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Steve Randle loved cars. He loved looking at them, fixing them, driving them. Hell, he would even love crashing one. He didn’t think that was concerning until one day he was cruising down the road with his best friend in the seat beside him and absently mentioned it.
It was a Friday, and a rare one where Steve and Sodapop had gotten off early, so they were free to do whatever they pleased. Evie had to have dinner with her grandparents and Sandy was working on homework, so a double date was out of the question. So Steve suggested they just drive. Hit the road and see where it took them.
Soda just wanted to get away from Darrel and Ponyboy’s arguing. It had been four months since their folks died, and it seemed every week that passed, their fights got louder and longer.
“How was school today, Stevie?” Soda asked, kicking his feet up on the dash and throwing a glance towards the older boy.
He shot a disapproving look at Soda’s bare, certainly not clean, feet on his dashboard. “Fine. Nothing too bad. Can’t wait for summer- this year has been hell.” He sighed, speeding up a bit.
Soda nodded quietly. He didn’t miss school, not at all, but he missed being there with his friends. He missed being able to pass notes to Steve or pull pranks with Two-Bit or check in on Ponyboy between classes. And every day, he felt the weight of guilt that liked to settle between his ribs, the idea that if his parents were still there, they would be so disappointed that he dropped out. “This year has been worse than hell, and it’s only April.”
“Damn.”
After that, they stopped chatting for a few quiet moments, Soda cranking up the radio and Steve rolling down his window a little.
Steve gripped the wheel, gazing at the road in front of them. He often wondered what would happen if he just let go, just a small bit, and let the car drift into another lane, or a tree, or a lamppost. He wondered what it would feel like to be free for a few fleeting seconds, then to not feel… anything.
He wondered if he would never feel real freedom until he was dead.
“You ever think…” He spoke quietly, softer than he normally would.
“Sometimes, although probably not as much as I should.” Soda joked, shooting him a smile. It quickly faded as he saw his best friend’s serious expression. “About what?”
“It’s… nah, it’s nothing.” He shook his head, hoping that would be enough for him to keep his damn mouth shut.
“Oh, c’mon, man. Do I ever think about what?” He reached over and shook his shoulder. “You can’t leave me hanging- you know that never goes well.”
Sighing, he briefly let his eyes settle on Soda and the ever-present glimmer in his eyes. I wonder if he ever forgets that his folks are dead. How else could he be so happy?
Soda gripped his shoulder a bit harder. “Steeeeevieeeee,” He dragged out, pleading. “I’m too nosy for this mysteriousness- what were you goin’ to say?”
“Fine, fine.” He glared, although it disappeared almost instantly. “Do you ever wonder… what it would feel like, to just… to crash?”
Silencing for a movement, Soda dropped his hand, brows furrowing. “What? A car?”
He nodded once. “Yeah. Like, you ever wonder what that would feel like? What it’d be like to be in control one second and then… not. Or, or to be scared for a moment, but then you’re… you’re just, okay. You’re gone. You’re free.” The last sentence slipped from his lips in a breath.
He disliked the shaky inhale he heard come from Soda. It was unusual for him not to already be talking away about what Steve had said. It was worrying the hell out of Steve.
Soda slid his feet off the dash and pulled his knees against his chest. “Steve, you-you… park the car.” He said- instructed, almost.
“What?”
“Park the car, man.”
“I ain’t gonna park the car, Pop. I’m fine.”
“Steve, I don’t trust you behind the wheel right now.”
“I’m not goin’ to crash, dammit! This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”
“We gotta talk about this-”
“No, we don’t.”
“You just- you want to crash- ”
“Sodapop, stop it.”
“Steve- ”
“Shut up.”
“Steve,” He begged. “I don’t want my brothers to get another call- it’s only been four months,”
Steve scoffed. “I would never kill you, Soda!”
“But you’d kill yourself?!” He shouted, eyes growing wide the second it left his mouth. “Stevie- I…”
“Fuck off.” He snapped, grasping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.
Soda listened, keeping his mouth tightly shut, his eyes looking out the window, his arms wrapped around his knees. I don’t wanna lose you too, Steve. I can’t lose you, too.
With a harshness he rarely showed when it was just him and Soda, Steve tried to crank up the radio, failed, then slammed his palm against the dash when the knob jammed. Somehow, hitting the car worked, and he turned up the radio so loud the car shook.
Or so loud that he wouldn’t be able to hear Soda if he tried to speak.
He knew he was right. But he hadn’t realized Soda would catch on… or take it so seriously… or not just, agree. He didn’t want to think about how his thoughts were darker than Soda’s, or maybe anyone in the gang, besides possibly Johnny.
He didn’t want to think about how he shouldn’t want to crash his car every time he was behind the wheel. He would rather just drive, and be quiet, and act like there wasn’t something wrong with him.
Once they reached a stoplight, Soda tentatively leaned over and lowered the volume of the radio. He took a breath. “I’m sorry.”
Steve’s head turned abruptly, his eyes flickering up to his face. “Sorry?”
“I’m sorry I… yelled. I just, I don’t want anythin’ bad happening to you, Steve. You’re my… you’re my best friend. I don’t wanna bury you. Not now, not… not ever. Remember that joint funeral we planned when we were seven?”
Steve barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “Soda…” He glanced back at the light, to make sure it was still red, then looked into Soda’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t… I don’t know why I told you to fuck off. That possibly wasn’t the best way to try and end the conversation.”
Now Soda laughed. “It’s okay, brother. We’re okay.”
He scratched the back of his neck, turning back to face the road. Then, slowly, he shook his head. “No.”
“What? But- we said sorry,”
“No I, I mean it isn’t okay. I don’t think… that I’m okay.” He started driving once the light flashed to green.
“Oh.” Soda frowned, nodding. “Is there anything I can do?”
Steve hesitated before shaking his head again. “I don’t think so, Dr. Pepper. Thanks,”
“Yeah. Hey, do you wanna get ice cream?”
“Does Darry argue with Ponyboy?”
“Too far, man.”
“But you gotta admit, it’s surer than a bear poopin’ in the woods.”
“Maybe no ice cream, actually…”
“No! Come on- it was a joke- please-”
“Hmm… I’m not so sure.”
“If we don’t get ice cream, I crash the car.”
“Steven Lucas Randle!”
“Okay, okay yeah I get that one went too far.”