Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns the Outsiders. Nash Leigh owns the song. I own Sam.
Ch. 15 – Need To Be Next To You
Right here with you is right where I belong.
I lose my mind if I can't see you.
Without you there's nothing in this life
that would make life worth living for.
I can't bare the thought of you not there;
I can't fight what I feel anymore.
Sam's P.O.V.
thump…thump…thump…thump…thump...thump...thump...
God, I thought, who is making that awful noise? I knew my eyes were still closed, but I didn't want to open them to see Owen standing over me with a pot or something, trying to get me out of bed. I swear if it's him I'll kill him when I get the energy to move.
With my eyes still closed and the thumps continuing, I focused on my body. I felt like my bones themselves were aching and it kind of hurt to breathe. Finally, I recognized the thump as a pulsing heartbeat in my head, which felt like it was 5 times its normal size. Wondering what the hell happened to me, I opened my eyes.
The room was dark, but for a smattering of moonlight coming in through the blinds. I was on my back, and for the life of me, I couldn't seem to move around. This isn't my room, I thought, rolling my eyes around as far as I could to survey the rest of the ceiling. This is Soda and Pony's room. Why am I here?
The blankets next to me were rumpled and warm, like a body had been laying there. I fluttered my eyes for a minute, trying desperately to remember what happened and why I was laying in Soda's bed in the middle of the night. I willed my now-shivering body to relax and thought back to the last thing I remembered.
I was getting ready for work; it was early. That's right; I was going to see Soda. Oh, that car. It was red. The guys – I think I hit one of them. And I remember running. But that's all. Running and yelling. What the hell happened?
I turned over in the cold bed and winced from the pain. My eyes welled up with tears, and I absently considered the possibility of broken ribs. As I tried to roll back over, I heard the door open and a gasp accompanied the light that shone through the door.
"Sam?" Soda's voice was hesitant and questioning; he sounded exhausted.
I grunted in response to let him know I was awake, but I was currently focusing my efforts on trying not to cry. My grunt came out more like a moan than I had intended and Soda rushed to the bed, jumping in next to me.
"Oh my god, you're awake. Oh, baby, you're shivering. Sam, are you okay?" Soda's face broke into the biggest grin I'd ever seen, but he also had the haunting emptiness behind his eyes I'd seen at the hospital the night Ponyboy was jumped. His hand came up to my face and brushed my hair away from my eyes and he had a gentleness I'd never expected from a man, an almost maternal quality.
Taking a minute to bask in the safety of laying beside him, I got through the pain and decided to start with practicality. "Soda, can I have some aspirin? I hurt like hell."
Soda jumped up in a flash and ran toward the bathroom. Just as he left the room though, he popped his head back in. "Is it okay if I get Darry to make sure you're okay?"
I nodded noncommittally and closed my eyes again, waiting for the boys to come back. I didn't particularly like being taken care of, as my position was usually that of the caretaker, but the aches in my body told me to let it happen and not fight it.
A minute later Soda returned with a glass of water and two aspirin. He brought a straw too, explaining that he didn't want me to sit up just yet because I might pass out. I took the pills and turned my head to sip at the water and tried not to choke on the medicine as it slid down my throat.
Darry came in then, clearly just having woken up, and stood over me. "I'm so glad you're awake, Sam. Do you think you can sit up so I can take a look at you?"
Darry was the doctor of the family, having spent most of his life play sports and watching sports medicine. I nodded and rolled to the left again, trying to start the process despite the intense pain. I got as far as putting my hands under me before I whimpered, but kept pushing anyway. I felt Darry's hands on my shoulders rolling me back over and picking me up as if I weighed nothing. He told Soda to sit with his back to the headboard and set me in between his legs so he could be my back support. It hurt like hell to be moved and shaken like I was, but I was determined not to cry and blinked back the tears I could feel coming to the surface. Soda's arms cradled my head and rubbed my hair softly and I tried to focus on that and take comfort in it.
Darry asked where I hurt and if I remember what happened. As he poked and prodded and checked out my ribs, fists, and head, I recounted what I could remember of the incident with the red car. Soda filled in some of the blanks, though he had no idea what happened before I collapsed. He told me that I'd been asleep for about 13 hours and that my brothers would be back in the morning, but hadn't wanted to move me.
Darry finished his "check-up" and told me I had bruised a rib, taken a hard hit to my jaw, busted my fist on someone's face, and would have a hell of a headache in the morning, but for now that I should try to sleep. He promised he'd wake me up before my brothers got there so I could take some medicine and hopefully be able to move when there were there. He picked me up again and I groaned my disapproval and Soda moved to the other side of the bed and re-situated my pillows before Darry laid me back down.
I thanked him quietly and he went out, probably to go back to sleep, I thought, as I noticed the clock beside me reading 3:25.
I closed my eyes as I lay on my back quietly and tried to picture what had happened. Had I fought? Was there something I could have done better? I knew my head wasn't working quite right because it was all I could do to piece together events, let alone the emotions that went with them. I did remember being angry. And now I just felt sorry that the Curtis' had worried so much, not to mention my own brothers. Were they mad? What had they said? It was all too much to think about at the moment.
"Soda?" I didn't want to think anymore. I didn't want to try and remember. I didn't want to worry or be afraid. I just needed him. I hadn't said much more than a word to him since I woke up, and I could only imagine what he'd been through in the last twelve hours.
"Yeah." Soda's voice was quiet and gentle, like he was talking to a spooked horse or soothing a crying baby.
"I love you. I'm sorry." Tears welled in my eyes again as I realized just how sorry I was. I certainly didn't mean to get jumped, but I was overcome with the sorrow I felt for causing him pain and worry and not being able to soothe either. "I'm so sorry." A single tear dripped out of my eye before I could blink it back.
"Sam, look at me." Soda's voice still had a maternal tone to it, but it was more demanding now, making me feel like a child being chastised. I turned my head obediently and looked him right in the eye. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm so sorry I didn't come to pick you up. I should never have let you walk alone, especially not after what happened to Pony a few weeks ago. Your brothers and Darry and Pony keep telling me it's not my fault, but I can't help but think that I could have been there to help you. I'm so sorry. But you – you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. You did your best, Sam. I'm so proud of you. I'm so sorry."
The words were tumbling out of Soda's mouth and his eyes were glistening in the moonlight. It took all my effort, but I lifted my arm to his face and held it there, gently brushing my thumb along his cheek. "It's okay, Soda. It's okay. It's not your fault."
I shushed him and wished that I could be closer, that I could hold him tight to me like I had that night in the hospital. But for now, I knew I couldn't so I just left my hand on his face, hoping that he knew how much he meant to me.
A long moment later, I took my hand from his face and laid it across my stomach, saying, "Soda, come close to me. It hurts to move, but I want you near me."
He did as I asked and curled into my left side, careful not to touch me anywhere at all. I hated the idea that I was fragile and though it hurt very much, I moved his arm to replace mine on my stomach and laid my own hand over his. It was a mild and peaceful position we laid in, and for some time we lay silently, knowing that it was enough to just be with each other.
I felt the aspirin start to kick in and turned to my left to face him, gently placing my lips over his. The bruise was on my chin, so it didn't hurt so much to kiss, but moving my face against the pillow felt like my bones were being smashed. I made the decision, right then, in my pain, that I didn't care and that kissing Soda was worth any amount of pain a pillow could do to a damaged jaw, so I laid my hand on his face and brought him closer to me. He was acting timid, almost afraid, and he pulled back when I tried to bring him closer.
"Sam, this isn't right. I don't want to hurt you," he said.
Bring his face back to mine, my lips crashed to his and I spoke into his mouth. "How about you let me worry about that, huh?"
And so he kissed me, not with reckless abandon like that which I felt, but with tenderness and obvious care. The passion was there, I could feel it, but it was muted and filtered with mildness and love.
Our bodies seemed to be glued together but there was no frantic movement like the night by the water, but rather slow, fluid, sensual kisses, peppered with moans of pleasure from Soda and groans of pain from me, which I masked as best I could with my own pleasure.
Pulling away just slightly, I glanced at the clock behind his head, which read 4:15 in bright red numbers. I grunted my disapproval and nodded my head in that direction to show Soda who also grunted and rolled to his back.
"We should sleep, So. Plus, I'm starting to get sore." The minute the words escaped my mouth, I regretted them. Soda's generally-pleased expression changed back to that one of sorrow, and he looked at me worriedly.
"Well," I continued sheepishly, "a little sore but a lot satisfied." I let a slow, feline grin tease at the corners of my mouth before I finally let it go and smirked happily at him.
Soda beamed back at me, his happy-go-lucky countenance back again. "How do you want to sleep – on your back, your side, your stomach?"
I chuckled quietly, noting Soda's quick switch back into "fix-it" mode. "I think I'll sleep on my back so I don't hit my face on anything," I said, rolling slowly to the position. "Stay with me, please?"
"You couldn't pay me to be somewhere else, Sam." He moved slowly into position on his side, curled around me – his right arm above my head playing with my hair, his left across my stomach, tracing lazy circles on my side. The feeling of his hands on me was heavenly, the circles on my side making my flesh burn with desire.
I looked at him and put on a mock-serious face. "If you keep drawing those circles, there won't be any sleep tonight for either of us, and I don't think I'm quite up for that just yet, buster."
Soda laughed, his fingers still tracing the shape on my side. "Hmm…now that is a cryin' shame. Saddest thing I've heard all day, I bet. But, I'll keep the tip in mind. Maybe for tomorrow?" he joked.
It was my turn to laugh, and I did, whole-heartedly. "Yeah, maybe," I teased.
With one last kiss, I moved into a relaxed position, Soda following me lead. And in the morning, Darry found us like that, both sleeping like babies – feeling cozy, safe, and wanted.