~Mars~

mitski's I'll Change For You was on my mind when drawing this, the silhouettes are inspired by this image with a few tweaks (and questionable shadow placements):

Soda alternates between giddy and tearful.

Darry is his usual gruff self, until it's time to hug Pony goodbye. He gets choked up when they're leaving the dorm room, and he swears Soda to secrecy when he cries through half the drive back home.

It's actually strange enough that Soda tries talking to him about the whole thing.

"Dar, I didn't expect you to be this broken up," Soda says carefully after they've been traveling for 20 minutes or so. "You wanna talk?"

Darry shakes his head, breath hitching. He stares at the road as he dries his cheeks with the palm of his hand. Soda reaches over, hesitating before he gives Darry's forearm a gentle squeeze. Darry lets out an involuntary sob when Soda does that.

"Come on, Dar. Talk to me," Soda prods gently.

"I can't. I don't know why-" his breath catches, and he hiccups. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Do you want to pull over and trade? I can drive."

"I'd like to get there in one piece," Darry jokes weakly. Soda punches him lightly in the arm.

"Are you sad about things changing, about Pony moving out...?" Soda asks. Darry hiccups again. "Are you sad about college?"

"I wanted him to go to college. I'm proud of him," Darry grits out.

"I know you are. That ain't what I said."

"I'm being foolish. Ain't no need for blubbering about nothing," Darry mutters, but the tears still keep coming.

"Your scholarship was at Oklahoma State," Soda realizes suddenly.

Darry has to fight the sob trying to burst out of his chest. "Dammit, just leave it alone," he snaps, voice choked.

The truck is quiet, and Darry tries to keep from being any more obvious than he already is about bawling. It doesn't work that well.

"Dar, pull over," Soda says gently.

"I'm fine," he chokes.

"No you ain't. You need a hug, man. Pull over," Soda says firmly.

The only reason Darry listens is that it's getting a little hard to see the road. When he takes the exit and pulls over, he keeps his hands gripped on the steering wheel and leans forward to rest his forehead against the leather between them. He is fighting so hard against the sobs that his shoulders shake when he hears Soda unbuckle and slide closer to him. Then his brother's arm is around his back, hand rested on the opposite shoulder, and he feels like if he lets himself breathe he's gonna be sobbing at a volume that'll embarrass the hell out of him.

This is stupid.

He came to terms with his own life a long time ago. That wound shouldn't be opening up right now.

And he isn't Ponyboy's dad. He doesn't know why he feels like he's losing his baby.

Even if he were Pony's dad, it ain't like Windrixville. He knows where Pony is. He can call him, he can visit, hell the kid will probably be bringing a bag full of laundry home for Thanksgiving which is just a few months away. Ain't like he's losing him for good.

It's stupid and, no matter how firmly he tells himself that, he just can't stop crying.

"Just let it go, man," Soda murmurs. At first, Darry thinks that Soda is echoing his own thoughts, telling him to get it back together and keep moving, and the shame feels even more like it could choke him. But that don't sound like Soda, and the next thing Darry hears is "Stop trying to hold yourself together. Just let it out, let yourself cry. I ain't gonna judge you or tell nobody."

He doesn't want to break like this in front of his kid brother. He doesn't want to let himself actually bawl like a child, doesn't want Soda to hear the sobs that are trying to tear their way out of of his chest. Whether he wants to take Soda's advice or not, though, he don't feel like he's got much choice in the matter. He's feeling a little lightheaded from how much he keeps trying to hold his breath, and despite that the feeling in his chest is getting more intense rather than less.

He feels shame twist itself around his stomach when he starts to sob. Sodapop rubs his shoulder, leaning against the other. "I've got you, Dar," he murmurs, and hell if that don't make him cry a little harder.

It takes a humiliating amount of time for the sobs to stop and for his breath to level out, and it keeps hitching as if to remind him of how he just broke.

"It ain't just the scholarship," he rasps out. What's one more embarrassment when his voice breaks as he adds, "our baby's all grown."

Soda lets out a sound that is too wet to be just a laugh. "I know, man," he says softly. "You did good raising him. Raising both of us." Soda rubs his hand up and down Darry's shoulder. "Even when it's good things, it's still hard when a lot of change comes at once."

Leave it to Sodapop to put it so simply.

"You want me to drive the rest of the way?" Soda offers.

"Nah. I'm good," Darry clears his throat, and they both rebuckle. "Thanks, little buddy." He pauses. "And just so you know, you did pretty good with the raising, too."