"We need to talk about this." Soda tells me. The anger lingered in the room like the smell of foreign food. An argument was forming.
"Talk about what?" I ask, turning towards him, throwing down a shirt I was folding.
"Baby, we just pretend that this isn't happening. Like I didn't get that letter." A few dreaded days ago, Sodapop got a letter, telling us he was to be drafted in the war. I was crushed at the news, and so were Darry and Pony. Soda was the glue that held us four together: we will fall apart without him. That realization has been haunting me for a while now.
"You did get that letter." I say. "You did get called into the army. I know it's happening, I know that you are going to have to leave next week."
"Then why can't we talk about it?"
"We are."
"This isn't talking Y/N. I wanted to talk about it the other day, and you just shut down. All you guys shut down when I bring it up, it's not something that should be happening."
"So you want me just to embrace you getting killed in war Soda?" I scream, coming close to his face.
"Of course not, but you need to just acknowledge it, so we can discuss some things about it.
"I can't Soda." I whisper, my eyes glossing. "It hurts too much."
He pulls me into a hug as I start to tear up. "I know it hurts baby. I don't want to go, but I have to. It's either jail or war."
"You won't be dead in jail."
"At least I'll be free if I go." he explains, stroking my hair. "If I'm in jail, I'll be in there for a long time. Five years is a long time. If I just, there's a chance I could come back to be with you. And I want to come back for you, for you and Pony and Darry and the gang."
"Soda, I couldn't go on if you died." I muffle. He picks my head up, and stares at me deeply.
"You have to learn Y/N. I know you can do it: you're strong and independent. And I love you."
"I love you too Soda." I say, and I fall back into his chest. "Come back to me."
