This is my first work on this site! I've uploaded this to other platforms, like ao3 and wattpad, but just under a different name. I update pretty slowly for the most part, but next chapter is in the works and will hopefully be up soon

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My vision darkened at its edges as my thrashing slowed, no help to the heavy water entrapping my body and weakening my desperate attempt to escape. My lungs burned as I felt myself instinctively cough up water that I couldn't expel. I felt my head throb along with my slowing heartbeat as I squeezed my eyes shut tighter than they already were, and realized with dread that this was it. This is how I die. To the hands of a bunch of alcoholic teenagers under the surface of a dirty park fountain. I feel my limbs relax and my face go slack and pray to God that this isn't my true end.

And he must not have much better to do because he seemed to answer pretty fast.

All at once, I feel my body being slammed down to the concrete, and my eyes widen in shock as the wind gets knocked out of me... well, not that there was really any to begin with anyway. The distorted sounds of laughter ring in my ears above me. I don't even have the chance to attempt to take a breath or cough before one of the bastards grabs me by my soaked shirt collar and slams their fist across my face. I look up at them with weary eyes as they grab my jaw and shake my head jarringly, saying something I can't comprehend and laughing in my face. Their breath is warm and smells like alcohol, and it takes me everything I got to not recoil right in their face and make them mad again. I'm hurting enough, and I would do good without another assault to the face. Suddenly, they shove me back onto the ground and my head smacks the hard concrete surface, causing black dots to swarm in front of my vision. I'm able to make out the figures above me as they stumble over my listless figure. Their laughing fades in the distance, and I safely can assume that they're finally retreating to their car.

Ignoring the protest of my ribs and midsection, I quickly shoot up from where I'm laying and cough up the crap I sucked up during my calamity in the fountain. My throat burns fiercely as I fight the urge to throw up and my body aches with the stress of just simply sitting up. My head pounds at the sudden movements and the ringing in my ears is intense. Why couldn't I have just stayed home? Or better yet, get home when I was actually supposed to. Though what Darry did was uncalled for, all I want to do right now is go home and crawl into bed. I don't want to run away anymore. I'm trembling with cold as the wind blows somewhat harshly around me, though it probably just feels worse to me because nearly my whole body is still sopping wet.

Suddenly, hands are on my shoulders and pounding back, and effectively makes me jump like a cat on hot bricks. I gasp in alarm as I shoot my head back over my shoulder, and I can feel the hands flinch ever so slightly for a second, returning the surprise.

"Pony!" Johnny. I sigh slightly in relief and let my stiff shoulders slump. His eyes were wild and searching my face frantically, and I could see what would be a bruise starting to form right under his eye. It's red and beginning to swell, along with a small cut along his jawline and near his ear. His hands are steady on my shoulders, though the rest of him is trembling slightly, and I can't help but feel bad. I can only imagine how much this brought back unwanted memories of his last attack.

"A-are you okay?" He stumbled over his words, as he breathed somewhat heavily. "I thought they were gonna kill you!" His eyebrows were pulled up and together, and I could tell he was pale even through the darkness of the night.

"I'm-I'm okay," I answer. I turn my head quickly as I let out a few wet coughs, grimacing when my throat burns once again with the effort. "Are you?" I ask worriedly, turning back to him and looking him in the eyes. They're wide and haunted yet they're not laced with any tears.

"Yeah, look man, we should go back to your place. Now." He says quickly, cautiously looking around and scanning the park for any more unexpected visitors.

"Yeah," I agree, taking a breath. Suddenly, Johnny is gripping my arms from where he's placed behind me and drags me up in a standing position swiftly yet gently. It takes a second for me to get my footing, and I stagger for a second as my head begins to pound again. Johnny takes my arm again, now standing on the side of me and supporting me as we begin to make our way out of the park.

Walking home was a blur. The air was tense and cold and the both of us were silent, save for my occasional coughs and our footsteps. Johnny kept looking behind us, probably for any sign of a car or another person, and his stance was stiff as we made our way through our side of the neighborhood. As I tried to focus on my breathing, I could see my breath escape my mouth each time I took one, and my chest ached with each rise. I vaguely wondered what my brothers were doing right now. Were they out looking? Were they worried? Soda probably is, but I don't know about Darry. He's made it obvious enough that he doesn't want me around, but tonight was just the cherry on top. I want to be mad. I am mad. Then why do I want to go home?

Before I knew it, we reached the house and swung open the front gate. Climbing up the steps, Johnny reached for the front doorknob and looked over at me, his eyes looking at me questioningly as if to ask if it was okay for us to enter. Sensing his hesitation, I nodded, and he gripped the knob and pulled it open. Immediately the warm air from inside the house wavered outside and blanketed my freezing body. As we step inside, I catch a glimpse of Darry speaking on the phone by his recliner as I peer over Johnny's shoulder. He reaches his hand over and places it on my back, lightly pushing me so that I stand beside him as the both of us are finally through the doorway. Darry promptly looked over from where he was standing by the wall phone, quickly said his goodbyes, and hung it up.

"Pony," He breathed out in relief and strode over to us in a few short steps. His face was traced with worry, his ice-blue eyes flickering between the two of us and scanning my face. "Kiddo, I..." He says looking down at me with bright eyes as if they're lined with tears. Are they? But before I could come to any conclusions, my face was pressed into his chest and I felt his arms wrapping around me and resting on my back. I could feel his body lightly tremble against mine, and my eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected gesture. My arms hesitantly snaked around him, returning the gesture as I found myself slowly melting into the warm hug along with the resentment I had for my brother only hours, even moments, before. When was even the last time Darry had given me more than a pat on the back, or head? At our parent's funeral? He doesn't like to show his vulnerability out in the open like this, even if it's in front of someone we've known for almost all our lives, like Johnny. I mean, he's always been like this, even before Mom and Dad died. Maybe once or twice he's done so if I had an exceptionally worse nightmare than usual, when I can't calm myself and he results to quietly holding me until I nod off to sleep again... and then, suddenly, it clicked. Darry does care about me. And he proves it every day. And he shows it through his actions, but not through physical touch because he doesn't know how. His words don't have any malicious intent, he just comes off as harsh because he wants to make sure that I don't fail. And I know what he was trying to say when I walked through that door. I'm sorry. I forgive him.

"I'm sorry," I apologize (ironically) into his dark grey shirt, finding myself blinking back a few tears.

"No, no, don't be," He tells me, pulling back from the hug and gently gripping my forearms instead. "Gosh, you're all wet." He observed worriedly as his hand pushed my damp, untamed hair back away from my forehead. "What the hell happened? Are you guys okay?" He questioned, now noticing our physical state and injuries as he gathered himself.

"Um," I started, looking over to Johnny once more before continuing. He pressed his lips together in response, shrugging as he was doing so as if he was saying to "just tell him all of it".

"We were down at the park. We were gonna walk back, honest, but we were taking a break for a little..." I say, trailing off. My brain still feels fuzzy as I begin to think about it more, and the memories of the previous hour have seemed to disappear in parts without me realizing it. I must've been drawing a blank for a few seconds more than I thought, because Johnny's voice began to fill the room, explaining for me.

"After we got there, some Socs caught us and they were drunk. They ganged up on us and they held Pony under the fountain. They beat me up some, but I'm okay. I thought I was gonna have to stop them, but they just... left. Ponyboy coughed up some water and might've hit his head, but we're fine." He finished firmly, and the both of us awaited Darry's response intriguingly.

All I'm going to say is that if eyes could talk, we would've heard enough to air a radio show.

Taking a deep breath, he guided the both of us to the couch, and we both gratefully settled down next to each other.

"Okay, look," Darry began, "We can talk about this in the morning, but the two of you need 'ta rest. You also need to change. So Pony, how about you go take a quick shower and change? Johnny, I should take a look at that cut you got, but after you can get a change of Pony's clothes to change into. Then you can crash in my room, okay?" He told the two of us, standing in front of us with his arms crossed. And after we both said our exchange of yes', I slowly stood up and headed over to the bathroom.

I showered as fast as I could, and it was honestly pretty tempting to just sleep in there instead for the night considering how warm it felt on my cold skin. After making sure my hair and body were rid of the foul-smelling coin scent, I changed into the pajamas I had previously brought into the bathroom and brushed my teeth sluggishly. I tossed my wet clothes into the hamper that was placed in the corner of the little room and made sure to keep the small light on in case anyone were to come in during the night when the house finally settled.

As I was exiting the bathroom and making my way to my room, I noticed the light flooding in from the living room and made myself known so that I was leaning against the edge of the wall. Darry, who was up and about the living room, looked up as I entered as he probably heard my padded footsteps make their way down the hall. He smiled softly, almost shyly as if I would reject him.

"You okay?" He asked me, putting down what he was doing and facing me completely.

"Yeah," I said, my throat feeling scratchy and dry as if I needed water. "Where's Soda?"

"He went by Steve's to get him to help look for you. Probably come back soon when he realizes he can't." He said, laughing quietly. "I'll probably be out here until they do."

"Can I stay with you?"

"'Course. You don't have to ask." He told me, tilting his head slightly. "Lay down," He said while adjusting the pillow near the armrest, fluffing it and dusting it off of any crumbs. I ambled over to where he was, feeling oddly weak. I mean, tonight wasn't exactly easy, in any aspect.

But if anything, it's probably just a cold.

I practically collapsed on the couch, embracing the fluffy white blanket as I felt Darry throw it on me, and feeling a slight breeze as it floated over my body. My eyes were closed before I could do much more, but a voice broke through to my head.

"Look, Pone, I..." Darry began to say but trailed off and ended with a sigh.

"I know, Dar'. We can talk in the morning." I said these words carefully, meaning to sound sincere and forgiving rather than angry. I heard him chuckle lightly and felt him place his hand on top of my hair.

"Okay, bud. Go to sleep."

I never went to sleep so quickly in my life.