The Outsiders Imagines & Preferences

{Darry Curtis} Not a Burden

Info: Platonic. Comfort fic. Female!reader. Y/N is Darry's best best friend and the same age as him. 1st person p.o.v..

Warnings: Very self-indulgent emotional hurt/comfort (and by self-indulgent I mean I'm not sure if it'll make any sense to anyone besides me). Mentions of past suicidal thoughts. Very brief mention of past selfharm. Self doubts and self-depreciating thoughts. Brief mention of panic attacks. Implied emotional/verbal abuse from Y/N's mom. Cussing.

"Y/N?"

I shot upright in bed at the sound of Darry's voice, to find him, Sodapop, and Ponyboy standing in my room, equally worried expressions on their faces. Darry was crouched down next to my bed, a hand outstretched to reach for me, while the other two stood by the door.

Just this once I wished it wasn't such a common thing for us all to just enter each other's houses so casually. The last thing I wanted was for my friends to see me bawling without even having any real reason for it. Normally I would have heard them come in — these guys didn't know how to be quiet to save their lives — but my sobs must have covered up the noise they made.

I still couldn't stop crying, no matter how hard I tried. For every tear I wiped away another one fell from my eyes.

Darry took my hand in his, asking what was wrong and looking me over for injuries, as Soda and Ponyboy came closer, too, and sat down on the bed with me.

Soda wrapped his arms around me, shushing me, rocking me back and forth, while Pony awkwardly patted my shoulder. Him and me had never been especially close — being the same age as Darry, but much less mature than him, I had just never really clicked with people more than a couple years younger than me — so it was no wonder he was unsure how to react to seeing me like this, but I appreciated the gesture nonetheless. Well, as much as I was able to appreciate anything at all in my upset state.

After a few minutes they finally manged to soothe me enough to answer Darry's repeated questions of what happened.

"N-nothing. It's nothing, I just— I don't know, I just got overwhelmed by my own thoughts I guess. But I'm fine. I'm fine, really." I wiped at my face again, and this time it stayed dry. "Sorry you had to see me like that."

If it had been only Darry I might have gone more into detail, but I didn't want to talk about what had been plaguing my mind in front of Ponyboy or even Soda. I felt pathetic enough as it was.

I guess Darry read my mind — best friends can do that sometimes, I swear — or maybe something showed on my face, because he also sat down on my bed now — the poor thing gave a warning creak, not having been constructed to support the weight of four people — and took me from Soda's arms into his own, waving his brothers out of the room.

They went more than willingly, muttering something about giving me a moment to collect myself.

We stayed silent for a minute after the door fell shut behind them. Darry got a little more comfortable, leaning against the wall, with me sideways on his lap, burying my face against his neck. When he spoke his voice was merely a murmur, low and soothing.

"So, what is it that you've been getting into your head about so much?"

I sighed. Talking about my 'struggles' out loud would only make me feel more pathetic. But I knew that once he knew what was bothering me, Darry would know just the right things to say to make me feel better. He always did.

So I started talking, still hiding my face against his skin, trying my best to explain the way I was feeling.

"Just... Everything, kinda. My life, y'know. It's— God, it's stupid, really. Everything just feels like it's too much at the moment. 'm not sure how to put it into words..."