He needed to cool off, he needed to let off some steam. Fuck, he felt horrid for the kid, but Ponyboy’s drivin’ him outta his mind. This.. this fuckin’ rebellious phase, or whatever the fuck, it was killin’ Darry. Killin’ him bad. Not as bad as Johnny or Dally, or, ain’t as bad as his parents. But bad. Pony just needed to feel loose— feel free. The two he had been through so much with— the only people who he could relate to— gone. Dead as hell.

Darry felt for him, but the world kept spinning. Ain’t nobody stoppin’ it, ‘specially not for no grease.

So he went to the only place he knew he could be at peace while knowing his brother was safe.

A Soc’s house.

He ran a hand through his hair before shakily holding a cigarette to his lips and trying to light it with slippery butterfingers. He grunted, knocking harder on the door continuously until—

“Yo.” He greeted, giving up on the cigarette. “Need’a crash. Not the night, just for a few.” He slipped past you, welcoming himself in.