hello!

i've had this story idea in my head for a while now, and originally i didn't think anyone would want to read it. it's kinda rough and definitely not entirely fleshed out. in a way, i'm sorta winging this whole concept, so if there are sporadic updates, that is why.

here we go!

please read, and as always, review if you wish. :)

-endless

i need you with me

Each morning, the sun is hidden behind a thousand clouds.

I'm not sure why I'm surprised. This has been happening for a few months now; ever since I came home. It's as if the sky, the clouds, and even the universe are grieving with me. As if they know I shouldn't have survived.

My youngest brother is asleep on my opposite side, and unfortunately for me, it means I can't escape without waking him. I lay in a cold sweat, pinned against the wall, unable to see the clock that shines brightly from the other side of the room. Fed up with staring at the white ceiling, I put my elbows underneath me and start to sit up.

Immediately, like I've somehow set off his internal alarm system, Ponyboy is upright and staring at me. His half-closed eyes and bedridden hair are enough to tell me that I've made a mistake, but it's too late now. "Soda? You okay?"

Am I?

The question sings like birdsong inside of my head. I force a smile and feel my stomach drop when I try to slide past Pony. "Go back to sleep," I murmur, keeping my voice level. The image of Pony's body suddenly blurs, and it's only when my little brother grabs my shoulders that his body stabilizes, my nausea subsides, the ache in my head ceases.

"'m fine," I try to blink the fog away, to move so that I can stand, but Pony won't let me get away with it. His hold on me is strong, stronger than I anticipated, and his eyes burn into mine with a worried intensity I can't break. We sit here, in this moment, for what feels like my entire life.

Pony doesn't glance over his shoulder as he calls for Darry. The house may as well be burning with the speed at which Darry bursts into our bedroom, and his eyes search for me. I feel my skin crawl under their gazes, their eyes that shine with pity. It's disgusting; it's demeaning.

But it's what I've become.

Darry breaks our staring contest long enough to ask Pony, "Why didn't you call me earlier?" But our younger brother just shrugs, as if he could handle it on his own. And part of me believes him, but the three of us know that Pony is too kind, too gentle, to help me do anything. Pony treats me like I'm a feeble old man, capable of breaking at any minute, while Darry isn't sure what he could do, would do, or should do. Their wonder, their apprehension, their fear is enough to crack the foundations beneath my feet.

"Soda."

I avoid Darry's gaze, choosing to stare at my arm, and I feel his frustration crack like lightning. "Look at me, kiddo." When I still don't complete the order, Darry throws his weight onto our already-broken mattress and holds my face in his hands, forcing our gazes to lock. "You know you can't keep doing this."

"I need to be able to move -"

"I know," Darry's voice is soft, gentle, almost motherly. "But you can't take it faster than your body will let you."

I grimace and try to shrug him off, try to get Pony to let go of me, but my vision swims with black specks. Frustration builds in my chest, floods my eyes with tears. I have avoided what I did for the longest time, forced myself to push it to the back of my mind. But the scars are there - the mutilated body is there. My body isn't capable of what it used to do, and I know that, but God I don't want to give in.

"Let me go," I whisper, and I breathe a sigh of relief as they do exactly that. I force myself to push through the black sea that threatens to drown me, right here and right now. I won't give in. I can't. Not after what I did.

Not after what I've done. Not when I continue to dream of a way to get out of this place, this feeling, this life.

The ground shakes beneath me as I rise to my feet, and to my horror, my legs give out under the weight of my own body. I collapse against Darry, and he lets us sink to the ground, knowing that the frustration has reached its peak.

My body trembles with the weight that I may never come out of this. I may never be able to walk on my own. I may never be able to speak without getting winded, cry without feeling like my chest will explode.

"You're okay," Darry murmurs as I double in on myself. The tears that blurred my vision are cold against my boiling skin. Darry rests his chin on top of my head, and I know he's sharing a look with Pony, who hasn't moved from the mattress. At the realization that I'm absolutely sobbing, Pony finds his way to us and wraps his hands around mine, and yet again, I'm helpless. The way their bodies shiver against me, even though the room is probably ten thousand degrees, scream at me that they're scared out of their goddamn mind.

I'm reminded of the day I tried killing myself. We were in this exact same position, in the exact same frame of mind:

Will I ever be okay? Will I survive this? Do I even deserve to survive this?

Like that day, I know that they don't share my failure.