Daddy Issues - Johnnyboy

1 - Accidental Poetic

ALL CHAPTERS WITH : OR ; IS UNEDITED AND CRINGE BARE WITH ME

The gang. Sounds a little complex, don't you think? The gang, has been through their ups and downs, but we usually pull through. Most of the time we don't have much of a choice in our lives because it usually ends up getting us nowhere. Some kids in the gang I've known since I was little, and others just this year, but we all love each other a whole lot, we care for one another.

We aren't some real gang with like pistols and knives, we're just a pretty rowdy group of friends is all. I mean yeah, we do steal, and fight, and play around a lot but we still are just kids lookin' for some chaos. I knew that some of us were real troublemakers but me and some others, we just have fun, for the hell of it.

See for us greasers, we really aren't allowed to be sad, we weren't really allowed to be emotional either, we had to be tough, angry, ready to fight at all times. That was our reputation and no one wanted to be seen as a weakling, and we damn sure had to keep it up with rumbles, but we don't completely shit on each other for getting weepy, because in the end we're all human, and it's okay to feel whatever we need to.

Like when the Curtis' parents died. I had most definitely expected everybody to be emotional, they were practically everyone's parents. Most parents in the gang had told us the same thing again, and again. 'You guys are gonna get yourself killed.' 'You should be in school instead of creating all this ruckus.' but no, The Curtis' were nothing but supportive, and gave us a home when we needed it, gave us food when we were hungry, didn't question our bruises and breaks, just fixed them up as best they could.

The whole group was effected, I wasn't surprised. I remember holding  Pony, Soda, and even Darryl close to me at all times, trying to get them to see something other than that black hole of darkness that tried reeling them in. I was known as the real caring one in the group, I would be the first one to go to if something was wrong, they'd go to me for support.

At times it does get a bit overwhelming with all their family problems but, I have always put their lives before mine, and it will continue to stay like that. Nothing had ever gotten in the way of that, and I'm sure everyone knew, and I made sure everyone knew.

The gang was more than aware of me. They knew about my folks fighting and the beatings I got, but they couldn't do anything about it except be there for me. So that's what they did, every morning when they saw me, they always gave me some sort of shove and asked me how well everything was going, small gestures like that. I really do deeply appreciate them a lot. Even though they could be complete dicks sometimes.

There were rules as well, well not exactly rules, but negotiations that were apparent in the group. If I'm being honest, the gang would laugh and spew about how I'm using such big words, but they know how I am. I am the accidental poet, the greaser who liked to write. I was kinda like Ponyboy, but he didn't write, he read, he read like all the books in the world were telling him that they needed him to hear them or something. I swear every time I come to the Curtis' house, I feel like I'm interrupting him, because he had always had his nose in some type of book.

But he'd pass it over, and come to the lot with me anyway. The one thing he told me that he liked to do, was read my poems. He'd read them out loud to me, and he'd engulf himself into it like it was his own reality. It was amazing to watch, honestly. His eyes would sparkle, and his mouth would occasionally twitch in amusement at my words that were on the paper, but he never laughed.

The gang had always laughed at the little journal I carried around, and once they got a hold of it, they read it, but then they didn't take it in as Ponyboy did, they used it for their own amusement, which usually upsets Ponyboy, but I knew they really meant nothing by it. They wouldn't get by without me around anyway, and I knew that.

"You're not going through it, it's going through you. And once its all gone, you become the new you. With a different perspective, from the same point of view, fully unaffected by the truth you once knew, connected at the roots, to the trunks, and to the branches. To the leaves, and the way they fly away. When the wind dances, A frantic see saw free fall in mid air, that represents the floating folly of us being here, we're complicated creatures, huh?" Ponyboy lied on his back, the big pile of leaves were supporting his waist and he smiled at me.

"Did you like it?" I spoke quietly, even though I knew what he was going to say, I was always so scared of what the reaction would be.

"Like it? Johnny, I love it. Its amazing! Christ, you most definitely should be a real poet, you'd be so famous by now!" He crawled his way over in excitement and I moved a bit, so he could get closer. He lied next to me under the stars and smiled.

"Hey Johnny?" He whispered, I was looking at him so intensely that he almost startled me when he spoke. Ponyboy was like my brother, but damn. . . was he pretty. I shook my head at the thought and sighed.

"Yeah, Pony?" I asked, I wanted to wrap my arms around him, but I knew that would have been a little weird for him, but instead, he put his head on my shoulder and leaned into my presence, closing his eyes.

"You ever think there is just . . . plain old ordinary people out there?" He asked me, yawning slightly.

"No Socs, no greasers, just people?" I asked him, and he nodded sleepily.

"Yeah. . ."

"Well, I think so, out in the country I think," I said and he groaned quietly,

"I don't wanna go out into the country, I like it here, I just wish there was no groups you had to be in to . . . to survive." He spoke with such distaste for it, I couldn't blame him though, there will be a time where we won't have to worry about this, but is the grass really greener on the other side? I could tell he getting ready to fall asleep, and we couldn't have that. Last time we fell asleep in the lot, Darry had both of our asses.

"Ponyboy, we gotta get you home. I don't want you to get into trouble 'cause of me." That's when I lifted my hand and moved a few pieces of hair from his face and caressed his head in the smallest of movements. He didn't even say anything, nor do anything to stop me. He smiled though and sighed in protest.

"I guess we do gotta get back," He said, but he didn't look like he was gettin' up anytime soon, so I just did the first thing I thought of. I got up slowly watching his face grimace, picked him up faster than light, and held him over my back in a piggyback ride, gripping the backs of his calves to keep a steady hold of him. His house was only a couple minutes away, and he wasn't that much of a heavy boy, he was scrawny though. We both were, and he was surprised when I picked him up without even heaving a grunt.

I kept it inside in fear of him believing he was too heavy to be carried.

"No, no, it's okay . . . you can put me down, I'm okay." He groaned, but he was slowly falling asleep in my arms, and I couldn't help but scoff at his efforts.

"Pony, I don't even think you can walk." I chuckled leaning down, trying my best to keep balanced, "How many hours do you get back at home?" I asked, and he mumbled back at me.

"Like four," He laughed at it softly but I was more than a little worried than that though, he hasn't been sleeping well. I ignored that thought, and held him tight against my neck, it felt nice being close to him like this, It was like I craved for this type of affection.

God knows I never got it from my parents.