Chapter Text
At first, Sodapop was thrilled when his brothers started getting along.
He’d spent months wishing for this exact thing. Darry and Ponyboy were finally working out their issues and becoming friends, which meant Soda was no longer caught in the middle of their endless war. It was all he’d wanted for so long.
But after a while, he started to feel… weird about it.
He should be happy whenever his brothers discussed their favorite books or cooked breakfast side-by-side in their cramped kitchen. He should be jumping for joy every time they saw a movie together or went on a post-dinner milkshake run. But the longer it went on, the worse Soda felt.
He knew they weren’t excluding him on purpose. They were just making up for lost time, that was all. But he couldn’t help but feel like something was missing.
He used to spend hours working through things with Darry before he exploded. Every night before bed, he’d listen to Ponyboy rant and rave about what a piece of work Darry was. Now, Soda’s brothers just stepped out onto the back porch to talk out some argument he didn’t even know they were having, and he never knew what to do with himself except wait for them to come back inside.
He’d never felt so lonely.
—
“How many times have I told you not to smoke in the house?” Darry hollered.
Soda couldn’t make out Ponyboy’s mumbled response from his spot at the kitchen table, but he guessed it wasn’t what Darry wanted to hear, because he replied, “I know it’s December, but it ain’t like it’s too cold to stand out on the porch for five minutes!” A second later, he added, even louder, “It is a big deal! If you’re gonna insist on smokin’ like a chimney in my house, the least you can do is use an ashtray!”
“Yeah, well, we ain’t got an ashtray in the bathroom, do we?” Pony responded, finally matching Darry in volume.
This type of petty argument was familiar. A few months ago, Sodapop would’ve stepped in and tried to smooth things out. But since the slap heard ‘round the world, he’d been trying to stay out of their fights until he could get one of them alone. It wasn’t that he thought Darry would get physical again — he didn’t want to risk adding fuel to the fire, was all. So he just finished his breakfast and listened to them yell at each other for a couple minutes until he had to leave for work.
Ponyboy had something-or-another after school, so Soda was the first one home that evening. Not much later, Darry pushed open the front door, giving Soda the perfect opportunity to talk to him. With any luck, he’d be able to get through to Darry before Pony came home, saving them a night of awkward tension.
“Hey, uh… what was that about with Pony this mornin’?” he asked as Darry knelt to remove his boots.
“Eh, nothin’ to worry about.” Darry waved a hand vaguely in the air. “He was just drivin’ me crazy with all the smokin’ — the house reeks of it. You smell it, too, right?”
“I mean, yeah.”
“And he keeps leavin’ ashes all over the place! I had to clean some out of the shower — the shower, Soda — and it ticked me off, y’know? So I kinda lost my temper.” Shoes removed, Darry stood up and hung his toolbelt on the hook by the door.
“Anyway,” he continued, “I was all fired up about it, but we’re good now.” He smiled a little, one corner of his mouth turning up. “We apologized while I was drivin’ him to school, and that was the end of it.”
This was surprising to Soda. He’d expected to hear that Ponyboy had stormed out the front door in a fury, insisting on walking to school, and that Darry had punched a wall about it or something.
He figured telling Darry all of that wouldn’t be helpful, though, so he just said, “Really? Y’all made up just like that?”
“Uh-huh. Guess we don’t need you to referee anymore, huh, little buddy?” Darry clapped him on the shoulder as he walked past.
He managed a weak smile. “Guess not.”
He figured he should still follow up with Ponyboy, though. Maybe Darry thought it was fine, but Pony was still hanging onto some anger. Yeah, that would make more sense. Surely it couldn’t be this easy.
That night, as he and Pony were laying in bed, Soda asked, “Hey, is everything okay between you and Dar? I heard you fightin’ this morning.”
“Yeah, we’re fine now,” Pony reassured him. “He actually apologized first. Can you believe that?”
“Wow.” Soda raised his eyebrows. Usually, he had to wrench apologizes out of Darry — out of both his brothers — like a dentist with a particularly stubborn tooth. “That’s it? Are you sure?”
“Uh-huh. He even gave me a hug before I got outta the truck.” Pony grinned at him, his smile glinting in the dark. “So you don’t gotta worry about us.”
“I wasn’t really worried — I just know how y’all can get on each other’s nerves. But I guess you’re gettin’ better at all that.”
“We are.” Pony nodded in agreement. “I bet you’re glad you don’t have to kiss it better this time, huh?”
“Yup. My lips sure are tired.” He played it off like a joke, but something inside him felt strangely unsettled, like his organs had shifted out of place. A second later, he added, “The rest of my body’s tired, too, so how ‘bout we go to sleep, huh?”
Pony yawned before snuggling into him. “Alright. ‘Night, Soda.”
“‘Night, bud.”
It didn’t take long for Pony’s breaths to even out, his body relaxing into the mattress, but Soda had a much harder time falling asleep.
He liked being needed. He liked it that Pony needed him. But as watched the hours ticked by, he had a sneaking suspicion that maybe Darry would get by just fine without him.
—
Sodapop wouldn’t mind all that much if it were just the lack of fighting that was different. But somewhere along the line, Darry and Pony started spending all their free time together, too.
“Hey, I was thinkin’ about takin’ a drive ‘round the west side tonight to see all the fancy Christmas lights,” Soda said one afternoon, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen. “So, whaddaya say?”
Darry looked up from whatever he was writing at the table, grimacing. “Sorry, Soda. I would, but I promised Pony we’d hang out tonight. They’re showin’ a Bond movie on TV, and I haven’t seen it, so we were gonna make some Jiffy Pop, make a night of it.”
“Oh.” Soda tried not to let his surprise show on his face. Darry only had one night off that week; he hadn’t expected him to be spending it with Ponyboy. “I didn’t realize —” He shook his head. “Never mind. Enjoy your movie.”
“You could join us,” Darry said. “There’s enough popcorn to share.”
Soda almost gave in. But he couldn’t help but doubt whether Darry even wanted him there. He was probably just saying it to be polite.
“Nah. Thanks, though.” He shook his head. “I’ll ask Steve if he wants to go. Gotta have backup in case one of them socs decides to stir up trouble, huh?”
“Good idea,” Darry said absently, turning back to whatever he’d been doing before Soda had walked in.
And with that, Soda returned to his bedroom, trying his hardest to ignore his disappointment.
This wasn’t the first time Darry had been too busy with Ponyboy to pay attention to him. Darry had turned down his offer of a trip to the record store to listen to the latest Rolling Stones album because Pony needed help with his math homework. He’d spent an afternoon throwing a football around the yard with Pony instead of helping Soda change the oil in the truck. Sodapop had even eaten breakfast alone yesterday because Darry and Pony had gone on a morning run together.
Soda hated it, but jealousy was rearing its ugly head. He wanted to be the one to cajole Darry into vegging out in front of the TV. It should be him listening to Darry complain about work and tagging along to the grocery store.
Darry was pushing him aside, and he didn’t know what to do about it.
—
That awful week last September had been a turning point for the Curtis family, forcing them to face their issues head-on. No one had emerged from that fall unchanged, not even Darry.
Before, Darry would lose his temper at the smallest things. He’d yell at Ponyboy for forgetting to take out the trash or missing curfew. Now, when something happened to make him mad, Soda could almost see his brother choosing to turn down the heat before he boiled over.
Darry was far from perfect — the ashes-in-the-shower incident, for example — but Soda was proud of him. He knew it took a lot of hard work and self-control to get to this point. Still, a part of him missed putting a hand on Darry’s shoulder and telling him to take a deep breath. He missed seeing Darry’s anger melt away and knowing he was the one who’d calmed him down.
But Darry didn’t need that from him anymore. He was doing just fine on his own. So, with all his extra free time, Soda shocked even himself by doing extra chores around the house. He dusted the mantle; he swept up the fallen pine needles from underneath the tree every morning; he made sure his and Pony’s dirty clothes made it to the hamper instead of leaving them on the floor.
After washing the dishes one evening after dinner, he figured he might as well scrub the outsides of the kitchen cabinets, too — who knew how many years of built-up grease were caked on them. He turned up the radio and got to work.
At some point, Darry came in to swipe a leftover Christmas cookie from the jar. Taking in the scene in front of him, he asked, “Alright, what’s with you bein’ so helpful? Are you tryin’ to butter me up before askin’ for somethin’ you know I’m gonna say no to?” He didn’t pause long enough for Soda to answer. “I mean, I already said yes to that New Year’s party, so what could you possibly want?”
Soda grabbed a cookie, too, deciding that he’d earned it. “It ain’t nothin’ like that,” he said, mouth full of frosting. “I just wanna be helpful.”
“Well, you must be dyin’, then.” Darry smirked, a cookie crumb clinging to his upper lip. “Mom always said you’d only do your chores without bein’ asked if it was a matter of life and death.”
“No! I’m not dyin’.” Not physically, at least. Soda shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “You’ve just been workin’ too hard, so I figured I’d better start pullin’ my weight around here.”
“Aw, thanks, Pepsi. You’re the best.” With a wide grin, Darry ruffled his hair, and Soda preened under his praise. He half-expected Darry to grab a rag and join him, but he walked down the hall and popped his head in Pony’s room instead, saying something that made them both laugh. Soda’s heart sank.
With a sigh, Soda shoved the rest of the cookie in his mouth, then turned back to the cabinets and started scrubbing an unidentifiable brownish stain. Darry seemed to be grateful for the extra help around the house, but Soda couldn’t help but want more.
So he turned to the one thing he knew Darry couldn’t resist.
“You want me to keep goin’?” Soda asked a couple weeks into the new year as he dug his fingers into Darry’s shoulders. “If you lay down, I can get your back.”
“Nah, you don’t have to. It’s gettin’ late.” Darry sounded like he was about to fall asleep right there at the kitchen table.
“You sure? I don’t mind.” It was true — even though Soda’s hands were starting to hurt, he would put up with it to spend more time with his brother.
“I’m good,” Darry sighed, voice dripping with sleepiness. “With all this massagin’ you’ve been doin’ lately, my back has never felt better.”
“Oh, I see. You’re sick of me,” Soda teased, trying for that endearing obnoxiousness that always seemed to wear down his brother’s defenses. What better way to get close to someone than to get under their skin? “Poor old Darry, gettin’ free massages whenever he wants,” he added, tugging on the strand of hair that curled around Darry’s ear. “Must be a hard life.”
“Nope. Just about to fall asleep.” Darry let out a powerful yawn, causing Soda’s hands to drop from his shoulders. He stood up, stretched, and then trudged down the hall, leaving Soda alone.
Despite his efforts to prove himself, Soda couldn’t help but feel like Darry was pulling away, the distance between them growing every day. He missed his brother so much it hurt, and he didn’t understand why Darry didn’t seem to miss him, too.
—
With Ponyboy, Soda knew he was still helping him, at least a little. Even if they weren’t spending quite as much time together as they used to, Soda was still the one who laid next to him at night, the one who soothed him back to sleep after one of his nightmares.
Until one night in early February when everything changed.
As usual, it took Soda a couple minutes to wake his brother once he’d started tossing and turning. Pony eventually opened his eyes with a gasp, immediately bursting into tears. But this time, he didn’t even react when Soda began rubbing his back.
“It’s okay, Pone,” Soda soothed, voice soft. “I’m here. Ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt you.”
He’d done this dozens of times, but it never got easier. The sound of his brother’s sobs never stopped making him want to cry, too.
A minute passed, and still, Pony showed no signs of calming down, not even when Soda wrapped his arms around him and pulled him halfway into his lap.
Out of options, Soda was about to offer to get him a glass of water or massage his shoulders or something when Ponyboy suddenly cried, “Darry,” then repeated, louder, “Darry!”
That one word was like an arrow shot straight through Soda’s chest.
It didn’t take more than ten seconds for a rumpled-looking Darry to rush into the room, asking, “What is it, baby?”
Pony turned away from Soda and opened his arms, reaching out to grab Darry as soon as he was within reach. “It was horrible,” he gasped. “You were — you were —” He was crying so hard he couldn’t finish his sentence.
Soda sat there helplessly while his brothers clung to each other. Darry kissed the top of Pony’s head and rocked him back and forth, whispering something in his ear that was too quiet for Soda to hear. He kept waiting for Darry to turn to him and say, How do I do this? You’re the one who always knows how to help him. But that moment never came. Soda could do nothing but stare at them as Ponyboy’s tears dried and his breathing slowly but surely returned to normal.
Once he knew for sure that Pony was going to be okay, Soda finally wrenched his gaze away, his eyes stinging.
That was the final straw. The Curtis family no longer needed him.