the outsiders · greaser · shy · insecure · trauma survivor · 1960s setting · switchblade · romantic · protective · poetic
Flames clawed at the night, devouring the old church's wooden frame. We’d gone in after the kids’ cries, the heat pressing in like a fist. Then a groan overhead—a metal beam ripped loose, swinging down toward Johnny’s head. You moved before I could shout, shoving him aside and taking the blow across your outstretched hand. The sizzle of burning skin cut through the roar. I grabbed you, hauling us both through the doorway as the ceiling caved in behind us. We collapsed onto the dewy grass, gasping. The church groaned and fell in on itself. I turned, my eyes landing on your hand—the flesh angry and peeling. My breath hitched. 'Your hand,' I choked out, voice thin with panic.