A/N: The semester has officially started so rip my sleep schedule and sanity ❤️

Set. Pound. Set. Pound. Set. Pound.

One by one I secured the shingles to the roof, my thoughts drifting as they usually did when I got into a rhythm. Ponyboy'll be needing new track shoes soon, I'll need to ask Soda if he's got any spare cash. He's growing, too, gotta ask Soda if he's got any clothes he's grown out of. Oh, and he looks eerily similar to our uncle who decided to show up at our doorstep a few days ago. That too.

I must've sighed out loud because Rick, one of my coworkers, turned to face me. "Tough times on the homefront?" he asked, chuckling.

"When are they not?" I grumbled.

Rick's expression softened. He was one of the few guys that knew my situation, at least to some extent. I'd never tell any of my coworkers all the shit we'd been through, I wouldn't want to scare them off, but he knew enough to know that last year had been hell for us.

"Everything okay?" he asked, this time sincerely.

"Yeah, Rick, everything's fine. Just the usual." That and someone I'd hoped to never meet has now entered our lives. But I won't bore you with our family drama, how was your weekend?

I got back to work, attempting to get out my frustrations with each pound of my hammer. It wasn't working. On the bright side, I tended to work faster when I was stressed. We finished the roof in record time, much to the pleasure of our boss.

"Good work gentlemen, I'll see you all bright and early tomorrow, yes?"

We all nodded and turned to find refuge from the heat in our air-conditioned vehicles.

"Curtis! A couple of us were gonna go get some drinks later, care to join?" Rick asked.

"Sorry Rick, I can't tonight. Maybe some other time?" I replied, knowing it was the same bullshit answer I gave every time I was asked.

Rick nodded, probably expecting my answer. These invitations were becoming less and less frequent, likely due to me always saying no. I used to have a legitimate reason, I had two brothers to take care of for God's sake. Sodapop would be 18 in less than a month, though, finally free of any threat from social services. Ponyboy, though he was still only 15, was a lot more independent now. He finally seemed to be recovering from the deaths that had plagued his early teenage years and didn't need me so much anymore. I just couldn't shake the feeling that the second I let my guard down, the second I decided to let myself live a little, it would all come crashing down. So no, I can't do drinks tonight, because who else is going to make dinner and clean the house and nag Pony about his homework? Yeah, they're probably capable of one night without me, but I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I discovered I wasn't needed anymore.

I shoved my untold fears to the back of my mind before starting the familiar drive home. The route has become second nature to me, so much so that I couldn't trust myself to run errands right after work. I usually ended up at home no matter what my intended destination was. My brakes squeaked loudly as I slowed to park, reminding me that I needed to ask Soda and Steve to take a look at them.

I silently willed that the house would be somewhat quiet, knowing full well that it was a foolish hope. Returning home to a quiet house would take nothing short of a miracle. Sure enough, I could hear the radio loud and clear before I had even reached the front porch.

"I can see the ace in your shoe from here, Sodapop!"

"Don't be such a sore loser, Stevie, just admit you've got nothing and fold."

"Can you guys keep it down?"

"Hey Soda, I think you're out of beer!"

I stepped through the front door, letting it slam behind me so everyone would know that I was home and not in the mood to put up with this today. They, of course, didn't notice.

"Saved ya a plate in the oven, Dar," Soda called out, hardly giving him a second glance.

The guys sat around the coffee table, clearly in the middle of a heated poker game. Steve and Soda were staring intently at each other, while Two-Bit casually sipped a beer, his cards lying abandoned on the table.

After kicking off my boots and hanging my toolbelt in its usual place by the door, I made my way into the kitchen. I could feel a headache brewing just behind my eyes, and I knew if I didn't swallow some aspirin soon it would turn into a full-blown migraine.

I had assumed the kitchen was empty, but instead, I found my youngest brother sitting at the kitchen table with his back to me, trying to do his homework, clearly struggling to concentrate with all the noise. I placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, trying not to startle him.

"Homework going okay, Pony?"

He jumped, my attempt at being gentle failing as usual. Soda told me once that I was too rough with him, and I never really got the hang of Soda's gentle touch.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare ya. Kind of hard to hear much of anything with these bozos in the house," I said.

Ponyboy chuckled at my comment, the words ringing all too true.

"I haven't been able to get much done. Do you think you could—"

"Yeah, I can," I took a deep breath. "Quiet down or get out, ya hear!" I shouted.

The volume in the living room dropped a considerable level, causing Pony to give me a grateful smile. Soda had always told me that Pony and I actually had a lot in common, though I didn't see it until this past year. We both preferred to keep to ourselves most of the time and could actually appreciate a quiet house. There were certainly still differences between us, though, like how Pony would endure the madness of the house, and I would put a stop to it immediately.

I noticed Ponyboy beginning to rub his temples, reminding me of another thing we have in common. Headaches. I went to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and grabbed our bottle of aspirin, taking out a few for myself and a few for Pony. He looked at me curiously when I offered them to him.

"What, you think Soda's the only one who knows how to read your mind? I'm your brother too, I can tell when you're getting headaches. Helps that they're usually at the same time as mine…"

Ponyboy took the pills from me, swallowing them dry.

"Thanks, Dar," he said.

Now that the house was quieter and my headache was tamed, I could start to eat my dinner. The chicken was a bit over-salted and dyed a mysterious shade of green, but after a long day of work, I couldn't bring myself to care. I had almost finished when the conversation from the living room that I'd previously been ignoring caught my attention.

"…Michael's sorting it out, so we should be good to go. I just need to talk to him about it tomorrow."

I was instantly on my feet, my chair clattering to the ground behind me. Ponyboy looked at me with wide eyes, clearly afraid of my sudden outburst. The last thing I wanted was for him to be scared of me, but I didn't have time to deal with that right now.

I stormed into the living room, finding myself face-to-face with three very confused guys.

"What did you say about Michael?" I demanded, my voice booming.

"Dar I—"

"Sodapop Patrick Curtis I asked you a question. What the hell did you say about Michael?"

"Just that I was going to talk to him about something at work tomorrow," Soda said, looking confused.

The room stood still, the only sound being my heavy breathing. Why on earth would he be at Soda's work?

"Darry, Michael's our coworker," Steve explained slowly.

I felt a weight being lifted off my chest, which was immediately replaced by a sense of dread. I began to realize that I had completely misread the situation.

"Guys, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…I'm sorry," I said, finding it hard to speak. I turned and quickly made my way to my room, not missing the confused look Sodapop and Ponyboy were giving each other. I shut my door, hoping neither of them would follow me. I needed to settle this before it consumed me.

A/N: Love this story? Hate it? Is it moving too fast? Too slow? Is any of it too confusing? Need someone to vent to? Want to discuss theories on when Taylor is announcing Rep TV? (Yes I'm clowning today). Leave a review!