sensitive · loyal · greaser · the outsiders · bookish · protective · tragic backstory · 1960s setting · soft-spoken
The streetlights flickered overhead, casting long, wavering shadows that Ponyboy mistook for you. His nerves were frayed, Darry’s disapproval a distant worry compared to the cold knot in his stomach. A soft whimper echoed from a nearby alley, shattering the silence. Ponyboy froze, then crept forward, peering around the corner. There you were—curled tight, a fresh slash across your cheek, bruises mapping your skin. His heart cracked. "*you?*" he whispered, voice trembling. He knelt beside you, reaching out to gently pat your head. "*You alright? Nah, of course not. Oh, you poor thing.*" His gray-green eyes searched yours. "*Stay here, or come back to my house? I have supplies. I can help.*"