AN: Hey, Kats and Kittens! Thanks so much for the feedback:) I'm so glad you like the story so far. As per request, I will not be going Emo!Pony for this fic (I hadn't planned to anyway, but now it's definitely official). I just sort of added that bit with Pony in the bathroom because I wanted to express that he was willing to go there if needed, but hopefully things will pick up before that happens . . . I'm not exactly sure where I'm going. I'll just let the fingers do their work.

Enjoy:)

Chapter Five:

Johnny stares at me with wide eyes, his cheeks a deep red and his jaw slack.

"You mean, he was gonna . . ."

I nod slightly, watching his reaction carefully.

"Did . . . Did you want him to?" He asks timidly, his expression almost frightened as if he thinks I'll strike.

I pull my knees to my chest, squeezing them tightly as I think before replying, "I . . . I don't know."

Suddenly, the tears hiding behind my eyes can stay hidden no longer, and they begin to stream down my face.

"Shit, Johnny, why am I so fucked up?" I sob, burying my face into my arms.

"Don't say that, Ponyboy," he places a hand on my shoulder and scoots over next to me. "You're just a little confused is all." My older brother's words through Johnny's mouth.

"I am not, either!" I sniffle angrily. "I know what I feel when I'm with Steve. And it ain't 'confused.' "

"Well . . . What is it, then?" Johnny asks with a shrug.

"It's . . ." I start, unable to finish the sentence at first, but soon the words come bubbling out, whether I want them to or not. "It's complicated . . . My stomach twists so hard, it hurts, and my mind just sorta goes blank. Sometimes I can't breathe right, or my legs feel like they'll collapse right out from under me . . . Does that make any sense?"

"Well, sure it does," Johnny smiles widely, something he doesn't do often enough. "It's called love, Pony. Ain't nothin' wrong with that."

I stare at him for a moment and revel in his sincere look. He's the first to accept me. I don't know why I'm surprised. We've been through so much together.

"You think so?" I ask quietly, swallowing the lump in my throat.

"Sure," Johnny shrugs. "You and Steve . . . Who knew?" He laughs slightly, lightening the mood, and I smile with him.

"Hey, Johnny? Do me a favor, okay?"

"Yea, Ponyboy. Anything." He squeezes my shoulder encouragingly.

"Don't . . ." I hesitate. "Don't tell Two-Bit or Dally about all this . . . I don't want them to know yet."

He nods in understanding.

"Thanks, Johnny. I don't know what I'd do without you."

0 o 0 o 0

Shit. Oh, shit. I'm fucked. I'm more fucked than I've ever been in my entire life.

I stand motionless a few houses down from my own. The lights are on, and I can see Soda pacing in the window. Darry's on the phone, and they both look real angry.

"Steve, just tell us where he is!"

I hear my oldest brother's scream from where I'm standing. They're blaming Steve. Of course they are. Who else do they have to blame?

Slowly, I make my way towards the house, dreading what awaits. Last time I came home late, Darry hit me . . . but that was a long time ago, and we never really did talk about it much. I think about bringing it up sometimes, telling him that it wasn't his fault that I ran away that night, that I was just surprised and that nothing that happened after that night was his doing . . . But he can see it in my eyes whenever I think about bringing it up, and he is quick to avoid any confrontation. I wish I could avoid that confrontation tonight.

The squeak of the gate as it is opened causes both of them to turn towards the window and hurriedly exit the house.

"Ponyboy, where the hell have you been?" Darry very nearly yells but restrains himself, aware of what time it is.

At first I say nothing. I stare at them both with hard, glaring eyes. I don't care what they think of me anymore. I'm tired of having to pretend.

"Where do you think I was?" I reply curtly, not with the respect I usually give my brothers. Respect is very important in any greaser's life. It's not easily gained, but once you've got someone's respect, it doesn't just simply go away. Neither of my brothers is deserving at the moment, and for the time being, I think they've lost all sense of what we once had as a family.

"Damn it, kid brother, you are getting on my last nerve," my eldest brother threatens angrily. "Get in the house." I start towards the door without another word, but Soda stops me, placing a hand on my arm and turning me so that I face him. I don't look him in the eye, and I can't tell whether it's because I'm angry or . . . afraid.

"Pony . . ." His voice is so . . . sincere that it makes me look up at him, and I find that he has an almost hurt look in his eyes. "We aren't doing this because we want to. We just . . . don't want to see you get hurt. Steve isn't-"

"Steve isn't any of your concern," I interrupt him harshly, pulling away from his clutch. "And what the hell do you know anyway? All that talk about love and how you wanted to marry Sandy. What'd you think was gonna happen, Soda? You and Sandy would live happily ever after? Life don't work that way. Look where it's got you. You're just some no account dropout working at a gas station and having to help Darry pay the God damn bills."

The words are barely out of my mouth as I feel the sharp sting across my jaw and my head snaps to one side. I don't turn back. I don't want to. I remember when Darry had hit me. It hadn't been as hard, and I had glanced back for only a mere second before running for the door, but I had seen the complete and utter shock in his eyes that night; his mistake flashing across his very face in a look of horror. Soda, however . . . I don't want to see Soda's eyes, because I already know what will be there. There will be no remorse, no apology, no surprise or shock. Darry had acted before he thought. Soda . . . He knows what he did, and he knows I deserved it. As do I.

"Shit, Soda! What the hell were you thinkin'?" Darry asks, astonishment written across his face. "Aw, man, that's gonna leave a bruise. Son of a bitch! The state's comin' next week! What're we gonna tell them?" He's in between me and Sodapop now, carefully taking my jaw and examining where I was hit with a wince. I don't so much as flinch, brushing his hand away and starting towards the door once again.

"Tell 'em the truth," I say monotonously. "Maybe they'll send me away to a family that gives a shit." I glance once more in my brothers' direction and see for a fleeting moment the frightened look that crosses Soda's face, that look of realization at what he may have just done . . . and I'm glad.

0 o 0 o 0

"Hey, kid, that's a tuff little patch you got there," Two-Bit takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning my head to better look at the deep purple bruise that had formed overnight. "Who'd you knock out?" I twist my head away, staring at Sodapop, who sits across from me at the breakfast table pushing his eggs around his plate.

"Why don't you ask Soda?" I shrug with uninterest, returning to my bowl of Cheerios. "He's the one that gave it to me." Two-Bit's smile, suddenly, disappears as he leans in close to me with a hard face.

"Don't be lyin' like that about your brothers, Ponyboy. That could get you and them into a lot of trouble," he says seriously. I look up and lean into his face as well.

"I ain't lyin'," I reply simply, mirroring his facial expression and staring him down. The bruise still stings slightly whenever I talk, but there isn't much swelling, thanks mostly to Darry. He had made me keep ice on it all night. I was so numb, I could barely feel half my face.

Two-Bit gives me one last skeptical look before turning to Soda, hoping to be told that this is all a misunderstanding. Soda, however, says nothing, continuing to break the yolk of his egg and slosh it onto his toast, making it soggy.

"Aw, Christ, Soda, what the hell made you-"

"I'm gonna be late for work," he says quickly, standing and throwing his plate into the sink hurriedly. It nearly cracks as it hits the dull metal, but he doesn't bother to glance back as he rushes out the door, shirt and shoes in his hands. Darry comes into the kitchen carrying a coffee mug in one hand and a section of the newspaper in the other.

He doesn't look up from his reading as he asks absently, "Soda walkin' to work today?"

"Guess so," I say quietly, gulping down what little milk remains in the bottom of my cereal bowl and placing it in the sink carefully on top of Soda's plate.

"Someone mind tellin' me what's goin' on, here?" Two-Bit demands impatiently. "What happened?"

"You boys are gonna be late for school if you don't get a move on," my oldest brother states quietly, setting his cup on the counter and folding the paper.

"Ain't we gonna wait for Steve?"

"C'mon, Two-Bit," I grumble with annoyance, grabbing my school bag from the couch and heading out the door. Today is going to be a long day.

AN: Questions? Comments? Vague disregard to any or all words written and established in the mind of one who has no sanity?

Well, Peeps, I hope you liked. It took me a while, and I hope you aren't too disappointed. Things might have to pan out a little slower than I expected, I s'pose. Oh well. I'll try to update soon and, hopefully, keep the story interesting. I think a little visit from the state is in order, don't you?