please read previous installments of the descent: memorabilia, i don't want to rest in peace, we can haunt each other's dreams, you left your mark on me
Two-Bit isn't looking for Ponyboy when he's driving back down town. His mother finally roped him in for a few Thanksgiving errands, and despite the fact that he didn't even have a license, she expected him to get off of his ass and get it done. Ever since Johnny and Dallas had died, she seemed to have made more of an effort to try and help him out in the day to day instead of leaving it up to him.
On one hand, he didn't mind it. He had always done right by his sister, and he'd always done his best with his mother, trying to be self reliant enough that she didn't have to worry about him on top of all of her other day to day needs. She was a single mother, she had to work and fight all damn day to make something of herself, to keep a roof above their heads. On the other hand, it was almost nice to have her do this again. Even if he was technically old enough to move out on his own, leaving her and the rest of the gang just wasn't on his list yet, and his sister was getting older. She needed her brother as close to her as possible and unlike his father, he wanted to actually be there for her.
Getting a decent job though, that was still not quite on the table. Running errands for Buck and Tim was about all he permitted himself at the moment both because it was lucrative to do so and because it gave more money than any other bullshit job out there he could get. He looked the other way about their dealings; it wasn't his business and he'd been very clear about his level of involvement.
So he's not thinking about Ponyboy when he's driving back. He's thinking of the easiest way to pick up his sister, Katie, and then when he needs to be at Buck's.
When he stops a light, he almost doesn't recognize Ponyboy, glancing up once, simply seeing a shambling figure carrying brown paper bags. Two-Bit glanced back to his dash, and registered a moment later that it was Dally's jacket, the one Ponyboy had been wearing ever since it had gotten cold.
Then he'd glanced back up, intending to greet him. By that point Ponyboy was much closer, and Two-Bit could feel something cold seize his stomach that had nothing to do with the cold air. He finds himself immediately putting the car into drive, going a few feet and making a reckless U-turn, pulling up next to him. "Pony!"
Ponyboy continues to walk forward in that strange shamble, as if he can't hear Two-Bit yell at him from the car. Two-Bit pulls up to, and then on the curb, swearing as he parks. He scrambles out as Ponyboy keeps going on, and he comes in front of him, hands up to catch Ponyboy. His fingers on his shoulders don't even seem to phase him, as he looks up at Two-Bit with blank eyes that seem bluer than they normally would. He's a fright to behold: there's blood seeping out of both of his nostrils and down his front, with bits of glass in his hair and on his shoulders. His hands are gripping the bags too tightly against him, knuckles white, and his teeth chatter uncontrollably when Two-Bit stops him from moving.
He's not sure if Ponyboy has been in a fight or what. If he has, it was a hell of a one, with the way Ponyboy's chest is heaving, and the blood running down his front.
"Ponyboy," Two-Bit says his name slower, concern making his voice shake, "Can you— can you hear me?" He looks at his eyes again, but there are no tells that shows that he's high. He just continues to chatter his teeth, eyes vacant, not at all focusing on Two-Bit.
He thinks of the way Soda has told him about the dreams Ponyboy has had. How terrible it had been for him, and this felt different from that. The glass, the way the blood keeps streaming down, Two-Bit considers taking him to the hospital, and then reconsiders: maybe it's a new drug he doesn't know about even if that's not like Ponyboy at all, and the thought of the brothers with more bills to pay outweighs the rest.
Carefully, he tries to steer Ponyboy away from the street. He moves easily, walking with Two-Bit with no resistance into the passenger seat of the car. It takes a solid pull to get the groceries bags out of his lap, putting them in the back. Two-Bit fumbles as he gets the seatbelt on Ponyboy, who's fingers now dig into his thighs, eyes still staring into nothing.
There's no joke he can crack as he drives them down the street, to his own house. Not once in all that time does Ponyboy talk, not once does he do anything except stare ahead. Two-Bit can't even make himself try to talk, more concerned with getting him inside.
It proves to be just as easy to get Ponyboy inside as it is to get him into the car. All he needs is for Two-Bit to steer him inside, walking up the steps with stiff legs.
"Go on, sit," Two-Bit carefully tries to press him into sitting on the couch, and Ponyboy seems to drop like a rock onto it, fingers finding themselves back on his thighs. Two-Bit moves quickly to get the food inside, and then, he goes to the laundry room, pulling down freshly clean rags, something his mother wouldn't miss.
He makes his way back to Ponyboy after starting the faucet. Letting it heat up, he feels an itch for a beer. Thinking better of it, though, he starts with the most difficult task first, pulling out the glass from Ponyboy's hair. He hasn't greased it in weeks, making it all the easier to pull out the shards. He even uses his mother's comb to make sure it's all gone, and moves to his shoulders, his pockets.
Once it's clear and the water is so hot it stings, he takes the rag, and goes about cleaning Ponyboy's face off. The complete lack of reaction from Ponyboy still spooks him as he mops up the blood, scrubbing as much as he could. The overflow is over; it's just a rusty red remains that he cleans up from his nose, his chin, and his neck. "Jesus, your brother's ain't gonna be happy about this," he mutters.
Ponyboy's mouth moves, but no words come out.
Two-Bit decides not to speak again as he finishes, the rags going into the trashcan when he's done. He gnaws at his thumb in nervousness; he wanted to take Ponyboy's shirt off, but with the way he is at the moment, it seems like a bad idea.
Instead, he grasps Ponyboy by the shoulder, leads him to his room. Carefully, he sits Ponyboy on the bed. He looks pale beneath the light, fingers still clutching at his thighs. Two-Bit grasps a blanket, and loops it over Ponyboy's shoulders.
"Can you lay down, Pony?"
Ponyboy's eyes rove, land on him. He blinks for the first time, and a vague sneer shows on his face. It looks odd on his face; he can't really think of a time that he's such an expression on Ponyboy's face. "Two. Twos, two." The words come out strangely, half distorted in a static like way that makes even the hair on his sideburns raise. "Twos."
"That's me, kid," Two-Bit says, trying to roll with it. "Ol' Two-Bit."
A laugh tumbles out of Ponyboy's mouth that sounds grating and harsh, hysterical and altogether otherworldly. He laughs, intertwining, Two, twos. In his gut, Two-Bit feels sick as he watches, listens to him. The sneer on his face feels so familiar, so taunting and so like—
"Pony—" Two-Bit reaches out to seize his wrist, and the contact is the wrong thing to do. Immediately, he gets flashes of lights popping, a tasted of searing rage, and blood seeping into the back of his mouth. At the same time, before he can process it all, Ponyboy seizes up, his arm flinging back and he lands a sucker punch on Two-Bit's mouth.
Two-Bit has been in fights with Ponyboy before. He's seen him land a punch, he's felt a playful punch. But as he's left on the floor, dazed and bloodied, he thinks he's never felt him punch him that hard in his life. It's a punch suited for someone much bigger than him with the way it rattles his jaw.
He doesn't think himself, just slugs back from the force of it, the adrenaline working before sense does to punch Ponyboy back square in the nose. It would be almost comical, with the way it shoves Ponyboy back against the bed, and Two-Bit knows that no matter state Ponyboy was in now it couldn't have been the right move.
They both seemed stunned for a moment, Two-Bit panting on the ground, Ponyboy swaying above him, his hand moving upward to his nose which is gushing blood again. It's odd to watch him blink once, and twice, eyebrows screwing together, looking down at Two-Bit with a confused expression he associated more with Ponyboy not getting a joke or being too occupied in his damn head to realize something rather than a terrifying situation like this.
"...Two-Bit? Where'd you come from?" He looks more present than Two-Bit has seen all day, blinking in bewilderment.
Two-Bit can't help but throw his leg out for a kick, Ponyboy yelping as he goes down like a sack of potatoes.
