Disclaimer: I do not own the Outsiders, S. E Hinton does - and I do not gain any profit in making this.

Alright, last chapter! Hope you guys like the changes!

Chapter three

Back to Present Time

Later on, Dally gave Johnny a six-inch blade he stole in some fight, saying "he didn't need it." He wasn't looking at Johnny and if you looked really, really closely…his cheeks were pink.

He was never able to say sorry to even save his life.

"And all this time…I've never even thought of it until now," I said, sighing. I was starting to feel bad. How many times had Johnny thought about my words? How many times had he thought about it after his dad's beatings? The Soc's beatings? After he killed Bob?

How many times had he looked at the six-inch blade his hero gave him without thinking it as a 'present' he had used as a murder weapon?

And then all the while he thought about it, his friend forgot all about it after his parent's auto wreck and had to go through it all over again, because – unlike him – he had completely let go of that important memory.

"I'm sorry Johnny…I still don't even know what you're talking about."

I went over to my desk and sat back down on my chair, gripping my art book. I tried not to look at the picture. It seemed to mock me, now. And I don't even know what they're mocking me about.

"I guess I owe it to ya, then, huh?" I said, looking out the window. "I guess I should finally figure it out, now." Alright, now stop talking to yourself and actually think!

After a few moments of looking out of the window, mind blank, I groaned and hit my forehead with a fist.

Think, damn it, think!

Hey, that actually helped…

Everyone's the same in some sorta way, no matter how different they are. But people like me and Dall'…well, are past the point o' being the same, ya know?

Okay, the first part. No matter how different, people have things in common. Alright, so what about me and Darry? We have a lot of common now, since we actually understand each other, but it was different back then. We had nothing in common! He was as serious just as I was dreamy. You couldn't read him easy, but you can get what I'm thinking with a glance.

God, I sound like a teenager again…or, more precisely, my kids when they were still teenagers and they whined about me to their mom. "He doesn't try to get me. Why should I try when he doesn't?!" Have I ever sounded this dumb and this blind when I bitch to Soda about Darry?

Alright…I pretty much did…

Great, some common ground with my kids when I don't need it….in the way I don't want it…and in the most indirect way possible.

I froze. "The most indirect way possible…?" Some sorta way. Some sorta way. I know it has something to do with "indirect"; I know that. But indirect how? I look down, at the picture, at the lines…and see words.

He was as serious just as I was dreamy.

He was. But that's how Darry and I were the same. He is everything I am because…because we were different? No, that makes no sense. Alright, trying again.

He is everything I am because…both our personalities are on the same level. We were practically the same; the only thing separating us was just exactly what we were intense about.

Darry – Football. Me – Track.

Darry – paying the bills. Me – Getting through school.

Darry – worrying about the future. Me – wondering about the present.

We were so alike – but that's a reason why we weren't able to get each other. We just didn't like the reflection flashing back at us.

And for Johnny, Dally; But people like me and Dall'…well, are past the point o' being the same, ya know?

Yes, I know now. He meant that they could be just like each other, either Dally like Johnny or vice versa, at any moment! Dally lived on the streets of New York, practically being beaten on every turn. Johnny was beaten every turn, too. Yet, they decided to take different roads – Dally, the bitter and angry road; Johnny, the cracking and barely holding together road. But their lives are basically similar – and Johnny was a few seconds away from becoming Dally. Just…a few seconds away…

RING RING, RING RING

"Yes?" I said to the receiver, dazedly.

"Hey there, Ponyboy!" The familiar voice brought me back to life. Since when did I pick up the phone?

"Oh, hey Two Bit, how're ya?" Almost everyone calls him Keith, now. He let go of his nickname a long time ago. The only people who still call him by Two Bit are me, Darry, Steve, and Jane.

"Alright. Marcy's bein' all too fine even when turning 41. She's still the pretty lil' –" he was cut off and I could hear 'Marcy' yelling at him. "Alright, Marcy, alright! Anyways, the brat's doin' good with his family, too."

I shook my head. "Two Bit, Jason is in his mid 20's for crying out loud. You don't call your son a brat once he's that age." I knew that if I called either of my kids "brat," I'd be getting one hell of a death glare.

"So? I fed him, held him when he was as big as a peanut, and changed his diapers. He's still a brat and he always will be," Two Bit paused and I refrained from saying "awww". That was the sweetest thing Two Bit ever said in his life. Then again, Two Bit wouldn't want to know that.

Then again, Two Bit was never able to hold on to a moment for long. "Especially since that day he chose to piss on Steve."

I burst out laughing. Even though that was decades ago, that was still hilarious as hell. Steve was forced to change Jason's diapers so he could practice for his oncoming baby. But just as soon as he removed the diapers, Jason started to piss all over him – getting his shirt, face, and a bit got in his mouth. It was in front of Two Bit, Darry, and me too. Two Bit never lived that down.

"Anyways, that ain't what I called ya 'bout. Did you finish your muse on Johnny 'n' Dally?" he asked, humming.

"I'm doing Johnny this year, remember? Dally was last year. But, yea, I'm almost done. I got a real good idea for the rest," I replied. It wasn't a lie either. I guess my imagination was just as good as it was when I was fourteen.

"Oh, right…well, mind telling me what ya wrote?" I rolled my eyes at Two Bit's innocent tone. That guy always asked helped from me. Darry wouldn't help him at all and Steve wasn't exactly a good resource.

"Alright. But you ain't gonna copy a sentence off of mine like last year, alright?" I asked, feeling a bit amused as I remembered last year's muse of Keith Matthews.

"Alright, alright! And I used my own words! I do have respect for the dead, especially for Dally and Johnny. So, what do you got?" I sat down at my desk, paper in front of me, and a new pencil in my hand. Looking at my beginning, it seemed all too perfect now. Very perfect.

"I hadn't written anythin' just yet, Two Bit. You're gonna help me. Well, with the first few paragraphs, anyway." I heard Two Bit sigh over the phone.

"If I have to," he muttered.

"Yes, you have to. Now, how does this sound?" I started, already writing.

"Perfect," Two Bit immediately replied. I grinned, but I didn't lead on to hearing a word that ass had said.

"I'm going to sorta make this into a story. So, how about this as a beginning: It's only been a few minutes and my pencil was already on the other side of the room."

End of Opposites Attract

Alrighty, Drop a review if you'd like. And tell me if I made adult Pony and Two Bit a bit too much like their teenage selves.

And can you tell who Two Bit's wife, Marcy, is?