He's My Gold - Johnny x Ponyboy

The Flashback, Pt2

*Continuing the flashback, in Pony's POV*

Johnny was dead. But he wasn't. (Quite literally.) But I thought he was. As did anybody and everybody. That still body back in the hospital wasn't Johnny. That wasn't my Johnny. Johnny had to have been somewhere else. Maybe, asleep in the lot, or playing with the pinball machine in the bowling alley, or sitting On the back steps of the church in Windrixville.

(No. No. No. You idiot Ponyboy, it's just. and Johnny. Is. Dead. Take it in. I kept telling my mind to take it in but I couldn't. Maybe for the reason. That he just wasn't dead. But who was I to know?)

I'd walk home, and walk by the lot, and I'd see Johnny sitting on the curb smoking a cigarette, and I'd meet up with him, and we'd lie on our backs together, and watch the stars.

He isn't dead, I told myself. He can't be dead. I felt like breaking down again, but that would probably cause Dally too as well, and he was driving and I didn't wanna get into an accident.

I tried to have my dreaming work, and convince myself he wasn't dead. (It worked, but how? Why? Maybe because he wasn't dead.) He wasn't.

"Pony," Dally called me as I snapped out of thought. "You're head. You're bleeding on the car." I reached up to the area I'd been scratching for a bit. He was right. It looked like it was gushing for a bit. "Sorry, Dal," I said dumbfounded.

We got to the house and everyone looked dull, I thought there would at least be some sort of party because we won the rumble. Everyone just looked tired, and everybody looked like they got hurt tough during the rumble. All the attention was thrown towards Dallas and I, when we got inside.

"Where have you been?" Darry said leaping to his feet. Oh, let's not start that again, I thought. He stopped suddenly. "Ponyboy, what's the matter?" He asked softly. "Johnny. . .he's dead." My voice sounded strange, even to me. Everyone sounded very quiet, but it was realized that they wanted to cry.

Dallas walked over to the couch and threw himself onto it, unsettled. "Dally?" I heard Soda say as I turned over to see him leaning near Dally whose face was down on the cushion facing down. Dally smacked Soda's hand away from trying to help. "Don't crowd him, he's going through a lot right now too," I said, my breath still shaky.
"Ponyboy, you look sick. Come on, let's get you to bed." Soda said softly.

When I woke up, It was light. It was awfully quiet, too quiet. The house ain't usually quiet. Something was wrong. Something had happened. . . I couldn't remember what, though. I blinked at Soda, sitting at the edge of the bed. "Soda. . ." I said hoarsely. "Somebody sick?"
"Yeah, you." He said oddly gentle. "Go back to sleep."

"Am I sick? I asked.
He stroked my hair, "Yes, you are. Now be quiet." I had one more mixed-up question. "Is Darry sorry I'm sick?" Soda gave me a funny and answered. "Yeah, he is. Now please, shut up and sleep, hon."
I closed my eyes while drifting hearing Soda whisper something.

"Dally told me, that if it weren't for you, he would've stormed out of the hospital, and thought of a suicide plan. He kept telling me how he wanted to die, but that your words got to him, and that if he couldn't save Johnny, what he wanted to save was you. He wants you to be safe. And Dally Winston will always get what he wants." I fell asleep after he said that.