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Darry’s always been a relatively hard sleeper. When he was a kid, Pony and Soda would always jump on him to abruptly wake him up (Darry never saw the appeal, but they’d always crack themselves up when he threw them on the ground afterwards).
Or when he was in high school and had to set alarms for early morning football practice. Morning practice was only twice a week and, usually, his dad would let him sleep over at Paul’s house so he’d have a ride, but if he forgot to ask and had to sleep at home, he’d always sleep through his alarm. It bothered the hell out of Soda, who had the misfortune of sharing a room with Darry. Bothered him so bad, Soda had begged their dad to just let Darry move in with Paul forever. When he came home that evening, Darry got a real hoot out of Soda packing his bags for him.
The point is, Darry used to sleep like a rock. He’s built like one, he fights like one, might as well sleep like one, right? Since his parents died though, it seems as if Darry can’t get a good night's rest, let alone sleep so hard. Sometimes, when he’s real stressed, just the ticking of the clock wakes him up.
So, no, Darry isn’t surprised when he wakes up in the middle of the night, about five days after the trial, because of a low creaking outside his bedroom door. He wants to be but he’s not surprised because Soda has been sneaking into his bed after Ponyboy’s fallen asleep, and he always finds a way to step on every creaky floorboard on his way to Darry’s room.
Darry’s not surprised, but he does croak out a low “Come in” as he rolls over in the bed. Soda usually then races into his bed and presses his feet into Darry’s shins. This time though, there aren’t any races or cold feet up against him and, tiredly, Darry realizes it probably isn’t Sodapop this time.
With a yawn, he opens his eyes and with just one look he knows he’s going to be on edge for the rest of the night. Bracing himself for the sharp difference, in both the lighting and emotional abilities he’s about to need, he flicks on a lamp. Ponyboy stands in front of him with a pout and a face covered in hastily drying tears even though his eyes are still watery. He doesn’t want to, but Darry can’t help but notice he’s got Johnny’s jacket dragging on the floor clenched tightly in his fingers.
“He’s not coming back, is he?”
Oh, boy. Darry’s eyes are still stuck on the jacket and he’s not quite sure what to tell Pony to make him feel better, because he knows his brother’s hurting something fierce, but before he can worry too much he hears a hoarse voice that sounds like his say, “Not for a while, kid.”
“…y’all’s was telling the truth?”
Darry’s got the overwhelming urge to go hide Johnny’s jacket. He’s not sure he can stand looking at it, but at the same time he can’t tear his gaze away. “Truth about what, Pony?” His eyes are drawn to the dried spot of red on the back of the jacket. He was told Johnny’s back was burned so bad they had to cut him out his shirt. What’s left of it is in Pony’s room; is Johnny burnt skin infused somewhere on that shirt? On the jacket in Pony’s hands?
He can feel Ponyboy staring at him with those big green watery eyes of his. “Johnny killed Bob? Not me.” Pony’s voice is quivering in a way that tells Darry he’s been for hours before he came to him for a confirmation.
He has to figure out how to get rid of that jacket. “Yeah, mighty, you’re innocent, swear it. We wouldn’t lie to you about that, bug, I promise.” Ace used to tell him stories her grandma would tell her about people’s souls getting stuck because a piece of them was lost or stuck; Johnny’s already buried here, he can’t be stuck here in his afterlife too. Maybe Ace has a book on how to release his soul properly, Johnny deserves that at least. That might mean getting rid of the jacket though if his skin was burned into it though…
“It wasn’t a dream? He’s really gone?” It’s the far away matter in which Ponyboy is speaking that jerks Darry’s focus from the jacket. He’s still staring at it, at the patch of blood, mind you, but he’s focused a little more on Ponyboy.
He’s still not sure what to say. “I’m so sorry, buddy.”
All of a sudden, Ponyboy’s voice sounds a lot more stronger. “Well, it’s my fault!”
That gets all of his attention. Darry looks away from the jacket and stares at Pony in bewilderment. “Ponyboy-“
“He was trying to protect me!”
“That doesn’t make it your fault, babe-“
“I killed Johnny!” He says it so surely that for a split second Darry almost believes him. “He won’t come back because I killed him, he was trying to protect me!” Pony’s voice is all high and frantic like it always gets when he works himself into a stupor.
“Baby, you can’t blame yourself for that.” Darry stands up and takes a step towards him just for Pony to take a step back. Too frantic for physical comfort, got it.
“But Darry-“ Pony cuts himself off with a choked gasp. He’s breathing real heavy, the tears have fallen down his face again, and he’s clenching Johnny’s jacket so tight his knuckles are turning a new shade of white (somewhere, above or below, Darry’s not judging, Dallas is laughing).
Good grief, focus on what’s important Darry. He takes a deep breath and watches his brother who’s steadily about to start hyperventilating. “Come here, sweetheart, follow me real quick.” He doesn’t check behind him, but he can hear Pony’s clumsy feet following him into the kitchen.
Quickly popping out a block of ice from the ice try in the freezer, Darry shoves it in Ponyboy’s hand. “Hold this for me.”
It does what it needs to; distracts Pony enough to stop him from freaking out. “…Darry it’s cold.”
Darry laughs and takes a seat at the dining table. “Yeah, I know, little buddy. That was kind of the whole point, sit down, would ya?” Pony takes a seat, holding his ice cube and they can just barely see each other with the light from over the stove.
Alright, Darry, now or never. “Listen, Ponyboy. Johnny’s dead and you can’t blame yourself for that, alright? He sacrificed himself to save you and them kids, you think he’d be happy to know you’re beating yourself up like this?” Harsh, he knows, but the wide eyed look Pony has and the way he slowly shakes his head tells Darry he's getting through to him.
“Exactly. What was it he told you in the hospital?”
“To stay gold?”
Darry frowns for a second before barreling on — Johnny had always been a cryptic motherfucker, no surprise his dying words were cryptic. “…right. And what’s that mean?” He asks, leaning his head on one hand.
Pony’s ice is starting to melt in his hand and yet the kid keeps holding onto it, switching it from hand to hand. “He don’t-“
“Didn’t.”
Ponyboy whines and kicks his legs outwards. “Darry.”
“Didn’t,” he insists. Unfortunately for Pony, Darry ain’t budging. “The sooner you come to terms, the easier it’ll be to grieve, I promise you.”
The kid huffs and refuses to make eye contact as he continues speaking. That’s fine though, so long as Ponyboy knows Darry’s honestly just trying to help, he can be mad at Darry all day long. “He didn’t want me to be tough like Dally.”
Darry blinks. He didn’t know that, like he said Johnny was a cryptic bastard, he rarely knew what the guy was talking about on a good day. Thank god for Johnny Cade though, because it leads him to his next point perfectly. With a slight smirk, if only because he’s got a nice script to follow, he leans back into his chair and crosses his arms. “Hate to break it to you, but from my perspective you ain’t doin’ too banger of a job at it.”
A pause, then Pony makes eye contact again and accidently drops the ice cube. “Darrel!”
“I’m serious! Two-Bit told me about you threatening them socs with that bottle. He was worried you was actually gon do it and that ain’t like you, little colt.”
Ponyboy rolls his eyes and crosses his arms — if things weren’t so tense right now Darry would call him out for copying him. “I don’t see the big whoop,” he mumbles. “Y’all do it all the time and it ain’t like I left the glass there, I picked it up.”
…he hears himself right? Darry sucks his teeth and with a roll of his own eyes he says, “Yeah, that’s my point, jackass. That’s our thing; we like fighting, we like threatening the socs back because it’s fun to us. My little brother doesn’t; I don’t know who this bottle waving kid in front of me is. My baby brother would pick up the bottle to protect himself, sure, but he’d never actually use it. I don’t even—“
He closes his eyes and takes a deep sigh. Breathe, Darry, calm down. When he opens his eyes, he finds Ponyboy’s eyes wet with tears waiting to fall. That hadn’t been his intention; he didn’t mean to guilt trip the kid. His own vision gets blurry and suddenly it’s a lot easier to put his hands in his lap and look at them instead of Ponyboy. He takes another breath.
“I know our relationship has been… strained, I guess, but I don’t know who you are anymore?” His voice breaks and he clenches his eyes shut before he continues. “I get that you’re not always going to be the tiny toddler version of you I see in my head because you’re growing up, but I don’t want you to be something you’re not.
“You’re not some tough greaser that don’t feel nothing and that’s okay, Ponyboy. It’s okay, you can feel everything if you want to, Lord knows Soda does and he’s no less a greaser than I- than Dally was,” Correcting himself, Darry licks his lips and roughly wipes away the few teardrops that fell. “I’m no good with words like you, but do you get what I’m saying, baby?”
“Yeah, Dar, I get it.” Ponyboy says in a low stricken tone. Good, he’s not real sure how else he could reiterate it in other words if not.
Darry waits a few moments, just to get his bearings straight, before he opens his eyes, grips the table and stands up. “C’mon then, baby colt, are you ready for bed now?”
Last words of a fallen soldier or whatever the saying is. He should’ve expected Pony to look at him with big puppy dog eyes and a fake ass pout. He kind of did expect it, though, because he doesn’t even bother pretending to not understand what’s being asked of him. “Fine, but you better not kick me tonight Ponyboy Michael.”
“Yes!” Ponyboy leaps from the table with a watery grin and races for Darry’s bed.
Tonight was a rough one, so the kid’ll probably have a nightmare, but he’s happier right now and finally coming to terms with everything, so Darry lets himself smile as he walks to his room. He’ll have to do something with Johnny’s jacket, but he and Ace can worry about that another day; it’ll be nice having Johnny watch over them for a little while longer.