Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders or the song "How Do I Breathe?"

It feels so different being here. I was so used to being next to you. Life for me is not the same, there's no one to talk to. I don't know why I let it go too far, starting over it's so hard. Seems like everywhere I try to go I keep thinking of you.

I'm on my fifth beer. It may be sixth. I'm not counting.

Carmen's here with some college boy with a fake accent and a gold tooth. She won't look at me.

Tim is in the kitchen playing poker with Tiffany holding his balls. They're both winning.

Two-Bit found a girl and took her upstairs. They're practically dating.

Sylvia isn't drunk and she's cooking peanut-butter cookies in the kitchen.

Where did everyone fucking go?

I remember coming to Buck's famous parties. Me and the boys. It turned into an every Friday night thing. Back in the day, Darry used to join us and then Pony took his place after the roles switched.

Steve's married now.

Soda's pretty much a family man, what with practically being married to that broad and her sister and having a full time job.

Darry's bed ridden. Soon to be sitting on his ass for the rest of his life.

Two-Bit is in college. It's wrong to even say in my head.

Johnny is M.I.A.

Pony is...

here.

I don't ask. I don't want to. The kid is probably bored now that his house is always empty and the hospital scene isn't really his type of place. Not to mention that fact that his only friend is gone and pissed at him.

"Dallas! A word! Now!"

Fuck.

When he rounds the corner with that thick baby face and that frowning pissed face that only a toddler would have, I laugh. "You know, for a second, I was actually worried."

"We need to have a conversation."

I take another sip of beer and then another. "About?"

"Danni."

"Oh this should be thrilling! Shall we go sit in the living area or perhaps the dining area? It's such a hard decision. Both have such great art work but the living area feels quite refreshing, wouldn't you say, Pete?"

His little soft hands go into fists. "Cut the shit." He leads the way into the living room and to an area where no one is at.

Tim is still at the table, pushing in his cards. I catch his eye and wink.

"I wasn't going to hit her you know?"

I press my eyebrows together. "Who?"

"Danni!"

"Oh, her."

He sighs and lowers his blood pressure to a healthy level. "Yeah. I'm not like that, ok? I would never. That was our conversation though and you had no business sticking your fat nose into it. It had nothing to do with you."

I raise my hand to my face. "You think my nose is fat?"

"She hates you," he goes on. "She told me that a million times. She told me she doesn't know what she ever saw in you. I saved her because you broke her. Don't act like you have some goddamn claim on her because you had her once. You threw her away. I found her and fixed her. She's mine now."

Tim is keeping an eye this way. "Finders keeper's loser's weepers? C'mon, Pete. We're adults here...well, I am anyway."

"You were in jail when we met. What kind of guy are you? She told me all that stuff you've done. You're a bum."

I lick my lips over because my beer is gone and I really need one right about now. "You don't know me, kid. But I sure as hell know you. I've been you. You think those people you call friends give two shits about you? They're using you, just like you're using her. Or used. Whatever. Look in the fucking mirror before you judge me."

His eyes go a little wide and he stopped listening mid-sentence. "I used Danni? I never used anyone. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't."

"I don't! I met Danni in Florida just by accident. What...You think I dated her for some sick reason?"

I roll my eyes. Tiffany has her eyes on us now and she's standing up straight.

I get closer and growl lowly, "I know you're buddies are here somewhere, watching you. Let's cut the shit and talk like men since you're so eager to be one."

"Buddies? Who are you talking about?"

I rub my face. I forget I'm dealing with a sixteen year old. "Listen kid, just leave me alone. Got it?"

I half expected him to follow after me as I turned around. I was just exhausted enough to have hope that he wouldn't. "We're not done talking. Hey, come back here!"

I stop but not for the reasons you think. "Spread the word and listen up. Stay away from Ponyboy Curtis. I will take all of you down if I hear anything, and I mean anything, about you talking to him again. Got me?"

"I'm not scared of you," he hisses all powerful and mighty.

I smirk just the same. "You should be."

She smells like candies all the time. Not the good kid either. The kind your grandma handed out to you every Sunday afternoon when you'd go visit. The ones you'd pretend to eat but they tasted like spoiled cough syrup.

"Why aren't you drinking?"

She recrosses her legs. She does every five minutes. I've kept track. "Not thirsty." She runs her hands through her tiny little purse until she finds her cigarettes.

She gives me one, reaching over to light it.

I can see down her shit. "My mother always told me that if you give someone a cigarette, you light there's first, then your own. It's good manners. Your mom ever teach you manners?"

I sneer, taking in the smoke and letting it out through my nose. "Nah. My momma wasn't a country club whore."

"No," she says, putting her cigarette close to her mouth. "She was just a whore."

Sylvia and I have history. I never thought about why I always went back to her when I was a kid. It was just that every time I got out of jail or came back from New York, there she was legs and all.

She's gotten better and I think I'm happy about that. Happy that she's starting to move in life a little and we can have conversations like we used to. Maybe she'll find a guy she can actually date. Someone not like me. Someone that's not me.

"How's your brother?"

I prop up my leg. Her fags are always the best. I don't ask why. I know why. "How many pills you take now?"

"Three in the morning and two at night," she says and she smiles weirdly. "They're not strong. They don't give strong pills to people like me and you. They just give us the standard and hope we don't take it further."

There are a lot of people like us here. I don't say greasers because we aren't. I was but not anymore. Sylvia was and she's almost there again but not at the moment. We've fallen below.

"See any guys you like?"

She shakes her head. "I've been thinking about becoming a nun."

"You're not a virgin."

"I can be reborn. I had a lot of time to think while I was away. I was so excited to come back and pick up where I left off but things aren't like they were anymore. No one's the same. Not me and not you. So I've thought about things."

I take a drag. "Like?"

"Everyone needs saving. I need saving sometimes still. I want to save people, Dally. I don't know how but I just want to save one life, then I think I can die. I kinda want to die sometimes. Not because I'm sad. But because I feel like I'm needed elsewhere and I think if I save someone, my work will be done and I can just die."

I hold the smoke in through her whole speech. I slowly let it out now. "That's fucked up, Syl."

She turns to me and she doesn't frown or scowl or scream. She just smiles really big. "Aren't we all a little fucked up?"

The wallpaper's green with stripes. It's peeling from the corners and bottom. In the living room on the side of the sofa, you can see artwork left by Buck when he was a kid. Not many people know that this place was always a bar. He grew up here and sure, he didn't take over what his father built but everyone still comes just like they always have.

No one knows what happened to Buck's parents. No one asks. If you saw Buck, you wouldn't either.

He doesn't know what day it is anymore so you're not going to get a real answer anymore.

The crowd dies at this hour - or so it seems. The bedrooms fill upstairs and there's less down stairs. There are still a few that are still trying to get drunker and dancing and hunting for the right male or female.

The music is slower though and the weed has already been broken up. Most of the people in this house look like lifeless corpses, just letting their bodies think rather than their brains.

I search across the living room through the dancers. There's a kid there, about sixteen or seventeen. Maybe eighteen.

He's on a girl. One he's not supposed to be with but this girl is rubbing his chest a whispering in his ear. She's got the buttons on her blouse down to just two and she's not wearing a bra.

With heels she's taller than him so her chest comes straight to his nose when she bends over and whispers in his ear.

The guy she was with is passed out on the rocking chair in the corner. Red vomit has stained his black leather jacket and some still drips from his chin. No one notices but me. They dance around him.

"What are you doing?"

The both look up and stare. His eyes get big but hers don't. She scowls but smiles at the same time. Her dark catlike eyes pierce through me and I can see her fangs shooting from her gums.

"I asked you a question."

There's no response but she turns back around and watches him. "You know where I'll be."

She struts across the room, pointing her chest out and stretching out tall.

"What is this?" I reach across and grab the thing dangling down his naked chest. I rip so it breaks. "Well?"

"You wear one," he says quickly. "I-I...it was a gift."

"I know it was a fucking gift!" I say, throwing it towards the nearest corpse. "I know who you got it from too. Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't I tell you to stay away from this? From them!"

He frowns a little, pressing his eyebrows together. "You're wearing the same necklace. I can see it."

"That's not the point," I growl. "Do you even know these people? What they do? And what about Carmen? Weren't you just after that one chick? The one your broke up your friendship for? What happened to her?"

He doesn't back down, his eyes angry. "We're dating."

"Oh." I laugh and shake my head. "I'm sure she'd love to see what I just saw."

He bumps shoulders with me and hisses. "Leave me alone, Dallas."

"Hey!" I jerk him around, pulling him by his slim bony shoulder and spinning him so he faces me.

The fact that I do without even thinking says a lot I think. The fact that I can just do it without thinking of a consequence or what I'm really doing or whom it'll hurt or what will happen afterwards. Doesn't that go the same for serial killers? They have no conscience, that's why they do the things they do. They don't think. They just act.

It's what I've been taught. It's what I've been trained...And it's coming back out again.

Blood drips from his nose as he bends over and collects the liquid in his hand. "What was that for!?"

"I told you what would happen if I caught you with Dale." I'm not screaming or raising my voice. I'm calm and I'm collected and I'm just speaking like a normal person. "Get up."

He does what he's told this time. It takes some effort and his nose is still dripping.

"You're done. I won't question next time. I'll go straight to your brother. The older one. You can explain to him why you're in a gang like Dale's. I'm sure that'll be a nice conversation. Don't you?"

He doesn't say anything. He pinches his nose and holds it up. A bruise is starting to form.

I walk across the room and over to the never ending poker game. I say a few words to Tim and get what I need and head back over to where the kid still stands, watching.

"C'mon."

He doesn't say much on the ride home. Just to ask to put the window down. His face is still red and it's turning a nice shade of blue. It was more of a love tap. Just enough to get the point across and to make sure he does what's he's told.

"That's it?" I ask as he jumps out of the car. "'Oh, thank you so very much for the ride, Dally. I know how you wanted to stay and how hard it was for you to get the car from Tim. You have my dying gratitude.'"

He slams the door and I get out. I'm not sure what I'll do. Probably nothing, but I go after him anyway.

And there she is. In the window.

The white lace drapes are pulled to the side. Just enough for her to see out. She's in her night clothes. Her hair pulled up in bun. She watches, either not noticing that we notice her, or not caring.

"Don't do anything stupid," I warn. "I'll be back."

"Yeah, sure."

Then she comes out and it smells like berries. The ends of her hair are wet. She's just been out of the shower. Her sent is overwhelming and I take a few steps back, heading back home.

She examines him like a little mother. She asks questions - a lot them (Doesn't she always?). He shoves her away, not answering a single one or speaking and she's left with a disappointing look and another rip in her heart that her brother no longer wants to talk to his sister about his problems.

Her shoulders slump back as she takes a deep breath and exhales. She's aged. I doubt she's noticed that all the worry and stress shows in her face and body.

I turn on my heel and slump my hands in my jacket pockets. Work's going to call at seven tomorrow.

"Dally..." The sound of her feet hitting the pavement comes.

I stop and slowly turn. She doesn't finish. As if it was a sentence in the first place.

She blinks a few times before breaking eye-contact and looking down at her bare feet and then back up again. She tucks a loose piece of hair behind her ear and stammers, "T-Thank you. For bringing him home."

I give her a small tilt of the head. I don't turn around right away. She acts like she wants to say more, ask how things are, but we both know she won't. We both know I should ask about Darry but I don't.

And we both stand there, our eyes locked but neither one of us says a simple word. We never will. We're too close to the same kind and there's too much to be asked and too little to be told.

She looks young and I start to remember the first time I saw her. Not when we were eight, but when she was fifteen.

Nothing's changed.

But everything's different.

Neither of us says a word as I turn around and walk to the car, dogs barking after me. I can still feel her behind me but I don't turn around and she doesn't shout out.

This is the way it is. This is the way it always will be.

I pull the chain from my neck. The beads break like glass and it sits into the palm of my hand until I drop it. I place the toe of my boot and press it into the ground.

I'm really on my own.

How do I breathe without you here by my side? How will I see when your love brought me to the light? Where do I go when your heart's where I lay my head? When you're not with me, how do I breathe, how do I breathe?

A/N: Thank you all so very much for the reviews. They mean more than you know.

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