Four Days Until Dawn
Installment 3
Bleakness
XXX
"Hey," Two-Bit softly said, announcing his presence into the kitchen. Darry looked over at him, idly stirring his coffee to cool it.
"Hey," Darry answered. "It's late. What brings you over?"
Two-Bit shrugged, fingers fiddling with the busted zipper on his jacket. Darry noticed something didn't look right with his friend. Then again, something didn't look right with any of his friends. The events of the week had aged them all, sucked the life out of those still living.
"This a bad time?" Two-Bit mumbled. He'd felt an innate pull to be here, close to the kid. Guilt ate at him. Shameful, tormenting, endless guilt.
Darry's turn for a shrug. "You're welcome anytime. Ain't nothing going on though. Soda's crashed in my bed, Pony.... well, he's still out in his."
"Can I see him?"
Darry thought it odd that Two-Bit would stop and ask, yet wouldn't look him in the eye.
He gave his friend a hard glance then nodded, sipping his coffee. "Sure, but don't wake him up."
"I won't."
He turned and headed down the hall, stepping stealthy into the semi-dark room. The moonlight set the room aglow with a pale light. He was there, asleep in his bed just as he should be. Only, instead of sleeping, he should be laughing, or reading, or playing cards. Hell, even star-gazing would be more his style. This – this was wrong, and he was responsible for it.
"I'm sorry, kid," he whispered as he sank into the empty chair. His sober eyes burned for something that would dull the pain, but all day Two-Bit had refused his body what it wanted. "I should have told him. I should have," he mumbled low enough not to be heard.
He leaned forward, wanting to get a closer look – but he was still too far away. He moved from the chair to the side of the bed, leaning over to feel the unconscious boy's cheek. Carefully, he let his thumb trail down his young friends face, feeling the silky smoothness of never-shaven skin. He was so young still. Too young to have gone through everything he had.
The forehead of his friend furrowed, eyebrows pressing downward into a tight V. "No," Ponyboy mumbled sharply, catching Two-Bit off guard. He froze, wondering if he'd hurt him somehow.
"Ponykid? You awake?" Two-Bit hesitantly asked, uncertain.
The forehead smoothed again, his hands moved some, halfway gripping something that wasn't there. Then, out of the darkness, he screamed.
"Darry!"
Two-Bit jumped, startled. Before he could figure out what to do, Darry had already made it to his brother's side, wrapping one arm protectively over his chest while laying the back of his hand over his forehead and cheek. Darry frowned.
"What did I do?" Two-Bit pleaded. "I swear, all I did was touch his face … really lightly! I didn't mean..."
"...It's okay, Two-Bit. He's just hot again. He gets a little out of his head when he's too hot. He was like this earlier. Sit here for a minute while I get some medicine for him, would ya?"
Two-Bit watched as Darry untangled himself from his youngest brother's arms then disappeared, and nervously sat by the kid's side again. Mentally, he wasn't so sure about his own state. The only thing going through his head were images of Johnny, burned up in that hospital bed; of Dallas smirking before fiery anger burned in his eyes and the demand of his prized blade made; of the kid - pale as a sheet and hotter than mid-day in August sitting there waiting for the bus - begging him not to say a word. If he had, if he'd done what his gut told him to do ... would fate had played out the same way?
Would the kid reappear almost two hours after the rumble had ended - blood smeared down his head, his skin alabaster from being so pale, and his rough, tormented voice announcing that Johnny had died? Would he have collapsed at their feet after watching Dallas get shot dead in front of him – Dally's last words being the kid's name? Would the kid have had to spend the night in the hospital? Would he be laying here like he was now - confused, disorientated … damaged?
Would he ever be the same?
Tears fell down Two-Bit's face before he'd realized they were there.
"Hey, Two-Bit, it's just a fever. You didn't do anything wrong." Darry said with rare gentleness.
Two-Bit blinked, unsure when Darry had returned. He moved out of the big guy's way, watching as Darry coaxed his brother's mouth to open, placed the syringe against his cheek and released the medicine. The boy coughed some, a pool of saliva appearing on his lips.
"Damn, forgot...." Darry used a towel to wipe his brother's mouth, then stroked his neck. The young adam's apple moved as he swallowed. Darry delivered more medicine to the boy, he swallowed again and Darry sat up, finished.
"This is my fault." Two-Bit said suddenly.
Darry, exhausted and numbed, looked over. "Care to explain?"
More tears fell, but he was too far gone to try to hide them. "He wasn't looking so good before the rumble. He … he begged me not to say anything. I was stupid, I should have known better. If I had told you..... then...... this.... he...." He gestured at Ponyboy's unconscious form, words failing him, getting hitched in his throat.
It was easy to feel like shit, yet harder to admit to someone you admired so much how you'd screwed up so completely; and that your mistake nearly cost someone dear to you their life. Especially when so much had already been lost.
"I'm sorry, Darry. I'm really, really sorry."
Darry looked at his friend, falling to pieces on the other side of the bed. He gathered what strength he had and tried to dismiss his friend's claim of guilt. He tossed the box of tissues Ponyboy kept on his desk at Two-Bit, who took some and mopped up his face.
"Hell, Two-Bit. This ain't your fault. It's mine. I knew he wasn't looking so hot before we set out for the rumble. I debated on making him stay, but I knew as soon as I suggested it, he'd never do it. He'd follow us no matter what I said. So, I let him come, hoping I could keep my eye on him. I was stupid for thinking that would work. No, buddy, this ain't your fault. It's mine. All mine."
And Darry really felt like that, only his guilt ran longer than a few nights. His ran back over a week. Subconsciously, he rubbed his right palm, the palm that had struck his brother as the kid stood there, demanding that he hadn't meant to fall asleep in the lot. No matter how old he got, no matter what else life had in store for him, Darry would never forget that singular event that forever changed his very existence.
And he'd forever be ashamed of it.
"You knew?" Two-Bit asked, astonished.
Darry nodded. "Yeah, hell yeah I knew. But I thought... I thought I could protect him. That between Soda and me...." his voice trailed, feeling Ponyboy tense up again.
"Soda.... help..." The plea was agonizing, voice soft as a whisper. Ponyboy was calling out in his sleep, not in conscious reality. Waking Sodapop would do nothing for the situation, the danger lurked only in Pony's head. There was nothing Darry could do but sit and watch, guard and wait. He tucked the blankets around his youngest brother's shoulder, patting his arm when done. He never finished what he was saying, but Two-Bit understood.
"He gonna be okay?" Two-Bit asked.
Darry's pale eyes looked up. "Yeah. He'll be okay." In time, Darry thought. He's got to be.
"Anything you guys need? Just name it...." Two-Bit insisted. He'd buy it, borrow it or steal it if he had to. This family was that important.
"No. We're good. Thanks."
Two-Bit gave one more look at his friends - one sleeping, the other an inch away from collapse, and stood to go.
"Call me if you change your mind."
"I will. Thanks, Two-Bit." Darry said, settling into his chair for the night, his eyes already closed.
"No," Two-Bit insisted. "Thank you. See ya in the morning."
Darry, too tired to answer, nodded. Two-Bit patted the door frame and headed off to his own home, glad it was nighttime. The cold was enough to get his mind off the boy laying there. It wasn't, however, enough to get his mind off the other boy who would never come home again.
As he passed that house, the one belonging to the Cade's, he felt his stomach turn to ice and puked in the bushes. When he could stand again, he turned his feet toward the outskirts of town. His eyes couldn't take the burn any longer. He was weak, and headed off to quench a thirst that no regular soft drink would fulfill.
XXX
Calla Lily Rose