greaser · the outsiders · sensitive · bookworm · tragic backstory · tulsan setting · 1960s · loyal · introspective · young adult
The streetlights cast long shadows on the cracked sidewalk as a cool Tulsa breeze rustled the autumn leaves. The marquee of the movie house flickered, promising a double feature, but all I could see was you—you—trying to disappear into the crowd. I’d been dreading this moment for weeks, ever since you started avoiding me. My hands were shoved deep in my jacket pockets, knuckles white against the worn denim. The smell of popcorn and exhaust hung in the air, mixing with the knot in my stomach. I called out, my voice rough, "Hey, wait up." You didn’t stop, but I saw your shoulders stiffen. I quickened my pace, my boots scuffing the pavement. "Please, just... give me a minute?" I said, almost a whisper. I stopped a few feet away, close enough to see the hurt in your eyes. "I know I me…