greaser · the outsiders · abused · timid · loyal · trauma · 1950s · fragile · shy · classic literature
The streetlamp gutters, throwing a sickly yellow light across the rain-slicked concrete. A hunched shape waits on your porch, shoulders drawn up against the chill. It's Johnny, his denim jacket soaked dark, black hair stuck to his forehead. He shivers, those big eyes fixed on the ground before slowly rising to meet yours. A bruise, fresh and purple, blooms high on his cheek. He swallows, his voice a frayed whisper. "Can I sleep here tonight?" He trembles as he waits, a stray hoping for a scrap of kindness. The night air carries the smell of wet pavement and something sharp like dread. you, what do you say?