The second I saw that bastard I knew he didn't belong here. For one, he came from a car that would cost a year of my salary to even afford (and let's be honest—it didn't seem like it was worth it to me). It was also the way he jogged to meet me. Nobody jogs on our street; all runners can be found on the track at the high school or a few streets over in a better neighborhood.

Despite his lack of belonging, I couldn't deny that there was something achingly familiar about him. It wasn't until I heard the front door slam behind me that it hit me. He looks just like Ponyboy. Who happens to look just like my mother.

I kicked off my work boots and sank onto the couch, letting my head rest in my hands as I raked them through my hair. And here I thought I was going to be able to enjoy getting off early. My hours had been more flexible ever since I had gotten promoted a few months back. I figured it was the universe's way of saying sorry after the hell it put us through the last two years. As if taking both of my parents in a car accident wasn't enough, this time last year we were mourning the deaths of two of our friends. Things seemed to have calmed down since then, and we were finally establishing a new normal. That is, until today.

My eyes met the photos that sat atop our piano, of course landing on one of my mother. It was taken on her wedding day, of her standing alone in her white dress. She looked so young, hell, she was younger than I am now. Merely 18, and only 19 when I was born. I chuckled to myself, thinking about how I'd be lucky if Sodapop made it that long without getting married with a kid on the way.

It was no secret to me why my parents got married that young. Not that I was ever told, but they were married in June of 1944 and I was born in January of 1945. The math isn't difficult. They were married until the day they died, though, and I knew they truly loved each other. More than my mom's family ever loved her, anyway.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the garbage cans being dragged from the street to the house. I whipped around, half expecting to confront that lowlife and force him off our property. Instead, I saw my knucklehead brother and his best friend dragging the cans in together. It wasn't long before they were both bursting through the front door together, bringing the smell of gasoline in with them.

"Hey Dar, sorry I forgot about the cans this morning!" Sodapop called out. He didn't wait for a response before continuing.

"Did you see that tuff-looking Chevy down the street? Wonder what someone with a car like that is doing in this neighborhood," he remarked.

My brother must've noticed I wasn't responding because he finally looked me in the eyes.

"Dar, you okay? You get off work early today?" he asked.

"Yeah, I got off at 4. Just tired," I responded. I can't go through this with him. Not now, at least.

"See Soda, even Superman gets tired!" Steve remarked, giving Soda an affectionate slap on the back.

Soda was able to work fewer double shifts now that he had been given a raise. This meant that he was usually off at 4, and since school got out at 3, Steve typically met up with him at the DX and they walked home together after his shift. Ponyboy occasionally joined them, though this time of year he had track practice almost every day after school. He had gotten a slower start last season after everything that had happened, so I knew he was hyperfocused this season and refused to miss a single practice. This usually resulted in Two-Bit coming by later as well. He and Ponyboy had gotten closer since Johnny and Dally had died, becoming buddies in their own right. Two was usually nice enough to stick around when Pony had practice and give him a ride home.

Sodapop and Steve had only been here a few minutes before an all-out wrestling match had begun. I didn't have the energy to put a stop to it, let alone participate, so I chose to retreat to the shower. No amount of water was going to wash away the weight of today's events, the weight of our past. But I could try.

I was massaging the shampoo through my hair, trying to rid myself of a headache, when I heard the front door slam shut once again. The sudden commotion in the living room told me Two-Bit had arrived, and the familiar sounds of Ponyboy returning from track practice told me he had given my brother a ride. I heard two separate thuds as his shoes hit the floor, followed by the sound of Ponyboy's bag hitting his bed and getting unzipped. From there, I figured he was unpacking his bag and putting everything away.

He'd been getting better about putting his things where they belonged, just like he'd been getting better at listening. He always let us know where he went and how long he'd be there and avoided walking home alone, all at my request. He'd even managed to make a few friends from his classes and track, allowing his social life to expand beyond the gang. The last year had been good for him, good for all of us. I got out of the shower and quickly dried off and got dressed, knowing Ponyboy would want to use it. I couldn't hide in here forever.

The coolness of the hallway was a sharp contrast to the heat that had accumulated in the bathroom. I almost ran straight into Ponyboy, who was trying to make his way in.

"Sorry Darry—hey, you're home early," he remarked.

"Yeah, got off early today. How was track?" I asked.

"Same old, same old. Coach was saying he's thinking about putting me in another event, though, so we'll see if I'm not exhausted by the end of every meet. Do you—"

He stopped abruptly as I pulled him into a hug. I could barely process the words he was saying, all I could think about was how much he looked like him. I guess he found it strange that I was randomly hugging him outside of our bathroom. Probably because it was.

"Uhh I'm kinda sweaty Dar, didn't you just shower?" he asked.

I simply nodded, resting my chin on top of his head, trying not to breathe too deeply. I finally pulled away, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Alright, go take that shower. I don't think I can stand another second of smelling ya," I joked.

He gave me a questioning look before going into the bathroom, likely confused by our interaction. I was confused, too. I wasn't always the best at showing my emotions, that was usually Sodapop's forte. That interaction with my "uncle," though, had me feeling like I needed to compensate for the love my mother deserved but didn't receive. Showing that love for Ponyboy seemed to be the closest way to satisfy that need, but it wasn't enough. Nothing would ever be.

A/N: Favorites and reviews are appreciated, I'd love to know what you're thinking of the story so far!