She was such a beautiful baby, Soda thought, as he remembered how he had held Emily in the hospital. I can't wait to see her again. I can't wait to hold her.

The ringing phone beckoned Soda over, his hand reaching out to pick it up. "Hello? Oh, yeah, sure, Stevie. I'll see you then."

Soda hung up the phone, immediately returning to his musings, as the short conversation faded into the back of his mind. Penny did so well then, he thought. She was great. Brave Strong. Certain. She still is. Even when it hurts.

Soda went to his bedroom, his reflections still focused on the infant he longed to see, as he picked up the two photos of her he'd been keeping on his nightstand. I just have to wait, he thought. It's only a couple more months. But what if it's not? What if Samuel and Vivian don't let us visit?

Soda tucked both photos into the nightstand drawer, as if they could be out of sight and out of mind. He then reached under his bed, sliding the shoebox out, as he sat down on the floor. He removed the lid, seeing the index cards, letters, and pictures that were meant to build him up and give his mind a safe place to go.

But it's too much, Soda thought. It's too hard. I need to stop thinking. I need to get away. He felt fingernails begin to press into his skin, the slight stinging sensation shining a light on the path his musings were creating.

Soda put the lid on the box, then slid it back into place, as he saw the tiny arches that had formed on his arm. I can't, he thought. I can't do this. I can't keep feeling.

Emily flashed through Soda's mind once more, as he got to his feet, the memory of Penny holding her so poignant that it nearly took him back to that moment. I need to make it stop, he thought. I need to do better, and I have to get there on my own.

"Hey, take it easy, Sodapop. I was just wondering what you'll be doing. I'm not trying to say you need my permission."

Soda could feel Darry's eyes on him, as he pulled his t-shirt off and climbed into bed. "I know that, Dar. Never mind. Sorry I'm bein' snappy."

Darry made his way into Soda's room, not willing to let his middle brother brush over the moment with only an apology. "Rough day or something, little buddy? I wouldn't have expected Valentine's plans to be a source of tension."

"They aren't. It ain't that."

Darry pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath before sitting down near Soda. "So what is it then?"

"I heard that, you know. You're frustrated with me."

"I'm not frustrated with you. I'm frustrated with not knowing what I'm supposed to say, and I can't figure that out if you don't explain."

"Steve visited Emily today."

"Oh. That's good, right? I know you wanted him to go see her."

"Yeah. It is good."

"Yet it put you in a bad mood somehow?"

"No. I just wish I could see her too. So bein' sad did that to me."

Darry gently touched the back of Soda's head. "Maybe I shouldn't go here, but my first guess would've actually been that you don't like me checking in with you about anything because my reasons for doing it are a little different lately."

"You mean they're different since I took the cough syrup?"

"Yeah. Exactly."

"Maybe it's that too, but it ain't cause I don't understand. I don't blame you for doin' it either. But I am still kind of mad at myself."

"And me asking questions reminds you?"

"Yeah." Soda turned over, so that he could look at Darry. "So it's not you, Dar. I want you to be there for me like that. I know it makes you feel better, and it gives me a chance to tell you if I'm not okay."

"Are you okay?"

"I don't know. I guess so. I am lookin' forward to my date with Penny."

"Which seems like a good sign, little buddy. Like I said, I'll be out with Maryanne, so I like to know you'll be all right."

"I will. Besides, that's still two nights away. You've got plenty of time to get ready for your big date too. So you can make sure you keep sweepin' Maryanne off her feet."

"That's too predictable, Son. I want to actually surprise her when I propose."

Steve stood in the kitchen with Nicholas, both finishing off the garlic bread that had been part of dinner. "It may be kind of predictable, but it's romantic too."

Nicholas cut the last slice of garlic bread in half, giving one piece to Steve and taking the other for himself. "Romantic, huh? I don't think I've ever heard you use that word before."

"Well, it fits, doesn't it? You're trying to romance Audrey."

"Trying to? I don't think I have to try, Son. We've been together nearly a year."

"Yeah, which makes this your first Valentine's Day as a couple, so a proposal would make it extra special."

"I hope that someday, I get to be the one insisting you propose to the woman you fall in love with."

"Maybe that day will come. If I get lucky enough to find a lady who will have me."

"She'd be the lucky one. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so. It's just kind of hard to think about a relationship that doesn't exist, especially since I have no idea when it might. For all I know, it could be a long way off."

"Maybe when you decide to go to school, you'll meet someone there."

"When I decide to go to school, huh? Are you that sure I'll do it?"

"Yes. Because I know you've got the drive and the insight. Even if you wait a while, I think you'll go for it at some point."

"I know we haven't talked about this directly, but I can stay here at home, right, Dad? I mean, I'm nineteen, and you'll be engaged soon, so I don't want to assume-"

"Of course you can stay. I want you here with me, Son. Yes, you're an adult now, but I'm not expecting you to move out yet. Not that it's about me, but I don't want to come home to an empty house everyday."

"Yeah. Me neither. I don't even like the thought of living alone."

"Then, keep living here. You're working, helping me with the bills, and saving some money too. At this stage of your life, that's exactly what you should be doing."

Just this once, Soda thought, as he watched the red liquid pour into the cup. Just this once, I'll go to sleep. I'll take care of it myself. That way, they can keep living their lives without always having to worry about mine.

"Seriously, man, he sped off burning rubber, like he was about to hit the race track."

Soda restocked the DX station's refrigerator, as Steve was telling him about a customer, who had recently picked up his truck. "So you must've fixed it up right then. I know it was barely running when he first came."

Steve rang up the next customer at the register, depositing money, then handing him some coins. "That's forty cents in change, Sir. We hope to see you again soon."

Soda heard the bell above the door ding, the sound not eliciting as much of a reaction as it once did. He stocked the last of the drinks, letting the refrigerator door close, as he took the empty box to the back. "So I've been thinkin'."

Steve leaned on the counter and waited for Soda to explain, only replying when he didn't continue. "About what?"

Soda returned from the back of the station, joining Steve behind the counter, as he kept an eye on the gas pumps outside. "Life."

"Well, I guess that's better than thinking about the opposite. What are your thoughts about life?"

"Just how fast it seems to go and how I ain't sure I can keep up with it all the time."

"I don't think you have to anyway, man. It's all right to go slow, and set your own pace. That holds true, no matter what exactly you're thinking of here. I can see another truth showing itself right now too."

"Oh yeah? What? That I'm thinkin' too damn much?"

"Maybe. But what I'm getting at is more along the lines of how you need some time to chill before whatever kind of anxiety you've got going on gets too much of a hold."

"Who says I've got anxiety going on?"

"It just seems like it, man. From what you were saying a minute ago and yesterday at my house."

"Yeah. I guess that's true. I do sound that way."

"Me and you should go out tonight then, buddy. Which is something I was going to say anyway, not just because of this. We haven't played a game of pool since before Christmas."

"Are you lookin' for a way to lose five bucks, Stevie? Cause if you are, I can just take it off your hands without kickin' your ass."

"Uh-oh, your cockiness is showing again. You might want to put that away cause I don't lose every time. I'd say we're pretty evenly matched."

"Aw, you just like to think that, but we both know I'm the better player."

"So I take it that means we're on for tonight? You can put your confidence to good use, and focus on something besides what's going on in your head all at the same time."

That feels good, Soda thought, as he lay down on his bed, the medicine he'd taken making his mind fuzzy. I can't think. I can't remember. He snuggled deep into the pillow, a drugged slumber luring him to a place that would give him time away from reality.

"Red ball's going in the corner pocket."

Soda stood back from the pool table, watching as Steve lined his cue stick up with the cue ball, then took the shot.

Steve kept his eye on the cue ball, as it made contact with the red solid he'd aimed for, that ball then rolling into the corner pocket.

"Nice going, Stevie. Maybe you've even got a chance at beatin' me."

"Only a chance, huh? It's my turn again now, and I've only got two balls left to sink."

"Yeah, I know. I've just got to mess with you though. It's fun."

"All right. Time for less talk and more action." Steve walked over to the other side of the pool table, lining up to take another shot. "Yellow ball's going on the side pocket."

Soda saw the cue ball roll forward, then bump into the yellow solid, which then rolled toward the side pocket, stopping at the very edge.

"Damn, that was so close. Your turn now, buddy."

Soda stared at the pool table and at the three striped balls that still remained, his grip on the cue stick growing tighter. His eyes then found the cue ball that was only inches away from the orange stripe. "Orange ball. Corner pocket."

Steve watched, expecting Soda to move toward the pool table and go for the shot, but his best friend stayed back, only staring at their nearly-finished game. "Soda? If you want the ball to go in the corner pocket, you've gotta do it, man. It can't-"

"Don't you think I fuckin' know that, Steve? I know how to play pool! Now, why don't you just leave me the hell alone? I'm done with this for tonight!"

Steve stood frozen, as Soda threw the cue stick down on the floor, then walked out of the pizza place. He watched the other man's retreating back, as his mind tried to formulate a response that wouldn't fall short, even though what his best friend needed seemed anything but clear.

Is that Steve's voice? Soda thought, as he slept, the world around him not completely shut out by his current state. It is, and he's touching my face. I need to tell him it's okay. I'm just resting. Just sleeping. I'm here, and I'm safe from harm.

"Soda, what the hell was that, man?"

Soda stood outside on the sidewalk, as Steve was approaching him. He felt the evening air breathe against his skin, its coldness not quenching the anger that was inside. "I thought I told you to leave me alone."

Steve didn't back down, coming to stand close to Soda, despite words that appeared to ask for the opposite. "You did, but that's the last thing I would do right now. I'm sorry if I said something that rubbed you the wrong way."

"I'm over here itchin' for you to yell at me, and you're apologizin'. I fuckin' yelled at you in public, so why can't you just let me have it, Steve? Why can't you fight back?"

"Cause I don't want to fight with you. Even if you think it would, that can't make you feel better."

"It might. You ought to take a swing at me. I'm just about askin' for it."

"You know I ain't doing that. Maybe I've threatened it or had pretty damn close calls, but I could never lay a hand on you."

"Why not? I've been nothin' but a pain in the ass to you lately."

"You're seriously asking me why I couldn't hit my best friend? I don't want to hurt you, buddy. That's why. Well, that and I'd feel awful about it. This isn't some skin rumble, like we all used to get into, and I think me and you have better ways of solving problems, besides using our fists."

"But at least if you clocked me one, I couldn't feel anything else. That kind of pain would be better."

"Aw, Soda, is that where this is coming from? If you're thinking that way, you do need to call Dr. Morgan tomorrow, and try to get in sooner. Cause it's really-"

"What? Am I too much to deal with? So you need to pawn me off on her?"

"That is not what I said, and I know you're just trying to piss me off. So cut it out, man. I'm not taking the bait and making you feel more pain than you already do. Now, stop with the lashing out shit, and tell me what's got you like this tonight. You were fine one second, then a switch just flipped, and you started going off the rails. Why?"

"I've been 'off the rails' already, Steve. In case you haven't noticed."

"I'd like to think nothing has gotten past me lately, but something must have because I'm not too sure what to do for you right now. The only way I know to help is to hear you out, so please let me do that without fighting it, like we're against each other somehow. Cause we aren't. Whatever's hurting you this bad, we both want the same thing here."

"And what's that?"

"Don't act like you don't know the answer. We both want you to feel better. The way you got set on getting there sure is different, but ultimately, both of us realize what actually works."

Talk? Why do we need to talk? Soda wondered, as sleep lost its grip on him. Nothing bad happened. I just took a nap. He pried his eyes open, his surroundings not quite in focus. He heard Steve's voice once more, feeling his friend near his side. How can I talk when I'm barely awake? he thought. Wait. It's dark outside. How did I- The cough syrup. That's why Steve's saying we need to talk. That's why he's here. He knows what I did, and now, there's no way he's letting go until I tell him what happened and get my heart out in the open.

"I have to be up early, Steve. I don't got time for this."

Steve settled on the floor alongside Soda, handing his best friend the mug of hot chocolate, only for him to shake his head and push it away. "I know you have to be up early, but that's never stopped us before. That's one reason we're at your house. You can go right to bed after we talk. Besides, if we'd played a second game of pool, like we planned, we'd still be doing that now."

Soda turned, so that his back was to Steve, a wave of embarrassment and humiliation finally catching up to him, as he reflected on the sudden turn their evening had taken. He felt a hand on his shoulder, flinching at such a small gesture of kindness, as he closed his eyes. "Stevie, I'm sorry. We went out to relax and just have a good time, and I screwed it up for both of us. I don't know what's wrong with me. I just know I'm mad."

Steve put his hand on Soda's other shoulder as well, feeling him flinch once more. "Apology accepted, buddy. But I don't agree that you screwed anything up. If you're feeling that angry, I wouldn't want you to just keep playing pool, like everything's great, you know? It hurt when you yelled at me, but it hurts even more to think about you trying to deal without any help. Especially when you're practically surrounded with all the support you could ever need."

Soda's eyes opened, though he didn't turn to look at his friend, the touch that connected them enough to serve as an anchor at a time when he felt so undeserving of love. "But isn't it hard, Stevie? Aren't you tired?"

"No. Because I take care of myself too. If I didn't, I'd be emotionally worn out. And of course it's hard to see you in pain, but looking away would be even tougher. You already know that cause you've never looked away from me either. We've talked about all of that before too, so it hasn't changed." Steve moved, so that he was in front of Soda, simply wanting to see his face, as they talked. "I know you said you don't know what's wrong with you, but do you know what you're mad about? I have a guess, but I'm not sure if I could be overlooking something."

Soda looked down at his lap, shoulders hunched, as he felt Steve's hand on his back. "I'm still angry at myself. Not just a little, but a lot. Cause of the cough syrup. But I keep addin' to it and makin' it worse."

Steve reached for the mug of hot chocolate, and put it into Soda's hands. "Take it, man. Drink. You're anxious as hell."

Soda gripped the mug and lifted it to his lips, slowly drinking the hot chocolate.

Steve took the mug once Soda was finished, putting it on the nightstand that was behind him. "I remember the first time you made hot chocolate for me. I was still reeling from my suicide attempt, and I didn't know a drink could be soothing at all. It wasn't just that though. It was the fact that you were watching me and taking the time to make sure I got whatever I needed. Whether it was a hot drink, a shoulder to lean on, or an ear to listen. I think the hot chocolate is less about having something calming and more about how it means we're doing life together. Even when there's pain and anger, and stuff gets really messy. We don't need things to be all rosy to stick close to one another and to keep being brothers."

Soda reached to grab Steve's hand, gripping it as hard as he could, as he felt yet another rush of the anger he'd been describing. "But aren't you hearin' me, Steve? I'm mad. I can't stop bein' mad. Not even listenin' to you makes it better. I'm so pissed off cause I scared you. I hurt Darry and made him have to think about how it would be to lose me. I lied to Pony."

Steve felt Soda's grip tighten, seeing his best friend's knuckles were starting to turn white. "I do hear you. I haven't missed a word."

"I've snapped at Darry. I've yelled at you. Ya'll haven't done anything wrong either. Not a damn thing. Only I have. Only I've kept doin' stuff that ends up hurtin' me too. I'm angry as hell that I just can't get it right."

"I understand, buddy. Hardly anybody can-"

Soda abruptly let go of Steve's hand and got to his feet, having found that being still couldn't release the emotions that were trying to lead him toward destruction. "No! Nothing you say can help. You can't do that this time. You can't!"

Steve stood up as well, Soda's raised voice not even catching him off guard. He then wrapped his best friend in a hug, still not letting go when hands weakly attempted to push him away. "Soda, I know I can't make your anger just disappear. But I can be with you in it. So please let me. I know how that shit feels, and I know how deep and strong emotions get for you. That's why I'm here. To stop them from swallowing you whole. Don't let them make you believe you can't accept anything kind or loving or that I or anybody else should hit you. Cause this right here is what you're getting from me, no matter how much you fight and lash out."

Soda willed himself to relax, letting his head fall onto Steve's shoulder, though he didn't hug back just yet. "I'm still angry, Stevie. Hugs can't fix it."

"I know, brother. But it's like you've said. Being held tells your spirit it can let go and do whatever it needs to do." Steve felt Soda's arms finally go around him, his own eyes closing, as he kept holding on tight and let the silence envelope them. He then spoke again moments later, his voice dropping to a gentle whisper. "Hugs may not fix it, but they can sure as hell help put out the fire."