Jaxon

Ponyboy quickly refused to be caught in the same vicinity as Darry, when just the sound of his brother’s breathing was enough to rile him up to the walls. He guessed it was the same for Darry too, who never attempted to seek him out for a quick check-in after coming back from work, like he usually used to.

It absolutely killed Sodapop at first, but he had given up around the third day, preferring to spend all day and night with Steve instead to avoid the tension at home: Ponyboy wasn't so sure what they did, neither did he want to, but it did feel like a betrayal  – leaving him all alone in the house with Darry, and Darry alone.

The house was suffocating. It felt as if they were falling apart, just like how their crummy house did. The wallpaper peeling, the ceiling leaking, the wind whispering in through loose window panes. All too reminiscent of how they all seemed on the inside. 

Not that Ponyboy cared – if Darry wanted to be so cruel and stubborn to the point of ruining their family, so be it. That unwavering mule probably didn't even notice that it was happening. He often missed things right under his nose like that, too stuck up to notice.

It didn’t matter, Pony didn't care anymore – at least that’s what he told himself – if everyone pretended to ignore it, eventually it'd become the new normal.

Smiling to himself at the peacefulness of the house, Ponyboy cracked open To Kill a Mockingbird to enjoy out in the living room – no poker game, or loud hooting, no burping and or farting in his face to disturb him for once. 

Maybe it wasn't all that bad that their house was declared a war zone and avoided by the gang, if it meant Pony could have the quiet he'd always loved to be engulfed by.

But then he read a chapter, then two, and realised he was absolutely sick of the silence. Telling himself that it was nice had stopped working, and the house finally seemed as empty and lonely as it was.

Ponyboy couldn't even remember how it started – did Darry? Or Soda? Or were they all stuck in an indefinite cycle of fighting without a cause?

He dropped the paperback on the coffee table, knowing he had to do something. They couldn't possibly get torn apart from something he could only assume was a stupid little disagreement.  

Just as he was about to get up and call up Buck's – which he knew Sodapop was at, even if he always told Darry otherwise, when Darry himself stumbled in through the front door. 

Literally stumbled. 

His shoulder bashed into the wall and he sunk down, panting all the way. 

Ponyboy flinched at the sudden bang of the door handle against the drywall, but still made his way towards Darry, even if it was hesitant at first.

He broke out in a cold sweat when his eyes scanned over Darry, a gash flooding his face red, dirt and scratches covering his arms, his jeans ripped.

Ponyboy was lying when he said he didn't care. He could admit it now, silently giving a small prayer consisting of “don't let Darry die, he can't die.”

Darry, not as injured as Ponyboy suspected from his initial uncoordinated movements, looked up at Ponyboy horrified. "I thought you'd be in your room."

Huffing with dry amusement, Ponyboy moved Darry's hair out of his face to see the gash on his forehead better. 

"Well, maybe I got sick of the silence."

Ponyboy watched as Darry thickly swallowed, "..I did too. Look Pony 'm sorr-"

"Save it."

Darry looked hurt.

"No, I mean. It doesn't matter," Ponyboy wasn't about to admit forgetting why they fought in the first place, but he decided he'd rather not know, "You don't have to say you're sorry. I am too, but you know that don't you? And I know you are too."

Darry let out a sigh, and looked down at the ground to avoid looking into Pony's curious eyes. 

"Guess yer’ doin’ Soda’s job now, hmnph bud?"

Shit, Sodapop. Still avoiding the house like the plague – "W-we gotta apologise to ‘im." Darry broke his train of thought.

"Yeah I know, he comes home eventually, we'll do it then." Darry rested his head on the wall behind him, instantly reminding Ponyboy that he's injured. 

"Golly Darry, why are you falling asleep on me? Come on up to the couch."

"No ‘s ‘kay, not too bad." So maybe Ponyboy’s first impression wasn't all that wrong. 

Pony grabbed at Darry's arm, careful to not touch any of the bleeding scratches, and pulled up until Darry decided to help out and push himself up from the wall. 

Almost having to completely hold him up, Ponyboy led Darry to the couch, letting him fall back before running to the bathroom and grabbing the first aid and the aspirins behind the bathroom mirror. 

Hopefully he'd be able to patch Darry up before Sodapop comes home and blames himself for not predicting that Darry got.. 

Ponyboy slowed down as he opened the first aid, turning his head to look at his older brother. 

"What exactly happened to you?"

"Coupla punks lookin' for.. Uh, trouble. That's all." 

Darry flexed his right hand, his knuckles split and bleeding from the movement. He'd never go down without a fight – but the fact that he lost was something otherwise. Darry never lost.

Or, at least Ponyboy never saw him lose.

Ponyboy sighed at himself, knowing he had to drop that fantasy world he was still trying to plaster on his everyday life sooner or later. Darry was just as human as the rest of them, hissing and flinching as Pony disinfected his cuts, licking his busted lips with a nervousness Pony had always tried to ignore when it came from Darry. It was strange to think back at it now, only thinking of him as a hard ass who didn’t care.. No, wait, that is what he is. 

Brushing that thought aside, Pony sat back on the coffee table as he bandaged his brother’s hand. On the bright-side, nothing looked too bad or deep enough for stitches, but from how Darry was slumping and stumbling over his words, he had a good knock to the head. 

Good ol’ classic Darry luck. Concussions still stickin’ to him despite not playing football anymore. As if his migraines weren’t enough.

Pony wordlessly gets up to make something to eat before taking painkillers, thanking God in the process as the bread that’d been sitting for a while still wasn’t moldy. He comes back in record speed with a plate and a glass of water. 

Sitting down next to his brother, Pony hands him one slice while he starts to chow down the other. Darry nibbles at the triangle-cut slice of ham sandwich long enough for Pony to be satisfied and hand him the aspirins. 

Darry swallows them down with water, his brow twitching as his body flares up in pain from the movement. 

Pony stares at Darry as he leans back on the couch cushions, his head falling so he faces away from him.

The wall between them isn’t still gone, Pony can feel it blocking his throat from asking if Darry was alright – a show of care a bridge too far.

But, like the hero he is, Darry speaks up, cracking a small hole in the wall that they’ve been building up all this time.