[Ponyboy's POV]
I was too hot, then too cold. A blanket now draped over me where there wasn't one before, a hand stroking through my hair. Distant voices I couldn't quite figure out. A sudden and unexpected urge to throw up. Throwing up.
I felt a hand rub my back as I continued to puke, not really sure of what was going on. Was I in the bathroom, or throwing up in a bowl? Did it matter?
I finished and laid back down. On the bathroom floor? No, too comfortable. My bed? Maybe, or maybe the couch. I was distantly aware of shuffling around me, my brothers? No, they wouldn't be home until much later. Unless it was much later?
I distantly wondered if I needed to clean up my mess but realized I couldn't even if I wanted to. I didn't even have the energy to open my eyes, everything hurt. I could hardly breathe as pain radiated through my entire body, making the bliss of sleep more and more appealing by the second. I eventually let it consume me, until I felt a firm hand shaking my shoulder.
"Hey, Pony, can you sit up?" Someone asked gently. Soda?
I used what little energy I had in me to crack my eyes open, squinting, surprised to see Darry standing in front of me with a bottle of medicine in his hand. He didn't wait for a response as he placed a hand behind my back, setting the bottle down to grab a pillow and prop me up into a somewhat-upright position.
My eyes began to close, until suddenly Darry was shaking my shoulder again, this time with a spoon full of dark syrup in one hand and a glass of water on the coffee table.
"Do you think you can take some medicine for me?" Darry asked with pleading eyes.
I stared at him blankly. I had just violently thrown up the contents of my stomach minutes ago, and now he wanted to shove some disgusting syrup down my throat? No way.
I didn't have the energy to tell him this, though, so I settled for forcefully shaking my head back and forth. This ended up upsetting my stomach again, thanks a lot Darry. Or was it my fault? No, it was Soda's. Wait, where's Soda? I wasn't thinking straight.
"C'mon Pone, it'll help you feel better," Darry coaxed.
But before I could protest Darry had shoved the spoon in my mouth and was holding it there, making sure I swallowed. I fought the urge to gag and reluctantly choked it down, not wanting a repeat of a few minutes ago.
"There ya go little buddy, want some water?" He asked, holding up the glass for me to see.
I was going to refuse out of spite, wanting my brother to know I wasn't in the mood for gross cherry-flavored medicine being forced in my mouth against my will. I found myself nodding anyway, though, willing the disgusting taste to be off my tongue.
I attempted to grab the glass from him, only for my arm to miss and lazily fall at my side. He must've noticed my struggle, holding the glass to my lips and gently tipping it as I drank.
"Careful, go slow so it won't make you sick," he coached, as if his shoving medicine down my throat a few seconds ago didn't risk me getting sick at all.
I was vaguely aware that I wasn't being fair to Darry, that he was just trying to help. My brain wasn't really cooperating, though, and it just felt easier to blame him for my pain.
I swatted at his arm to let him know I was done before sinking back into the couch cushions, taking note of someone else's footsteps in the background. I wanted to check who it was, but my body had other plans, and I was asleep before I got the chance.
[Darry's POV]
I scolded myself internally for not thinking to grab a bowl earlier as Ponyboy threw up on my shoes, the carpet, and mostly Soda's lap. I rubbed his back as he got sick, while Soda quickly moved to change and grab the supplies it was gonna take to clean the rest of this mess up.
Pony didn't seem aware of what had happened as he laid back down on my lap, instantly asleep again. I gently eased his head off me and back onto the arm of the couch to go help Soda clean up. After taking off my shoes and sticking them on the porch I found him in the kitchen, wearing new clothes and grabbing paper towels and our stain remover spray Mom always insisted was necessary in a house with three boys.
"Here, let me clean it up," I insisted as I moved to take the supplies from him.
"Nah, I got it. You focus on getting him some medicine," he said.
I shrugged as I walked to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. If he wanted to clean up Pony's puke that was more than fine by me. I found the bottle of medicine, frowning as I realized it was the gross cherry flavor. Pony wasn't going to be happy about that.
I returned to where Ponyboy laid on the couch, the spot where he threw up noticeably covered with towels.
"Ponyboy? Hey, Pony, can you sit up?"
He squinted at me, looking almost unsure of who I was. I set the medicine down and helped him sit up, propping him up with pillows. It was only a few seconds before he fell back asleep again.
I went to get a spoon to give him the medicine, opting to get a glass of water too to help with the awful taste. He should be drinking liquids anyway. I set the glass on the coffee table and shook his shoulder as gently as I could.
"Do you think you can take some medicine for me?" I asked.
His eyes opened hesitantly, and he looked at me like I had just asked him to run a marathon. He shook his head back and forth in protest, clearly not happy with my question. I attempted to reason with him.
"C'mon Pone, it'll help you feel better," I said in the most soothing voice I could muster.
His eyes were glazed over, almost as if he was seeing right through me. I saw him move to shake his head again before I shoved the spoon in his mouth, holding it there. I didn't like the idea of being so rough, but I didn't want him to make himself sick again and I couldn't think of another way to get him to take it. Maybe Soda should've given him the medicine, he always knew how to comfort Ponyboy. He finished swallowing and I pulled the spoon out of his mouth.
"There ya go little buddy, want some water?" I asked, holding the glass up like a peace offering.
He gave me another look of disgust before attempting to grab the glass from my hand, failing miserably. I could tell he was out of it by his horrible aim and the way his arm flopped to his side. I held the glass up to his lips, grateful as he started sipping it.
"Careful, go slow so it won't make you sick," I said, hoping he wouldn't have to go through that again.
His arm swatted lazily at the cup, and I took it as a signal that he was done. Soda walked inside, presumably returning from hosing my shoes off. Ponyboy had already fallen back asleep, exhausted from the endeavor.
Soda bent down next to me, stroking Pony's hair just as I had earlier. I wondered if he remembered Mom doing it too.
"Oh Pone, you're real sick aren't ya?" Soda asked, seemingly to no one in particular. He turned to me suddenly.
"Think we need to take him to the doctor?"
I contemplated his question, weighing my options. We didn't really have enough money for a doctor right now, but I wasn't going to deny my brother care if he needed it.
"Lemme check his temperature. If it's too high we can take him in," I said, trying to convince Soda and myself that this was a good decision.
I left them alone as I retrieved the thermometer, immediately placing it in Pony's mouth as I returned. Sodapop continued to stroke Ponyboy's hair as we waited, slipping it out of his mouth when it was ready.
"102.3. I think he should be okay for now, but we'll want to watch it in case it gets any higher," I said to Soda, trying to sound confident.
He simply nodded and continued to sit with his brother.
"Do you care what I make for dinner?" I asked.
Again, he didn't respond, only shaking his head as I headed into the kitchen to see what I could whip up. One of us would need to stay home tomorrow and I still needed to go grocery shopping. My dad may have never complained, but it sure as hell wasn't easy filling his shoes.
[Sodapop's POV]
Getting puked on by my little brother certainly wasn't something I expected to happen today, yet here we were. And it was all my fault.
I had noticed that Pony seemed a little off this morning, though I brushed it off as him just not being a morning person. If I had said something he might not be as bad off as he was. And now karma was coming to get me, knowing I deserved it. Darry had offered to clean up the mess, but I insisted I would. Serves me right.
I kept a close eye on Pony as I cleaned up the mess, all-too aware of that fact that if he got sick again it would likely land in my hair. Once I finished there, I threw my clothes in the washer and hosed off Darry's shoes on the front porch, catching bits and pieces of Darry attempting to give Pony some medicine.
Ponyboy already hated that medicine, and the current state he was in wasn't helping. He wasn't acting like himself as he angrily shook his head at Darry, but who could blame him? I couldn't say I'd be acting much better if I were in his shoes.
I glanced through the front window and saw his hand swat at Darry and figured he must be real out of it. Pony would never act like that with Darry if he wasn't so sick. I finished cleaning Darry's shoes and stepped back inside, only to see Ponyboy fast asleep once again.
I bent down and stroked Pony's hair just like I remembered our mom doing whenever we were sick. If only she were here, she'd surely know how to help Ponyboy.
"Oh Pone, you're real sick aren't ya?" I lamented, knowing he probably couldn't hear me.
His face looked tense with pain, his cheeks still red.
"Think we need to take him to the doctor?" I asked Darry.
It's times like these I'm glad I'm not the oldest. I don't know how to make a decision like this or how to help Pony. I can only sit here uselessly and try to comfort him.
"Lemme check his temperature. If it's too high we can take him in," Darry answered, sounding sure of himself. If he was sure, I could be too.
Darry left to get the thermometer and I kissed Pony's temple, whispering in his ear.
"Darry's just gonna check your temperature and we're gonna get you feeling better, Pone. Don't you worry."
I continued stroking his hair as Darry put the thermometer in Ponyboy's mouth, waiting and eventually watching him take it out.
"102.3. I think he should be okay for now, but we'll want to watch it in case it gets any higher," Darry said.
I nodded, trusting my older brother and comforting my younger one.
"Do you care what I make for dinner?" Darry asked.
Dinner was the furthest thing on my mind. I reminded myself to never wish to be the oldest again, I could never shoulder all the responsibilities like Darry does every day. All I could think about was how sick Pony was, silently willing him to get better but not knowing how to help him.
I shook my head; Darry could serve stale bread for all I cared. I just wanted Ponyboy to get better.