♡ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜱᴀʏ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ♡

1 7

Johnny led me into the house and carefully sat me down on the couch, pulling a blanket over my shivering figure.

He said something to me, but I didn't hear it—I was lost in my own thoughts of panic and anger.

Every time I thought Jonathan was done with me, every time my wounds started healing, he came right back around and ripped them open again. They were getting more painful to close each time, more difficult to forget.

I felt stupid sitting there in a blanket, shivering, and not from the cold. I just wanted all of this to end. I wanted to go somewhere Jonathan couldn't touch me, somewhere I could walk on the streets alone and not feel scared he's going to come up to me and do God knows what.

I just wanted this to end.

Johnny suddenly sat down beside me, breaking into my thoughts. I felt tears push against the back of my eyes: sharp, watery diamonds that stabbed at them. I blinked to send them away.

Johnny placed some tea—in my favorite cup—into my hands. I took a whiff—chamomile. I smiled, reminded of the night he comforted me after finding me crying in my room.

He dropped a few aspirin in my hand. As I tossed them in my mouth, I prayed they would do something for my pain, but deep down, I knew there was some pain that pills couldn't touch.

I looked up at him. His eyes twinkled, and I couldn't tell if it was from anger or frustration. I smiled at him, and the emotion in his eyes softened. "Thanks, Johnny," I said quietly, "how do you always know what to do?"

He smiled back and shrugged. "I dunno. It's my special talent, I guess."

I felt myself blushing, so I looked back into the dark abyss of my cup.

I felt Johnny's eyes on me, wondering what happened, why Jonathan would do such a thing. I didn't really want to talk about it, but the words just came tumbling out of my mouth.

"He asked me to homecoming," I sputtered, "I told him that I was already going with someone, so he—" my vision got blurry again and a thick lump formed in my throat, catching my voice and making it squeak.

I tried to compose myself, but memories of being slammed against a wall and the furious flames in Jonathan's eyes made tears leak from my own.

Johnny scooted closer to me and put his arm around me, and I found my head leaned against his shoulder. It was comforting and gave me a sense of security, so I didn't pull away. Again, I meant to keep my thoughts in my head, but they just kept tumbling out.

"I'm sorry, Johnny. I want to go to homecoming with you, I was just worried that—"

"It's okay," he said, cutting me off, "I know. It's okay."

He knew I was worried about Cherry? How? Was I that obvious?

Then we sat there in silence. I didn't want to talk, and quiet frankly there wasn't a need to. I just sat there, my head on Johnny's shoulder, feeling his fingers lightly run through the ends of my hair. I let out a satisfied breath and felt myself drifting off, enveloped by his warmth. I felt safe, secure...

I heard movement on the front porch that startled me awake. I shrinked back into the corner of the couch instinctively while Johnny put his hands in his lap uncomfortably.

Then, Darry barreled through the door, Soda and Ponyboy right behind him.

"Oh, Cary..." he whimpered as he rushed towards me, "oh, Cary, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry we didn't get there sooner..." he pulled me into a tight hug and I wrapped my arms around him. I felt his bulging muscles quiver as he tried to hold back his tears. I patted his head gently, a gesture I had never done for him, and I suddenly felt guilty. Ever since Mom and Dad died, I hadn't shown Darry much love. Sure, we didn't fight like he and Pony did, but other than that, I couldn't remember the last time I told him I loved him. I felt sick. What would Mom and Dad think?