Work Text:
It was stupid. It was so fucking stupid, which just made it hurt more. It wasn’t like Keith wanted to be thinking about this. If he knew he’d’ve reacted that way, him stepping foot inside the Curtis residence would never have even happened. God, he was so stupid. All Sodapop had done was put a hand on his shoulder, he’d done it a million times before. He’d even done it after he got jumped. Honestly, Keith just didn’t know why today was so different. Nothing had happened- and that was exactly what was so upsetting to him. Well, that and the fact that he’d just given his best friend’s kid brother a bloody nose. Everyone was frozen. The air was tense. In the silence that followed, he had just two thoughts:
I didn’t mean to
and
Darry’s gonna fucking slaughter me.
Before he knew it, Keith had bolted from the kitchen and was madly tearing his way up the street. He was sure he could hear the rumble of a car engine humming over the sound of his frantic breathing, but every time he turned his head there was nothing there. The third time he turned his head back, he tripped over something- maybe his own feet- and crashed into the pavement.
Keith swore he could feel his brain hit the inside of his skull as his head collided with the ground. I wish I was drunk, he thought vaguely. Then I could at least have an excuse for being so clumsy all the time. His ears were ringing. He had to get up. He was all alone in the middle of the street, and the last time he was like that it hadn’t ended well for him. It could be argued that it was what had gotten him into this situation in the first place. Soon, he felt a hand on him, and even though he knew he was done for, Keith refused to go down without a fight. He started to struggle, writhing around despite the pain shooting through his head.
“Shit, Two, it’s just us! Calm down! Be quiet!”
He hadn’t even realized he’d been yelling until he heard Pony’s voice.
“I don’t like how much his head is bleeding,” said Steve, “Let’s get him outta here.”
Pony said something else that Keith could only assume was an agreement to the previous statement, since they each grabbed one of his arms and pulled him up to his feet. He didn’t want to be that high off the ground. He felt drunk, but worse. Someone’s arm shifted beneath his.
“Don’t drop me. I’ll fall,” he mumbled, feeling himself stumble again.
“We won’t, Buddy,” Steve told him.
“Oh my god!” was the first thing Keith remembered someone saying after that. There had been some talks of doctors before that; he was pretty sure he’d adamantly refused all of it without really knowing what was going on. He felt himself exchanged between arms, slowly sinking into the ground. Someone eased him into their lap as he went. He cracked his eyes open and saw Darry. He was blurry. That was strange. Wait, Darry was here? He was really in for it now.
“Shit,” he rasped.
“I know it hurts, I’m sorry,” Darry replied. Why was he apologizing?
“Yer gonna kill me,” Keith whined. Darry shushed him like he was five. He felt like he was five.
“I’m not mad.”
“Yer not?”
“Just worried,” he confirmed. Keith giggled without much lucidity behind it.
“You sound like yer dad,” he said, and Darry froze for a moment.
“Do I, now?” he replied as he began to rock Keith back and forth. He didn’t get an answer.
“Y’know, when yer parents died, I didn’t know how to feel. I didn’t ever say much to them. I still don’t know why it makes me so sad,” Keith rambled suddenly. Darry just kept holding him, rocking him gently just like his mom used to. He was getting blood on his hands. Did he know that?
“I don’t even know their names. I shouldn’t miss them,” he continued, feeling something wet drip onto the top of his head. Beneath his head, Darry’s diaphragm spasmed with choked sobs. He was crying. Keith had made him cry.
“No, no . . .” he slurred, clumsily bringing his hand to Darry’s face, “Yer not s’posed’ta do that . . .”
Keith didn’t remember much after that.
When he came to, he was on the couch. The first thing he noticed was an intense pressure in his head. The second thing he noticed was the presence of noise in the kitchen. There were sounds of skillets and steel wool meeting that felt like a piece of dental floss was being pulled through both his ears in order to slowly saw his brain in half.
“Hey,” he called out, not opening his eyes. He could already tell the light from the kitchen would hurt his head even more. He wasn’t looking forward to it. Keith heard shuffling from beside him.
“He’s wakin’ up!” Sodapop shouted, and Keith’s stomach flooded with guilt. He cracked one eye open to see the damage he’d caused, realizing his vision was a lot less blurry this time around. There was a bruise on his nose, but it looked like Keith hadn’t broken anything. Before he had too much time to ruminate over it, he felt the house shiver as someone walked over. Darry came into his field of view, eyebrows creased upward.
“Hey, Two,” he said softly, “How’re ya feelin’?”
Immediately, mortifyingly, Keith burst into tears.
“M’ sorry,” he moaned, shoving his eyes into the crook of his elbow as if that would actually hide his crying from them. He felt a large, steadying hand on his trembling back.
“Hey, you’re okay, you’re okay,” Soda soothed, gently pulling his face up and wiping his tears. The gentleness of it all only served to make Keith cry harder.
“No,” he whined. For once, he didn’t care about how pathetic he was. Everything hurt so badly and he was so confused. He just wanted someone to hold him and tell him everything would be okay, even if they were lying through their teeth the whole time.
“I’m sorry,” he cried again, “I dunno why I did that. I’m not like that. I swear I’m not like that.”
“We know,” Darry said, still rubbing circles into his back. There was a blanket over him. Keith was pretty sure it had always been there, but he only noticed it at the moments where Darry’s hand shifted it around.
“It’s okay.” Soda was looking at him with more trust than he deserved. “We know you were just scared. Pony does the same thing sometimes. He can hardly stand the smell of smoke anymore.”
Ponyboy the chain smoker? That couldn’t be right. He was changing. Everything was changing, why was everything always changing? Keith closed his eyes again.
“It’s okay,” Soda said again, “You’re okay. It’s all okay.”
But it wasn’t okay, and it would never be okay again. Johnny had been the heart of the gang, and losing Dally on top of losing him had just been the straw that broke the camel’s back. Keith couldn’t bear to talk anymore, so he just burrowed his face into his arms again and shook his head.
“Just go back to sleep, Two,” Darry told him gently, “We can keep talking later.”
That was all Keith needed to hear for him to let himself drift back into the welcoming darkness of his own mind.
“That’s one hell of a lump you got there,” Ponyboy said, “It kinda looks like it would in a cartoon.”
“Thanks,” Keith replied miserably, “I made it myself.”
The morning had come and gone, with Darry out running errands and Sodapop working a shift at the DX with Steve. Since it was a Saturday, Pony was still in the house and had elected to watch over him. Keith was too tired to complain about it. Ponyboy put his hand on the wound, and despite his fingers barely touching it he flinched back.
“Sorry, sorry,” he heard, “But Darry said I had to check it. Good news is you’re not bleeding anymore.”
Oh, joy. His traumatic brain injury had stopped flinging blood everywhere. Now he could wither away on the Curtises’ couch without worrying about staining it. Well, staining it more.
“Did Darry tell you to do anything else?” he snarked.
“Actually, yeah,” Pony said, shifting nervously, “He wanted me to ask why it happened.”
Keith almost threw up.
“I said I didn’t mean to-"
“He knows you didn’t mean to. He’s concerned because what you did kinda looks like the stuff I do when I’m dreaming.”
“But I’m awake,” he protested. Pony shrugged.
“Your body is. Your brain might not be.”
“What are you tryna say? I can’t read your mind.”
Ponyboy sighed heavily, eyeing the half-healed cigarette burns on his skin.
“Was it because you got jumped while I was gone?”
Keith froze.
“I don’t know,” he said honestly, “Maybe.”
They didn’t talk much after that.
Darry came back a few hours later and called Pony over to help put groceries away. In the meantime, he checked in on Keith, kneeling at the side of the couch.
“Feelin’ any better?” he asked. Keith started to nod, but winced and just responded verbally instead.
“I’m okay,” he said, “Honest.”
Darry didn’t seem to like that answer.
“You know, it’s okay to miss them,” he said, stroking Keith’s hair. He noticed that Darry had become a lot more cuddly since Windrixville. He didn’t find himself minding too much, but he was pretty sure no one else even noticed. It was mostly small things, like patting everyone on the head when he got home from work. The creases in his eyebrows never went away until he’d placed a hand on everyone he saw in the house.
“Miss who?” Keith asked. He didn’t fully remember the night before.
“My parents,” he said. Keith felt his heart clench up in his chest.
“Oh. Right.”
“I’m serious, Two. It doesn’t matter if you talked to them a lot or even knew their names. You still loved them.”
“ . . . yeah. I did. I still do.”
“Me too,” whispered Darry, carefully avoiding the sore spot on his head. He didn’t realize how tense his shoulders were until they gradually relaxed away from his ears.
“I should go home soon,” Keith said, “My ma’s gonna be real worried about me.”
“I called her earlier,” he replied, “She thinks you’re just staying for a few days to help out with watching Pony while Soda an’ I are working.”
“Oh,” was all Keith could think to respond with despite feeling overwhelmed with gratitude at such a simple action.
“You’ve taken care of me so much these past few weeks,” said Darry, “Why don’t you let me return the favor?”
“That sounds nice,” he admitted. The gentle motion of fingers carding through his curls made his eyelids droop. He sighed quietly.
“Go ahead,” Darry said, “We’ll be here when you wake up.”
The last thing Keith remembered was the feeling of a blanket being pulled over him again.