hi friends!

sorry about these last two chapters. i'm thinking that's why the traction has slowed a bit.

anyways! here's this!

back to dark & sad, oops

-endless

damaged goods

I have many regrets.

That sounds bad, I know. I know I've done more than I ever thought possible. I know I've survived more than any one of us could have ever imagined. I know I've been a suicidal maniac since I got home.

I wish I could take it back. Take it all back.

But I'm laying here, in the middle of a deserted street, hollering for someone, anyone, to come to my aid. I'm breathing in hollow air, air that may not even exist, but it's at least keeping me grounded.

The street is lit with a thousand lights.

I'm comforted by the silence that surrounds me.

I'm the first one to see him stir.

Two-Bit's head rests on my shoulder. Darry stands at the windowsill, staring out into a world that might as well be a hallucination. Ponyboy sits on the floor next to his oldest brother, furiously scribbling in a notebook, small grunts of frustration echoing across the room as he keeps breaking the lead.

No one else hears blankets move in front of me, a deep breath of consciousness, and then a small whimper as his lungs expand. No one else sees his eyes slowly open, the dark brown gaze settling on me, and the small smile that is as warm as the sun. His dark brown eyes are warm with affection for me - I want to believe for all of us - and I swear I see a flash of surprise cross his pupil. As if he didn't expect us to still be here, watching him, hoping for him to come to, waiting for him to come out of that surgery alive.

We don't need to speak to express how happy we are to see each other. My body fights to urge to jump to my feet, startling everyone in the room. There's something about Soda's body language that holds me back, tells me that we need to just silently revel in each other's presence. To not take one another for granted ever again.

My mind still doesn't want to recognize that he's been in another coma for two months. But this time, it was from his own body, not from a medical professional.

Soda's voice is tired as he asks, "What happened?"

I hear Ponyboy slam the notebook closed. I feel the air shift as Darry turns abruptly, his gaze locking with mine, as if waiting for confirmation. My shoulder becomes cold as Two-Bit lifts his head and sighs in relief at seeing Soda. I find my chest growing tight with emotion at watching Soda's smile grow as he hears Darry and Ponyboy's shoes squeaking against the tile and appearing behind Two and me.

Soda looks at each of them in turn, but his eyes fall back on mine. "What happened?" he asks again, and I silently will someone else to break the news, to tell him that he's going to struggle for the rest of his life.

Pony sits on the edge of the bed, peers down at him, and murmurs, "They had to do another surgery. You were throwing up blood."

Darry nods solemnly. Soda breaks our moment and tries to move in order to get a better look at his brothers, but he hisses in pain. The word "Jesus" comes out as a gasp.

Two-Bit is the one to admit the truth: "Your right lung collapsed again. Said the only way of keepin' you alive was to take it out."

"That's a thing?"

Two-Bit shrugs. "Guess so."

"But you're alive," Darry brushes his hand through Soda's hair. His voice is kind, loving, but his body is rigid with fear. "And that's all that matters."

I know that Soda is looking at me again, waiting for me to say something. But I'm quiet, maybe too quiet, so he just looks away with a sad expression on his face. It's the same expression he'd thrown my way when he was about to board a truck and head out to base camp.

The same look he gave me when he was on that bridge, about to throw himself off, about to die in a way I'd never imagined.

But then I'm sobbing like a little kid, and I feel Darry, Two-Bit, and Pony staring at me with sorrowful pride. I haven't been the one to grieve, to sob like this, to face the fact that my best friend could have died three thousand times. I've been strong and I've been brave for the rest of them. And I can't help but feel I'm the last person Soda wants to see in general, especially like this.

Through the flood of tears I catch Soda's eye. The affection ignites again, the smile manifests, the sigh flows through the air. It's not a sigh of annoyance, of anger, of despair - it's a sigh of adoration, of respect, of a tie that binds stronger than his brothers.

"Shit," I mutter, wiping furiously at my eyes and sitting back, trying to act casual. "I'm fine, I'm fine."

Soda reaches out and wraps his fingers around mine, lacing our hands together. His hand is warm against my cold skin. There's so much we want to say but we can't find the words. It's here that I think about before he left for 'Nam. Before he left to save us and nearly died, came home, and then almost died again.

His laugh is a breath of fresh air. "I'm alive, kid. Stop being Pony."