{Oneshot} It started off as Johnny having a nightmare and going to the Curtis house for the night but it turned into a huge confession from his youngest friend. While Ponyboy is trying to comfort Johnny, the sixteen-year-old realizes that something bad happened to his best buddy and he wants to find out what it was.

I slowly opened the door, trying to be as quiet as possible. I shut the door gently, hoping it didn't make a loud noise like it normally did. For once, things worked in my favor. It didn't make a sound. I stole a glance at the couch to make sure nobody was there. Once I was sure it was empty, I sat down and hugged my knees close to my chest.

I had fallen asleep in the lot and woke up in a cold sweat with a scream lodged in the back of my throat. I was relieved that I had managed to wake up before I screamed but I was still terrified from the nightmare. I had a bad nightmare about something my father had done in the past. He tried drowning me.

I was about six at the time and I had long before discovered that the way my father treated me was wrong. I knew it was wrong for a kid to be hit like that. I also was smart enough to know that my dad would have my head if anybody found out that he abused me. So I kept quiet about it.

He had taken me fishing sometime in the early summer. I was naive. I believed that we were really fishing but I was wrong. He was getting me out of the house and into the open. He was setting up a plan. He would drown me and make it look like an accident. I knew that after. He forced my head into the water and got on my back, keeping me there. I fought and tried to get out of his grasp. I couldn't breathe. I was swallowing water.

I forced those thoughts out of my head. They were only memories. We moved on from that. I was alive and that was all that mattered. I had to forget about the drowning. He didn't succeed so I was okay. Why focus on bad memories like that when all they do is cause trouble and misery? But still, I couldn't push them away. I was scared. I was terrified. I wanted to know what I did to make my parents hate me. I had no idea. I was as well-behaved as I could be. I didn't talk back. I didn't fight back. I did everything they asked. So what was it? Why couldn't they love me like I loved them?

I hugged my knees closer to my chest and started crying. I couldn't help it. I wanted their love. The one thing I always wanted I knew I would never get. I tried to keep my crying quiet because I knew I couldn't wake anybody up. Darry and Sodapop worked too much and needed their sleep. Ponyboy had trouble sleeping as it was. He either woke up from a nightmare and stayed awake for the rest of the night or he didn't even go to sleep. He got nowhere near the average hours of sleep a night.

I was startled out of my thoughts when I felt somebody's hand on my back. I jumped and looked up. It was Ponyboy. He looked exhausted and he had tears in his eyes that he kept blinking away. He must've just woken up from a nightmare. "Hey, Johnnycake," he said gently and sat next to me on the couch. He moved his hand from my back and instead wrapped his arm around my shoulders. I flinched, feeling guilty. He was scared himself. He shouldn't have been out there worrying about me. But he was selfless like that. He was always making sure I was okay before anything else. He put so many other things and people before his own well-being. His body was trembling and his skin was a shocking shade of pale. His eyes, that continued to fill with water, were slightly wide and his pupils were dilated. His breathing also sounded forced. He was either sick or scared and I knew he wasn't sick. "What's eatin' ya?"

I shook my head and looked away to wipe my eyes. I knew he saw but it was better to pretend he never saw just like I was pretending he wasn't trying not to cry. "What're you doin' awake, man?"

"You know I'm always awake, Johnnycake," he said softly. It was true. I had no idea how he had straight A's when he never slept. He was dead on his feet all the time yet he managed to function properly. He could fall asleep in seconds but only sleep for minutes. It was like his body knew that sleeping was bad. It would get so bad at points that he'd be falling asleep on his feet. "Was it your ol' man?"

"Nah, man," I said and turned to look at him again. His eyes were still filled with tears and some had started running down his cheeks. I couldn't keep pretending. "Why're you cryin', Pone?"

"You tell me why you are first," he whispered. At first I didn't realize what he was talking about. I thought I had blinked my tears away. I wiped my eyes hurriedly and felt that my face was wet. I must've been crying still even after he came out. I knew I was wiping some tears away before but I didn't realize some tears escaped my eyes. I could've kicked myself for that. I should've done better at keeping them under control. My best buddy needed me. I could feel his hand and arm trembling on my shoulders.

I thought about lying but I couldn't think of a good and believable lie. Plus I hated the thought of lying to my best friend. Me and Ponyboy had a special connection between us. We were always there for each other. If something was wrong, we knew. It could go unnoticed by the entire gang except for us two. We were just really close. We got each other. We could pretend like nothing was wrong but we wouldn't lie about it when we did get each other to talk. Boy, and were we loyal. We would never tell anybody what the other said. I wouldn't tell his brothers something that was meant to stay in between me and him and he wouldn't tell Dallas anything about me, even if we both knew it wasn't something we should keep a secret.

I took a deep breath and sighed before opening up to Ponyboy. "I wish my folks would love me, ya dig? I had a nightmare at the lot so I came here. I didn't want to wake any of ya, Pone, I'm sorry."

He smiled and laid his head on my shoulder. That wasn't anything unusual. We'd always get close to each other. I didn't get any attention at home from my parents and Ponyboy didn't get enough before his parents died. We liked being close to each other. I liked being close to any of the gang. Ponyboy only liked being close to me or Sodapop. We kept our need for affection a secret. We wouldn't even say it to each other but somehow we both just knew.

"Don't be sorry. You didn't wake nobody," he said, talking in a soft voice. "I know it hurts that your folks treat ya so bad, but we're your family, too. None of us would get by without ya."

"Aw, shoot, kid, yeah you would."

His hand on my shoulder tightened and his body tensed. "No we wouldn't. None of us. 'specially me," he said quietly. "Your parents don't see it the way we do. You're family to all of us. We all love ya. And don't you worry 'bout wakin' us. You know we're here for ya."

I sighed and nodded. "I know you guys are, Pone. Why are you cryin'?"

"I had a nightmare, Johnnycake. Nothin' new," he said but his voice made me feel so horrible for him. He sounded so hopeless but like he was trying to keep it hidden with a smile in his voice. He probably had no hope that his nightmares would ever go away. He had them all through his life and it only been getting worse since his parents died. Now Sodapop's comfort wasn't enough for him. He probably thought it'd never end.

"You remember it?" I asked, already knowing the answer. He never remembered his nightmares.

"Nah, you know how it is. What was your nightmare about?"

"My dad," I answered honestly. "He tried to drown me as a kid. Sometimes that memory comes back."

"Why does it come back so often?" he asked. I could tell he wasn't expecting much of an answer. He knew I didn't have one. But Ponyboy had this way about him. He could help me find the answers to some things while barely putting his input in. I knew that this was going to be one of those times.

"I don't know," I shrugged, laying my head on top of his. He pulled the blanket off of the top of the couch and let it fall over us. It was getting chilly in there. I hadn't noticed it before. Ponyboy could notice things without realizing he did. He probably didn't even realize he was cold but his body was already grabbing for the blanket. I never could understand that about Ponyboy but it was one of the traits that made him different from the average greaser. Average person, more like it. "It scared me somethin' awful."

"What scares you the most 'bout it?" he asked, his body trembling more than before. He was still shook up from his own nightmare. I needed to help him.

"Pone, you're shakin' like a leaf," I said, closing my eyes and wrapping my arm around his shoulders like he had done to me. "What's wrong with ya?"

"Just cold. An' tired," he said with a heavy yawn. I could tell that that wasn't all. He was cold and tired but there was more to it.

"Nice try," I said, trying to put humor in my voice to get him to relax a bit more. I don't think it worked. "C'mon, man, what is it?"

His grip on me tightened slightly but I don't think I was supposed to notice. "Still tryin' ta wake up," he said, his voice quiet and broken. I didn't understand what he meant but he didn't give me the chance to ask him about it. "What scares you the most 'bout your nightmare?"

I sighed, knowing he wasn't going to give in until he knew I was okay. "I don't know. I guess cause I almost died."

"It wasn't the only time you almost died," he said matter-of-factly. He was right. It wasn't the only time I almost died. He had almost killed me so many other times. He would've succeed then but other people showed up. He had to stop or else they would've saw. I remember them looking at me crying with sadness in their eyes like they knew what was going on. They had no idea. They just saw a crying kid whose dad was trying to tell them that it was okay. In their eyes, I probably fell in the pond and scared myself.

"It was the first," I said quietly and then I realized that that's the truth. It was the first time. That was the day I realized how much my dad hated. I knew it already but it wasn't that bad. I knew he treated me in a way no child should be treated. But that was the first time he tried to take my life away from me. "That's the first time I ever felt that scared. That started it all."

I could feel Pony smile even though I wasn't looking at him but his body also started trembling more. I was really getting worried. He seemed really shaken up from his nightmare. I wished he would let me help him. "There's a reason for everythin'. Your nightmare keeps comin' back cause of how vulnerable you felt when that happened. It was the first but it wasn't the last time yet you only dream about this, don't ya?" he asked and I nodded. "That's it. It scared you so much. Maybe it wasn't the closest call but it started everythin' for ya. It's just a reminder of the bad," he said and I realized how much older he sounded. He didn't sound like a thirteen year old kid. He sounded like an adult. He was really wise. I've always known that but I never noticed it as much as I did then.

"When did you become older than me?" I asked, nudging him slightly. He let out a half-hearted chuckled under his breath.

"I'm not older than you," he said, moving his head away from my shoulder. I opened my eyes and looked at him just to see him wipe his eyes. I frowned again. He shouldn't have been crying. He was just a kid. He should've been happy. He shouldn't have to suffer the way that he did. His parents had just died a few months before already and things have just been getting worse for him. He suffered even before their deaths. He seemed to always be scared of something. Nobody knew why. We knew that somebody bad had happened to him but he wouldn't tell us. He was keeping it a secret. He said that nothing happened but one day he was just different. It was so sudden. He started panicking over small things and flinching away when somebody would yell at him. Nobody in his family has ever hit him before so we couldn't figure out why he was so scared. We assumed it was the Socials but he seemed too scared for it to just be from them.

His nightmares started when he went through that change. He went from sleeping peacefully to waking up screaming nearly every night for a while. He was only about eight years old at that time but he was still too old to be waking up screaming. He would sleep with his parents a lot during that time. The nightmares subsided after a while of course but it still happened. He told me that he still had those nightmares a lot but he didn't wake up screaming anymore. That's around the time me and him began talking to each other more. Aside from the nightmares, he started acting differently. He used to try to act older and tougher by wanting to do things alone but then he refused to do anything alone. He always wanted to be near the gang. He always seemed hesitant to go to school. Ever since he started school he had been smart but when he started third grade he stopped wanting to go. That entire year he gave his parents a hard time about going to school. He grew out of that quickly going into fourth grade but that whole year he was scared to go. He wouldn't let people get close to him unless he was the first to initiate it. He stopped doing that after a while but it never left my mind that at one point he was scared of everybody.

My eyes went wide as those thoughts came. Something happened to him. Something bad. He was lying to us. He remembered his nightmares. He told us that he didn't remember because they had to do with whatever happened to him. "Pone," I whispered, reaching out to grab his arm gently. He looked up at me, eyes dried of tears for only a moment before they came back. He blinked them away again and again but they kept coming back. I moved closer to him, grabbing his hand. We didn't really hold hands but it was something Soda did when he was really shaken up. I put my hand on top of the back of his and squeezed. He squeezed the couch cushion as if he was squeezing back. "Pone, what happened to tellin' each other everythin'?"

"I do tell ya everythin'," he said quietly and I noticed something I wish I would've noticed years before. He avoided eye contact. I wondered how long he had been looking away when lying. If he had been doing it forever, how had I not noticed?

"No...You don't. What're your nightmares 'bout, Pone?" I asked, staring at him with tears in my own eyes. I wasn't crying for myself anymore. I was crying for him. What had happened to him? Why hadn't I noticed how big of a deal it was sooner?

"I don't 'member, Johnnycakes," he mumbled, shaking his head. He pulled his hand away and ran his fingers through his hair with a small sigh. "I never could 'member 'em. Ya know that."

"Ya ain't gonna fool me again. Can ya make this easy an' just tell me?" I asked, hoping he'd be less stubborn than usual. My mind was racing was possibilities. None of them were exactly pleasant to think.

I watched the slightly guarded look in his eyes falter. When the tears came back to his eyes, he didn't blink them away. In fact, he started to sob. He covered his mouth with his hand as he let out a quiet whimper. I knew that his brothers were asleep so he had to be quiet so he didn't wake them. Without hesitation, I wrapped both of my arms around him and pulled him close to me as he cried. He started blubbering but it was really hard to understand what he was saying. I was able to pick up a few words that tore my heart to pieces. "Hurts." "Been so long." "Still feel it." "Scared."

"C'mon, Pone," I whispered, rubbing his back with my fingers. He was starting to breathe faster and heavier. He must've been terrified. I couldn't imagine waking up like that nearly every time I slept. I didn't witness as many nightmares as people would have expected. He wouldn't sleep when I was around him so that's why I stopped sleeping in the same room as him. We used to have sleepovers as children but I noticed how he'd stay awake all night. I started sleeping in the living room when I stayed over from then on. "Pony, calm down a bit, 'kay? You're scarin' me."

"'m sorry," he gasped into my shirt. He was fighting for breath. I reached my hand up to stroke his hair, hoping I could calm him down somehow. I wasn't lying when I said he was scaring me. I was terrified for my friend. I can't understand how Sodapop was able to handle his nightmares without freaking out himself. Seeing his reaction every night was enough to make anybody panic.

"Shhh, Pone," I kept repeating. "It's gonna be okay. Everythin' is gon' be just fine." After a few more minutes of his quiet sobbing, he pulled away and wiped his eyes. "You ready to talk 'bout it?"

He was silent for a moment but I knew he was just getting ready to talk. I could see building up the courage to speak so I gave him the time. He took a deep breath and looked up, meeting my eyes. "It was so long ago...I shouldn't be this bothered by it still, should I?"

"You'll carry some things with ya for a while, Pone," I said, offering him a small smile. I know I did but at the same time I had constant reminders. I didn't know if he did or not. I still didn't know what it was. "What is it?"

"When I was in third grade," he started in a whisper, peeking down the hallway to make sure nobody was coming I'm sure, "I had this teacher who...well, he wasn't a good guy, I guess. Mr. Stanley kept me after class lots. You 'member that? He told mom and dad that I was very advanced for my age and he was givin' me extra stuff to work on so I wouldn't get bored. He'd keep me durin' gym sometimes an' he found anytime to keep me 'round longer."

Nervousness grew in my stomach. I asked myself if he was telling me that his teacher had hurt him. I decided not to jump to conclusions. I had to wait for him to finish his story. "Go on, Pone."

"He...Glory. Johnny, don't make me say it," he pleaded, staring at me with desperate eyes. "He hurt me. God, he hurt me." He exploded in more tears and all I could do was hold him. I didn't know what I could say to even make an attempt to help him. I knew what he was saying when he said that his teacher hurt him. His teacher molested him. "Sorry, sorry, sorry."

"Why're ya apologizin', Pony?" I asked, pulling away so I could look at him.

"I-I'm supposed t-to b-be helpin' you," he stuttered, making an obvious attempt to stop crying. He kept his hand over his mouth to stifle the sounds.

"I'm okay, man. I got it out my system," I said honestly. I had cried myself out over my parents. When I cried over them, I didn't cry long. I couldn't. I knew they weren't worth it. Once I got the moment of emotions out, I was okay. It still hurt but it didn't hurt bad enough to cry over it. "Why haven't ya told us?"

"I didn't want y'all to hate me," he whispered. Then he stopped and looked at me with sad eyes. "You don't hate me...right?"

"Never," I promised. He stared at me for a moment before smiling softly. He believed me and that's all that mattered right then. I couldn't imagine what he felt like. He lived with a secret like that for about six years. He suffered so much but he handled himself so well. He became a quiet little dreamer. I know I mentioned the bad changes in him but everything grew into who he was.

As a young child, he wasn't a huge dreamer. At least he wasn't when I first met him when he was four and I was six. He was very materialistic as many kids are but there were some key things that differentiated him from the average kid. He didn't believe in things like Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy. He had to see it to believe it, even at four years old. He didn't dream about things that weren't there. He lacked imagination. But as he got older and those changes started we all watched as his imagination took over. He started to draw things. It started off as simple drawings like a flower or a house or something but he took those simple drawings and just went away with them. By ten years old, I think, he was drawing like a professional. He started reading books at about eight and could get lost in the entire story. That's when he started getting into movies, too. He started dreaming about the future. He started dreaming about everything. I figured that that's how he handled what happened to him.

"You're so brave," I said, not meaning to say it out loud. He gave me a confused look. "I mean...you went through so much but ya found a way to get through it and make somethin' better for ya."

He smiled and I could tell in his eyes that he was relieved. "I didn't think anybody would understand that."

"How could I not?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "It was obvious now that I know what happened. You took your bad experience and found a way to let it better ya. You're a little dreamer now. You weren't like that before."

"I don't like that it happened but I guess I do like this outcome," he said, pushing his hair out of his forehead. He looked different without grease in his hair. It was long but seemed longer without the grease. It fell over his forehead in small curls but they weren't overwhelming curls. I knew he hated it without the curls. He hated his looks as it was. It was sad. He was a looker just like his brother Sodapop was.

"Pone," I said gently, knowing he wasn't going to like what I was going to suggest, "maybe you should tell your brothers."

To my surprise, he only nodded. "I know I should. I just...I can't talk 'bout it, ya dig? I'm still scared."

"Did it go on all year?"

"Yeah. A little bit in fourth grade, too, but only for a few weeks," he said, his voice embarrassed. I could tell he really didn't want to talk about it but he looked relieved at the same time. I guess hiding a secret for that long could take it's toll on a person emotionally.

"Have you seen him since then?" I asked and he immediately paled.

"I see 'im a lot. He moved to the middle school last year so I see 'im in the hallways," he whispered, biting at his finger nails. That was a sign that he was going to explode if he didn't get a cigarette soon. I wished I could help him but it was late at night and nobody was allowed to smoke in the house.

"Has he tried anythin'?"

"Once," he muttered, shifting in his seat. He was getting antsy. "I'm stronger now than I was then, though. I was able to fight 'im off. Hasn't tried anythin' since."

Ponyboy may have looked weak. He was anything but that. He was really strong. If he used his strength, he could take on anybody in the gang. Everybody picked on him a lot because he wouldn't fight back. They knew he was strong, though, but I doubt even they knew how strong he could get. When me and him were out one time, we got jumped by five Socs. He really let those guys have it. We were outnumbered but I think he got protective over me. He went crazy when I was knocked to the ground. I never saw him use his strength for his own protection but he used a lot of it for others. He could hold his own in fights. He definitely could.

"Pony?" a worried voice called out from down the hall. It was Sodapop. He must've woken up and saw that Ponyboy was there. They slept in the same bed together because after their parents died Pony's nightmares got even worse. It made sense why, too. His protectors died. They weren't there for him anymore. That's what I guessed, at least. I don't know if I was right or not but I'm willing to bet I was. Feet scurried down the hallway until they made it to the living room where we were. Soda's features relaxed. "What're you two doin' up? Havin' a slumber party?" he asked, smiling at us. Then he frowned. "Hey, Pone, why you cryin'? Johnny, you look like you were cryin', too. What happened?"

Me and Pony shared a look. I gave him a nod, assuring him that it'd be okay. He was silently asking if he should tell Sodapop. He needed to. Maybe him talking about it would help him heal. Maybe that's all he needed to do. "I'll tell ya tomorrow', Pepsi," Pony said quietly, using Sodapop's pet name from their dad. "I'll tell you an' Darry both."

"We can wake Darry up if this is important, Pone," Soda said, sitting down on the other side of Ponyboy. He put his arm around his shoulders before looking at me. "You okay, Johnny? Anythin' happen to ya?"

"Nah, man," I said and smiled to show him I was okay. I glanced at Pony real quick to let him know that it had to do with his brother, not me.

"What's this 'bout, Pone?" Soda asked, rubbing his brother's back.

"My nightmares," Pony whispered, looking at me with desperate eyes. He wanted me to do something but there was nothing I could do. Pony already said he'd tell his brothers. I could be there for him and offer him support but I couldn't do much else. I gave him another small nod, telling him to tell them before morning. If he waited, he would've talked himself out of it.

"I'll go wake Dare, 'kay, Pone?" he asked. Slowly, Ponyboy nodded.

Five minutes later, the four of us were situated in the living room. Everybody was wide awake. Me and Pony were wide awake from talking and his brothers were wide awake because they knew it was serious and they were worried about the youngest of us. Their baby brother. I knew that it'd kill them to hear what Pony had to say. It nearly killed me. "What's goin' on, Pone?" Darry asked, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. Darry would never hurt any of us but he always sounded threatening. It was just who he was.

"You know how I tell y'all I can't 'member my nightmares?" he asked still talking in a whisper like he had been. His brothers both nodded, sad looks covering their faces along with a worried look. They knew what he was going to say. They knew that he remembered them. "Well...I lied. I don't forget my nightmares."

"Why don't you tell us what they're 'bout, Lil Colt?" Darry asked, using Ponyboy's pet name.

"I didn't want you guys to find out...I didn't want to tell ya what happened," he said, tapping his fingers against his leg. I could tell he was trying as hard as he could to keep his tears at bay.

"What're you talkin' 'bout, Pone?" Soda asked, looking intently at Pony. Ponyboy only lowered his face so he was staring at the floor. Since I was right next to him, I could see the tears that came despite how hard he was trying. "It's okay, honey. You can tell us."

"Do ya 'member Mr. Stanley?" he asked, his voice displaying the tears that he was trying to keep hidden. Immediately, Soda and Darry moved so they were kneeling in front of Pony, trying to comfort him and stop his tears.

"Yeah, little buddy. He was your teacher in, what third grade? What 'bout 'im?" Darry asked, grabbing Ponyboy's chin so he couldn't face the floor anymore. Soda grabbed his hand and intertwined their fingers, squeezing. When he didn't answer, Darry reached forward to wipe Pony's tears. "C'mon, honey, what is it?"

"He...He...He hurt me, a-and...I'm...I'm sorry...For not sayin' anythin' sooner. It was...he...I didn't want anyone to hate me..." Pony stuttered, biting his lip a few times to hold back loud cries I think.

"What do you mean he hurt you?" Soda asked gently but his eyes held anger. He knew exactly what Ponyboy meant but I think he was trying to avoid assuming. He wanted to hear what Pony had to say so he didn't assume the wrong thing. "Nobody hates ya, Pone. None of us hate ya. I promise, baby. What do ya mean?"

"He...I don't wanna say it...He did bad things ta me...More than just hittin' me...He...t-touched m-me...He did it all..."

Ponyboy's voice sounded so broken and lost. It sounded so much more heartbroken than when it was just me and him. I could tell that he was just so drained. He went through so many emotions that night. He let his secret spill to his brothers and me, his best friend. That's a lot to go through at three in the morning. Soda immediately wrapped his arms around Pony and Darry wrapped his arms around the two of them. "Oh, god, Pone," Soda whispered in his ear but I still heard it. "I should've known...I'm so sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Pony whispered back. "You couldn't of known..."

"We got you," Darry said firmly, rocking his two brothers. "We got ya."

After a few tearful minutes, the three broke apart. Ponyboy surprised me by smiling. "I think I'll be okay now," he said, wiping away his remaining tears. Then, he yawned.

Soda smiled at my best friend. "Let's get ya back to bed," he said, gently standing Pony up. Pony went from being wide awake to basically sleep walking. He nodded and let Soda lead him down the hall, his eyes drooping the entire way there. He cried himself out. I knew he was right. I knew he'd be okay. He got everything off of his chest. He let his secret out. He let all of his emotions out in a way other than drawing a picture or reading a book. He'd be okay. I knew he would be.

Darry stood up and went to walk down the hall, too, but then he stopped and looked back at me. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "Thank you for helpin' Pone and for bein' there. I don't know how you did it but you finally got 'im to open up. I can't thank ya enough."

"Ya don't have to thank me at all, man," I said, my face heating up from the attention. I didn't talk much unless I was talking to only Ponyboy or Dallas. I wasn't used to talking one-on-one with anybody else in the gang. "We all care 'bout Pony."

He gave me a smile and stared at me for another long moment before speaking up again. "Get some rest, Johnnycakes. It's late an' you look beat."

"You too, man," I said, covering my face when I began to yawn. He nodded and I was left alone again. But that wasn't a bad thing. I didn't mind being alone. I was tired and ready for bed. I felt calmer. Pony helped me deal with my own nightmare and I wasn't as worried about him as I had been for years. I knew he would be okay. I knew everything would be okay from then on. He went through a horrible thing but he was a strong kid. Most other people who went through something like that because cold like Dallas and Tim Shepard and everybody. I'm not saying that they went through any of that because I don't know but I know people turned cold like them. I don't think Dallas ever went through what Pony had been but that doesn't matter. He stayed pure and innocent even though he had all of his innocence stolen away. He said his teacher did it all so I knew it was more than just touching. I couldn't imagine going through that. Pony handled himself and he made it. He was scarred from it and carried many problems from it but he still made it. Now I knew he'd be okay for good. Sure, I knew that his problem didn't just disappear, but I knew he'd get better. Everything is going to be okay, I thought as I drifted off into sleep.

Ponyboy Curtis slept through the rest of the night.

A/N This is just an idea that came to my head when I was trying to procrastinate. It was an idea for a story I had but I decided it fit better as a oneshot since I had absolutely no idea how to write a decent story around this plot. It wouldn't be very long if I did and I'm sure it would be lacking a lot of major plot and character development so I am keeping this as a oneshot. I've been working on different stories but one I was working on deleted itself from my computer. It was a really good story in my opinion. It was a third-person story where Ponyboy was in the accident that killed the Curtis parents. He didn't die but he suffered some injuries. None of the injuries were too terrible and he was released from the hospital after a few weeks. He stopped talking as often and he suffered from PTSD. He wouldn't tell anybody what he saw so nobody knew if he saw his parents die. I got the idea from another story that I've read. I decided I wanted to write a story like that. Unfortunately, when I was about halfway through the story, it deleted so I couldn't continue. I might go back and rewrite it eventually. I'm also working on a sequel to my story The Basement. I finished the first story about two months ago but I'm really taking my time with this one. I'm trying to make it longer and more well-written than the first. Anyways, thank you all for reading.