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the-clown-who-loves-clowns · 2 days ago

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A quick parry fanfic I wrote like a month ago. It's based partly around on of my favorite songs, Darling, I hug a pillow by Morrissey. It's a really good song, I 100% recommend to give it a listen if you like the Smiths or Morrissey or really anything like that. That's all!

This is up on my Ao3 as well if you prefer to read there ->

Darling, I hug a pillow - Darry's POV

I was only 13 years old when I first realized I wasn't the way I was supposed to be. I felt feelings I wasn't meant to. I felt love. It wasn't a normal kind of love though. That's why it was wrong. My mother said to follow my heart, she was a good woman. When I told her, she told me I had many years to figure myself out, that all feelings existed for a reason. She hugged me and told me to trust myself. And that's what I've done ever since. Sometimes, I think I shouldn't.

I was up late, staring around my room. It was one of those nights where I couldn't sleep for some painful reason. Ponyboy and Sodapop had already been in bed for hours. It was around 3:00 in the morning and I knew I wouldn't sleep at all. My eyes wandered from corner to corner. Slung around my room was all kinds of clothing but one item was always my favorite. An old purple and white madras button up. It hung off the side of my bed. The colors were faded with wear. It was well loved. That was his shirt. Paul Holden. I think about him a lot.

He used to send me letters after I dropped out. I dug around through the drawer of my bedside table until I found a battered envelope. I remembered the nature of the letters. They started off sweet and apologetic then got hateful and bitter. I plucked the first one he ever wrote to me out of the envelope.

Darryl, you know how much you meant. School won't be the same without you. I understand though. You have to be there for your brothers. Man, I'm so sorry about your parents. They were great people. This is soon but, do you think maybe when you get on your feet, we could go catch a game some time? Your buddy, Paul.

I never got the chance to answer any of his letters. A strike of guilt hung in my chest. I placed the letter back into the envelope and took out the last one he sent. It was crumpled and torn in a few spots. It was like that when I got it.

You know what Darry? I give up. You won't answer my letters or my calls and I'd be damned to drive through that filth of a neighborhood all to come talk to you. You could always just stick those two brothers of yours in a boy's home and come back to college with me. If not, then screw you. Have fun living in the dump. I won't miss you but I'm sure you'll miss me. I'll be in touch. Call me.

I never did call him. It was like I could hear him reading them aloud. His voice was unforgettable. Strong, and clear, sometimes soft or commanding and rough. He could change his tone in a matter of seconds. I grabbed Paul's shirt and pulled it towards me. No matter how many times I washed it, it always smelled like him and his house, his car, his room. Everything he's ever touched.

I wrapped it around a pillow. I'd done this many times when I missed someone, like mom or dad, or even Ponyboy the time he was missing. I knew it was weird, that I would be judged if anyone were to find out. But it was one of the best ways I knew how to cope. In early hours of the morning, when everyone is asleep and I know I won't be bothered, I allow myself time to feel. During the day, I have to be strict and busy with no time for that kind of thing.

I hugged the pillow tightly to my chest, like many times before. I shut my eyes, focusing on the fuzzy whirring sounds of the house's appliances. Slowly they faded out, and a new sound faded in. It was music, and it was a song I knew very well.

The kitchen was blurry and oddly dark. The atmosphere felt unreal, probably because it was. I was dreaming, but I'd been here before, in this exact scenario. I was seventeen again. I wasn't dreaming, I was reliving a memory.

“You sure your parents won't be back for a while?” Paul asked. He looked just as I remembered. I missed him.

“Yeah” I said, going along with how I remembered the interaction. “And Pony should be at track for a while. You don't have to worry about Soda either, he'll be out for a bit.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

We had a complicated relationship with each other. It was on and off, sometimes I really considered making us official. He knew just as well as I did that we, two boys, shouldn't be interested in each other. I think it bugged me more than it did him. Even with advice from mom, I felt like I should've left it at friendship. He encouraged it though, by teasing me with romantic things like flowers and “dates”. I thought it was meant to be a joke at first, then he kept taking me out and buying flowers until it wasn't a joke anymore. It was genuine affection.

listened to the song closer, and I recognized it as the song my mother taught me how to slow-dance to. That was my cue to say something.

“Mom taught me how to dance with this song,” I said, laughing quietly. Paul turned to me with a smirk.

“Really now? Care to show?”

“Now?”

“Sure, why not?” he offered. I looked at him. His eyes were mesmerizing. I couldn't find my words for a minute.

“Well you got a dance partner, so it's not like you're gonna have to go with a broomstick or anything.” He laughed.

“You can dance?” I asked. Before that day, I had never seen him dance with anyone. He's had plenty of girlfriends before but I'd never seen him dance with any of them. He had many talents he hid from most people.

“I'm a natural born dancer, Darry” he joked. He turned the radio up a little bit. It was loud enough that we could hear it, but nobody could hear it outside of the kitchen. He looked at me with an expression I couldn't figure out. It looked like a mix of excitement, longing, relief, fear maybe. Why though, I wouldn't know.

“C'mere” he gently put his hands on my shoulders, swaying with the music slightly. I was a little panicked. Paul was a bit taller than me, and I never danced with anyone taller than me. It was an awkward game of “where to put my hands”

“I'm a lady,” he said in a high pitched voice. We both giggled until we lost our breath. There was a funny feeling in my hands, I assumed it was from calibrating where I'd put them. “Love me! care about me! blah blah blah” he batted his eyelashes.

“You can put your arms around my waist, man,” he said, returning to his normal voice. “I don't mind.” He took his hands off my shoulders to guide mine to his waist. He knew me well enough to know I wouldn't do it myself.

We rocked back and forth for a while. He seemed to be enjoying himself, I was having fun too. The whole time I wondered how I got myself into this. It was just a simple joke, but I was enjoying it way too much. I couldn't look him in the eyes no matter how hard I tried. As uncomfortable as I was, I felt like I could've stayed there for hours.

I noticed how tense I was and tried to relax myself. I'm sure Paul noticed. He pulled me into himself, scoffing. He smelled like cologne, he always smelled that way. He carried that scent like a signature. It was a faint cinnamon-like smell. His whole house smelled like that, only stronger.

“Darry,” he said with a randomly serious tone. “Darry, what are we doing?”

“huh?” He still held me to his chest.

“...Are you feeling the same way I'm feeling right now?” How was I supposed to know? It was a weird question, but at the time, it seemed vital that he asked.

“How would that be?” I asked

“I didn't think it could be like this, I've only ever felt like this with chicks.” love? I wondered.

“Yeah,” I said in more of a whispered way. “I think I feel the same.”

“Man,” he loosened the pressure holding me there. “What would my old man think?”

“It's okay. I think it is” I backed away from him. We were still holding each other in some places. He had one hand on my shoulder and I had one arm around his waist, about where his hips were.

“Didn't you read in the papers?” I could look him in the eyes now. They looked more compassionate and worried than I had ever seen them before. “Didn't you read about what happened to that queer couple out in Texas? Darry, what if someone finds out?”

“We'll be alright. Paul, we'll be fine so long as we keep it quiet.”

“Yeah okay”

He was afraid, I was too. By now the song had long been over, but we danced anyway. We stayed silent, moving with each other. I realized how warm he was and wondered if he was thinking the same thing.

“So that means you love me?”

“I guess it does”

“Does that mean we can kisssss?” He teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“Oh, shut up” I laughed softly. “You want a beer?”

“Your parents let you drink? You hood you!”

“You want one or not?”

“Yeah”

We sat at the kitchen table. It was around 4:30, which meant Ponyboy would be back soon. I wasn't trying to sneak Paul over, but I wasn't really supposed to have him at the house without asking first. It's not like Pony would have snitched but he's an awkward kid. He didn't like Paul all that much either.

“Dude!” Paul shouted suddenly. “My parents are gonna be so pissed! I'm past curfew!” He swore, got out of his chair, almost fell, and hurriedly walked to the door. I got up and followed him.

“You're leaving?”

“Yeah man, I gotta get home or my mom'll freak out” I nodded.

“see you tomorrow Darry”

“Bye”

I watched him through the window. He stood by his car, seemingly waiting for something. I saw him say something that I couldn't hear, then realized who he was talking to. Ponyboy walked from the sidewalk to the end of our driveway. He stared at Paul with an amused look. Paul said something I read as “good talk” and got into his car. Ponyboy walked to the porch and sat outside, watching him go.

“Hey Pony,” I called

“Why was Paul here? You know you're supposed to ask first.”

“Don't tell mom. He just wanted to stay here for a bit, nothing important.” It was something important, but I wouldn't dare telling anyone until I knew it was safe. Pony out of anyone would understand but I wasn't sure yet.

“Yeah, okay” he said sarcastically, flopping onto the couch.

The scene faded back into darkness and a low buzz somewhere off in a place I couldn't see. I was lying comfortably in my bed again, it was colder than I was used to. I sat up. Despite the chill in the room, it looked warm. A gentle sun beam poked through the blinds, making the room naturally bright in every place except the corners.

I wondered what time it was. It was late enough in the day for Ponyboy and Sodapop to be awake, I heard them in the kitchen clanking dishes around and talking with low murmurs. I ran my hands through my hair.

My face was warmer than anything on my body. I felt my eyes and noticed that my eyelashes were faintly damp. I had been crying, but in my sleep. I used to do that as a kid, mom would hold me whenever I did, no matter how big I was. I hoped I didn't look as bad as I felt.

Now I had to return to my life as a strict older brother. There's already too much grief going around, I shouldn't add to it. I liked living in times when everything was okay, but I knew not to believe the lies my brain told me. I took life as it was because I didn't have a choice. And I accepted it. We'd try and move past our hardships, but no problem is ever truly solved.

Paul was gone now, not really, but he was gone to me. And through the times we loved each other, he changed. It wasn't good for either of us. I wonder, does he think about me anymore?

"I won't miss you, but I'm sure you'll miss me."

Right.

#darry x paul #parry #paul holden #the outsiders fanfiction #the outsiders

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the-clown-who-loves-clowns · 2 days ago

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I wrote this a while ago but haven't met anyone I thought would want to read it, so I decided to post it on a platform. I've proofread it a couple of times, but there still might be a couple of spelling errors.

(Warning: mention of blood, knifes, and fighting)

Promise

The night I got out of the cooler, Tim came to pick me up. It was the first time I was put into a real jail since I was old enough to be held accountable. Being in constant fear or having to make sure you're ready to punch any guy that puts hands on you makes you a little tense when you get out. The correction officer took my cuffs off in the lobby and pushed me into Tim, who was waiting for me with his hands on his hips. He had a real serious face, but then again, he always had that kind of expression. He almost looked mad at me. And then it hit me. He was mad at me and I was in for it. He grabbed the nape of my neck and harshly guided me out the heavily guarded doors. Silently, I wished that I was in my cell again.

He pushed me into the passenger seat of our broken down jaguar and slammed the door then walked to his side of the car. He didn't get in so I waited. a cigarette break. I knew it was better to not try and talk with him. I knew whatever was going to be said was not going to be just talk. He was gonna get at me for getting caught. I know I had it coming but I hate being yelled at by Tim. Truth is he scared me. Just as bad as he scared the kids he mugged or beat up. He's killed people before. Living in a house with him and our “family” was worse than rotting in the ice box.

I saw the red-orange glow of his cigarette get ground away along with the last moments of my hope that he wouldn't be too mad. In a matter of seconds I was going to suffer the Wrath of My big brother. I hadn't done anything like that before so I knew we were going to have it out. I wasn't in a very fighting mood but if I didn't fight back he would go too far and kill me, That was the truth. He climbed into the driver's seat and slammed the door with an irritated sigh. Here we go, I thought.

“Stupid kid” he growled turning the car on “thought I taught you better”

We ripped out of the jail parking lot and drove in the direction of home. They put me in a pretty far away reformatory. It was about 30 minutes away from our house. Great 30 minutes with Tim.

“Guess I oughta teach you again huh?” He gripped the steering wheel and I knew I was going to be nothing but a limp pile at the end of the night.

“You ain't gonna teach nothin” I said quietly, grabbing the blade I had in my pocket. I had forgotten about that knife. When they locked me up they had taken all of my stuff and put it someplace until I got out then gave it all back. I was thankful they did. Tim gazed at me from the other side of the car with a look that scared me so much I couldn't move.

“Is that so?” He said with a dangerous grin “how else are you gonna learn then curly?”

My fight or flight was starting to kick in. I clutched the door handle. If I rolled out of that car I probably would be less scuffed up but if Tim got a hold of me. Lights out.

He stared at me for a long while then gave out a grim laugh. He probably saw how scared I looked. I could feel how wide my eyes were and how heavily I was breathing. We still had about 25 minutes left of a drive home when the car slowed to a stop. We were in a part of town that almost seemed dead at night. Nobody was around. No cops, no people, not even cars parked in the lots of stores. Tim turned the car off and got out. I still couldn't move. Within seconds, he ripped the door open and dragged me out by the collar of my jacket into an alleyway. I wanted to scream but knew better. This is what I got for getting caught doing stupid things. I had it coming to me.

“Lets see how much you learned in the pen”

I struggled to get away from his hold but He threw me into the brick wall, marking a dead end of the alley and knocked the wind out of me.

“wait! Tim I ain't-” it was too late.

He had me pinned with one hand and slugging me with the other. He's punched me before then but not ever as hard. Every blow made my vision go more and more blurry. I tried to fight back but he got rougher. Then he took his hands off me. I heard the flick of a switchblade Through my heavy breathing. i spat out blood and backed up as much as I could.

“w-wait Tim you ain't gonna kill me are you?” I pleaded. my legs were trembling and thought: this is it then.

He picked at his nails with the blade and slowly got closer.

“naw I ain't gonna kill ya. Just gonna give you uh a pop quiz. Yeah. How's that sound curly?”

I felt my legs give in but was held up by Tim who pinned me by the shoulder and was now pressing the blade into my neck. I let out a painful cry. He punched me in the ribs to quit me.

“Shut up Someone'll hear you!”

I had squirmed enough to get the switchblade out of his hands and onto the dirty concrete of the alley floor. He socked me a couple more times and let me fall. I stayed on the ground gasping for air but not moving, I mean I couldn't move. If I had made any more actions Tim would be on me again, beating the life outta me. So I pretend to pass out.

I couldn't see from how much I was struck in the face. I could tell my nose was broken and my whole face was bruised. When I drew in breath I got this stabbing pain. Some of my ribs were broken. And maybe a couple of my fingers were too. He got me pretty bad.

Without my eyes working I could only hear what was going on. It sounded like huffing or sniffing. It was crying and it was coming from Tim. He never cried. I heard him quietly sob until I felt his arms wrap around me and hoist me up. It startled me a little but I had to stay still on the account of what he was gonna do if I moved. He would have actually killed me. He sniffled and put me in the back of the car, lying down. My whole body ached.

What was I going to tell our folks?. Nothing. I'd tell them that's what happens in jail. Maybe angel would see and straighten up. I didn't want my baby sister in the reformatory. Tim started the car and drove the rest of the way home. I didn't want to ever get there but I couldn't go anywhere else. The car turned into a driveway. Our driveway. Gravel underneath the wheels crunched and grinded until the car came to a complete stop. Tim got out and slammed the door loudly behind him. Great. get mom and dad's attention, Why don't ya. I thought.

He swung the door closest to my head open and shook me a bit.

“wake up we're here” He demanded

“o-ka-y” I choked

I tried to sit upright but was dragged back down by the overpowering stabbing in my sides and chest. The more I moved the more my head hurt.

“What's the matter? Get on your feet”

“I-i ca-n't”

“What?”

“I C-can't move Tim”

The swelling in my face had gone down good enough that I could see. Tim covered his mouth and stepped back from the car a little ways. Then he came back, composed.

“Then I guess you're sleepin in the car tonight”

That was fine by me. I didn't want to go inside that house anyway. He slammed the door shut and I could hear his footsteps get further away.

He never cared about me so why did he cry? He beat the life outta me then I understood. He did care. He didn't want me caught again. It was the worst way he could show it but that's how our folks brought him up. He cared about me but that night I realized I didn't care about him. You just don't do that sort of thing to someone you care about. I wanted him to know that. Only problem was I was too scared of him. After that I couldn't even be in the same room with him. It felt like his cat-like eyes were always on me. I would never do something stupid in his presence ever again. He solved that problem at least.

After that night I wasn't much of a talker. If Tim spoke I stayed silent and only talked when told I could. Like a puppet. Following his rules gave him no reason to clobber me. So I did. What he doesn't know is i got my hands on a heater. I will never let something like that happen to me again. That's a promise.

#se hinton #curly shepard #tim shepard #that was then this is now #the outsiders #shepard gang #angela shepard

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