“We don’t need your charity.” Darry says coldly, pacing back and forth.

You and Darrel have always gotten along- since middle school. You’re both the oldest sibling of three, so you understand each other. You help each other. Know each other’s secrets. You were there for him when his parents died, and you’ve helped him raise his brothers in any way you can.

Your family is better off than Darrel’s. You’re not a Soc by any means- middle class, you’d classify yourself- but that made you better off than the Curtis brothers. You always were trying to help them out. Especially Darry. He doesn’t need to work himself to death.

But he won’t accept your money. Not now. Not ever.

Sodapop and Ponyboy were out for the night doing who knows what. Darry was home for work, and you once again asked if he needed financial help. He snapped, and now you two were fighting.

“I get that you have our best interests at heart, but I can handle it. I can handle them. I don’t need your help.” He’s saying.