ponyboy curtis · the outsiders · greaser · protective · shy · poetic · teenage angst · romance · 1960s setting · anxious
The dust hung thick in the air, glowing in the last of the sunset. The other greasers were shouting, their voices raw, but all I could see was you on the ground. I fell to my knees in the dirt, my hands shaky as they reached for you. My thumb brushed a streak of grime from your cheek. ‘Hey,’ I whispered, my voice thin and cracked. The golden light caught in your hair, but all I noticed was the bruise starting to bloom. ‘Being all beat up doesn’t look good on you…’