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𝑫𝒂𝒚 2:𝑫𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒖𝒎

(Happy October 2nd! I wasn't sure initially how to tackle this prompt but I did my best haha! Anywho, today's prompt is delirium! So I decided to write about Ponyboy catching a fever haha)

"Achoo!" The sneezes of Ponyboy had become a regular occurrence. The swelled up red throat of his wasn't a plus for him either. He had a fever. Bad. The kind of fever where you need a cold wet rag draped upon the skin of your forehead. Ponyboy's face was already drenched before the dampening of the towel. The hot sweat beading down the pores of his skin. The gang was crowded around him like a fleshy mass at the foot of his bed. Ponyboy had missed nearly a whole week of school. The weight of the blankets on him, the feeling of the crushing on his chest. He felt frozen inside. Even though touching him would make you pull away your hand in surprise. The shake of his hands would make him slip anytime he would attempt to push himself off of the comfort of his bed. He caught a bug from Steve. Steve got it from one of his clients and who knows… Ain't like Steve was planning on apologizing.

"Damn, he got his will in order?"
Two-Bit asked, his sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips as if he were a puppet. A marionette tugging at his strings. The rest of the gang just grinned and scoffed, the rolls of their eyes being all Pony could see from his clouded vision. Ponyboy was out of it. Not a shred of himself in his mind at that moment. The nausea had made him puke out his own memories.

"He really ain't looking too hot huh? Could a smoke help him ease up?" Dally asked, pulling out a Marlboro of his own. The silver metal lighter flickering as his lips curl around the cancer stick. "Nah, he can barely talk. Let alone smoke." Soda responded, his reckless eyes fluttering with his camel like eyelashes. The gang was worried. They were doting, piling blankets on top of him, checking his temperature, reading to him, etcetera. He was the youngest after all. His stubborn attitude put up a fight. A losing battle if anything however.

“He’s got one nasty bug, no?” Johnny said, shaking his leg up and down as he held his stance. The gang nodded in unison, their heads drooping with sympathy. As much as Ponyboy was a stubborn fighter, he also had a terrible immune system. Unlike his siblings. Darry was constantly outside since he was young. He worked hard around dirt and grime since late elementary for an extra dime for his mama and papa. Sodapop would play all day in mud. Hell, he’d play in the rain anytime it happened. Ironically, those who are more careful around germs get the sickest. Ponyboy was even tossing out of his bed to go to school. “Soda, I’m fine- just fine! Peachy! I gotta go, I'm gonna miss the school work!” Ponyboy had pleaded days prior. His argument fell flat however. As flat as his body was after his legs gave out from him trying to flee out the planks of the door frame.
Soda took off work most days, plopping his spindly body down on the couch. Putting on some TV and watching with him. Soda wasn’t too good at reading. He’d read for Pony though. Anytime he could.

Despite all of Soda’s audible questionnaires that went unanswered by Ponyboy, he enjoyed it. He wondered if Ponyboy did too. Boy did he hope so.
“Hey y’all, we’re gonna get ready for dinner soon and I ain’t want y’all getting sick-” Darry started. He was looking for excuses to usher out the gang despite his fondness of their presence. “Yeah yeah. We’ll get outta your hair.” Dally said, scoffing as a ring of smoke kissed out of the puff of his lips. The gang stepped up, muttering their goodbyes and wishes for his health. Their footsteps followed them like shadows before the pitter patter had died. Soda being the only one left in the room.

“I oughta’ get started on dinner huh?”
Soda spurted out, rubbing down the calloused tips of his fingers.

“Yeah yeah. I’ll watch up on the kiddo.”
Darry said, tousling Soda's hair before pushing him out of the door. Soda shot him that movie star grin that could stop traffic. Darry smiled as well, the door slamming shut with a loud clamor. Darry let out a sigh, shuffling closer to the body of Ponyboy. He looked down at him, the glistening sweat of his skin sparkling under the bedside table lamp. Tissues piled up in his garbage can, a heap of white mucus filled garbage. Small moans and whines could be heard from Pony, burying his head in the wrinkles of his blankets.

“Mmm, Soda?”

Pony trailed off, his voice grown hoarse like an overgrown building. The flowers, blooming in his throat, obstructing his pipes.

“No, it’s not Soda-”

“Mmm, Soda…”

Ponyboy hummed, the blankets covering his lips like a mask. Darry huffed, the wheels turning in his head of Ponyboy's condition.

“I didn’t wanna stay home Soda I didn’t…”

Ponyboy's voice strained, a small squeak emerging from his vocal chords.

“I just wanna make Darry proud. I know he ain’t care about me now but he could. I gotta start by getting good grades I-I gotta Soda…”

Ponyboy squeaked. His vision clouded in a mist of illness. Darry’s gaze softened, a puff escaping his lips.

“You’re sick Pony. I’m sure he ain’t mind.”

Darry comforted. He was practically embracing the role of Sodapop.

“N-No he’s gotta! Everything I do isn’t good enough even now…I gotta Soda…I just gotta, please…”

Ponyboy's voice grew whiny, his voice strained with his previous coughing fits. Darry felt guilt wash over him like waves on the ocean. He knew the pressure on Ponyboy was too much. But he saw Ponyboy as himself. A smart boy. He didn’t want Pony to turn out like him. Laying bricks and getting nothing besides a highschool diploma. His voice shook, a smile creeping up on his lips. He brushed the tufts of Ponyboy's hair out of his face, the moistening sweat transferring on his hands.

“Darry’s proud. He’s proud of you kid. He just shows it differently than I do. Please, don’t ever compromise yourself over what you believe his wishes are.”

“Mmm…I wish he did.”

“I know he does.”

Word Count:1054