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Sodapop Curtis was born wrong—and, hell, that sounded way more dramatic than it was, trust him.
And that was it, wasn’t it? He wasn’t born, well, a he.
The only people aware of it was Darry, who thought he was gonna have a little sister ‘til Soda turned five and told his parents that being a girl just felt off, and his parents, who were…
…outta the picture.
They weren’t exactly sure what Soda was goin’ on about, but Soda was sobbing and snivelling, and he was sure about it, but they figured he'd grow out of it.
…he never did, and so then they began calling him their son, and whenever his recorded gender didn’t match his actual one, they laughed it off like there had been a funny mistake.
So Soda may not have been born right, but he was raised exactly the way he always should’ve been.
It wasn’t like Soda looked like a broad or anythin’, most of the time, anyway. He had chopped his hair off, and become accustomed to big pants and bigger shirts. It wasn’t even ‘til he was thirteen that his gender mix-up became this whole…thing.
“Ma!” Soda screeched from the restroom, early one morning.
“Oh, Soda, darlin’...you’re ‘bouta wake up the whole house with that hollerin’...what’s wrong?” His mom walked in, rubbing her eyes with this tired expression on her face.
“I’m bleedin’, Ma—am I dyin’? I- I dunno what’s wrong!” He stammered anxiously, tears welling up in his eyes, and his mom looked at where he had yanked off his underwear.
“Oh, baby…you’re okay. It’s called a period, Soda. It’s just your body acting up.” She soothed carefully, her arms open for a hug, and Soda threw himself into her arms.
“...aren’t those for ladies, Ma?” Soda croaked out, and she only looked at him with those brown eyes of hers.
“Soda…you were born with a lady’s body, you know that, right?” She stroked his hair carefully.
“...yeah?”
“That’s the only reason why, dear. Your body's gonna do some things that girls' bodies do, but we all know you’re a boy, Soda.” She smiled at him, and Soda blinked at her.
"...okay. Thanks, Ma." Soda looked down at the floor for a second. "...Um. How do I stop the blood?”
His mom laughed, “Oh, Soda…”
//
Soda stared at his reflection in the mirror, seeing how the initially sharp lines of his figure had curved, and scowled at it, before throwing on shorts and a t-shirt, ignoring the way that his voice hadn’t dropped yet because he had a broad’s body.
It didn’t usually bother him, really, not until he was fourteen and they had to change for PE, and he noticed how flat the other guy’s chests were, and how they didn’t have the same curves Soda did.
Soda found himself changing in the stalls more often than not, even if the guys called him shy or a prude for doing so.
Better that than being called a girl.
//
“Man, Soda, that fox’s totally into you.” Two-Bit leered at a girl who had come up to Soda at the drive-in. “She’s got a nice figure, too. Didya get a look at her?”
Soda…didn’t get the appeal. Not really.
“Uh, yeah. Sandy’s pretty…nice.” Soda murmured, and she did look nice, objectively. A pretty smile, flirty eyes, and well-maintained hair.
Somewhere in between a Soc and a Greaser, which was interesting.
“Oh come on, Soda. She’s a catch, trust me. Stella has nothin’ on her.”
Steve kept lookin’ at him like he was halfway through a thought he didn’t want anyone hearin’, and it drove Soda crazy.
“...dude, you can’t say that about your girl. It ain’t right.” Soda elbowed him, and Steve rolled his eyes.
“Oh, come on, Soda. What are you, a chick? It’s just a fact. She’s hot.”
Soda froze.
“I ain’t no chick, Steve. Don’t even joke ‘bout that.” He snapped. “Now, I’mma go fetch us some popcorn, and when I get back you better not be talkin’ about broads no more, you hear me?”
“Shoot, man. Fine! With how you’re actin’, it’s almost like you’re not even into broads or somethin’. You queer?” Steve scoffed, and Soda frowned.
“You ain’t ever… thought about it?” Steve asked, quieter than before, like he was talkin’ more to himself than Soda.
Soda just turned around, walking over to the concession stand.
Like hell Soda was queer. He was into broads—like any other guy, cause he was a guy.
He just hadn’t found the right girl yet.
Obviously.
Steve was just bein’ a prick, as if Soda hadn’t seen those damn leers the guy sent his way every once in a while.
And, yeah, they were best friends, but still, that was pretty fuckin’ queer if you asked Soda.
Soda thought long and hard as he paid for the popcorn, holding the bucket with a twisted expression on his face.
“Hey, you’re Soda, yeah?” The girl from earlier—Sandy—startled him, and Soda looked up hastily.
“That’s me, ma’am.” He grinned easy, and Sandy giggled.
“You know you could be a movie star, right?” Sandy complimented him shyly, her green eyes looking him up and down.
“Well, I could say the same thing for you, couldn’t I? You’re one hell of a catch, Sandy.” Soda repeated Steve’s words from earlier, the words feeling wrong on his lips.
“Oh, thank you, Soda!” She smiled, tucking her brown hair behind her ears. "You comin' back here next Friday?"
"Guess I could."
"Good."
After that, Sandy just kept…showing up. And Soda let her, because, after all, why wouldn’t he?
He wasn’t queer.
He was a guy.
//
Sandy and Soda walked home after school, and Soda ranted and raved about all of his least favorite teachers.
“There’s Mr. Roothe, who I’m almost sure works for the fuzz,” Soda began, and Sandy snorted.
“The fuzz? And why is that, Soda?”
“He’s so damn serious all the time! He’s oughta have a heater under his clothes or somethin’, Algebra is not that serious.”
Sandy only smiled, shaking her head.
“And don’t get me started with Mrs. Lewis! I mean, what kind of broad—”
Sandy cut him off with a kiss, and Soda went still, waiting for…
…nothing.
And yet he melted against her, kissing her back with closed eyes, pouring as much feeling into the kiss as he could.
Still, nothing.
…but that was probably normal.
They pulled back after a bit, and Sandy looked up at Soda with a smile.
“You’re a mighty good kisser, Soda.” She said in that sugary sweet voice of hers, and Soda smiled back.
“Likewise, Sandy.”
Soda walked her home, hand-in-hand. His chest wasn't full of butterflies.
It was warm.
Comfortable.
Safe.
Just...not the way people talked about in movies.
…but he smiled anyway, giving Sandy a kiss when they got to her place.
That had to be good enough.
Right?
Right.
//
Two-bit, Steve, Dally, and Soda hung out at the drive-in more often than not, and Soda watched as the three lads flirted with any broad that flung themselves at them, even if they seemed more interested in Soda than the three of them.
Despite his relationship with Stella—which was on-and-off, and clearly in the dumps—Steve seemed to be the most shameless of the trio.
…well, other than Dally, but it was less embarrassing because at least those broads seemed interested in him. When he wasn’t in the cooler, anyway.
“What’s so interesting about broads anyways?” Soda asked one day, and the three boys stared at him as if he asked what color the sky was. “What? It’s a genuine question…”
“Their rack.” Two-bit said immediately, a grin on his face. “Trust me, the bigger the better.”
“Naw, man,” Dally disagreed just as quickly. “It’s the face. I mean, that’s the best part about sleepin’ with ‘em, ain’t it? Watchin’ her when she—”
“The face? Hell naw.” Steve interrupted, clapping Soda on the shoulder, giving him a once-over. “It’s her ass, man. Shit, most broad’s round here are flat as a pancake, my Stella’s one of the few good ones.”
Soda watched them argue with huge eyes, because he had never…noticed those things about Sandy. Sure, she was a looker, but she was also sweet. Didn’t matter if she looked good if she was a bitch, right?
“...well. Aight.” Soda murmured, unconvinced.
“You know, Soda, if you were a broad, I’d reckon you’d have a nice ass, don’t worry.” Steve grinned at him, and Soda’s face went hot before he could stop it.
“He already does, Stevie!” Two-Bit exclaimed with a loud laugh, and Steve turned to him sharply, but Soda noticed the way his hand had stayed on his shoulder.
…okay.
//
Soda stared at his Algebra homework, chewing at his lip as he struggled to finish the assignment, his eyes getting wetter by the minute.
God, he was dumb.
The numbers kept swimming together until they all looked the same, and his mind wouldn’t stop wanderin’.
His Ma was out with his dad, but if she was here, she’d probably smooth a hand through his hair, give him a hot chocolate, and whisper sweet nothings into his ear.
But she wasn’t home, and Soda had just found out he was going to be re-taking freshman year.
Again.
And being a sixteen-year-old in freshman year was fuckin’ humiliating, especially when he couldn’t finish one fucking problem.
He covered his mouth with his hand, because Pony was home, and he didn’t want the kid to hear him sob ‘cause of something as dumb as homework.
Pony was smart.
He’d probably be able to do this assignment in ten minutes flat.
But Soda?
The phone rang suddenly, and Soda jumped, wiping at his eyes and standing up, grabbing the phone.
“Hello, is this the Curtis household?” A stoic voice came through, and she seemed pretty damn serious.
“Ah…yes? I’m Sodapop Curtis.” Soda wet his lips, “Um, who’s calling?”
“It’s the County General Hospital. Is there anyone else at your home? An older sibling, perhaps?”
Soda’s heart stopped beating as he turned around.
“DARRY!” He shouted, loudly, and his older brother could be heard groaning.
“What, Soda!?” Darry replied, walking to the kitchen. “You don’t gotta yell so loud. Who’s callin’?”
“The hospital, Dar.” Soda watched as Darry’s face went still, and his eyebrows furrowed as he grabbed the phone from Soda, pressing it to his ear.
“...yeah, this is Darry. I’m Soda’s older brother, yes…”
“...”
“...I’m their son, yes?”
“...”
“Oh lord. You- Jesus. Sweet Jesus, are you joking?”
His voice was strained.
Their Ma and Pa never came back home.
Soda tried.
He really did.
He went back to school the next week.
Then the week after.
Then he stopped going altogether.
Nothing was ever the same again.
//
He and Sandy were doing well, despite everything.
Even though Soda had become paranoid about anything touching his chest, and her hands had to stay above the waist, they were doing well.
But— but there were no sparks.
Soda liked being with Sandy, but he never felt…into her, the way Steve was into Stella.
But he had to be, so he decided maybe the warmth he felt when he was with her was love. It had to be, right?
“Hey, Soda?” Sandy asked softly one night, while they sat together in the grass, staring up at the stars.
“Yeah?”
“...you don’t smile as much anymore.”
He looked at her, and looked away, swallowing thickly.
“Guess not.” He mumbled.
Sandy hugged him, and Soda’s stomach dropped, expecting her to feel his abnormally soft chest, to scream, jerk back, to—
—nothing.
She just…hugged him.
He hugged her back.
And ignored the way it felt like nothing.
//
A few weeks after his parent’s funeral, Soda found himself in front of the bathroom, his supplies having run low a while ago.
His mom had promised to buy him new products, but…
…Soda just changed into his oldest shorts, and sat down on the bathroom floor, curling up into himself, and wincing whenever his stomach twisted and curled in pain.
“Soda, you’ve been in there for fuckin’ ages, bud, I’ve gotta piss.” Darry muttered roughly, knocking at the door, and Soda finally stood up, letting him in.
“...sorry, Dar.” He mumbled, his eyes downcast.
“The hell were you even- oh.” Darry’s eyes darted down to Soda’s now stained shorts, and then his eyes again. “I…go change, bud. I’ll bring you t’ the drug store, kay?”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I really do gotta piss, though, so wait for me.”
Soda smiled, and then changed into three pairs of underwear, sticking a wad of toilet paper there too, and then his usual tank top and jeans.
He finally choked down a few painkillers, and then he and Darry made their way to the nearest drugstore.
Darry looked at the menstrual products the same way Soda probably looked at Algebra, with furrowed eyebrows and wide eyes.
“...why the hell are there so many?” He whispered quietly, appalled. “And why are they so expensive?”
“I know, Darry. I know.” Soda said, with a small grin, before grabbing a product that looked close to his usual, hopefully.
…and then a few more, for good measure.
Soda then went to the cashier, who looked at him with a soft expression.
“For your sister, yeah?” She commented not unkindly, and Soda blinked at her, handing her his cash.
“Um, yeah. Our sister.” He replied with his own smile. “Could you bag those?” He asked hastily, and she did so, before putting in a chocolate bar as well.
“Tell her it’s my treat, okay? Heaven knows periods are hell on earth.” She grinned, and Soda blinked.
“Oh—thank you, ma’am. I will.”
“Of course. You two are great brothers.” She nodded towards Darry, who had begun standing next to Soda a bit ago, and then they finally walked out.
//
The car felt oddly silent without Soda’s usual chatter, as he messed with his bag.
“You need anything else, bud?” Darry asked, and Soda shook his head, despite how much he was craving a milkshake.
“Naw. ‘M good.”
Silence.
“...Ma used to deal with this stuff, huh? I’m no good, am I.” Darry tried to joke, but it came out…flat.
Soda felt his throat tighten, and tears flooded his eyes.
“You’re alright, Dar. Don’t say that.” He replied wetly, and Darry glanced at him. “Look- at the road. Not me.”
“...okay, bud. You…you know you can talk to me, right?”
Soda didn’t reply.
The rest of the car ride was silent.
//
A few days later, Soda was walking up to the high school to pick up Sandy, as per usual, when he caught her kissin’ some other guy.
Good-looking, too. He had a strong jawline. Broad shoulders. He looked like he played football, with ginger hair and a freckled face, and…
…huh.
He couldn’t say he was upset. Not really. He just felt…
…relieved, really. Like a weight had been taken off his shoulders.
Free.
“Hey, Sandy.” He said, casually, and Sandy jumped from the guy she was wrapped around, fear flashing on her face.
“Soda! I didn’t- I-”
“Don’t sweat it. We’re over, okay? That’s that.” Soda cut her off, and she frowned.
“...just like that? Soda, we’ve been together for two entire years—”
“—yeah, and then you go throw yourself at any handsome chap who’ll have you, yeah? We’re over, Sandy.”
Her eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t argue.
Soda turned around, and made his way to the DX.
//
“Sandy cheated on me with some guy.” Soda said once he walked in, and Steve’s eyes snapped to him, and he scowled.
“‘Course she did. Fuckin’ bitch. You good?”
“Yeah. I mean, at least he was hot, you know?”
Steve did a double take, and Soda realized he had…probably said something wrong.
“...hot?” He asked, and Soda flushed.
“I mean, yeah, shoot, I’ve got eyes, Steve.” Soda murmured, and Steve wet his lips. Soda eyed the movement with avid interest.
“Darlin’, you—are you sure you ain’t queer, Soda? That’s…I’ve never even seen ya look twice at a broad, man. You flirt, or whatever, but you don’t look at ‘em.” Steve’s voice wasn’t…harsh, Soda noticed.
He was just…askin’ a genuine question.
“I—I’m not, Steve. You know me, I’m into girls. I…I’m a guy, you know that.” Soda laughed, and it was…strained.
“I aint ever said you weren’t a guy, Soda. Just…I…I won’t hate ya if you’re queer, Soda. We’re best friends. It won’t…” Steve’s voice cracked, and he winced. His words were…hesitant, but careful. Controlled.
Practiced.
How long had Steve thought he was a queer for? For hell’s sake!
“I- I don’t know what you want me to say, Steve. I’m…I’m just me, man.” Soda stammered, and Steve sighed.
“...aight. Okay. It’s…fine.” Steve mumbled, and his eyes were filled with…something. “Sandy’s still a bitch, though.”
Steve stopped talkin’ before Soda even opened his mouth.
“She’s not that bad, Steve—”
“She cheated on you!”
“Man, you should’ve seen the guy, if I was a chick I would’ve cheated on me, too—”
“Soda!”
“What!?”
Steve rolled his eyes, but the smile stayed like it didn’t need permission.
So Soda grinned for him, his heart fluttering. Steve walked up to him, and started fixing up his collar like he usually did, strangely deep in thought.
“You ever think about—” Steve cleared his throat. “Forget it. Never mind.”
“Think about what, Steve?” Soda looked Steve in the eye, and Steve wet his lips, maintaining eye contact.
For a moment, Soda forgot how to breathe, his eyes lost in Steve’s own.
Then Steve looked away, clearing his throat. He didn’t look away fast enough.
Soda’s chest felt…warm.
No, not warm. Hot. Like he was being burnt alive, but he…craved it, almost. Huh.
“Nothin’, man.” He then smiled, stepping away after a beat too long, and Soda couldn’t help the way his heart skipped a beat. “Anyway…”
//
Soda got home with a pep in his step, but soon after, his mood dimmed, and when he caught sight of himself in the mirror he…
…god, he looked like a chick, didn’t he? Maybe it was his eyelashes. Or the curve of his lips. Or his chest he tried desperately to hide. It was—
God, it made him sick.
So fuckin’ sick. His body hadn’t made him feel this shitty since he was fucking thirteen, and now it felt even worse.
“Soda, you good?” Pony asked, his voice deeper than Soda remembered, and his face already growing some faint peach fuzz.
“...yeah, Pones. All good.” Soda smiled at him, before heading to his room.
…it just wasn’t fair.
First Soda was born in a girl’s body, and now his best fuckin’ friend thought he was queer, and he didn’t even have his—
Have his—
Soda bit his lip, yanking off his shirt and staring at himself in the mirror.
He sat on his bed, and curled into a ball, crying into his knees.
It was dramatic.
Unnecessary.
Stupid.
And then there was a knock at Soda’s door, and Soda didn’t care enough to put his shirt back on.
“It’s Darry, kid.” His brother’s deep timber came from behind the door. “I’ve got some dairy queen. Milkshakes.”
Soda sighed.
“...come in.”
Darry walked in, closing the door behind him, and his eyebrows only raised slightly at Soda’s state of undress.
“You want vanilla or strawberry?”
“...vanilla”
Darry handed him the cup, and Soda took a sip of the sugary sweetness.
“...hey, Dar?”
“Yeah?”
“Is…being queer…wrong? Like. Bad?” Soda asked softly.
“Naw, man. It’s love, ain’t it? Love can’t be bad.” Darry smiled crookedly, and Soda looked down.
“But…boys like girls. Like, real boys.”
“Darlin’, boys can like whoever they want. And the same is true for girls.” Darry took a sip of his milkshake, and Soda wet his lips.
“...really?” Soda breathed out.
“Really.”
And that was that.
Darry ruffled Soda’s hair, “Make sure to eat somethin’ after this, kid.”
“Yeah, yeah, I will!” Soda slapped his hand away, rolling his eyes.
//
It was dark out, and Steve and Soda’s shift had just ended.
They were standing outside of the DX, when Steve took out a blunt.
“Want one?” He asked, despite knowing the answer, and Soda shook his head.
He wasn’t into that kind of shit.
It was quiet out while Steve smoked, the wind blowing softly in the air.
The burning feeling returned, and he turned towards Steve, leaning in closer.
“Well. Maybe we could share?” Soda proposed, his voice softer than it needed to be, and Steve’s eyes widened.
“I…sure. Okay.” He handed the blunt over to Soda, who took a hit, and burst into a coughing fit.
“Holy shit, Steve, that tastes like hell!” Soda scowled, and Steve laughed, rubbing circles into Soda’s back.
“I know, darlin’. You’ll be alright. Wanna try again?” Soda’s face was burning, but Steve looked…happy.
“...fine!” He murmured, and Steve leaned in close, and Soda towered over him.
“See, just take a hit, perfect—and hold it in for me, yeah? Hold it a second." Steve rested a hand between Soda's shoulder blades. "There. Now breathe."
Soda did.
It…alright, yeah, it had a nice buzz to it.
But Soda couldn’t tell if the heat in his chest was caused by the nicotine or Steve’s proximity.
His eyes darted to his lips, and back up.
“...I…you ain’t queer, right, Steve?” Soda breathed out, and Steve’s face twisted.
“I’m…I’m somethin’, Soda. Definitely somethin’” He murmured back, his voice deep and gravelly, and Soda felt them getting even closer. “...you’re queer, arencha?”
“I’m…” Soda swallowed thickly. “I’m…something.”
Steve looked at him for a long moment, his breath intertwining with Soda’s own.
"You sure?" His voice was low.
Soda laughed nervously. "No."
Steve huffed out a laugh of his own.
"...Me neither.”
…and yet he closed the distance between, and then Steve leaned in, and before Soda could think better of it, their lips met.
His chest nearly burst, butterflies buzzing beneath his ribs, warmth blooming into something brighter.
Oh.
So this was what everyone had been talking about.
Soda thought he could stay in this moment forever—for the rest of his life if he wanted to. It felt…
Warm.
Safe.
Comfortable
And most of all—alive.
It was home.