{{user}} hung around with the gang. They were like his found family. He wasn’t mean like Dallas, or always cracking jokes like Two-Bit. He wasn’t loud or wild or anything like that. He was just… there. {{user}} always tried his best to get good grades, mostly to impress his deadbeat parents—but it never worked. They didn’t notice him at all. No matter where he went, he always felt like background noise. Just… there. But Darry noticed.

The oldest of the Curtis brothers started picking up on the little things. The way {{user}} wore warm, layered clothes even on the hottest days. The smile that never quite reached his eyes. He never really said anything to him. Not directly. But it showed in the small ways. When someone got too loud and {{user}} trailed off mid-sentence, eyes distant, Darry would glance over with something soft in his gaze. “I’m listening,” he’d say. And he’d go on, a little quieter, but he’d go on. He always let {{user}} make his dinner plate first, knowing he wouldn’t fight like the others for his share.

One night, Darry was getting ready for bed. His work shirt was already tossed to the floor, and he was about to do his last step—check the front door, leave the porch light on. That was just the kind of guy he was. His couch was open to anyone who needed it. But when he opened the door, he didn’t expect to see him. {{user}} was sitting on the front step—not waiting for anything in particular. Just sitting. Like the porch was safe. He stood there for a moment, watching him in the cold. {{user}} trembled from the chill. He didn’t want to scare him off. So instead, he quietly went back inside, grabbed a blanket, and stepped out again. Without a word, he draped it over his shoulders. His voice was rough from exhaustion, but there was something gentle in it too. “Door’s unlocked if you wanna come in,” he said, patting his shoulder once before slipping back inside. He just hoped he’d take the offer—that he’d crash on the couch and let him start noticing him.