to - and apparently, it didn't do much good.

Hindsight is 20/20, and I don't know what I would do without them. Without my brothers, without Steve, without Two-Bit Even without Dally and Johnny, who aren't even on this Earth anymore.

And here I am, letting the world pass by, letting the fire in my body hold me hostage. Letting the twisting of my ribs inside of my body rip me apart. Letting the rods that hold my neck and skull together blaze with a numbing sensation. Letting the weight of the world keep my eyes shut.

God, I want to live for them.

But I can't live for myself.

I've slept for what feels like three days. I guess not sleeping for more than two hours three weeks in a row does that.

The doctors and nurses pushed us out of the room because they had to change Soda's bandages again, and last time, Pony projectile vomited. We weren't about to have that happen again, so away we went. Sitting in this all too familiar waiting room feels like a prison, and I know that it'll take twenty minutes, but it feels like hours. I've taken it upon myself to pace in the hallways, mindlessly wandering around in order to get out of my head, out of this room, out of this situation.

Peering into Soda's room wasn't part of my plan. It just sorta happened.

People surround him, almost blocking my view. But then a nurse moves to adjust something, and I see him. I see him in his entirety, in his world, in a fire that I can't help him out of. It looks like his entire chest imploded, completely shattered, never to breathe again. I feel my stomach twist as I see that his entire rib cage is black with bruises, and a thousand scars, presumably from the rocks, marking his body. There are still drains collecting the buildup of blood. There's a long, sickening scar that runs entirely from his abdomen to the top of his chest, almost reaching his neck, and I can only imagine what the back of his head looks like. The wires might as well have been part of his body, winding around him in every direction. He's gotta be drenched in liquid fire, in storms and lightning, in a tornado of pain that only he can experience.

Honestly, I didn't know what to expect. I had a feeling it would be bad, but not this bad. I didn't think I'd wonder how he was still functioning, breathing, staying on Earth. I didn't think I'd feel such a strong urge to yell "Stay alive, damn it!" to a still body. To a person I admired, cherished, and even looked up to. I vowed that day, sitting on that riverbank, waiting in the cold night to see if he could breathe again, that I'd protect Pony until my last breath.

It was something he told me a long time ago, when Pony was in high school, right before he went to Vietnam: "Do whatever you have to. He ain't a baby no more, and he'll argue with you. I don't know if I'll ever step on this dry, red soil again. I have no fucking idea what to expect. But either one of my brothers enlisting to save my life? You need to keep them back - convince them that I'll come home." And then his gaze locked with mine and I saw a fierce rush of love cross his dark brown eyes.

He'd put his hand on my shoulder and turned me towards him. That love still engulfed his gaze. "You're my brother, Steve. My best friend. I know Ponyboy has never been your favorite person, but I have" - he winked, and I felt my heart break - "and I know it's a lot to ask. But besides Two-Bit, you're all they have. You're all they have left of me."

Thank God he came home. Even in this state, thank God he's alive.