I own no one or nothing unless I tell you that I do. I own no characters from the book The Outsiders. They all belong to S. E. Hinton as far as I know. This is going to be a slash, so if you have a poblem with that, turn around right now and don't look back. All reviews are welcome, even ones showing disaproval. In doing this, you're exercising your rights to voice your opinion.
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Lesson 1: Big Boys Don't Cry
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"Yeah, I'm leaving," Steve yelled, slamming the door shut behind him. His father had kicked him out again. Why he let it bother him, he didn't know. His dad kicked him out just about once a week, then he would just tell him to come home and slip him a few dollars. It was always the same.
Steve flopped down on the porch step and hung his head. This was eating away inside of him. It bugged him something awful. It would bug anyone to hear their birth father to tell them to get the hell out of his house.
"STAY OFFA MY GODDAMNED PORCH," his father yelled from inside. "I DON'T NEED SOME LAZY BUM SULKIN AROUND HERE! GIT LOST!!!"
Jerking up, Steve kicked the railing, knocking it severly crooked. He then hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and slouched off, headed towards the Curtis house, filled slightly with new hope. Atleast I'm wanted somewhere, he thought to himself.
"Hey, Stevie-boy," Two-Bit called gleefully from his seat on the Curtis' front porch. "Why the long face?"
"Got kicked out again," sighed the depressed teen. "Got anything to drink on ya?"
Two-Bit smiled and patted his pants pockets. Then he simply shook his head.
"Sorry, buddy."
"It's all right, Two-Bit. I think I'm just gonna go lie down somewhere. Where is everyone?"
"I dunno. Something about going shopping or something. Darry, Ponyboy and Johnny went. Soda's inside, though."
Steve nodded and walked into the house. He flopped down on the couch and pulled a pillow over his face. Suddenly, he couldn't hold it back anymore. Burning, stinging tears started flowing from his eyes against his will.
"Is that you, Steve," came a question from the direction of the kitchen.
"Yeah, it's me," Steve replied, the pillow smothering his voice slightly.
"Hey, buddy," Soda said, yanking the pillow off of Steve's face. He stopped in mid-motion of throwing the pillow back at Steve. His mouth was hanging open like he had been about to say something.
"What? Why are you staring at me like that?"
Steve sat up, looking at Soda questioningly. What was his problem?
"H-have you been crying," Soda asked incrediously.
"Of course not," Steve repiled, wiping his face on his shirttail. "I...I was running around outside. You know how hot it gets right now. It's just sweat. J-just sweat."
"Okay." Soda smiled at his friend, reassuring him that no one would know about this.
Both boys knew the truth. They both knew that it wasn't sweat glistening on Steve's face. But Soda knew that Steve never cried around people, so it was better left alone.
Soda had heard Steve's father yelling at him. He knew what it was like for his buddy. Secretly, Soda hated Steve's father. How could he yell at Steve like that? What was wrong with him? Didn't he realize what a wonderful person Steve was? And how beautiful he was...
Soda shook that last thought from his head. What's wrong with me, he thought frantically. That's gross! Don't think things like that, Soda!
Smiling mischeviously, Soda raised the pillow once more. Then he swung it around, thumping Steve on the side of the head.
"Good," Soda yelled, laughing as Steve grabbed another pillow and started fighting back.
"What's good," yelled Steve.
"That you aren't crying." Soda hit Steve in the stomach, knocking his friend backwards over the couch. "Big boys don't cry!"
Steve smiled at Soda, hitting him in the chest. I'm lucky to have such a friend, he thought happily. Soda hadn't been the same since Sandy ran off with a member of Tim Shepard's gang. But now that it was four months after that, he was starting to come out of his shell.
Darry, Ponyboy and Johnny walked in at that moment, their arms full of grocery bags. Soda had Steve pinned down on the floor and swung back to hit his friend, but the pillow flung backwards and hit Darry, knocking his bags from his hands.
"All right you two," Darry said smiling and starting to pick things up. "Stop goofin' off and help us get everything out of the truck. See if you can get Two-Bit to help you."
The two rolled their eyes at the thought of Two-Bit Mathews doing anything that even resembled work. But nonetheless, they jumped up and ran out the door to bring the remaining bags back in.
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That's it for the first chapter. What did you think? Honestly now, how was it? I think it sucked, but that's just me. I never really like anything I do, but that's a normal writer thing. Keep in mind that this is my first slash, okay? Well, Later Days, Loyal Readers! Review!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lesson 1: Big Boys Don't Cry
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Yeah, I'm leaving," Steve yelled, slamming the door shut behind him. His father had kicked him out again. Why he let it bother him, he didn't know. His dad kicked him out just about once a week, then he would just tell him to come home and slip him a few dollars. It was always the same.
Steve flopped down on the porch step and hung his head. This was eating away inside of him. It bugged him something awful. It would bug anyone to hear their birth father to tell them to get the hell out of his house.
"STAY OFFA MY GODDAMNED PORCH," his father yelled from inside. "I DON'T NEED SOME LAZY BUM SULKIN AROUND HERE! GIT LOST!!!"
Jerking up, Steve kicked the railing, knocking it severly crooked. He then hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and slouched off, headed towards the Curtis house, filled slightly with new hope. Atleast I'm wanted somewhere, he thought to himself.
"Hey, Stevie-boy," Two-Bit called gleefully from his seat on the Curtis' front porch. "Why the long face?"
"Got kicked out again," sighed the depressed teen. "Got anything to drink on ya?"
Two-Bit smiled and patted his pants pockets. Then he simply shook his head.
"Sorry, buddy."
"It's all right, Two-Bit. I think I'm just gonna go lie down somewhere. Where is everyone?"
"I dunno. Something about going shopping or something. Darry, Ponyboy and Johnny went. Soda's inside, though."
Steve nodded and walked into the house. He flopped down on the couch and pulled a pillow over his face. Suddenly, he couldn't hold it back anymore. Burning, stinging tears started flowing from his eyes against his will.
"Is that you, Steve," came a question from the direction of the kitchen.
"Yeah, it's me," Steve replied, the pillow smothering his voice slightly.
"Hey, buddy," Soda said, yanking the pillow off of Steve's face. He stopped in mid-motion of throwing the pillow back at Steve. His mouth was hanging open like he had been about to say something.
"What? Why are you staring at me like that?"
Steve sat up, looking at Soda questioningly. What was his problem?
"H-have you been crying," Soda asked incrediously.
"Of course not," Steve repiled, wiping his face on his shirttail. "I...I was running around outside. You know how hot it gets right now. It's just sweat. J-just sweat."
"Okay." Soda smiled at his friend, reassuring him that no one would know about this.
Both boys knew the truth. They both knew that it wasn't sweat glistening on Steve's face. But Soda knew that Steve never cried around people, so it was better left alone.
Soda had heard Steve's father yelling at him. He knew what it was like for his buddy. Secretly, Soda hated Steve's father. How could he yell at Steve like that? What was wrong with him? Didn't he realize what a wonderful person Steve was? And how beautiful he was...
Soda shook that last thought from his head. What's wrong with me, he thought frantically. That's gross! Don't think things like that, Soda!
Smiling mischeviously, Soda raised the pillow once more. Then he swung it around, thumping Steve on the side of the head.
"Good," Soda yelled, laughing as Steve grabbed another pillow and started fighting back.
"What's good," yelled Steve.
"That you aren't crying." Soda hit Steve in the stomach, knocking his friend backwards over the couch. "Big boys don't cry!"
Steve smiled at Soda, hitting him in the chest. I'm lucky to have such a friend, he thought happily. Soda hadn't been the same since Sandy ran off with a member of Tim Shepard's gang. But now that it was four months after that, he was starting to come out of his shell.
Darry, Ponyboy and Johnny walked in at that moment, their arms full of grocery bags. Soda had Steve pinned down on the floor and swung back to hit his friend, but the pillow flung backwards and hit Darry, knocking his bags from his hands.
"All right you two," Darry said smiling and starting to pick things up. "Stop goofin' off and help us get everything out of the truck. See if you can get Two-Bit to help you."
The two rolled their eyes at the thought of Two-Bit Mathews doing anything that even resembled work. But nonetheless, they jumped up and ran out the door to bring the remaining bags back in.
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That's it for the first chapter. What did you think? Honestly now, how was it? I think it sucked, but that's just me. I never really like anything I do, but that's a normal writer thing. Keep in mind that this is my first slash, okay? Well, Later Days, Loyal Readers! Review!