Helpless

Stay

(Darry)
"Have you left here at all?" I cried. Ponyboy was slumped on the bathroom floor, a towel under his head. The dishes were still in the sink, although he'd answered the phone the few times we'd called.

Pony just shook his head. "Just seemed easier...I keep getting sick.." he proven his point by leaning over and dry-heaving.

"Christ, kid," I dropped my tool belt down on the table, grabbed the last clean glass on the shelf and filled it, sitting beside him on the bathroom floor. "You should've told me when I called."

My youngest brother shook his head. "Doesn't matter," he mumbled. "I'd be sick whether you were here or not."

"Yeah, but you don't have to be alone."

"I know," he murmured. I rubbed his shoulders, and he slumped back against the wall. "Darry?"

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry. About all this. And making you late this morning."

"All this? This wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, but...you guys haven't slept these past three weeks."

"Neither have you."

"But I don't have to go to work. Or school." His voice faltered for a second. "I'm not gonna finish this year, huh?"

"It's almost summer anyway. When this is all done, you can make-up what you missed."

Pony fell silent, staring at his hands awkwardly. "Sure," he finally murmured, looking miserable. I pushed his hair back.

"This is gonna be over one day, Pon."

My brother's eyes filled; he nodded, slowly. "I just feel so guilty...I mean...you heard Steve this morning. He's right. I'm the one who's sick, I'm the one who can't sleep, it's not fair that I keep you and Soda up."

"We ain't gonna let you go through this alone," I snapped. "Steve's just upset because Soda's not payin' much attention to him. Because you're more important." Pony looked at me, his eyes dark and tired.

Haunted. I didn't know what to say. "You've gotta quit seein' yourself as a burden. We don't see you as one."

My brother raised a trembling hand to his eyes and wiped them hurriedly. I kept my distance; I didn't quite know how to handle my brother. We were still figuring each other out, had been since Soda ran out of the house that night. Soda always knew exactly what to say, exactly how to calm or comfort our younger brother. I just didn't.

"Thanks," he mumbled, trying to grin.

"You want somethin' to eat?"

"No," he paled and swallowed hard. "I'm too tired. I don't wanna throw up anymore."

"It's been two days..."

"Darry, please," Pony begged, closing his eyes. I couldn't believe how weak he'd gotten.

"I'm not gonna push," I murmured, rising and opening the bathroom windows. The room reeked of vomit. "I'm gonna start dinner, okay? Soda'll be home soon. Two-Bit's workin' tonight, but he might stop by later. I don't know what happened with Steve."

"Hm," my brother sighed, resting his head on the towel like a pillow.

I left the door open so I could see him as I started dinner. We'd been eating a lot more frozen things than we had before; they took less time to prepare.

I'd no sooner turned the oven on and stuck a pan of lasagna in then Pony called for me and burst into a violent fit of coughing.

I can't stand this, I thought, kneeling beside him in the bathroom. I can't stand seeing him like this. It's only been three weeks, and already this is a completely different Ponyboy.

"I hate this," Pony sobbed when the fit had passed. "I can't do this, Darry."

I didn't know what to say, so I stayed silent, slumped back against the wall and pulled him against me. He leaned on my chest, exhausted, fighting back his tears.

"It's okay to cry," I finally said. Pony just sighed and closed his eyes. I stroked my his sweaty forehead and hair, reaching for the glass and the rag to sponge his face off. Pony swallowed a sip of water weakly, then closed his eyes as I ran the washcloth over his face.

"That feels good, Dar," he mumbled, already half-asleep. I picked him up and carried him back to his room, laying him down on his side of the bed.

"Soda'll be home soon," I murmured, still rubbing the cloth over his forehead. I knew he wanted him. "You stay," he whispered, his head sinking into the pillow. "Stay for a while?"

"Sure, little buddy," I stroked his hair. "I ain't leaving."