Author's Notes:
In the tradition of my other chapter and stories, it has Bright Eyes references. I have become suddenly inspired. This will be finished.
Expect OC's in the future; I have conjured up a brother of Johnny's to join us, but he is not a Mary-Sue. I think you'll rather like him, he's kind of cool.
For the confused, this takes place after the book. I almost decided it wasn't, but, yah. That's what's going on. Dallas is alive, however, which will be explained and Johnny's walking is also discussed here.
This chapter was heavily inspired by Elliot Smith. In fact, the entire story is heavily inspired by Elliot Smith. His songs remind me of the Johnny I'm trying to write.
Hope you all enjoy my fic. Your comments and critiques really help me out, keep them coming if you could. They brighten my days. (:
This chapter is a little short because I just wanted to update. (;
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The motel mirror was dark, like black glass. Johnny was staring ahead, meeting his eyes. "Look at you," He said, sounding miserable. "You're a wreck. A fool." The words hung in the air and then settled like dust. He felt them weight down on his heart, which suddenly felt as if it were sinking into his stomach. It was a Monday morning, a little after six o'clock. He had not rested that night. Strands of hair fell messily infront of his black eyes, but he had not the strength to brush them away. He noted with disgust that his eyes were red and wet. He looked like he had been crying all night, and that had, for once, not been the case. He sniffed, trying to clear the scent of the drugs. He tried to recall how he got there, why he didn't stay with the Curtis', what exactly had been happening the past couple of days. Lately, every event seemed to blur into another. Life was always easier when it was just a blur, with no details to confuse him, but that didn't make anything alright. It felt like he was slipping a little bit more every day, losing himself to sleep, cocaine, and thought.
--
"Why don't you just stay with us?" Ponyboy asked, not understanding. They sat side by side on a hill in the park, staring out into the distance. The sun was just beginning to sink beneath the hills, spilling darkness over the sky. It was a sight that Johnny never ceased to be amazed by. No matter how ugly things turned out in life, the sun would prove the end of every problem. The way it fell beneath the skyline, blotted out by the tops of hills and house...The end of daylight took with it another day and it's problems. When it rose again, things would be new, a blank sheet of paper. He would write the same story over and over again...
"I need to think,"
The older of the two boys stated. He turned to face his friend now,
looking concerned. "You know what I mean? I just ..." Pony
leaned a little closer, their noses nearly touching. If he was on the
verge of spilling one of those secrets that Ponyboy knew he was
hiding...
Johnny felt suddenly vulnerable, there was such honesty
in his friends eyes when he himself was so guarded. He swallowed,
moving away from the other. He turned his head towards the sky again.
The clouds were just begining to turn into stars. "...I just
need to get my head straight."
--
Get his head straight? My blowing coke up his nose? The irony of the situation made him smile. It was a crooked sort of grin, the kind that reminded him of Dallas when he felt just. His eyes half-shut, and he turned to the shower. Kneeling, he fiddled with the knobs(in this place, which he knew like the back of his hand, you always had to jimmy them first) The lights were all off, still, and the ugly green curtains pulled back. He could see the parking lot, lit blue and gold as dim sunlight began to pour over it. The streetlights were still on, although their impact on the ground was minimal. It was moments like this, when the world was still dark and blue from the night in the morning, that Johnny felt were the most precious. Business men were already up, Farmers had been for hours, but it still felt like he was alone and everyone else remained tucked in their beds. It was all ridculously peaceful. He never thought of things this way before Ponyboy had showed him that sunset by the church. God, he was lucky to get out of that one with his legs intact. The doctor had said remorsefully that he would never walk again should he survive. Drugged up and feeling tired, he had only smiled in response. It had taken a year and a half of physical therapy and medication to get him where he was now. A year and a half of his life had been eaten up by that fire...He found it amusing that fire had tried to take him and failed, but succeeded in taking his parents. He reached for the bottom of his shirt, lifting it above his head before tossing it aside. He stepped out of his pants and thus completed undressing. A steady stream of hot water poured over him like heavy rain as he stepped into the bathtub. At least he could feel clean amongst the dirt and shame of the motel and the guilty feelings he was trying to ignore. No, guilt was a concept he was no longer subscribing to...
A dizzy spell suddenly came over him. He thought for a moment he was going to fall, but he maintained his balance. Deciding he would be best not to be alone, he hurried to finish washing. He wrapped a gray towel around his waist after listening to the way the knobs screamed as he turned them off. He tucked the towel into itself and stepped out onto the tiled floor of the bathroom, making small puddles that followed him into the carpeted bedroom.
In the next room he drew
the curtains down, hiding the view. The world, now fully golden and
bright in the sunny glare of morning, was gone from his room.
He
wasted no time in quickly drying and redressing; He had no other
change of clothes. They had all been burnt, unfortunately. In
the rush to simply be ready, to be okay, he had never considered the
reality of his situation. He considered it now as he buttoned his
jeans. No more beatings. No more abuse. His father would never
/touch/ him again, never...
Never again.
But his mother. She came to his mind as he slid on his sneakers, old and worn. She had not been like him. In the nights he didn't come home and she was sober, she would cry to him. Sometimes, with her mascara running down her face(even when she had no reason to put on make-up), she would wrap her arms around him and apologize through broken sobs. When he turned six years old, she had even tried to make him a birthday cake. That was when it started to get really bad, when Blanc had moved out, stolen the car, drove towards Nebraska... Surely the news had reached him. He'd be coming back, if Johnny remembered anything about his older sibling. He never even thought of sending them money...
Now he was on his way out the door. He ran his fingers through his hair, the snarls yeilding to his desire and uncurling themselves. He had his mothers hair, so dark and wavy and thin. In the right light, he could be mistaken for her, only he lacked the paleness of her skin, her sickening lack of weight. For some reason, he missed her, he missed that. He missed the nights she would hold him and apologize, tell him it was all the drink, tell him his father was not who they thought he was. Really deep down he loved her, he loved Johnny, they were just in a bad time was all. A bump in the road. Really. Johnny knew better than to believe her, but sometimes it felt good to hear the words anyways. Part of him had always hoped.
His jean jacket was getting a little tight now. He'd need to be buying himself a new one, soon; It's funny how it took so long for him to grow out it. He was thankful it had lasted so long. A genuine and small smile passed over his lips. It was tragic, everything going on in his life, but somehow, it was okay. Why was it okay? He wasn't sure he could say, but ... everything was fine and would be fine. This was the way it was supposed to be. He could and would get better, one day, but right now this misery was what was meant for him. He had been put through a lot, and with his father gone he could finally start healing from all of it. He fumbled in his jean pockets for a cigarette packet, and lifted the stick to his lips. The blue lighter in his opposite pocket was lifted up to light it, and he inhaled deeply. The smoked screamed against and blackened his lungs as he made his way towards the Curtis household. It was early, but everyone would be awake - or, at the least, Darry would be. He had to go to work at 7:30. The family's schedule was something that Johnny had growned used to and liked; It was the one thing that stayed constant in his life, the promise of when his friends would be coming and going from the only truly functional household Johnny had been invited into in his lifetime. He considered knocking, but he could remember suddenly a beautiful woman. She was a giant compared to him, with the skin of an angel and hair the exact color of gold. Her blue eyes lit up at the sight of him, and he felt welcomed. "There ain't no need to knock, Johnnycake. You're family, now." And she had smiled...
Mrs. Curtis had died so
young. Johnny hadn't understood it then, it had all felt like a bad
dream. He was older, now. He understood death. It tugged at his
heartstrings all the more now that he could comprehend the accident.
No, she had not deserved it...But he was used to such unfair dealings
of fate, considering the fact he was a Greaser.
He turned the knob
slowly, peeking over the door. "Good morning?" He said
quietly, taking note of the fact none of the lights were on. He
listened closely now and heard the Television flickering, the sound
crackling as it left the speaker. Someone was awake. He leaned
against the door now, closing it, and now caught sight of Darry on
the couch. He was still in his pajamas, which pretty much meant
underwear and a tanktop(like most men, Johnny presumed, although he
himself felt most comfortable sleeping in sweatpants). "Good
morning!" He repeated, now waving to the older boy. No, man.
Darry had grown up so fast - He was such a responsible person,
Johnny always admired him. He would never be like that. He would
never be so...selfless. It was unfortunate, but he knew himself too
well.
Darry was sitting at the living room table, on the floor. He had been watching the news when Johnny had decided to pop in. "Morning," He responded. He seemed glad to be torn away from the sight of the television screen, but his smile quickly turned to a frown. "Hey, are you alright? Pony told me what happened."
Of course he did, Johnny thought, because he worries to much.
It never occured to Johnny
that his friend had all the reasons in the world to be worried about
him. He had been getting thinner lately, a little paler. He didn't
like to talk about anything because he didn't like to burden anyone.
He must have come off as secretive and nervous and sad for a long
time, but it was only recently it seemed to get really bad. He didn't
eat much at all, and he spent most of his time away from the
gang. The lack of seeing him probably fueled rumors. "I'm okay,"
He answered truthfully, rolling his shoulders in a shrug as he
strolled over to the brick red couch. He sank into one of the fabric,
sighing. Darry eyed him suspiciously. Nope, he didn't buy it - And
why should he have? He was the smartest guy that Johnny knew, surely
he could see through him. Johnny half hoped he would.
"You're
parents are dead," Darry said flatly, so honestly and fact-like
that it made Johnny wince. "And look at you. Were you drinking
or crying? You're eyes..."
But Johnny was to stubborn for that. He wanted so badly to talk about everything, to finally spill all the things bothering him and swimming around in his brain. The problem was there was no place to start, for the list of doubts and fears were endless.
"It's okay, it's all right, nothing's wrong," Johnny cut him off, speaking quickly. It was painfully obvious he wanted to get off of the subject. His stomach quivered as it supressed butterflies, summoned by his nerves. Darry seemed to get the message. He wouldn't open up to him, but maybe to Pony. "It's Christmas vacation," He stated, looking over at Johnny. He had been going to school lately - He had even gotten the hang of basic reading. "No school," Darry added, studying the other for a reaction. Instead, Johnny stared at the TV, expressionless as he explored his thoughts. "Yes," He agreed.
There would be no more discussion, only tired silence, until Soda and Ponyboy woke up.