Hello there! Once again, thanks so much for the reviews! I really appreciate you taking the time to give your opinion :)

Sorry I haven't updated - I've actually started writing a novel. Crazy, huh? I'm doing it just for fun, since I'm only fourteen. I've written numerous short stories, but I've never finished a whole book. And besides, as you know, the more I write, the more I improve. So what the heck, I'll go for it :) But who knows? I mean, SE Hinton created one of the greatest stories EVER when she was 15/16!

I'm babbling now. Sorry about that. On to the story!

I don't own the Outsiders.

Steve's POV

"Thanks," I said gratefully to the man in the driver's seat. "I really appreciate it."

He grinned toothlessly and tipped his hat, saying, "No problem, kid. Sorry about yer friend." I nodded, hopping out of the rusty blue pickup. I stood in front of the Curtis's house, taking deep breaths to calm myself. Be brave, Steve.

It's been a few days since it happened. I had ran to the other side of town and slept in vacant lots. That's basically all I did - sleep and hate myself. That's it.

But this morning, I knew I was being a coward. Soda was going to be fine. He wouldn't be mad at me for taking him to see those girls. I decided to come home and face it. I couldn't just run away every time this happens. So I hitched a ride from that guy and vented everything to him. Turns out he was a pretty good listener.

But I'm mad at myself. I was being eaten alive with guilt, ripped apart from the inside out. I was a mess. I was dirty, exhausted, and kind of hungry. I barely ate anything, since my stomach felt like a ball of nerves being tossed around like a football. It wasn't until I was in the pickup that I realized how starving I was.

Despite my urge to go into Sodapop's house, something kept me back. I couldn't muster up the courage to face it. Plus, my legs felt like lead, welded to the pavement.

Quit being a coward, I told myself, Just go in and apologize. He'll understand. He's fine.

Another part of me told myself to run away again, because Soda didn't need me.

These conflicting parts of my mind fought until I forced myself to walk to the door.

Deep breaths. It's gonna be fine. I pushed open the door, and poked my head in. "Anyone home?" I asked shakily.

"Steve!" Soda said happily from the couch. "Welcome back, buddy!"

Thank Jesus almighty. He was okay.

I practically sprinted to the old sofa. "Sodapop, I'm so sor-"

He cut me off, pulling me into a hug. "Aw, shut up, man. I know what you're gonna say, so I'm just gonna go ahead and forgive you. Alright? You don't need to say nothin'. I understand."

I smiled as I bit back tears. I couldn't speak since it felt like there was a lump in my throat, so I just pressed my face into his shoulder. It took everything I had not to burst into tears.

"Stevie!" Darry said as he entered the room. He clapped me on the shoulder. "Good to see you, kid."

I just smiled at him. It was all I could do.

Darry sat on the couch with us. He gave Soda a wary glance, then looked me in the eye. "Steve, there's something we gotta tell you." His expression worried me.

"What?" I asked, not wanting to know the answer.

He looked at me sadly and said, "Soda's not doing too good."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I choke out. My breath hitches in my throat. Please don't say what I think you're gonna say.

"It means that his chemo isn't working. It's getting worse." He said solemnly.

"But there's other kinds of treatment though, right? Right?" I asked frantically. I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants and clenched them to hide the shaking.

"I'm sorry. He's dying." As he said this, he chewed his lip. His eyes looked watery.

Despite Darry's words, Sodapop's expression was placid.

I tried to speak, but no words came out. I just sat there with my mouth open, trying to remember to breath.

"He's got a year at most." Darry said, shaking his head. "I don't know what we're gonna do."

I couldn't prevent the tears. They streamed down my cheeks, but I barely noticed. Everything was blurry, and every second seemed like a million years.

I could only lean on Soda and clutch his shirt, soaking his shirt with salty tears.

"It's gonna be okay, Stevie." Sodapop whispered, rubbing soothing circles in my back.

No.

No.

No.

It was not going to be okay.

xxxxxxx

Soda's POV

Seeing Steve like that made me cry. We sat there for an hour, crying silent tears. It was the first time I cried since I found out I was dying. I finally broke.

I didn't expect his reaction. I expected him to yell, and scream, and deny what was happening. I expected him to leave again. I was ready for that. But this. This I wasn't ready for. I didn't expect this, and it made me cry.

Steve didn't like to cry. Honestly, I'd never seen him cry ever, up until I got sick. It seemed like he was crying a lot lately. But this time, he couldn't speak, and that terrified me. I was ready for yelling. This silence isn't Steve.

Darry got up and left soon after we started crying. I could tell he was trying to fight off tears. Thank God Ponyboy was with Johnny, because he'd be bawling, too.

Eventually I couldn't cry anymore, and I slowly pulled Steve off my shoulder. "Stevie?" I asked, my voice thick from bawling.

"Hmm?" He mumbled, wiping his eyes.

"You alright now?"

He looked at me, his dark eyes sadder than ever. "I'll never be alright, Soda. But I'm doin' better."

"But you will be alright. Eventually, you'll all move on. It doesn't seem like that right now, but it'll happen." I said.

"How?" He asked. "How the hell will I ever move on?"

I took a deep breath before answering, "I don't know. That's for you to figure out. But you'll be okay, I promise."

He didn't respond; he probably wasn't in the mood for arguing. Neither was I, for that matter.

"Look," I said, "How about we just pretend none of this happened? I don't want to spend my last months bein' a wuss. Let's make the best of it."

He tried to smile. "I guess you're right. I've done enough wussin' and cryin' for a lifetime." He said, chuckling shakily.

"Exactly. So let's say this - I'm healthy, you're happy, and everything's gonna be swell. Ya dig?"

"Yup." He agreed reluctantly, and pulled me into a tight hug.

But deep down, I think we both knew that was ridiculous. It wasn't going to be swell.

We just needed that lie to keep our heads above the water.

xxxxxxx

Darry's POV

The next morning, Pony was at school and I had a day off, so it was just me and Soda. We sat at the table, drinking chocolate milk and coffee.

It's been hard, but I've been able to act normal for Soda. I've managed to keep the tears away for a few days now. Except for yesterday - I had to leave him and Steve so I could bawl in my room. But he didn't see that.

I've wanted to cry, scream, throw something, and punch that doctor in the face. But I have to act normal.

Sodapop broke me out of my thoughts. "Hey Darry?" He asked, finishing off his glass of chocolate milk.

"Yeah Pepsi?"

"I wanted to talk about... arrangements." He replied, his eyes staring at something across the room, avoiding my gaze.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know..." He paused, trying to find the right words. "After."

Oh. Oh. "You mean funeral arrangements?" I asked hesitantly.

"Well, not just that," He explained. "I want to write a will."

I shook my head, taking a big gulp of coffee. "Soda, you don't need to worry about that. We'll take care of it when we need to."

"But what if it's too late?" His voice got shaky. "What if... what if it happens earlier than expected? I want to just do it now, to get it done."

I sighed. "If that's what you want, then sure. Do you want me to help you?"

"No," he replied. "I can do it."

I smiled at him. "You're a strong kid, you know that?"

He grinned.

xxxxxxxx

Soda's POV

I sat down in my room with two sheets of paper in front of me. One for what I want my funeral to be like, and one for my will. For a while, I just stared blankly at the pages, trying to find the right words.

Then I got an idea. I pulled out a few more sheets of paper, enough for each member of the gang. I began writing a letter to each of my friends.

I sealed the letters in envelopes, and left the funeral paper on the desk to give to Darry. I stuffed the letters under my and Pony's mattress, so they'd find it eventually after I die.

I smiled.

When I wrote those letters, I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. It was as though I had left a part of me within those papers, for each of them to have.

It would be my final gift to them.

xxxxxxxxx

As you know, don't be afraid to review and tell me your opinion, or advice, or if you want more/less of a character. I hope I've made it well known that I try my best to add in what you want.

Expect some Lindy interaction in one of the next chapters :p I sort of forgot about her. Haha. I think she'd be a good person for her to talk to, though. So would Johnnycake :D So expect both of them.

I love you guys!