A/N: Now hear this! If I get ONE review or ONE e-mail even HINTING at
slash, I WILL NOT POST THE REST OF THIS! We're almost at the end, and yes,
there have been hints in the past, and I don't want to hear them. Stop
trying to warp a perfectly good friendship. This doesn't apply to the
majority of readers, but to those it does, you know who you are. Leave it
alone.
That said, I LOVE how fast this category's growing! Also, thanks for all the incredible reviews. INCREDIBLE! *Sniff* I love all you guys!
(Soda)
I wasn't ever going into our room again. It smelled like him. His drawings and writings were on the floor, his clothes were beside mine in the dresser, his shoes were in the closet. It would be like that week he was in Windrixville: I'd roll over in the night and throw an arm where he should be, and it would strike the empty mattress and I'd wonder why he wasn't there. And then I'd remember and grab his pillow, press it against me, bury my face in it, missing him so much I wanted to scream, as if I was in physical pain.
"You oughta eat," Steve murmured. He'd sat on the floor beside the couch all night with me, letting me lean on him as I cried. I'd been crying from the moment the last line went flat and I couldn't imagine stopping. I'd spend the rest of my life crying. This was just a break.
"I ain't hungry."
"I know, but you gotta try an' stay strong, Soda."
"What for? There ain't no one to be strong for."
"There's Darry."
"Darry ain't here either."
My older brother was out making "arrangements," with the state and with the funeral people.
"Soda," Steve said gently, laying a hand lightly on my shoulder. He drew a deep breath. "I 'member you talkin' about how Pony--" I winced at my brother's name--"always saw himself as a burden, and how you weren't ever gonna let him feel that way. So you can't let him now by lettin' yourself waste away."
Waste away. The way Pony wasted away, slowly dying before my eyes, through the treatments and at the hospital, each line dropping off as if on cue.
I wish I could die with you, I thought, the tears starting up again. I want to go with you, Ponyboy.
"Come on, buddy," Steve pleaded, squeezing my shoulder. "Don't stop living."
Don't stop living.
I remembered my younger brother telling me that as I held him, trying to keep him warm, trying to keep him with me.
You were more like Steve than you believed, Ponyboy, I thought to myself, watching the worry on my best friend's face. You two never liked each other, and it always kinda bugged me, although neither one of you ever said it for my sake. Well, it don't matter anymore.
I put my head down as the tears started again. "I don't want to do this anymore Steve," I sobbed, "who's it gonna be next, huh? Darry or Two-bit or you? It won't be me, because whoever the hell decided to keep taking people keeps leaving me behind!" I slammed my fists into the couch with all my strength. "I WANT HIM BACK!"
And the tears had me again. But so did Steve.
"I'm still here," he murmured, holding on to me, clinging with the same desperation I had clung to my younger brother with. "I'll always be here, Soda."
That said, I LOVE how fast this category's growing! Also, thanks for all the incredible reviews. INCREDIBLE! *Sniff* I love all you guys!
(Soda)
I wasn't ever going into our room again. It smelled like him. His drawings and writings were on the floor, his clothes were beside mine in the dresser, his shoes were in the closet. It would be like that week he was in Windrixville: I'd roll over in the night and throw an arm where he should be, and it would strike the empty mattress and I'd wonder why he wasn't there. And then I'd remember and grab his pillow, press it against me, bury my face in it, missing him so much I wanted to scream, as if I was in physical pain.
"You oughta eat," Steve murmured. He'd sat on the floor beside the couch all night with me, letting me lean on him as I cried. I'd been crying from the moment the last line went flat and I couldn't imagine stopping. I'd spend the rest of my life crying. This was just a break.
"I ain't hungry."
"I know, but you gotta try an' stay strong, Soda."
"What for? There ain't no one to be strong for."
"There's Darry."
"Darry ain't here either."
My older brother was out making "arrangements," with the state and with the funeral people.
"Soda," Steve said gently, laying a hand lightly on my shoulder. He drew a deep breath. "I 'member you talkin' about how Pony--" I winced at my brother's name--"always saw himself as a burden, and how you weren't ever gonna let him feel that way. So you can't let him now by lettin' yourself waste away."
Waste away. The way Pony wasted away, slowly dying before my eyes, through the treatments and at the hospital, each line dropping off as if on cue.
I wish I could die with you, I thought, the tears starting up again. I want to go with you, Ponyboy.
"Come on, buddy," Steve pleaded, squeezing my shoulder. "Don't stop living."
Don't stop living.
I remembered my younger brother telling me that as I held him, trying to keep him warm, trying to keep him with me.
You were more like Steve than you believed, Ponyboy, I thought to myself, watching the worry on my best friend's face. You two never liked each other, and it always kinda bugged me, although neither one of you ever said it for my sake. Well, it don't matter anymore.
I put my head down as the tears started again. "I don't want to do this anymore Steve," I sobbed, "who's it gonna be next, huh? Darry or Two-bit or you? It won't be me, because whoever the hell decided to keep taking people keeps leaving me behind!" I slammed my fists into the couch with all my strength. "I WANT HIM BACK!"
And the tears had me again. But so did Steve.
"I'm still here," he murmured, holding on to me, clinging with the same desperation I had clung to my younger brother with. "I'll always be here, Soda."