🎃🦇#Outsiders Halloween2024

But Darry could almost feel the annoyance that Paul felt, could hear it in the sigh that Paul would let out before it was covered up with a smile as he greeted whichever brother, or both of them, had clung so tightly to Darry’s side. Darry always felt so embarrassed whenever he needed to bring his brother’s with… even if Paul assured him that it was okay, and that he didn’t mind.

Darry needed their late night meet ups just so he didn’t drive himself insane with the guilt. Paul was more than happy to meet with him, to drive out of town as far as they were willing to go at midnight and park where no one could see them.

“Darrel, Darry,” Darry glanced over at Paul, a tinge of worry and fear rushing through him until he saw the look in Paul’s eyes. Kindness shown through alongside the worry that always seemed to be in Paul’s eyes whenever he managed to actually get Darry alone after several hangouts where his brothers forced themselves with. “You know that I don’t mind your brothers coming with, right?” Darry looked away quickly, and Paul sighed.

“But our hangouts are for us, not-” Darry’s voice died in his throat as suddenly Paul swung himself over the center, resting himself on Darry’s lap in a way that was not comfortable being done in a car. Darry’s head tilted up so that he could see Paul’s eyes, even if he wished he could look anywhere but at Paul’s eyes. Darry didn’t exactly have the choice of looking anywhere else now. His hands rested nervously on Paul’s thighs.

“Darrel.” Paul’s voice was smooth, smoother than Darry’s was. Which Darry found so unfair that Paul had no voice cracks since they’d started puberty. It felt like Darry had one every other sentence some days and every hour on the easy days where he ‘barely had any’. “You’re brother’s love you, they want to spend time with you.” Paul uttered. Darry was frozen in place, eyes tracing Paul’s to imprint it in his memory.

“I see them all the time, they don’t need to be barging in on our time.” Darry uttered quietly, it was dark enough outside that he had no fear or care about Paul’s position. They were far enough away from any lights that would shine in enough to let passerby see them… or anyone to see them, Paul had driven them pretty far out of town. “This is our time, and it took me sneaking out a window to even get here alone, with you.”

“I don’t think you get it…” Paul sighed, leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss to Darry’s lips. Darry kissed back as quick as he could, knowing that Paul wasn’t going to let this conversation drop anytime soon. He needed the tiny bit of affection he could get right now. “Your family is… is so warm, so… unlike anything I’ve experienced, and it’s because of how close you all are… from how you all love each other…” Paul huffed a breath that fanned over Darry’s face.

“I love spending time with your brothers, because Darry, it’s amusing to me that they don’t realize how they cling to you. They want to sit next to you, they want to copy you, they want to match with you, because in their eyes, anything you do is so fucking cool to them.” Paul continued, using his free hand to run through Darry’s hair; which was, for the night, completely ungreased.

“But they’re so annoying,”

“To you.” Paul stopped Darry from continuing. “They’re annoying to you, because, yeah, like you said, you see them all the time. But to me, it’s an inside glance at your family, at how you interact with them, at how the three of you are being raised, and Darry…” Darry watched as Paul lost his words, or hesitated even saying them.

“What?” Darry asked quietly, mind running with possibilities faster than he could process them.

“Darry, those glances into your life? I want it. I want more of it…” Paul pressed another kiss to Darry’s lips, pulling back before Darry could respond to the kiss. Darry pouted at him, briefly, before smoothing over his face again in confusion.

“What does that mean, Paul?” Darry asked, ignoring how hard his heart was beating in his chest. The hand holding Darry’s chin moved to rest on his shoulder, Paul’s other hand was still buried in Darry’s hair, which felt important to Darry somehow.

“I don’t know how to get the words out… I-” Darry surged forward, pressing his own kiss to Paul’s lips before pulling back. He had a feeling he knew exactly what Paul was saying now. He knew Paul had always struggled understanding love, or with expressing his love in a way that made sense to others… but Darry didn’t need him to make sense.

“So don’t,” Darry uttered. Paul blinked at him in confusion. “Don’t force yourself to say something if you can’t… I’m right here, you’re right here, we’re alone, we don’t have to speak or do anything.” Darry wasn’t sure he knew what he was saying, or if it made any sense, but he could feel the tone shift inside the car, like an understanding was passing through them.

“Can we lay down… for a while?” Paul asked, lowering to hide his face against Darry’s shoulder. Darry moved his arms then, wrapping them around Paul’s frame and just holding him.

“Of course we can. Backseat?” Darry asked, and Paul nodded against his shoulder. Darry could feel the exhaustion on the other, and he had to wonder if everything was alright at home…

‘those glances into your life? I want it. I want more of it…’

Maybe Darry should start calling Paul over more often to just… hang out at home. Darry didn’t say anything as the two of them crawled over the front seats and into the back, Paul accidentally kicked Darry in the ribs and Darry accidentally pulled Paul’s hair, which got a laugh from the both of them both times.

“Where-, Which one is it?” Sodapop made a noise of confusion, going back through the packages to see if he could find some sort of instructions manual that had a picture of the device. Sodapop knew he shouldn’t have opened all of the packages until he knew what was what and which was which.

Hindsight was twenty-twenty, and Sodapop had terrible vision… Actually, it would be easier if Sodapop was actually wearing his glasses. However he had reasoned with himself that he shouldn’t wear them with a headache… despite his headache being caused by not wearing them.

“Okay, okay, this one.” Sodapop managed to find the manual for the spirit box, and located the device that looked oddly like a hand held radio like the one in the garage that his father used. “Uh,” Sodapop looked up, feeling a little silly now that he was doing this. “Oh, I feel silly now… Uh, I’m Sodapop, and I got this device… to see if you wanted to communicate?” Sodapop didn’t even know if whatever had been messing with him was there, or if it would want to communicate with him in the first place.

Sodapop turned on the device, wincing at the loud white noise that suddenly filled his room; he was quick to lower the volume to a more reasonable level and moved to set it on his desk. He wasn’t sure if it would even work, but he had hope.

“Okay, so, if you speak in the box I should be able to hear you!” Sodapop was excited, and he had hope. Even if it didn’t work today, it might work tomorrow. But, until then, he had a slight mess to clean up. He took a moment to stare at the pile of packages and… he should probably sort them and put manuals with the correct device.

“Like this?” Sodapop’s head snapped up towards the box, eyes wide. A hint of laughter came from the box soon after, like the ghost had watched Sodapop’s reaction and had found it funny.

“It worked!” Sodapop cheered, not even noticing that the once neat pile of boxes he was just about to sort through had knocked over. More laughter came from the box, and Sodapop turned to face it entirely. “Hi! I’m Sodapop!”

“I… Know…” The voice on the box was weird, but it didn’t bother Sodapop. It actually interested him; he moved a little closer. There was more white noise, and Sodapop pouted a little before realizing he should probably ask a question.

“What’s your name?” Sodapop asked. He was fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, feeling overwhelmed and excited. There was silence for a while, and Sodapop felt himself grow a little sad. “How old are you?” Only white noise filled the room.

“Seven… teen…” Sodapop perked back up.

“Seventeen?”

“Yes.” The yes was so much clearer, the white noise almost disappearing as the spirit answered him. There was a distinct male voice, no longer distorted by the white noise, before it was gone again.

“I’m fourteen!” Sodapop told the spirit. There was a bit of laughter from the box before just the white noise filled the room. Sodapop was itching to ask more questions; he had a full list of them written in a notebook, which was sitting on the desk. But he wasn’t sure if the spirit would be willing to answer them. 

“I don’t know what to talk about…” Sodapop made a face as he glanced at the ground. There was only white noise before he heard something hit the ground. Sodapop made a face of confusion as he looked up. His eyes darted around before landing on the notebook that was now laying on the ground, open. “You want me to ask questions from my notebook?” It made sense to him that the spirit would have watched him think of questions, Sodapop spent hours in the notebook and had come out with only thirteen questions.

1. What’s your name?

2.  How old are you?

3. How did you die?

4. Are you a male or female?

5. Did you have a family?

6. Is there a message you wanted to tell someone?

7. Why do you stick around here? (Does this place remind you of somewhere?)

8. When were you born?

9. What year did you die?

10. What’s your favorite color?

11. What’s your favorite animal?

12. Did you have any hobbies?

13. Are you the one who is messing with Darry’s Rings?

“Yes.” The voice came back, and Sodapop nodded as he stared at the list.

“Is there anything I’m not allowed to ask?” Sodapop asked, glancing up at the box. He liked this kind of communication, it gave him something to look at when speaking. He also knew that he was getting more responses than professional ghost hunters; or at least, more responses than the ones that Sodapop had come across in his ‘search for answers’.

Sodapop waited several minutes with just silence. It wasn’t a yes but it wasn’t a no either.

“Okay, well, just let me know if you don’t want to answer something?” Sodapop asked; there wasn’t a response. He supposed he jinxed himself about getting answers. “Okay, uh, the first question I have written down is: What’s your name?”

“...Steve.” Sodapop noticed that it almost seemed like the ghost, Steve, had hesitated before answering.

“Steve?” Sodapop asked, tilting his head as he stared at the box. “Did I hear you right?” There was a burst of excitement rushing through him.

“Yes.” Sodapop smiled brightly.

“Thank you for answering that, Steve.” Sodapop remembered, probably belatedly, that he was supposed to be polite to spirits. He had to give them respect to get it in return.

Steve watched Sodapop with an amused smile. The fourteen year old was curious, something that could be dangerous with his current interest in the paranormal; something that Steve could only blame himself for. He’d caught Sodapop’s attention, and Steve had watched Sodapop grow from a shy child to an energetic and curious teen, it was only a matter of time before Sodapop had gotten his answers.

“Is there a message you wanted to tell someone?” Sodapop asked, glancing back at the notebook that he had placed carefully in his lap. Steve sighed slightly, wincing as the ‘Spirit Box’ picked it up. Sodapop looked up, concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Steve had placed his hand on the box, hoping that would channel some of his energy a little better. This… this was surprisingly draining on Steve. But he wanted to answer all the questions Sodapop had spent a lot of time trying to come up with.

Steve honestly thought Sodapop might have cried at one point.

“Are you sure? We can stop, I… I heard that this might be draining for you?” Sodapop was too good, Steve decided. Steve had known Sodapop’s father; had known just how caring that boy could be from experience.

And just like the night he died, Steve was overcome with a sense of protectiveness.

Sodapop glanced down at the list of questions that he’d been slowly writing answers next to, tilting his head. He’d learned a bit about his ghostly companion, but answers were slow coming and the silence between responses was growing.

1. What’s your name?

Steve

2.  How old are you?

Seventeen

3. How did you die?

Car

4. Are you a male or female?

Male

5. Did you have a family?

No

6. Is there a message you wanted to tell someone?

7. Why do you stick around here? (Does this place remind you of somewhere?)

8. When were you born?

9. What year did you die?

10. What’s your favorite color?

11. What’s your favorite animal?

12. Did you have any hobbies?

13. Are you the one who is messing with Darry’s Rings?

“One…” Sodapop wondered if the Spirit box had not given the full answer, or if it was more proof that Steve was getting tired. “One… question.” 

“One more question?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, uh,” Sodapop glanced down at the notebook in front of him, trying to decide what he wanted to ask Steve. Steve didn’t seem like he wanted to answer his sixth question, so maybe… “Are you the one who is messing with Darry’s rings?” Sodapop asked, glancing back at the spirit box.

“Yes.” There was amused laughter that followed that ‘yes’, and it brought an amused smile to Sodapop. He, personally, thought it was funny. But that was only because the rings weren’t being taken or damaged in any way… and Darry always said that Sodapop was imagining his cds being moved around, or that Ponyboy’s pictures were just being misplaced and that he ‘needed to be more organized’.

Sodapop thought that it was karma.

“Thank you for answering my questions,” Sodapop smiled. “Please rest! Get some more energy, though I… don’t know how you do that.” There was laughter coming from the box, it sounded creepy now that Sodapop thought about it, but he had a feeling it was just Steve. It only sounded creepy because of the white noise around it.

“Rest.” Steve responded, and Sodapop smiled. He pushed himself up, walking over to his desk and grabbing the spirit box to turn it off. He was still smiling, even when he turned around and saw the mess of boxes that he had knocked over… his smile fell as he groaned.

“You’ll know soon, okay?” Their mother had laughed, shifting her hold on Ponyboy as he made a noise in his sleep. Sodapop humphed, turning and sitting normally, his legs spread out in front of him before he was turning towards where their father was sitting in his chair.

“Dad-”

“You heard your mother,” Their dad laughed, and Sodapop pouted, crossing his arms for a moment before moving. He moved towards Darry, leaning against him as he tried to understand whatever homework had been in front of him. Darry didn’t remember what it was now, but he thought it had been math, or maybe science. It could have been anything, though.

Darry remembered that Sodapop had made a noise of discontent, moving and pushing Darry’s homework away, trying to convey that he thought, or had decided that, Darry should have been done with it now.

“Come on, Soda, I gotta finish that,” Darry had complained, but he didn’t try reach for it either. Sodapop moved to half lay across his lap, his back across Darry’s legs as he gave Darry a look. Both of them, and their parents, knew that Darry wasn’t even really trying.

“It’s Friday! You can do it tomorrow,” Sodapop told him, nodding as he crossed his arms. “Or even better, do it on Sunday!” Sodapop added, kicking his feet into the air and stretching a bit like Darry had seen some cats do, moving his arms to keep his head off of the floor.

“Speaking of it being Friday,” Their mother cut in, laughing lightly as Ponyboy’s eyes opened with a glare on his face; he was annoyed he was woken up. “Where is Steve? Usually he’s here by now.” Darry could remember that Steve would usually be at their house from the time school let out until his mom came to pick him up, preferring the Curtis family company to his father’s. Even his mom being there most days didn’t help.

“Dunno, said he had something to do.” Sodapop shrugged, not yet concerned about his friend.

Darry knew that in just two years, Sodapop would begin to have anxiety over not knowing their friend’s whereabouts. It would worry him so much that he would beg for sleepovers, just so that he didn’t have nightmares about whatever his mind could cook up.

Ponyboy wouldn’t understand it, and he would be annoyed by Steve’s constant presence. He’d leave one day, mad that Steve was over again, and Darry would chase him down, because Darry was always chasing after his kid brothers, and they would meet Johnny.

“I hope he’s here soon, or we can’t do our planned activity.” Their mother had smiled mischievously, even as she absentmindedly soothed Ponyboy. Sodapop gasped, eyes wide as he shot up into a sitting position.

“Can we go get him?” Sodapop asked, pushing himself back to his knees as he put his hands on the couch. Even Darry had found himself wanting to go find Sodapop’s best friend so that they could do this ‘planned activity’.

“I’ll go with him,” Darry offered before their mom could refuse Sodapop his request. “We can go get Steve and come back, we’ll be really fast!” Darry added, eyes darting towards their father hopefully. Both Curtis parents were thoughtful.

“I suppose,” Their dad spoke, smiling as both Darry and Sodapop brightened up. Ponyboy had started getting fussy, and was beginning to cry and kick his feet like he did when he had headaches. “There wouldn’t be any harm in them going to get Steve. Darry can handle his brother on a walk, Sharon.”

“Oh, alright. Go, but be fast.” Their mother smiled, brushing Pony’s hair back as he looked up at her with tears streaming down his face. “Oh, let’s get you some headache medicine, yeah?” Darry didn’t know what she did after that. He and Sodapop had just been excited to be able to go on this walk by themselves.

“I’ll put my homework away when we get back!” Darry called out to their father, his shoes half tied as he grabbed his and Sodapop’s jackets. Sodapop was already out the door and waiting at the metal gate, jumping up and down. He would get cold half way through the walk, and Darry knew that.

“Alright!” Darry had barely heard their father’s response.

Getting back with Steve, who was a little downtrodden, brought a smile to the eight year old’s face. Darry had seen the switch, and had, unfortunately, recognized it. Paul sometimes looked like that when he and Darry hung out at Darry’s house. People just seemed more relaxed here. That, and some of the decorations that he’d left at the Curtis house had been put up alongside Darry’s, Sodapop’s, and Pony’s.

They’d made caramel apples, which Sodapop called poison apples, and candied apple slices that night, and Steve got to stay over for the entire weekend, which had just made Sodapop’s weekend. Though, Darry was sure who had a better weekend, Steve or Sodapop. Both acted like it was the best thing to happen to either of them, and Darry remembered Sodapop’s reaction to hearing that they’d have a baby brother, even if he had barely been two at the time.

Darry never did learn why Sodapop called caramel apples 'poisoned apples’, maybe because it was halloween and he’d been reading fairy tales at school in his reading class. There was one in which Darry vaguely remembered having poisoned apples in it. Sodapop always did associate things with new things he learned. It helped him remember everything better.

Darry wiped a tear away as he listened to the gang talking excitedly in the living room. First Halloween without their parents, so of course it had him reminiscing. He wondered how bad Thanksgiving and Christmas was going to be, if he was this choked up about Halloween.

He was leaning back just beside the door to his room, a couple pictures scattered out in front of him. He had never known just how Sodapop and Steve had ended up with caramel on their noses, it should have burned them with how hot the caramel sugar was, he had figured that out when he had wanted to try it.

He still had a bit of a scar on his top lip, just under his nose from where it had gone up when Darry had also bitten the spoon in his surprise of how hot it was. Had not been a fun experience, and probably why that memory was so vivid to Darry. He remembered that Ponyboy had laughed loudly around then.

Ponyboy had managed to get his hands on some of the softening caramel when their dad wasn’t looking, and his entire hand was covered in it. Thankfully it had been cooled off and just mushy, so maybe that was how Sodapop and Steve had caramel on their noses. Their dad was funny like that and probably had done it.

“Darry?” Darry glanced up as the door was opened, Sodapop was at the door. He looked confused for a second before looking down and blinking in surprise. He shrugged it off, moving into the room and shutting the door behind him. “What are you doing in here? Gang’s all out there.”

“Just… needed a minute.” Darry shrugged. There was no point in trying to lie to his kid brother, Sodapop would just see right through him. Glory knows that Sodapop had to notice lies, for all the time he spends around Ponyboy.

Darry felt a little guilty at that thought. Sodapop did so much to take some of the burden that was thrust upon Darry when their parents died, not that Darry thought his brothers were burden’s. Sodapop had taken it upon himself to take care of Ponyboy when Darry couldn’t, especially emotionally, because Darry honestly sucked at that.

But he was working on it, and so was Ponyboy. It was a learning curve, especially with Ponyboy going through puberty, Sodapop learning out to lean on his brothers when he needed them, and Darry always working, though he worked less in the colder months.

There was a balance that they had been learning and adjusting to.

“I don’t rememb-Oh! That’s the year we first did caramel apples, right?” Sodapop was looking at the pictures, a light in his eyes as he reached and picked up one in specific. “Glory, I was young. Six?”

“Seven.” Darry corrected automatically before stopping. “Nearly Seven.” Sodapop chuckled, flipping the picture over. His smile dimmed, but was no less genuine as tears filled his eyes. Darry didn’t need to ask to know what he was looking at; their mother’s handwriting, claiming that her ‘four boys’ had tried caramel apples for the first time. It had been the first time their parents could afford it, but they tried for it every year.

Sodapop set that one down, picking up another. This one had five of them in it, and they were all a little older. Darry, Steve, and Sodapop were sitting in the back of a pickup truck with the hatch down, and in front of them were Ponyboy and Johnny, sitting on some hay bales. All five of them had popcorn balls in a little wrapped paper dish and smiles on their faces.

“I-, how old were we in this one?” Sodapop asked, tilting his head.

“Steve was eleven, you were nearly eleven, Pony was eight, and Johnny was ten.” Darry had been fourteen. He’d just entered highschool, and had his sights on joining the football team once the season started.

That was the year that Darry had started falling in with the wrong crowds.

Sodapop didn’t say anything. He was running his finger across the image, like he could uncover something if only he tried. He wouldn’t. Darry knew, because he had tried too. Sodapop set that picture down before picking up a third one. This one had the entire gang in it; it was Dally’s first Halloween with the Gang. He was… fourteen? Maybe fifteen in that picture.

They’d been carving pumpkins, and Ponyboy had gotten this great idea to dump the pumpkin guts onto Johnny’s head. Their pumpkin that they’d been carving had been momentarily forgotten as Johnny tried to get revenge. Ponyboy’s clothes had suffered for it, and Johnny smelled like pumpkin for days after. Dally was staring at the two of them incredulously, not noticing Two-Bit behind him with a pile hanging over his head to dump onto him.

Sodapop and Steve were in the background, laughing their asses off, the both of them were also covered in pumpkin guts; Steve with it all over his clothes and Sodapop had it covering his arms and hair. You could see them only because of the angle of the camera, showing Sodapop and Steve through the space in between Two-Bit’s arms.

Darry had been sitting off behind Ponyboy and Johnny, and had been looking at them startled. There was a pile of pumpkin seeds sitting in front of him. He liked sorting out the seeds, because he liked to bake them and eat them. He never did manage to get their mom to try them, though their dad loved them. Sodapop did too.

“I-” Sodapop stopped as he smiled, wiping the tears that were forming in his eyes. “This was my favorite year, I think.” Darry smiled at him softly as he nodded. It wasn’t his own favorite year, but it was close. “I’m going to go rejoin the gang. You coming?” Sodapop let the picture fall from his hands, his voice sounding thick with tears. Darry understood.

“I’m right behind you.” Darry nodded. Sodapop nodded sharply, pushing himself and leaving the room. Darry had to put the pictures away, carefully stacking them back together and putting them in the shoe box sitting beside Darry of all the holidays their family had ever done together and gotten pictures of.

He hesitated on that last picture that Sodapop held, holding in his hands as he stared at it. Darry knew that their parents had extras of all the pictures; had seen them himself when he dug through the attic. Maybe…

Darry pushed himself up, walking across the room to set the shoe box on his desk, closed. He set the picture on top of it before turning and walking out of the room. He had a couple pictures to go find before he could join the gang…