"Sing Me Back to Sleep" Dying!Johnny Cade x Reader
Warnings: Death and Angst!
AN: Hi everyone! Here's this shorter one! I make no promises as to what comes next, but I will be active again soon! Love u all, thank you for the support, this is in honor of my uncle passing this weekend ❤️
Johnny remembered it all too clearly. The church's roof caved in on him as the flames engulfed him. Ponyboy had gotten out safely, and he could live with that. But the pain rippled through his skin, scorching him. As the final scream for help left his lips, he fell unconscious.
His cheek pressed against the ashy floorboard as he took what he thought were his last breaths. His back was numb on impact, and he felt the world slow down. Johnny’s eyes fluttered shut, accepting this as the end of his short-lived life.
16 years wasn’t long enough, no matter how many times he told himself it was. Through his shattered perspective on what life was, he mended slowly. He had found his friends, the tranquillity of smoking cigarettes and stargazing in the lot, and most importantly—you.
Johnny spent a few nights fading in and out of consciousness; he occasionally saw Ponyboy’s face, a nurse’s, someone from the gang. The beeping of his monitors was a constant, white noise that had become so familiar he was beginning to forget what life sounded like without it.
Johnny felt himself getting weaker and weaker every day. His energy drained just from flipping over. Johnny didn’t know how he’d live through this one.
Today you visited him. He was sitting up in his bed, head back in the pillows. The burns on his neck were hard to look at, and his weak, stuttering breathing made your heart clench.
“Hi, Johnny…” you said quietly, putting your hand on his. Johnny twitched, his eyes fluttering open at the familiar voice. “Hi…” he struggled. You squeezed his hand tight. “Don’t talk too much, save that energy,” you said.
He was looking at you now; his black eyes still had the familiar sweetness to them, something only earned after years of hardship. “You’re still in the paper, and the gang is awfully worried. The Socs have started jumping kids on the street more than ever; they're real mad about Bob. Gonna rumble soon,” you rambled, knowing Johnny probably didn’t care about rumbles or editorials in the newspapers anymore.
Society had shunned him his whole life; getting appreciation this way didn’t make it feel like a real reconciliation.
“Fighting doesn’t do no good…” he croaked out. His thumb moved slowly up and down the skin of your hand. The only soft thing in this hospital. “You staying with me?” he added, after you fell silent. When you didn’t say anything, he mumbled, “Pretty bad off ain’t I?”
You shook your head quickly. “No, Johnny Cade. You’ll do just fine, don’t say that!” you shut him down quick. You moved to stroke his hair, the black shaggy bangs falling in his eyes. “No hair grease in here, huh?” you teased, adding a small smile. His hair was clean and ungreased, a bit charred from where the fire got to it.
He made a small noise that was supposed to be a laugh. “No… The boys said they’ll bring me some soon,” he mumbled, offering you a smile that was filled with pain.
“It’s cute… ungreased, I mean,” you giggle a little, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Johnny now managed a smile, his cheeks even getting a little red. “Maybe I should wear it like that more often then,” he replied, his voice cracking at the end.
“You hungry?” you asked quietly, seeing him wince from a breath too sharp. You noticed a shift in his energy. His breathing was heavier and his face more pained. It felt like the light was leaving his eyes.
When he didn’t reply, you felt tears prick your eyes. “‘m real tired…” he whispered. You moved to call the nurses, and he pawed weakly at your arm. “It’s okay… stay. Sing me something… as you used to,” he pleaded, his eyes getting heavier.
You nod slowly, sitting on the edge of the bed, stroking his hair. Slowly you sang some nursery rhyme that felt like magic when Johnny had first heard it.
You sang him back to sleep, listening to his heart monitor get slower and slower with every shaky verse.
Your voice cracked as tears spilt down your cheeks; despite the voice cracks, you kept singing. He always slept better when you sang. Back in the lot, he’d nuzzle close, his soft snores lulling you to sleep beside him beneath the stars.
It wasn’t long before the nurses rushed in, more doctors following behind, yelling code words. You were crying and yelling as they pulled you away.
And you couldn’t understand why. He needed you. Only you knew how to tuck his shaggy bangs away just right, how to hug him good enough to make him shudder.
Johnny had fallen asleep to your voice a hundred times before. But nothing compared to this.
That still body lying in the hospital bed wasn’t Johnny’s. It couldn’t be.


















