Filthy Paradise

"I Hurt Bad."

Hey lovelies I feel like I update this one more than my other stories. #sorrynotsorry

I just have so many flowing ideas for this one constantly on my mind. Oops haha! Every time I watch The Breakfast Club all I can see Andrew (The Athlete) being Two-Bit since they're played by the same person. My mind is set on The Outsiders for some reason, but hey I ain't complainin. I know the gif above is placed outside, but I mainly used the gif for Sodapop's sad face for this chapter.

My obsession for The Outsiders is growing, growing large. #noregrets

Enjoy!

Sugar's Pov

"Sugar." Darry's voice echoes in my ears as I keep my eyes cast down on my old shoes.

"Darry." I reply with the same tone, but a lot colder.

"Come on inside, I wanna talk to you." He tells me walking up the steps I'm sitting on with a cigarette hanging from my lips. "You're too young for these." He takes it from my mouth and stomps on it before continuing his way inside.

"Asshole." I mumble as I dig another from my jacket. I light it up as I get up from the stairs and walk inside.

My shoes thump across the short distance to the door. The weed hangs from my chapped lips as I take small puffs and releasing it through my nose. I stand against the arm of the couch with my arms crossed and a glare in my dead eyes.

"How are you feeling?" He asks with his arms crossed, showing off his big muscles.

I ignore his question as I prepare my own. My hand takes the cigarette away from my lips as I ash on the floor. The bottom of my shoe rubs it into the old, ratty carpet leaving small, black streaks. "Do you really care?" I question looking at him as I take small puffs and letting it go into the air.

Darry just watches my every move, as if I'm about to go ape. "Of course I care." He spits back quickly. Looks like he's slowly losing the tough facade he put up. "Why makes you think I don't?" He asks me, he steps closer.

I remove myself from the arm of the raggedy couch and take a seat on the slightly hard cushions. I sit between Dally and Steve. I grab Dally's hand and flick some ash into it. "Mind taking care of that for me?" I question him with the smirk that he's mastered. "Thanks." I tell him with a tight smile and cold eyes. "Hmmm...What makes me believe that you don't care?" My hand rubs recklessly through my clean hair."That's a tough one, you see big brother." I ash once more into his hand as I burn a hole into the flannel that I wear. I continuing making small holes along the sleeves.

"Stop doing that." Steve says. "Just answer his damn question." Steve pressures me.

"Flake off." I tell him showing him my middle finger. I get up and walk towards the front door.

"Hey get back in here, the conversation hasn't even started." I hear Darry call out.

I turn around every so slowly with the cig in my hand. I give him a look as I flick it out with a smirk on my lips. "Just throwing out the finished weed man, chill." I tell him as I walk back inside and plop back in the spot I was sitting in.

"We're just trying to help you, you dig?" Dally says placing his arm on the back of the couch.

"I guess I can dig, it's not like I have a choice." I tell him honestly looking into his hard eyes.

"The floor is all yours Darry." Dal says with his classic smirk. It's the same smirk I'm trying to master. One day here soon I may do it better than he can, but after all he's Dallas Winston, so maybe not.

"How are you feeling?" He asks once again.

"You already asked that." I tell him crossing my arms over my stomach as I feel small waves of pain.