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I made a new discord server for The Old Guard (18+ bc I say fuck A LOT and there are nsfw art channels) NSFW permitted with rules pls read rules when you join š
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Pershing Park looked different in the day, he noticed. The rust on the playground equipment was much more noticeable under the setting Tulsa sun and standing still rather than in the glimpses he got when cruising by in Bobās car or helping hold down some East Side trash for a quick beat down in the otherwise silent evenings. Those occasions when tossing the flask and the football back and forth had proven too boring and they decided to get some energy out. The grass seemed taller in the dead of night when rushing back to the car with bruised knuckles and high adrenaline, not like now as he stood by the run-down fountain and picked at his nails.
Paul felt stupid waiting around like this. Part of him wondered if it had even been worth it to be early to begin with. Itād serve Darry right to make him wait around for him for once. Itād be payback for the last four months. But he was a stickler for punctuality if nothing else, and he felt like he had some kind of high ground being there first. Not like he needed it anyway, he wasnāt in the wrong here.
After what felt like hours of standing around- it was realistically only twenty minutes, Paul had checked his watch enough times to mark every mind numbing second and add it to his pile of disdain- he saw the familiar beat-up truck pull up on the road and the even more familiar figure climb out of it.
Darryās shoulders were tense, Paul could see it from a mile away. He always had a specific way of carrying himself after a rough game or a long practice, and it was no different when heād traded his football for a hammer.
āWas starting to think you werenāt gonna show,ā Paul told him when he was sure he was within earshot. āYou sure took your dear, sweet time.ā
āWork went late,ā Darry replied with a raised brow, shoving his hands into his pockets when he momentarily forgot himself and made the beginning motions of a hug.
Paul resisted the urge to roll his eyes. āYou couldnāt just ditch early? You practically live there the rest of the time anyways.ā
āNot if I wanna keep my job,ā he snapped back as he crossed his arms over his chest. The tension hung in the air as they stared at each other, waiting for the other to say something, anything.
It was Darry who finally cut it, sighing tiredly. āYou gonna tell me what this is all about? You called me out here, remember? Not the other way āround.ā
Paul clenched his jaw, his fists following shortly after. āAgain, didnāt think you were gonna show,ā he said, voice short. āWouldnāt surprise me. Youāve had a pretty good track record of that lately.ā
Now it was Darryās turn to tense, glaring back at the boy across from him. āIāve been-ā
āBusy, I know!ā Paul interrupted, his voice dripping with exasperation. āWhen have you not been busy?! Hell, this is the longest Iāve seen you around in months! Iād have better luck reaching the damn Queen of England than you!ā
Darryās face shifted into that unamused expression Paul recognized all too well, the one that told him to quit while he was ahead lest he cross a line he was tiptoeing towards. āSorry I gotta work for a living, man! The stateās been on my ass nonstop and bills are kicking my ass-ā
He ignored the warning and stepped closer to both the line and Darry. āSo because of that I just get shoved off to the side? I just gotta deal with that? How the hell is that any fair to me?ā
Darry scoffed. āJesus Christ, Paul, aināt none of this fair!ā he snapped, raising his voice as the tension rose with it.
āDouble negative,ā Paul mumbled on impulse.
That made the other pause, glaring back at him in silence for what felt like ages. āā¦Iām gettinā real sick of you correctinā me like that. Like I donāt know how to talk right. Like you gotta teach me or somethinā.ā
The Soc didnāt even hold back his eye roll this time, tilting his head with obvious annoyance. āThatās not what I mean and you know it-ā
āDo I?ā Darry bit back, eyes locked on Paul with a hint of exhausted madness flashing in his cold stare. āSure seems like I donāt know a damn thing when Iām around you. Always remindinā me about proper speech and etiquette like I grew up in a goddamn barn! And now here you are all upset that I gotta work and pay bills and I aināt got the time to hang around you!ā
Paul had stopped looking at Darry halfway through his rant, the anger bubbling under the surface and threatening to spill over until his clenched jaw began to ache like hell. āSorry I canāt just be okay with being ignored like I donāt matter, asshole!ā He took a deep breath to try and steady himself even as the rage flowed through him like a live wire. "You told me we were gonna figure it out. When you dropped out you told me it was gonna work out. I figured you were insane to just throw it all away like that but I thought āhey, at least me repeating senior year wonāt be so bad if heās sticking around. Least I wonāt have to wait around til I finally make my way there tooā. And now look where we are.ā
Darry scoffed. āYeah, well I said a lot of shit three months ago, didnāt I?ā
The tension had risen to a level that made both parties uncomfortable beyond belief, each locked in another stalemate as they dared the other to break the silence. They knew where this was going. Itād been a long time coming, four months of āI canāt, Iām busyā and āWeāll talk about this laterā and āGotta work, sorryā piled with āWhy are you wearing thatā and āItās ādonāt haveā not āaināt gotāā and āI donāt get why youāre so hellbent on playing parentā.
āā¦Not too late to take off, yāknow,ā Paul mumbled after a long time, eyes shifting away from Darryās stern face to focus instead on the grass he absent-mindedly ghosting his shoe over. āWe could still do it. Hop in my car and haul ass.ā
āAnd go where? Do what?ā Darry tested. āGet stuck in some other dead-end town where weāll have to act like buddies and do the same damn thing weāre doinā here? Wake up, man! This was always gonna be a problem! We were stupid for even makinā that plan to begin with.ā
Paul bit the inside of his cheek. āā¦So thatās it then? I just get put on the shelf so you can go play Dad?ā
āI got a responsibility, Paul!ā
āNobody asked you to do it, Darrel! You could put āem in a boys home and move on with your life and you know it!ā
Darry took three steps forward to be inches away, the rage clear in his eyes. āYou donāt get it. Damn it, you never will,ā he said, voice low enough to keep the conversation between them in fear of any passersby eavesdropping. āYouāll never fuckinā get it. This- us, whatever the hell this is, we gotta cut it out. I got my brothers to worry about. I got bills to pay. I aināt got time to worry bout whether or not you miss me. Talkinā about runninā off somewhere and abandoninā the two family members I got left? Youāre the crazy one here, not me.ā
Paul wanted to hit him. He wanted to scream and curse his name and leave the park with discolored knuckles and diminishing anger just as he always did. But it was daylight and he was a Soc without backup. That wasnāt how they did things.
āā¦You know what? Fine. Fuck you, man. I donāt need this,ā he huffed, hands up in frustrated mock surrender. āYou wanna stick around here on this shitty side of town with those lowlifes then Iām not gonna stop you. Can't say I didn't try, pal.ā He began the trek back to his car, only making it a few feet away before turning back to glance at Darrel with his hands in his pockets and the same set expression of anger on his face. Though, from the angle he was stood Paul swore he could see the glint of tear tracks on his cheeks and some part buried under all the accumulating hate wanted to wipe them away. But he didn't. He couldn't. And he never would again.
Later that night in the haze of booze and the rush of adrenaline, as he and the other Soc boys chased after one Sodapop Curtis whoād been cutting through the park on his way home from work, Paul Holden made the decision that heād been wrong. Pershing Park looked the same in the evening as it did during the day. Dingy, run down and disgusting. Just like everything on the East Side of Tulsa.
NOTICE: As more and more fanfic writers are using generative AI for their works (you uncreative dweebs), I hereby swear on everything I hold dear that I have not and will NEVER use generative AI in ANY of my written work. Everything I post will be organically and creatively my own.
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Hidden in the corner of Darrel Curtis Jrās closet, tucked under a pile of old clothes and an assortment of items that he couldnāt be bothered to understand a proper place for, rested a secret.
The notion of death had never been particularly on Darryās mind growing up. Sure, sometimes heād watch his father read obituaries in the paper after the sports section at the breakfast table and make comments when heād see a name he recognized. But Darry would just continue eating his eggs while complaining for Sodapop to quit leaning his chair back to balance on its back legs.
It wasnāt until his twentieth birthday that everything changed. What started as a day of celebration quickly snapped like a rubber band being pulled too hard. And the sting of identifying his parentsā bodies- what was left, at least- was so sharp that he almost didnāt realize what this now meant for him.
Goodbye, college.
After funeral expenses, they were left worse than broke. What little savings their parents had when they passed was not near enough to cover a proper burial, let alone anything for him to begin the heavy weight of the sudden onslaught of bills. And so here he was. Twenty years old, two teenagers to raise, and piles upon piles of letters with the words āFinal Noticeā stamped in red.
Goodbye, future.
He tried to keep them afloat for a long while on his own. Sodapop dropping out to work helped a lot, even though the guilt gnawed at Darry over it despite Sodaās insistence that he made the decision for himself. Darry knew that overall, even with two jobs, he couldnāt do it all alone. So, with gritted teeth, he let Soda take on more shifts at the DX station.
After a lot of long days that turned into long nights, the Curtis residence creeped slowly out of the debt pit and Darry had never felt so grateful to just be flat broke. Still, with as happy as he was to be making ends meet, he couldnāt stop thinking about the future. And after witnessing a particularly nasty workplace incident thatād left a new guy with a broken rib, the plagued thoughts of his parentsā untimely end and his own existential dread tied together to fuel his nightmares.
So, as the weather began to warm up and more and more roofing jobs around the city were needed, Darry formed a plan.
āDarry, you seen my jeans?ā Ponyboy called from the bedroom. His eyes flickered to his study guide, but he wasnāt quite paying attention to it, convinced he could get away with looking it over on the walk to school.
āI ironed! Check my closet!ā Darry shouted back curtly from the kitchen, and Pony was sure he was leaning against the sink nursing his third cup of black coffee as he did every morning like clockwork. The two were having another little spat again- nowhere near the intense shouting matches of before, but still enough to leave the house in a state of unresolved tension. So they only spoke to each other when necessary, for the sake of Sodaās wellbeing. Besides, the middle Curtis brother would have a long shift that evening, which gave the other two plenty of time to duke it out without him there to feel the need to play middleman.
Arguments between the eldest and youngest were not nearly as frequent as they used to be, but they still happened. Even after everything that had gone down three months before- after a week of heartbreak and grief and reconciliation- when it came down to it they were still two vastly different people and that often led to them bumping heads.
Ponyboy bit the inside of his cheek and stepped into the bedroom that once belonged to his parents. After the accident, Darry had moved in to give Soda and Pony their own rooms. Not like they slept in separate rooms now anyways, not with Ponyboyās tendency for nightmares. But now the old decor and furniture of the room that his mother had once perfected was replaced by barren walls and Darryās bed, and it no longer felt like the same place heād once spent countless times sneaking into as a child to seek comfort from his mother after a bad dream or watching his father teach Darry and Soda how to fix squeaky door hinges and shaky knobs. Now it was just a room that his brother sometimes slept in on the rare occasions he could manage it. A room Ponyboy only now entered out of pure necessity, and otherwise briskly walked past in the hallway with downcast eyes.
The youngest Curtis opened the closet with a sigh, pulling the perfectly ironed pants from the hanger as well as a couple of Sodaās shirts he figured he might as well grab for his older brother. He was just about to shut the door and exit the room until the next unavoidable time when the slight flash of something reflective caught the bedroom light and subsequently his attention.
After pushing a few things out of the way- a couple of random jackets and trinkets, probably just things Darry couldnāt determine a place for or hadnāt gotten around to getting rid of- Ponyboy finally fully uncovered the source of the shiny material. An old cookie tin, dented and scratched beyond belief but still surprisingly bright when illuminated just so. He recognized it immediately as their motherās old sewing tin. It housed buttons and thimbles and some spare needles that the boys used on more than one occasion to hastily stitch up particularly nasty wounds after the rumbles that used harsher weapons than just a plain skin fight. None of them liked to do it, but none of them liked hospital bills and pretentious doctors, either.
He opened the tin out of impulse, wanting just to see the mess of supplies and feel some semblance of familiarity. But when the lid slipped off the top, the typical contents were instead replaced by a mess of dollar bills. More ones than others, but a decent amount of fives and tens and even a few twenties.
Ponyboy blinked, examining the sight before him utterly dumbfounded. Darry was constantly harping on him and Soda that they were always barely making it, warning them about wasting things or avoiding anything that could cost more money than they could swing.
If they had at least something in savings, why they hell was Darry always so damn stressed over something that could be solved with this tin?
Going back to the money, Ponyboy began to notice something about the way the it was all placed. Some of the bills were neatly folded and stacked while others were crumpled into balls, as though theyād been angrily thrown in at the end of a rough day.
Or a rough argument.
And all too suddenly, it clicked with him. All the vague threats Darry made in the haze of their fights, all of the spat out declarations of moving on and leaving Soda and Ponyboy to fend for themselves, all the extra shifts and longer nights Darry seemed to add without thinking theyād noticeā¦
It wasnāt simple angry threatening. It was a warning. He had a plan.
āDid you find āem? Cāmon, youāre gonna be late for school, kid!ā Darry called, his voice getting louder as he approached the bedroom.
Ponyboy quickly popped the lid back onto the tin and shoved it at the bottom of the closet, throwing all the odds and ends over top to try and hide his snooping as the endless sinking feeling threatened to pull him under the floor.
āAnyone notice somethin' weird about the kid?ā Steve asked with a raised brow, his voice hushed and somewhat muffled by the cards in his hand as he glanced through the doorway of the kitchen into the living room. Soda and Two-Bit followed Steveās curious expression, their own poker hands ignored. Ponyboy was sat on the couch, laser-focused on his science textbook resting open on the coffee table while folding the full basket of laundry to his side.
The boys shared a similar unnerved look after taking half a glance at the kid's face. Where he had the same look of concentration he always did when invested in schoolwork or a particularly intriguing book, his eyes were glassy, haunted. It was a look they hadnāt seen in over four months, when theyād lost Johnny and Dallas and Ponyboy spent two painful weeks sat in front of the television and refused to talk to anyone, refused to do anything.
āSoda?ā Two-Bit mumbled nervously, almost like he was worried heād speak too loud and startle the poor kid. āIs he alright, man?ā
Sodapop gulped, his eyes trained on his little brother and the way he was seemingly operating on autopilot as he folded a shirt that definitely needed to be hung up. āā¦Yeah,ā he said softly, nodding a little with his eyes still locked on the trauma-ridden ones in the next room. āYeah, heās fine. Heāll be fine.ā His voice didnāt have a lot of confidence in it, like he was trying to convince himself more than his friends. āProbāly just tired. He had practice for track after school, probāly just went a little too hard in the paint, yāknow?ā
That night at dinner, Ponyboy laughed at Sodaās jokes and made casual chatter with Darry about his upcoming track meet schedule, but instead of his notebook and a pen resting on his lap as per usual there was just a stack of homework he scanned over and over again. He almost looked like he was the one grading it instead of his teacher, his eyes darting over the paper time and time again.
When the meal was over, Ponyboy was quick to start washing dishes without Darry even having to remind him it was his turn. While the eldest grinned in appreciation, Soda couldnāt help but hesitantly glance at the kid as he stood at the sink with his back to his brothers.
āHe didnāt he do his little dramatic groan he always does,ā Soda frowned.
Darry hummed, arms crossed over his chest as a calm smile ghosted his features. āI know, right? No lip or nothinā. Itās almost weird. But shoot, I aināt complaininā.ā
Soda looked from his older brother to his younger brother, noticing the way Ponyboy was hunched over the sink almost like he was operating on fumes. The poor kid had pushed himself like hell today. āDar, Iām gettinā kinda worried about him.ā
āPony? Why?ā
āI dunno, he was foldinā laundry and doinā his homework earlier-ā
āThatās it?ā Darry asked incredulously, cutting him off. āHell, we should be thankful. Takes three reminders to get that kid to even start on homework half the time.ā
Soda grimaced. āYou didnāt see the way he was lookinā, Darry. He looked likeā¦like how he did a few months back. That same damn look.ā
Darry felt a knot in his throat, but willed himself to stay calm and not make a mountain out of a molehill. āā¦He could just be tired. Didnāt he have track after school?ā
āYeah, but itād make more sense for him to be complaininā by now, man. You know he always gets like that when heās beat.ā
The eldest shook his head. āNo. Heās fine, Soda. Itās been months. Youāve been watchinā him same as I have and heās been gettin' better. His grades are fine and heās stayinā out of trouble.ā
āNo, thatās just the thing Dar. Whenās the last time he went anywhere but school? Whenās the last time he bugged you about wantin' to go see a movie or grab a burger? Hell, whenās the last time you saw him with his nose in some book that wasnāt for class? Darry, heās slippin' again. Wake up.ā
Darry just shook his head again, standing and smacking the table, insistent but not angry. āNo,ā he said again, his tone firm and final. āHeās fine.ā
That night, Darry laid awake in the hollow shell of his room, staring at the ceiling and worriedly piecing together every possible excuse for his brotherās behavior. He was fine, heād been laughing and smiling again, heād been spending time with Curly and spending evenings on the porch staring at the setting sky with his fingers curled around a dulled pencil as he wrote in his notebook. Heād been getting better.
Sleep be damned. It wasnāt like Darry was banking on getting any, anyway.
A few weeks later, Darryās work day had been cut short from running out of shingles and the lumber yard being closed for some dumb reason Darry didnāt even have the energy to be annoyed about, and heād sooner start again early tomorrow than haul ass all the way across town to the other yard for more bundles for just an hour of daylight.
Even though it was a shorter shift than he was used to, the man was felt dead on his feet by the time he was climbing the steps to the porch. Soda was working a late shift at the DX working on some guyās car with Steve, and Two-Bit was busy buttering up some random girl whoād just started working evenings at the Dingo. So when he walked through the front door, making sure not to slam the screen door behind him, he knew the muffled noise from the kitchen had to be Ponyboy.
But just as he was about to call out for the kid and alert him he was home, the sound of a hiccup catching on a sob had the knot in his throat that heād tried gulping down weeks ago falling down to his stomach.
He crossed the living room quickly but quietly, taking cautious steps into the kitchen. Ponyboy was hunched over the counter by the sink, clutching something in his hand with is arms resting crossed over on the surface and his head hidden in the space. His shoulders shook along with his legs as his sobs echoed in the small kitchen, his cries lacing with frustrated yelps that Darry had last heard in a dimmed hospital room underneath the sounds of Dallasā screams.
Heās slippin' again. Wake up.
Darry had sure as hell been awake. With as little sleep as he got on any given day when was he not awake? But in that moment he realized that while he may have been awake, his eyes were sure as hell not open. Not completely. Not until right now, watching his little brother break down over the notebook that contained his semester thesis, the very one heād been writing in for months as he crawled out of the pit of despair heād spent weeks wallowing in, now covered in kitchen grease and gravy and utterly ruined.
He slowly approached the boy, noticing the stove still on but the pan nowhere near the eye. Burnt gravy was puddled on the stove top and by the sink and Darry finally started putting the pieces together. āPony?ā he asked hesitantly, watching as the kid finally lifted his head from where heād been dejectedly resting it.
Seeing Ponyboy cry wasnāt uncommon, especially not in the last few months. But god, if Darry didnāt hate it every time. Heād do anything to not have to see the poor kid cry ever again. The way his eyes were bloodshot and his face was red from the force of the sobs, the way he hiccupped and tried to force it all down which only seemed to make it so much worse. Darry loathed it more than anything in the world.
āPonyā¦whatās the matter?ā he asked, keeping his voice gentle enough to try and soothe him but not so sweet that it unsettled the boy. He knew Ponyboy preferred the normalcy of how Darry usually spoke to him over the sweet, caring tone he tried to adopt to calm him down. It was a constant, and Ponyboy needed constants to keep him grounded more than he needed hushed tones and gentle words.
Sniffling, Ponyboy wiped his eyes with the heel of his palm and took a deep breath, glancing down at the notebook in frustration. āI was tryinā to make dinner and finish up this page and I didnāt turn down the damn heat in time. Made a damn mess and now this is all fucked!ā
āHey. Language,ā Darry said on impulse.
āAnd I aināt got time to work on it, because I got two more papers, an exam to study for, and a science project! So there goes my English grade and there goes my halfway decent GPA-ā
Darry took a step forward as Ponyboyās ranting began to worsen. āPony, you gotta calm down. Who said you had to make dinner? We got leftovers.ā
ā-And then there goes college and then what? Then I ruined everything because I canāt get it together!ā Ponyboy shouted over Darry, clearly ignoring him as he continued his rambling. āThen I ruin everything you and Soda are working for!ā
āPony, cāmon kid. You donāt gotta do all this like youāve been doinā-ā Darry started.
Pony looked up into Darryās eyes, screaming, āYes I do, ācause Iāll have to do all this anyway when you leave!ā
The eldest looked at his little brother with wide eyes as he stood in front of him, panting from his winded rant and remnants of hiccupped tears. āWhat the hell are you talking about?ā he asked, confused.
āā¦I found Momās old sewing kit in the closet. You got all that cash in there. And youāre always talking about taking off and starting over someplace new. What, were you just gonna up and leave in the middle of the night without tellinā us?ā Pony spat, his voice sounding bitter and broken and nothing like the happier version of himself heād been piecing back together over the last few months.
Darry gulped, shaking his head. āPonesā¦no, no no no, that ainātā¦Iām notā¦ā he paused, unsure how to explain himself. He wouldnāt lie, it sure looked bad. With the amount of times heād threatened to up and leave when he was tired and angry and felt less appreciated than a piece of furniture, with the times he spent longing for his own life and not the one heād been forced into due to their parentsā sudden end, with the folded and crumpled dollar bills hidden away at the bottom of his closet, it all added up to an understandable conclusion in his little brotherās mind.
Before he could find the words to explain everything, he closed the gap between them with a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around the shorter boy and held him close, his grip steady and desperate like he needed Ponyboy to understand through the embrace that heād never even think about actually leaving them. It was a hug that strangely felt like the one at the hospital months ago, only where heād felt horrified relief before he now only felt an aching guilt for not recognizing this sooner, for not taking Sodaās observations to heart.
Ponyboy wrapped him arms around him after a second of hesitation, his arms going from loosely hanging around Darryās torso to squeezing him tight as if he was afraid to let go. āKid, that money aināt my bailout money. Itās just a backup plan.ā He felt Ponyboyās grip tighten and he realized he wasnāt helping his case. Slowly leading his brother out of the kitchen, Darry got them both seated on the couch and he pulled back to look the kid in the face.
āRemember how finances were after we lost Mom and Dad?ā he asked, Ponyboy nodding silently as his eyes glazed over with muted grief. āThey didnāt have anything saved up for something like that. I wasnāt sure we were gonna make it for a whileā¦I donāt want that to happen to yāall if anything happened to me.ā
After a second, Ponyboyās eyes widened a little. āWhat do you mean-ā
āI aināt saying somethingās gonna happen, Pone,ā he reassured calmly, squeezing Ponyboyās shoulder. āBut nothinās guaranteed. Roofingās got plenty of chances for someone to screw up and get hurt. You know that just as well as I do. I donāt want you two to be caught up in that if anything happened. So Iāve been squirrelinā away some odds and ends just in case.ā
Ponyboy sniffled again. Darry made a reminder to grab some aspirin for the headache the poor boy would inevitably have later. āā¦And you werenāt ever gonna tell us?ā
Darry grimaced, shrugging a little. āI figured youād find it when you needed it.ā
āSo you aināt goinā nowhere?ā the younger boy asked, not quite meeting Darryās eyes.
āI aināt goinā a damn place, Pony. Except maybe to the kitchen to clean up that gravy mess,ā Darry replied, glancing over to the doorway. Slowly, the events of the last few weeks started to click in place in his head and he sighed. āHang on, have you been acting like this all ācause of that?ā
Ponyboy bit the inside of his cheek and looked away. āDidnāt wanna give you anymore reason to cut out. Figured if I kept the place clean and stayed outta trouble and kept my grades up that youād change your mind or something,ā he explained, shrugging.
Darry let out a breath heād accidentally been holding, coming out like a sigh. āPonyboyā¦this all aināt on you, kid. Youāre puttinā way too much on your shoulders.ā
āBut you and Soda-ā
ā-Are the adults,ā Darry interrupted, cutting Ponyboyās argument off. āWe are the adults in this house, not you. Do I appreciate you pickinā up and doinā your homework? Absolutely. Do I think you should only be studyinā and cleaninā? Hell no.ā He stood from the couch and briefly excused himself, returning with a warm, damp washcloth that he slowly wiped over his little brotherās eyes.
For a short moment he was reminded of the time the three of them had been riding their bikes on the road as kids. The chain on Ponyboyās old hand-me-down had snapped, leading to a nasty wipeout that had taken out a neighborās mailbox and the skin off the top of the six year oldās knees. Their mother had cleaned the scrapes while Pony wailed, and Darry cleaned his face with a warm cloth as Soda held and comforted him and their father fitted the bike with a new chain.
Even now, Pony looked like the same teary-eyed kid, but knowing the cause of his current state was more than a simple bicycle incident did little to ease the knot still weighing in his stomach. Darry bit the inside of his cheek to steady himself. āSoda and I didnāt have to be adults at your age, Pony. We got to be kids a little longer than that. Youāre already growinā up way too fast, baby. Let yourself enjoy some of this time you got, okay? Please?ā he asked, sounding somewhat insistent.
After a long stretch of silence, Ponyboy mumbled, āā¦He wouldntāve let it get this bad.ā He looked down at his hands. āI thinkā¦he probāly woulda talked me down weeks ago.ā
Darry didnāt have to ask who. The haunted stare his little brother had was enough of a tell. āā¦Yeah, kid. Johnny was always pretty good at workinā stuff out like that.ā
That seemed like the code words to get Ponyboy to finally relax, his head drooping to rest on Darryās shoulder. āā¦I aināt watched a sunset in a whileā¦aināt had the time.ā
Darry turned his head to glance back through the window, noticing the dull orange coming in through the shade of the porch. He wordlessly stood and encouraged Ponyboy to do the same before wrapping his arm around his shoulders and leading him out through the front door.
āWhere are we goin-ā Ponyboy started, only to be cut off when his eyes met the orange and pink hues of the setting Tulsa sky. He stood entranced by the sight, not even noticing how Darry seemed to be watching in tandem with him, an identical expression of awe on his face.
āā¦I take a break to come watch these sometimes,ā Darry said, not taking his eyes off the sunset even as Ponyboy glanced over at him. āWhen Iām out workinā Iāll sit on the roof where nobody can see me slacking and justā¦watch the sunset til it goes. Like how Mom used to.ā
When Darry finally glanced down again, he noticed in the light of the setting sun that the warm hues made Ponyboy appear like heād never been crying, save for the puffy eyelids and his residual sniffling. āI didnāt know you even noticed them,ā Pony mumbled, his voice scratchy from the sobbing.
āā¦You never asked,ā Darry answered simply, letting that hang in the air as they let the fleeting moment pass from bright pinks and oranges to faded blues. āā¦Alright. Letās get inside. I got a gravy mess to clean up and you gotta eat.ā
After the kitchen was returned to itās typical state and Darry had gotten a chance to shower the dayās work away, the two had climbed into the truck and driven to a diner for a quick bite. Darry scarfed down a burger and a basket of friends while Ponyboy did the same across the booth, and after the meal he slipped a five dollar bill in Ponyās hand and mentioned a new film playing at the movie house.
A week later, Ponyboy watched as his eldest brother explained the newly developed chore chart to the gang from his spot on the couch, his new notebook in hand as he copied the contents of the old gravy-stained paper to the fresh sheets and listened to Darry in a new light.
Just did a re-read of the current chapters of the tuck au and I can't wait till you upload a new chapter, I love that fic. Obviously take your time no rush, just wanted to say again how awesome it is <3
Crying š Iām so glad you like it, to be honest I think about this au a LOT but my writerās block is making it hard to write it out into chapters right now even more so with pacing and such.
Iāve been thinking about it and Iām considering making posts about it, like snippets of the overall plot and such that will have spoilers because itās all really cool to me, especially the plot of later chapters and the drama that unfolds.
Youāre super awesome thank you for enjoying my fic! š
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Summary: In 2038, a so-called "freak accident" claimed the life of Ponyboy Curtis. Two weeks later, "Ponyboy" listens to Darry and Soda talk about what to do with him.
Detroit: Become Human AU in which Bob drowns Ponyboy in the fountain and is replaced with an android.
Read on AO3 here
Ā Ponyboy didnāt want to eavesdrop. He was aware that people thought it was rude, but he couldnāt seem to prevent himself from silently leaving the bedroom when he heard voices coming from the kitchen. After doing a quick scan of his surroundings, he froze along the wall just outside the entrance to the kitchen as the voice of Darrel echoed in the otherwise quiet room. He listened close, but wasnāt entirely sure why.
Ā āWeād get a lot out of it, Soda. With it being a prototype or whatever, Iām sure thereās collectors out there whoād offer a good amount. We could catch up on bills, and actually have something in savings for once!ā
Ā He heard Sodapop sigh. āWe canāt sell him, Darry! We canāt just abandon him like that.ā
Ā āWhat did I tell you?ā Darrel asked, voice tight with frustration. āI told you not to get attached to it, and look what you did.ā
Ā āHeās our brother! Iām sorry I canāt just turn that off!ā
Ā āThatĀ thingĀ is not our brother!ā Darrel snapped loudly. āItās plastic and metal! If you want our brother, go to the cemetery where that Soc left him!ā
Ā There was a long silence in which Ponyboy considered walking in, but the sound of Sodaās crying cut through the air just before he took his first step. He didn't want to intrude. The eavesdropping was rude enough.
Ā He heard Darrel sigh. āSodaā¦ā There was another long pause, and Ponyboy could infer that the oldest was comforting the younger as his sobs grew louder. āHey, cāmonā¦Iām sorry, I didnāt mean it.ā
Ā āI m-miss him,ā Sodapop cried softly, voice clearly thick with his tears. āA-And he looks l-like himā¦s-sounds like h-himā¦ā
Ā āBut itās notĀ him, Soda,ā Darrel replied, his tone more gentle now. āThat Sheldon kidās dad thinks that giving us an android replacement would just make everything right, but even Cyberlife canāt change the fact that that kid took our little brother from usā¦heās gone, Sodaā¦and getting attached to that tin can aināt gonna change that. No matter what it looks or sounds likeā¦it aināt Ponyboy.ā
Ā Ponyboy blinked. Looking down at his hand, he watched as he retracted the skin on his arm to show the blinding white plastic of his real body. After looking at it for a while, the sight of an unfamiliar notification popped up on his HUD:
Ā He ran a quick diagnostic to check for issues, only to see no alerts from the results. He considered informing Darrel and Sodapop of his discovery, and that heād possibly need to go to the nearest Cyberlife facility for a complete diagnostic to find the problem. However, Darrel was already considering getting rid of him, selling him to the highest bidder. If he knew there might be an issue with him, then heād for sure be gone. And while Ponyboy had no real stakes in that, heād grown a fondness for them in the short week heād been there.Ā
Ā Sodapop was kind and told him stories about the boy he shared a likeness with. Heād sit with him on the couch with a photo album and tell him everything about the snapshots on the pages. And while Darrel was cold and distant with him at best and downright hostile to him at worst, Ponyboy knew the man saw the benefit in having him around to lighten the load of the housework.
Ā āā¦Weāll keep it around,ā Darrel said defeatedly after a while. āBut just for a while longer. The second one of itās parts get faulty, Iām putting it on eBay.ā
Ā He heard Sodapop sniffle. āReally, Dar? eBay? Like itās 2008?ā he asked with a watery laugh. āDonāt stop there. Put him on Craigslist too.ā
Ā Ponyboy experienced a strange sensation. Part of him was glad the tension had dissolved, but something about joking about putting him up for sale on the internet made him finally stop eavesdropping and return to the bedroom.
Ā While androids didnāt need to sleep, Sodapop had requested he share the same room as him when he went into stasis. Something about how the real Ponyboy used to share a bed with him and heād gotten too used to it. Ponyboy acquiesced, hellbent on completing his purpose to make life easier for the Curtis brothers.
Ā Ponyboy was determined to win Darrel over, despite the task seeming impossible. If nothing else, he could prove useful and stay enough in his good graces to remain there. He couldnāt replace the brother they lost, and he knew Darrel didnāt want him to, but he would rather be an asset to the household than a burden, or worse, sold off to some collector who wouldnāt understand the reason behind his imperfect appearance. Someone who didnāt understand his entire creation was a futile apology from a father whose son had done the unthinkable to a poor, innocent boy. Someone who didnāt understand his model was a trial in grief processing androids.
Ā Laying in the bed, Ponyboy was suddenly struck with a flash of something, so fast he almost didnāt catch it even with his quick processing:
Ā Ā āCāmon, letās walk to the park and back. Maybe Iāll be cooled off enough to go home," he heard his voice say. The air was cold and he shivered, holding his arms as he walked alongside a boy who worriedly asked him if he was about to freeze to death. But something else was more intense than the chill. The feeling of stinging on his cheek, and the unfamiliar sensation of fear and the pain of betrayal.
And now, a sad concept that I pondered with friends before and Iām currently turning into a fic:
Darry hides spare cash on the rare occasions he finds it as a backup plan that way Soda and Pony arenāt as caught off guard financially as he was if something happened to him like what happened to their parents because dude cannot stop thinking about how abrupt death can be
He doesnāt tell anyone about it because 1) He doesnāt want to freak out his brothers and 2) While he trusts his friends he also doesnāt trust them enough to tell them about his makeshift life insurance
So one day Ponyboy goes to Darryās closet to find some clothes that heād ironed and he spots a beat up cookie tin that used to house their motherās sewing kit and spare buttons. Out of curiosity he opens it to find it full of bills, mostly ones and fives, some crumpled up and some stacked and neatly folded in half.
At first Ponyboyās just confused why Darry has money saved up when theyāre always stressing out about bills until it hits him: all of Darryās vague threats that he makes when heās angry about leaving them and starting a new life for himself arenāt threats anymore. Heās saving up money. He has a plan.
And Pony rightfully panics and out of desperation to keep his older brother there, pushes himself hard than he ever had before. He stresses to get better grades, keeps the house clean, and stays out of trouble as much as possible to try and convince Darry to reconsider and stay.
The gang can tell heās slipping, though. He doesnāt go out anymore and rarely hangs out with anyone. Heās always either hunched over an essay or reading a textbook while folding the laundry. He doesnāt see movies anymore. He barely cracks open a book that isnāt for school.
Darry can tell somethingās off, but he doesnāt know how to broach the subject or ask whatās going on. And the house is clean and Ponyboyās doing well in school, so it canāt be that bad, right?
Until one night Sodaās got a late shift at the DX and Darry comes home late to the echo of crying in the kitchen, Ponyboy having finally snapped after spilling food on his nearly completed semester thesis after trying to make dinner and do his homework at the same time.
Darry finally canāt take it anymore and has to sit Pony down and be like āYouāre pushing too hard, chill outā
To which Ponyboy, still crying, finally crashes out with āNo ācause Iāll have to do this anyway when you leave us!ā
And Darry panics because what the hell is his little brother talking about and Ponyboy finally mentions the cookie tin
Darry finally explains what the moneyās for, and has to reiterate that heās not going anywhere, and heās not planning for them to need the money anytime soon, but he works a labor intensive job that comes with risks, and anything can happen
Once heās eventually able to reassure and calm Ponyboy down, they have a heart-to-heart about how Darry really wants Ponyboy to be a kid. That heās pushing too hard and he and Soda didnāt even need to step up as young as Pony is trying to.
āI do really appreciate all the help around the house. But it aināt just on you, okay? We might have work, but you got school. We had some time to be reckless kids. You get your time too. Please just let us worry about it.ā
Anyway they cook dinner together after and Darry gives him money to go see a new movie since heād missed so many heād secretly wanted to see during it all
Cut to a week later and Darryās explaining the newly developed āCurtis Family Chore Chartā to the gang, to guarantee Ponyboy doesnāt try to do everything by himself again
Johnny having to grapple with the fact that not one but TWO of his closest friends took their lives for him is gonna be the saddest part of my tuck au to write
Subsequently Dallas realizing Ponyboy also ended his life at 17 like him for the same reason is gonna suck too
Johnny āI didnāt ask you to follow meā Cade and Dallas āI just donāt want you to end up like meā Winston fr
Ok I need opinions on my tuck au because what if I did stevepop slow burn friends to enemies to friends to lovers and also queerplatonic johnnyboy bc thatās my current idea
I saw your recent post abt your tuck everlasting au and I wanted you to know that i absolutely love it!! It is one of my fave fics and I devour new chapters. It's amazing! You do not owe us anything, but I do hope your motivation comes back and you're able to keep writing it :)
AH Thank you so much friend š I love this au so much and I refuse to have unfinished fics on my AO3 so itāll eventually be finished!
I think Iām gonna change the way I update, and might just buckle down and finish writing the rest of it before posting it all. I know some people (myself included) actively filter out WIPs when reading since the incompleteness tends to be frustrating and unsatisfying.
However Iām considering posting little yaps here of things that either wonāt make it into the fic or I just find interesting. Iād like to answer questions about the au too! I just think itād be fun to talk about it, I dunno.
Anyway, thank you so much for liking my silly little au
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When the willingness to work on my outsiders tuck everlasting au is rock bottom bc I feel like nobody really likes it all that much tbh so Iām just yapping to the air