hi again!

again, super sorry that the last chapter was so short. i hope this one suffices! it isn't too much longer than the last and i'm sososososo sorry :c

-endless

delicate skin

I'm drowning all over again.

But not in water; in my own blood.

I find myself at peace, ready to die, all over again.

I guess all's well that ends well.

Darry shoving my body might as well have electrocuted me, because I physically jolt back to reality. The air is thick with the smell of blood. The body in front of me - Soda's body - makes my own stomach fall to the floor. But then Darry barks at me, "Move, Two!" and like a dog wanting to please his master, I turn on my heel and start to bolt for the door. I feel my shoe catch on something and then, all of a sudden, I'm almost face-first into the red-stained tile..

Holy fuck, I curse as I find my footing. I know that my footsteps are making brownish-red marks on the floor, but I'm pretty sure Soda throwing up his entire bloodstream is worse. Gogogogogogo -

I've almost reached the end of the hall when they barreling through the doors with a bunch of medical shit. Someone's on a gurney and looking like they're gonna pounce on Soda when they get in there. Another one sits next to her in the same pose, but her eyes are fearful, as if assuming the worst, and I open my mouth to agree with her, but my words are lost in the commotion. They're yelling to each other what to do, nodding along, but hell if I know what they're ordering, so I just book it after them.

I'm turning the corner in front of Soda's room, about to head inside, when the door slams in my face. I reach for the door handle - nothing. I jiggle the handle, thinking it may be stuck - it doesn't open. "Open the fucking door!" I pound my fist against the door, trying to get their attention, but it's like I'm a ghost.

"It ain't worth it, Two. I tried the same thing." Steve's voice deadpans from behind me. I turn and find him slouched against the wall, mindlessly thrumming his hand against the foundation. I jiggle the handle once more, and with my body growing tired from defeat, I cross the hallway and sink to the ground beside Steve. He sighs and slings an arm around my shoulders.

"You know what's wrong?"

Steve shrugs absentmindedly. "Said somethin' that I can't remember, but apparently, it's awful enough that we can't be guests at the party."

I throw my head against the wall, my skull cursing me as it hits solid drywall. "Fuck, Steve... if he -"

When Steve says "Don't even say it, Keith," I know he's pissed. No one calls me by my actual name unless I'm in some deep shit - either with another gang or with one of my own. So I shut my trap, and there's silence for what feels like years.

I about launch through the ceiling as Soda's team comes crashing through heart sinks as Pony and Darry come blasting right behind them, practically running after their brother. Like I predicted, the one nurse that was perched on the gurney in a stealth-mode position has leaped onto Soda while everyone else keeps them straight. Darry and Pony are keeping pace, but they're stopped right as the cold plastic doors create a barrier. As the doors on the opposite end of the hall close, Steve's voice cuts into the quiet:

"What the fuck are we gonna do?"

That silence dies just as quickly as it started, because Darry and Pony are sitting down on either side of Steve and I, fear pounding off of their bodies and colliding with our own.

Darry's quiet - too quiet - as he says, "They gotta go in 'im again."

"Another surgery?"

Pony whimpers. "Mhm."

Steve is still looking at Darry. "What're they lookin' for?"

Darry leans his head back, shuts his eyes, and takes a deep breath. H opens his eyes slowly, and his green eyes are overcast as he says, "Dunno. They said it's one of those things where you just gotta wait."

It's my turn to look at Darry, and I can't help but scoff. Of course a doctor would say that. "Wait for what?"

Pony answers for his oldest brother. "Wait and hope that he ain't bleedin' so bad that he might as well have -"

Darry hisses the words, "Not happening, Ponyboy" and, like me about ten minutes earlier, Pony shuts his trap. I nudge Pony and offer him a smile, but it's a pathetic one at that. I know what he was gonna say, and I don't think any of us need it to be spoken aloud. It might as well be a sign above our heads; a sign that reads Hey, our best friend and brother is dying! Step right up and see us fall apart right in front of ya!

I smirk. That'd be something I would do.

"He ain't our leader for nothing," Pony murmurs, and I feel the wall grow cold as Darry tenses. "He'll make it."

From between them, Steve and I share a look. And I hate the glimmer I know we both have in our eyes, the statement we both have whirring in our minds. I hate that we're even thinking this way on our own, but together? Jesus Christ.

He'd better.