TRIGGER WARNING(s): mentions of abuse and molestation.
( Ponyboy's POV )
I felt like I was in kindergarten again, following around the girl of my adolescent dreams. But, well, it was a boy, and he smelled like aged whiskey and Marlboros. Plus, he kind of had an attitude problem. Aside from all of that, he was a lake of fresh water, and I was dying of thirst. I couldn't get enough of him, and I could only assume it was the same for him. He'd began to hold my hand even when there wasn't anyone else around, and every now and then, he'd bring it to his lips and kiss my knuckles.
I felt like I was tumbling down a rabbit hole, and there was nothing to cushion my fall. But, I didn't mind so much these days. I was finding out more and more about him every single day, and I was making mental notes of it all. I didn't want to forget a single thing. Everything that spilled from his lips was important to me, even his ridiculous (and wrong, might I add) theories on life as we know it.
Sometimes we'd sit in the old abandoned parking lot down the road from my house and stare at the stars, talking about anything and everything, and sometimes even nothing. Apparently, the store that used to sit on the lot burned down like twenty years ago and never got rebuilt. No one in town was exactly sure who owned it, so it was free for the taking in Johnny's eyes. It wasn't like we were doing anything wrong, though, anyway. If the cops found us, what could they really do?
Currently, we were laying on the blanket he usually brought. He was at my side, his hand clutching mine tightly. His other arm stretched behind him to allow his head to rest on it. It was comfortable silences like this that I loved. He was the first person I'd ever, in my whole sixteen years, been able to find that with. With everyone else, silence meant awkward, and awkward lead to me scurrying to get away.
He changed things like that.
But then, as clueless as I can sometimes be, I had to ruin all of it.
"Why don't you ever take me to your house?" I peeked over at him, but immediately averted my gaze when he turned toward me. Sodapop's best friend, Steve, always called me a wuss, but this was the first time I ever felt it. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my breath steady even though my heart had already started to pound crazily against my ribcage.
"I never knew you wanted to come over." He finally said, shrugging it off like it was nothing. I furrowed my eyebrows, slowly sitting up to look at him fully.
"It's just..." I bit my lower lip, my eyes flickering down to our interlaced fingers. My thumb traced over the back of his hand as I tried to figure out how to word this. "I mean, I bring you to mine all of the time. You've met my family, you've stayed over..." I peered up at him alas, meeting his eyes and refusing to let myself look away. "Why haven't I ever seen anyone in your family? You never talk about them. You're skittish every time I get near your house. I don't even know what your room looks like..." He dropped my hand, looking away.
"I don't understand why you need to." His voice came out kind of snappy. He took a sharp breath in, shaking his head. "Look, it's getting late. Your brother's gonna freak if you're out much longer." That didn't make sense. We usually didn't leave the parking lot for another two hours. Sometimes we'd leave early and go get half-priced milkshakes at Sonic, and then he'd walk me home and say goodbye to everyone. We never left this early.
"It's not that late, we can stay a little while longer..."
"I want to go." He said suddenly, his voice hard and demanding, like there was no room for discussion.
"But--"
"Fine." He stood up quickly, yanking up his jacket and slipping his phone into his pocket. "You stay, I'm leaving." He whirled around, not even bothering to take his blanket with him.
"Johnny..." I called out after him, standing and grabbing the blanket before rushing after him. "Wait, Johnny, stop." I said louder, catching his arm. He stopped in his tracks, but didn't turn to look at me. My eyes were already welling up with tears. Goddamn, these stupid hormones. "What just happened? Why are you mad at me?"
"I'm not, I'm just tired, I don't wanna be out anymore." He sniffled, wiping his nose with one hand before tearing his arm away from my grip and starting to walk again. "Come on, I'll walk you home." He said over his shoulder, extending his hand for me to grab. I cautiously took it, almost afraid he'd hurt me, despite how I knew he wouldn't. A few tears had already slipped down my cheeks, and I was praying to whatever God was out there that he didn't notice I was crying. We were silent the whole way. He only met my eyes when we got to my porch. He cupped my cheek in one of his hands, his thumb running over the dampness of it for a moment before he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to it. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
He didn't mention my crying, and he didn't grab his blanket.
***
I'd cried myself to sleep. I wasn't sure why the situation upset me so much, exactly. A part of me was so terrified of losing Johnny. I'd just gotten him, and now the unsettling fear that he could be ripped from me at any second was setting in. It was at about three in the morning that a frantic knock on my window woke me up. I sat up slowly, confused at first. I thought maybe it'd started raining while I was asleep, until it sounded again, this time harder.
Slowly, I peeled myself out of bed, walking over to my window. I turned on my lamp, peeking outside. To my surprise, Johnny's face peered back at me through the glass. His eyes were wide. There was purple bruising around both of them, blood smeared on various parts of his face. It looked like his face had been punched in. I hastily opened the window. "Johnny? What's going on? Are you okay?"
"I-I d-don't know..." He stuttered out, shaking like a leaf. I moved back so he could climb in, my breathing quickening anxiously. A whimper left him as he flopped onto my floor, his hand immediately clutching the left side of his ribs. I kneeled down, cupping his cheeks so I could get a better look at him as he sat up.
"What happened?"
"You wanna know why I don't ever talk about my family?" He grunted out without warning, whining softly as his eyes squeezed shut in pain for a moment. "Why I never bring you around them?" He continued, not offering any kind of real explanations or answers.
"Just shut up and tell me what's wrong..." I wipe some blood from his cheek, causing him to jerk his face back slightly, revealing a tiny gash right on the cheekbone. It looked like someone had knifed him, but my bet was on someone bashing his face into something. From the looks of it, someone had really gotten angry at him. Was it somebody from school? Was this my fault somehow? Why was he rambling about family when he was over here bloody and bruised over some douche that jumped him or something?
"Dad was drunk again..." He grunted out, biting onto his swollen lower lip. I guess he couldn't tell that there was a gash on that, too. "He... H-he started bringing up the past... Said I'd lied too many times..." He whimpered again, trying to sit up straighter.
"Lied about what?" I was trying to ask as few questions as I could, but all of this was so confusing. It was the first time he'd ever opened up about anything this personal, and I wanted to fully understand what he was talking about.
"My uncle u-u-used to do things... T-touch me and sh-hit..." He stuttered out, tearing his gaze away from me. "I tr-ried to tell them and th-hey thought I was m-making it up..." He swallowed hard, shaking his head slowly. "Dad beat me for it... E-everyone just sat and w-watched... But the-hey didn't mention it again. I thought I was okay..." I looked down at his hands. The knuckles were bruised, like maybe he'd fought back. They were shaking so much that I couldn't tell, though. "B-but h-he came in tonight... Started saying how I'd ruined everything..." He swallowed again, his breathing quickening until he was practically hyperventilating. "I tried s-so hard, I tried to push him off, b-but he was so strong, h-he just kept coming at me..."
I brought his head to my chest, my hand tangling into his hair. "Shh, stop, it's okay. I'm here, it's okay..." I gave him a soft squeeze, closing my eyes to try to fight back more crying. The tears still managed to slip down as my hands combed through his hair. "It's okay..." I repeated, gently starting to rock him. His body shook, this time because of a sob, his arms wrapping around me tightly as he pressed his head into me more.
"I'm sorry..." He whispered, crying harder, his fingers gripping at my shirt.
"You don't have anything to be sorry for..." I whispered back, rocking him more as I started to make gentle shushing noises, trying to calm him down as best as I could. We stayed like that until he finally passed out on me, and I stayed there playing with his hair until the sun came up, my shushed reassurances never stopping even after he started snoring softly. I was going to take care of him. Whatever went on in his life on the daily, I was going to help. I didn't know how, but I'd find a way.
I had to.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Oops, this wasn't the greatest, bois. An update is an update, I guess, lmao.