The outsiders one-shots

The Curtis house was alive with energy that evening. Ponyboy was sprawled on the couch with Johnny, flipping through a magazine, while Dally and Steve were loudly debating over some jukebox song they had heard at the Dingo. Darry, as usual, was in the kitchen cooking something that vaguely smelled like spaghetti, shouting at the others to quiet down.

Sodapop sat on the armrest of the couch, smiling faintly at the chaos. His brothers and friends could turn any regular night into something lively, and usually, he'd jump right into the mix. But tonight, he felt a little off.

"Hey, Soda, hand me that soda bottle, would ya?" Steve shouted without looking up from his conversation with Dally.

"Sure," Sodapop muttered, handing it to him.

Steve took it without even a glance. No thanks, no acknowledgment.

It wasn't the first time that day. In fact, the whole day had felt like this. Pony and Johnny had gone out earlier to watch a movie and hadn't bothered to invite him. Dally had shown up at the Curtis house, talking nonstop about a fight he'd gotten into, and never once asked how Soda's day was. Even Darry had seemed too preoccupied with work and chores to say much to him.

By the time dinner rolled around, Soda felt like a ghost in his own house.

"Pony, pass the bread," Darry said as they all sat down to eat.

"Johnny, you gotta hear this," Steve said, launching into some story about his latest prank at work.

Soda sat there quietly, pushing his food around on his plate. No one noticed.

After dinner, the gang started talking about plans for the weekend. They laughed and joked, the noise filling the small house, but Soda felt like he was on the outside looking in. He excused himself, mumbling something about being tired, but no one really heard him.

He climbed the stairs to his room, his chest tight. Once he closed the door, the tears came. He didn't want to cry—Soda hated feeling weak—but the loneliness was too much. He sat on the edge of his bed, his hands covering his face, and let the sobs come.

How could they forget about him? He was always the one making everyone laugh, always the one lifting spirits when things got rough. Didn't they see him?

He didn't know how long he sat there, but eventually, there was a knock at the door.

"Soda?" It was Ponyboy's voice, hesitant and soft.

Soda sniffled, quickly wiping his face. "Yeah?"

The door creaked open, and Pony peeked in, his eyes widening when he saw Soda's red-rimmed eyes.

"Hey...what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Soda muttered, turning away.

Pony stepped inside, followed by Darry and Johnny. Steve and Dally were close behind.

"Soda, we didn't mean to leave you out," Darry said, his voice filled with guilt. "We've been so caught up with everything else... I didn't even notice."

"You're the glue, man," Steve said awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. "I guess we took you for granted."

Soda looked at them, his tears threatening to spill again, but this time for a different reason.

"We're sorry, Sodapop," Johnny said quietly.

Ponyboy sat next to him, putting an arm around his shoulder. "We'd be lost without you."

Soda smiled faintly, his heart feeling a little lighter. "Just don't forget me next time, okay?"

"Never," Darry said firmly. "You're too important for that."

The gang stayed with him that night, sharing stories and laughing until the hurt faded away. Soda knew they wouldn't always get it right, but at least they cared enough to try—and that made all the difference.

Word count: 615