he/she/they

This idea has been circling in my head for quite some time now so I was very excited to finally get it down!!

Also I know I haven’t posted in nearly two months… but I haven’t been sitting around and working on nothing! I found a daily upload challenge for November in August and I’ve been writing for it since. I’ve only got five done so far, and I’m losing motivation for it pretty quickly, but whether I finish it or not, I’ll still have a couple of short one-shots for yall on November 1st!

——————

“Christ, Pony, get outta there!” Pony heard Dally scream from the broken window, and he could just make out his outline through the haze of smoke and bright fire. He had already pulled Johnny out through the window, and Ponyboy hoped he was okay. If Dally was up and screaming into the fire for Pony, however, he must be. He’d never leave Johnny’s side for him if he was hurt.

Pony tried to shout back to him, that there was another kid he had to find. He heard them screaming their poor little head off somewhere in a back room, muffled by the roar of fire and crackling wood.

However, he could hardly get anything more than a croak out. The smoke was overbearing, like he was drowning in it. He could hardly take in a single breath without feeling like he was being choked to death. So instead, he just pulled his jacket collar over his nose and mouth, and progressed deeper into the inferno. He felt bad leaving Dallas hanging, but he wasn’t about to let a kid crisp to their death.

D’s shouts were suffocated by the fire and breaking building as Ponyboy advanced further to the back room, but the kid’s yelling got louder. After what felt like several minutes, but couldn’t have been longer than thirty seconds, he reached a door- it seemed mostly intact, and shut, too. Pony pulled his sleeve up over his hand and jiggled the door knob, but it wouldn’t budge. Damn, maybe a bit too shut.

Ponyboy banged his fists on the door in desperation. Fear was creeping in now. He was so impossibly hot, the heat stinging and biting every part of his body. He felt like he was going to faint at any minute- his throat felt so swollen and he could hardly draw in a breath at this point. He wondered dimly if he was having an allergic reaction to the smoke. Could that happen? He wouldn’t be surprised at this point. He was suddenly grateful he didn’t have any, this wasn’t a pleasant experience. But he’d find the time to have sympathy for people with peanut allergies later.

After a second or two, Ponyboy quickly realized uselessly jiggling a doorknob isn’t gonna get this kid out any faster. He was almost agitated that the kid wasn’t doing anything to help him open the door, but then he realized their screams were quieting. With a rush of terror and alarm, he backed away from the door and positioned himself, before running into it and slamming it with all of his might, which wasn’t much, but it seemed to begin to work after the second time. Luckily, the old, wooden door didn’t seem to be holding up to well itself, the fire and smoke seeming to get the better of it. After the fifth ram, it caved, and Pony was able to slip though the opening.

He doesn’t know how, but the room was filled with more smoke than the rest of the church, despite there not being much of a fire inside. It hit Pony like a truck- he hardly was able to step fully into the room before the smoke bombarded his face and body, and he felt his throat constrict more than before. In a panic, his hand gripped at his throat, and he tried to draw in a few breaths. Albeit shallow and uncomfortable, he’d manage. He just had to get this kid out of the room.

Pony immediately dropped to the floor, where there was less smoke and it was the tiniest bit cooler (which certainly wasn’t much). He could hardly see a few inches in front of him, what with the smoke that made his eyes sting and water like never before and the haze that was beginning to settle down from the smoke that stuck to the ceiling. He felt around the ground with his hands, flinching away with a choked gasp whenever he landed on something searing from the heat.

“Kid?” Ponyboy croaked, which made him begin to cough like a mad man. He tried to suppress them so as to not scare the little kid, assuming, praying, they were still conscious enough to hear it. But it only made his chest feel as though it were about to explode, and once he started it was nearly impossible to stop.

Despite this, he crawled on, letting the tears flow freely as he tried his best to keep his eyes open to find this damn kid. He was getting more sluggish by the second- his arms were getting awfully sore from supporting his body weight for so long, and his legs were practically useless now; he felt as though he was just dragging them along.

However, finally, he saw a little figure through the smokey haze. A girl. She was covered in soot and was curled into a ball, head buried into her knees, making her almost invisible against the dark and murky walls of the dimly lit, small room. He crawled over to her, and put a hand on her shoulder, shaking it. He tried to be gentle, so as to not scare her, but desperation got the better of him and he shook her harder than he meant. Her head slowly lifted with a groan, and Pony pulled himself to his knees.

“I’m gonna-” Pony began, but was curtly cut off by a fit of coughing. The little girl only looked at him with a tear streaked face, looking nearly as weak as he did. “I’m gonna get you out, okay? Can you stand?”

The girl nodded her head, and Pony set his eyes on the boarded up window in the corner. He thanked God it was there- he didn’t know what he’d do if there wasn’t an escape route from this room. The rest of the church was probably crumbling at that very second, and the two were only a bit safer in this room because the fire hadn’t spread here yet since the door had been closed. Bright blue sky shone dimly through the cracks in the wooden boards, and he swore he was able to see shadows looming through it. He thought he could hear voices, and the wood was creaking as if someone was trying to pry the boards off of it, but he wasn’t sure if it was people coming to save them or the rest of the church beginning to collapse on its structure.

Nevertheless, he began to stand on his shaky legs, holding out a hand so the girl could follow in suit. She seemed to be stronger than him, luckily, as she stood quicker, but she didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around him and bury her head in his scorched flannel jacket. Pony wrapped his arms around the kid, shielding her from the smoke as best he could, and began to push on the boarded windows. He didn’t even bother to try and scream for help- that would surely take him out. His throat felt like it had been torn apart by wolves, and he felt so lightheaded that he was scared he’d pass out with the girl in his arms, bringing them both down.

On the other side of the window, though, there did seem to be people there, who picked up their pace. One by one, the wooden boards were pried off, each giving him a bit more hope. Finally after what felt like a million years, the window was opened just enough for a person to crawl through.

“Pass over the kid!” A fireman shouted, and Ponyboy did his best to comply. He hauled her up with every last bit of strength he had and passed her over to the fireman, who grabbed her quickly and placed her into the care of another firefighter.

Then, the fireman reached for him through the window. However, before Ponyboy could attempt to haul himself out, blackness danced in the edges of his vision. He didn’t even have the chance to plead with himself to not pass out, before he felt his legs give out, and there was nothing.

——————

When he came too, Ponyboy didn’t understand where he was. It was bright, and not the type of brightness that would illuminate from a fire. It was unnatural, white. It made his head pound, and made it ten times harder to open his eyes.

He didn’t know how long he struggled with himself to pry his eyelids open. Everything felt weird and fuzzy, as if someone had turned off his brain and all that was left was static. He tried to lift a hand, but he could hardly even feel it- it was like his head was detached from his body and he couldn’t find the rest of it.

Despite his best efforts, he tried not to allow himself to get worked up. But it was so dark and bright at the same time, his body felt heavy but it felt like he was floating, and something in his chest and mouth was wrong. Somewhere in the background, he heard a beeping noise that was once faded into the background, blended in somewhere with the haze he found himself in. It got progressively louder and faster, however, and it became hard to ignore. The pounding in his head sped up with it, and in a panic, he finally managed to pull his eyes open.

Unfortunately, all Pony was met with was even brighter light- his eyes watered instantaneously and the stung nearly as bad as they did in the fire. He felt the tears cascade down the sides of his face, disappearing into his hairline, and he felt panic rise as his vision hesitated to clear. After a few seconds, however, it became more bearable, and slowly, he was able to distinguish his surroundings beyond the bright, fluorescent lights.

He found himself staring at a ceiling- but not the ceiling at home or even the old, crickety wooden beams of the church he’d been living in for the past week. This was different, with its popcorn texture and industrial white color. He tried to move his head, to look around the room, but that was nearly impossible, too. Not only did he feel so weak that it felt like his bones were made of jelly, but it was like something kept him tethered to his spot. At least with his hands and arms, he could twitch them the tiniest bit, but not his head.

As Ponyboy regained further consciousness, different sensations began to make themselves known. The most obvious being in his chest. It felt heavy and stiff, as if he couldn’t breathe- but deep, methodical inhales came to him anyway. There was a loud gush that followed whenever his chest would rise and fall. He knew he wasn’t doing it on his own though, he didn’t feel the rush of air down his throat. All he felt was this… firm, almost tube-like object trailing down into his lungs. Wait, what?

With sudden alertness, Pony managed to lift a hand. It was slow and shaky, because his limbs felt like they were made out of lead, but he was able to drag it up over his chest (feeling the deep, unnatural breaths along the way), and up to his jawline. His hand trailed over to his cheek, and he realized that there was some sort of tape right along the corner of his mouth. His eyes widened from their previous half-lidded position, and he pushed his hand to feel along his mouth, and was met with a clumpy, cold piece of plastic, trailing further into his mouth where his hand couldn’t reach.

That’s when it all hit Ponyboy at once.

The tube, connected to some sort of machine that wouldn’t allow his head to move, was kept tight in place in his already constricted throat, and he desperately fought the urge not to gag. He didn’t think there was enough food in his stomach to throw up anyhow, but the last thing he needed was to suffocate on his own vomit.

Pony felt at the plastic disappearing into his mouth, gripping at it with weak fingers to try and remove it. He didn’t care what it was- he wanted it out. He felt like he had no control over his own body, with his lungs rising and falling mechanically thanks to the machine, hardly having the ability to keep his eyes open. He felt stiff and uncomfortable bandages wrapping parts of his body, and he desperately wanted his brothers.

He tried to call out for someone, anyone, but his voice was dead from all the smoke, and even if it wasn’t, he probably couldn’t make a sound anyhow. Pony continued to fumble with the plastic mouthpiece with frail fingers, feeling frustration and terror build up in his chest. Tears continued to roll down his face, and naturally, his own breath picked up, and he struggled to breathe against the machine. The monitor next to him picked up speed, and through his weakened splutters and pathetic coughs, he heard something begin to beep with intensity and alarm.

He flinched, the noise loud and painful, and before he even knew what else was happening, a door somewhere in the background flew open and hit against the wall behind it. In no time, figures appeared in his vision above him, blocking the view of the ceiling. Pony’s eyes darted across the person’s features, but he wasn’t able to take much in- everything was still blurry and he could only slightly tell that the person above him, a woman, seemed to be trying to tell him something. He felt a gentle hand against his face, and in the corner of his eye, he saw another person tampering with the machine that must’ve been connected to his mouth. Then, out of nowhere, he felt a distant prick in his arm. He flinched at the feeling despite the fact it didn’t hurt all too much, and soon enough he felt fatigue beginning to creep in again. His erratic breathing came to a halt, and the machine took over. And so did sleep.

——————

When Pony woke again, he found himself in the same predicament.

The machine had not been removed, and if anything, he felt worse.

The static-y, numb feeling had dissipated into discomfort on the brink of painfulness. His skin felt tight and dry in certain areas, with a lingering sting just beneath it. He felt sore, and so exhausted, but now that he was awake and had been introduced to the pain, he knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep again. His head was still pounding with the heart monitor next to him, the gush of air from the machine making itself known every couple of seconds.

His throat didn’t feel so constricted anymore, but it didn’t stop him from bringing his hand to his mouth, feeling that damned piece of plastic still present. Tears welled in Pony’s eyes without his permission- he hates this. He wished it’d be taken out, he wants his brothers. Where are his brothers? Do they not know he’s here?

If Ponyboy had the ability to breathe on his own, it would be picking up. But instead, the only thing that accelerated was the heart monitor next to him and the throb of pains all over his body. He felt tears slide down the sides of his face, forced to stare up at the ceiling through blurry vision. He vaguely remembered someone standing over him, voice and hands gentle, and he wished he could call her back, but instead he was confined to the bed, unable to move.

But then, a gentle hand did come back. It was larger and not as soft, but it laid against the side of his face as if he would crumble if they were too rough. Pony’s mind was still foggy from the medication, so he wasn’t able to hear the voice as clearly as he’d like. But it was there. A man’s, and a familiar one at that. He couldn’t place his finger on it, however, until his face came into view above him.

Pony wished to say that his tears dried when he saw Darry appear in his vision, but if anything, they came quicker. But they weren’t from fear, and anger, or any negative feeling he might’ve held for his brother a week prior. The tears were of relief.

A week of uncertainty, fright, and tension dissolved away as Darry’s voice rang in his ears, his words of reassurance and comfort soothing Pony. Suddenly, another person comes into view, but Darry says something along the lines of “go get a nurse” before they could do much.

Darry wipes away his tears as the heart monitor beside the bed slows. Pony wished he could say something, anything, but the machines stopped him effortlessly, and all he could do was stare up at Darry through wet eyelashes. Darry continued to whisper sweet nothings, and Ponyboy continued to calm.

Then, a door somewhere in the background opens. It’s not as harsh as it was when he first woke up, but that doesn’t stop a person from running in like there’s something chasing them. They skid to a halt at the opposite side of the bed peering over Darry’s head, and grabbed Pony’s hand. Pony recognizes it as Sodapop immediately, and the tears don’t hesitate to come back. He’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t in so much physical discomfort, but he quickly realizes that Soda’s own eyes are glistened with unshed tears as well. Soda lets out a chuckle at the realization, and brushes back Pony’s messy hair from his eyes.

Then, the nurse that must’ve come in with S interrupts them.

“Sorry to cut in here, dear,” She tells Darry, who complies and moves over, but his hands don’t leave Pony. She appears at the side of the bed, and looks down at Pony.

“Ponyboy, can you hear me alright? Blink one for yes, two for no.” She asks, voice soft, and Pony blinks once for yes. A small smile appears on her face.

“Very good. Well, fortunately for you, you have been cleared by the doctor to be taken off the breathing machine. Is that alright?” The nurse asked, and Ponyboy blinked once for yes, hard.

Everyone lets out a little chuckle at this, and he feels Sodapop squeeze his hand. The nurse nods, and fumbles with a latch somewhere on the side of the bed. “I’m going to lift your bed now, so that you’re sitting up. If you find yourself in any pain, squeeze your brother’s hand and we’ll lower you, alright?”

Pony blinked once again, and the nurse began to push the backrest up. Pony was set up vertically, and man, if being able to see something other than a ceiling and lights weren’t a relief, then he wouldn’t know what was. A pain in his core flared as he was moved up, but he stopped himself from squeezing Soda’s hand. He doesn’t want to put this off more than he has to.

As the bed was latched into place, the pain settled and all that was left was the familiar throbbing of distant pains, and the uncomfortable feeling of the tube in his mouth and throat. It made his chest feel a little less constricted however, which he was grateful for.

The nurse grabbed a napkin from the bedside table, and tucked it into the front of his hospital gown.

“Okay, Ponyboy, here’s what will happen. I am going to disconnect the tube from the machine. The air will stop coming, so it may seem tough to get in air those few seconds, but it won’t be long. As I take out the tube, I’m going to need you to cough out, alright?” She informed him, looking him in the eyes, and Pony blinked for yes. She gave him a smile and turned to his brothers.

“Are you alright with this?” She asked them, specifically Darry. He was his guardian after all, he still had to approve.

He nodded his head immediately, knowing how uncomfortable Pony must be feeling right now.

But Sodapop asked what everyone was thinking.

“Will it hurt?”

“No,” She answered Soda, then turned her attention to P. “There will be slight discomfort, but it shouldn’t hurt. I understand that you’ve inhaled lots of smoke, so it will be scratchy and tight coming out, but you should be fine in a few seconds, dear.”

On instinct, Pony began to nod his head, but the pain stopped him before the machine could. The nurse continued to disconnect the ventilator, and she was right- it definitely wasn’t a walk in the park to try and breathe around a tube shoved down your throat, but she was quick to position herself and prepare to pull it out.

“Alright remember, cough as it comes out, alright?” She reminded, and Ponyboy blinked hard once.

Pony felt Soda squeeze his hand once more, and Pony gripped it hard as the nurse made to hold the tube in her hand to pull it out. Darry’s hand laid on his shoulder now, his thumb rubbing gently against his collarbone.

Then, with little warning, the nurse pulled the tube from his throat. He hardly had the time to cough before it was yanked firmly out, but he hoped it was soon enough. But it was over quicker than he expected it to be, and the coughing he did afterwards surely had to make up for it. His eyes watered for the millionth time that day as he tried to compose himself, his brothers rubbing his back and he hunched over, his throat on fire. But it passed quick, like the nurse said it would, and he sat back against the bed, trying to catch his breath. It felt good to be able to breathe on his own account, and albeit it was a bit wheezy, it was a million times better then having a foreign object do it for him.

Somewhere in the background, the nurse told him he did good, and she wheeled the machine out of the room. Pony’s eyes followed it with a glare, but once the threat was out of the room, he sagged against the pillow and had to fight to keep his eyes open.

Darry lowered his bed further down and Soda dragged a chair closer to the edge of the bed.

Pony tried to speak, but all that came out was a croak. His voice was shot despite the fact that there weren't any physical objects to stop him, and his brothers shushed him immediately.

“Don’t speak kiddo, you’re alright,” Darry said, wiping away the remnants of tears off his face. Soda pulled out the napkin tucked into his hospital gown, and discarded it onto one of the bedside tables.

“Go back to sleep, alright? We’ll be here when you wake up.” Sodapop said, brushing his hair back with his hand, a comforting feeling he hadn’t felt in nearly a week. That alone was enough to put him to sleep.

——————

When Ponyboy woke up next, he felt more comfortable than he had in a while.

Now that the machine was gone, he was finally at ease. He hadn’t slept in an actual bed in a week, and now that he was able to rest on something other than a dusty, stone floor, he almost didn’t want to wake up. The pain was still lingering, but so was the medicine, and he could actually breathe on his own account, so he didn’t have a large sense of urgency to awake. Sleep was beginning to pull him under again, but suddenly, there was a hand on his head, ruffling his hair the tiniest bit.

“C’mon, kiddo, wake up. The doctor wants you to eat something,” Soda whispered, voice soft and hand gentle. At this, Pony pried his eyes open, blinking back the tears that came from the light. They still stung like hell thanks to the smoke, and he had to blink a couple of times before he could see without blurriness, although it still lingered in the edges of his vision.

“So’,” Ponyboy began, but his voice broke and his throat stung, so he stopped himself quickly. Soda wasted no time grabbing a paper cup and poured some water into it from a pitcher sitting on the nearby desk. Pony lugged himself up, ignoring the stabbing pain in his torso as he propped himself against the pillows. Soda handed him the cup of water, and Pony downed it greedily, Soda’s hand supporting his shaky one so he wouldn’t drop it.

“Darry said he’d be right back. He had to go talk to someone from the billing department,” Soda explained, when Ponyboy looked around the room, confused as to why it was just them two. “Adult stuff, ya’ know?” He said, falsely exasperated.

Ponyboy nodded with a smile, and opened his mouth to say something, but Soda stopped him before he could.

“Don’t you say anything, alright? Your throat is torn ta’ shreds. The doctor wants you to have some soup and a real meal before you try, alright?” Soda told him as he wheeled over the tray table to maneuver it over P. He helped him sit up a little more, and set up the meal in front of him.

“Vois la,” Sodapop exclaimed with dramatic flare after pulling off the cover to the tray. It revealed a rather pathetic looking meal with soggy vegetables and watered down chicken noodle soup, but at least it was baloney. “Your five star meal, sir.”

Pony let out a breathy laugh, and Soda beamed with delight, although his eyes shined as if he were holding back tears. Pony would’ve questioned it if he was able to find his voice, but maybe it’d save Sodapop some awkwardness anyhow.

Soda unraveled his utensils from the napkin and placed them in front of him. He didn’t even have the time to ask Ponyboy if he wanted help with eating before Pony was shoveling a spoonful of soup into his mouth. After confirming that Pony would be able to eat on his own fine without choking or dropping a utensil, Soda started to do the talking for him.

“Well, Dally and Johnny are fine,” He began, and Pony’s head shot up to look at him, beckoning for him to continue, “They got a little burnt, but you got the worst of it. And so’s that kid. You saved her life, P. I mean, honestly, her parents are willing to pay for your hospital bills and everythin’.” Soda said. Thank God his friends are alright. And thank God that little girl is, too. She sounded so scared and weak when he finally got to her, and she hoped she hadn’t been put in the same predicament as he.

Pony finished his last slurp of soup before he realized he couldn’t have anymore. He felt ravagingly hungry, but then he started to fill his stomach and suddenly, he felt too tired to eat anything more. The medicine was beginning to work its magic again. He settled down into the bed again, and Soda pulled away the rolling desk.

“You need more sleep, Pone, you look exhausted.” Soda says, running a hand through Pony’s tangled mess of hair as he rested back onto the pillow. Pony only nodded his head.

“Love you, S,” Ponyboy muttered, voice sounding more like an actual living human than a dead one. Pony saw Soda crack a smile through his half-lidded daze, and Soda wiped a tear out of the corner of his eye.

“Love you too, kid.”

——————

A/N: I was going to add another scene with Darry but I got too lazy I fear…

Is this realistic? Probably not. Do I care? No! :D