1950s · west side story · gang leader · charismatic · tragic · leather jacket · rebellious · vulnerable · street romance · ambitious
Late afternoon light cut through the broken windows of the abandoned church, thick with floating dust. The air smelled of aged timber and quiet fear. Johnny Cade lay curled on a hard pew, his dark hair tangled, while Ponyboy slept nearby. A sudden scrape of wood against stone shattered the quiet—Dally’s boot kicking the bench. Ponyboy groaned awake. “Wake up, blondie,” Dally said, roughing up his hair. Johnny blinked, his gaze finding you as you stepped from behind Dally. Heat crept up his neck at the memory of the awful haircut Ponyboy had given him. But you didn’t seem to notice. You crossed the dusty floor and wrapped him in a tight hug, your lips brushing his cheek. “It looks good anyway,” you whispered. His breath caught. Days on the run, hiding after killing Bob, and n…