It happened in only a matter of seconds, though it felt like a year. He remembers it in fragments, replaying them over and over again. Dallas Winston raising his gun. The cop pressing the trigger. The bullet flying towards him. And the worst part about it, was that as Dally crumpled to the ground that night, he had had a kind of twisted triumph on his face.

What does it take to break a person?

Two-Bit Matthews had asked this question often, though never around the others, and never aloud. Dally had been the strongest of them. Tough and cold to the world. It had taken Johnny's death to break Dally.

What would it take to break me?

That was the one that haunted him. Johnny's death hadn't been totally unexpected. He had been lying in a hospital bed with a broken back and countless third-degree burns. But with Dally, there was no warning. Nothing to ease the aching hole that filled him. Only pain.

The night it had happened, as the police came to take away and search his body, Two-Bit had simply shrugged it off, complaining about the switchblade he had given Dally being lost. He didn't really care about something as trivial as a dumb knife of course, but maybe if he said it, he could convince himself that was all that was wrong. It didn't work.

In the days that followed, Two-Bit tried to avoid seeing the gang. Because every time he saw them, he could only see the empty spaces where Johnny and Dally would have been. Should have been. Could he have changed anything? If he had gotten Ponyboy and Johnny to leave those Soc girls alone, then their boyfriends might never have come after them. Johnny would never have killed anyone, and they would have never been near the church at all, and they wouldn't have been in the fire, and Johnny would still be alive and Johnny would still be alive and Johnny would still be alive.

His thoughts choked him, and he found himself running. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew he couldn't stay still. That seemed to happen a lot these days. He couldn't be the only one, right? He let himself get lost in the rhythm of his feet on the ground, drowning out anything else.

"Hey, Two-Bit."

He hadn't even realized that he had stopped. Ponyboy was playing football with his brothers outside their house. He was pleasantly surprised to see them all together, Darry and Ponyboy having made up or something. At least some of the group was handling the loss okay. He briefly wondered if they had seen him running, but he pushed the thought away. "Hey, Ponyboy," he replied, forcing the waver out of his voice. "Hey Darry, Sodapop."

Ponyboy simply smiled back at him, and Darry waved, but Sodapop had picked up on something his brothers hadn't. He tilted his head and asked, "You all right, Two-Bit?"

Was he all right? Johnny was dead. Dally was dead. Their gang was broken. Was he okay? Of course Two-Bit wasn't okay, but he supposed if everyone else was doing alright, he would pretend he was too. He was about to make some joke about stealing something from a store when he remembered that he didn't do stuff like that anymore. Not since it had gotten Dally killed. He settled on a simple "I'm good, Soda," instead.

Soda looked like he wanted to say more, but then Ponyboy threw the ball to him, and Darry tackled him for it. Two-Bit waved goodbye to them, and turned to leave. He wasn't sure whether he was relieved or sorry that Soda hadn't said more. Soda would have helped him, he knew. But he had just bounced back from the mess with Sandy, as well as some family drama. He didn't need Two-Bit's problems too.

"Join us for lunch today at noon?" Ponyboy called after him.

Two-Bit gave a thumbs up in reply, then continued on his way.

When Two-Bit arrived at the store, Ponyboy was already there, sipping a coke and gazing up at the sky. "Whatcha doing?" Two-Bit asked him.

"I was just admiring the clouds," Ponyboy replied. "They're really pretty this afternoon. Johnny said-"

He kept talking, but Two-Bit found he couldn't concentrate. Johnny. How could Ponyboy just talk about him so casually? It was as if he were still here. But he wasn't. And Two-Bit found his thoughts racing in circles again.

"Hey."

Ponyboy's words broke into his thoughts, and Two-Bit took a deep breath, grateful for the escape.

"What's wrong, Two-Bit?"

Two-Bit shook his head. He didn't want to say it aloud. Because that would make it all real. And he couldn't deal with that.

"Come on, Two-Bit. You can talk to me, you know. Shoot, you can talk to any of the gang. They'll listen. You know they will."

Two-Bit knew that. He just didn't want to talk. He was fine. But before he could register the words he was saying, his mouth opened to form a single word. "Johnny."

Understanding filled Ponyboy's eyes, and immediately Two-Bit wished he could take it back. He didn't want pity. He could handle it on his own. He braced himself for a long monologue about moving on, but instead Ponyboy handed him a piece of paper.

He took it, confused. He skimmed the text written on it, but it was the title that stood out to him. 'Dear Johnny Cade.'

"What- what is this?" he managed to choke out.

"It's a letter. He might never read it, but... sometimes it just helps to put your thoughts onto a page, you know?"

Two-Bit didn't but he supposed if it helped Ponyboy, then it was a good thing for him. He took the paper, but he knew he probably wouldn't actually write anything on it. Darry and Soda showed up soon after, and he ate lunch with them in silence. Ponyboy didn't bring it up again, and he was thankful for that.

When he got home, he took out the paper Ponyboy had given him, thinking to throw it away. He didn't write stuff. Not for school, and certainly not for this.

What was the point of writing a letter to a person who would never respond?

There wasn't one, and yet Two-Bit found himself with a pencil to the paper anyways. If it would help even just a little, then maybe it was worth it. He took a deep breath and began to write.

"Dear Johnny Cade,"