I Owe You My Life | Ponyboy x female!OC **COMPLETE**

"𝑯𝒆𝒚- 𝒐𝒉, 𝑰 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈." - 𝑿𝑽𝑰

TW: Mentions of self harm

~A few months later, around November-ish~

(why did I think of November Rain by Guns N' Roses lol ^)

I was wrong. Ponyboy wasn't going back to his normal self. 

He still stayed distant from me and didn't talk much. 

I looked at the Polaroid picture of me and Ponyboy from when we were 13. 

He looked happier, a lot happier. I continued to think about those happier times with Ponyboy. 

I started crying a bit. Ponyboy had left again today, not telling us where to. 

"Hey kid, you alright?" Two-Bit had walked in to my room. "You've been up here for a while and Darry told me to see if you were okay. Are you?"

"No. I'm not okay." I said. 

"When's that from?" He said pointing to the picture I was holding. 

"Me and Ponyboy were 13. It was on Christmas Eve of nineteen sixty-four. Ponyboy looked so much happier. I was happier..." I trailed off, tears pricking my eyes. 

Two-Bit wrapped his arm around me in a tight hug. 

"I'm worried for him." I whispered. 

"You really like him, don't you kid?" I heard Darry say. The rest of the gang - whoever was left of it - were now in my room. 

Two-Bit released me from his grip. Soda grabbed my hand. 

"You're the only one that can help him. We've all tried." He said softly. 

"I've tried. He doesn't listen to me. He hates me." I said sniffling. 

"No, Delaina, he doesn't hate you. You just got to keep trying. You're always telling us to never give up, so now you can't give up. Go find him." Steve encouraged me.

"Where do you think he is?" Darry asked. 

"The lot." I replied. 

"Are you sure? How do you know?" Steve asked. 

"I just have a feeling." I said standing up and headin' towards my bedroom door. I walked downstairs and slipped on my shoes and my jacket before going outside and walking all the way to the lot.

As I got closer, I saw a figure sitting under a tree. I soon realized it was Ponyboy. 

"Ponyboy?" I asked.

His head shot up and I noticed he was crying. He pulled down his sleeves and looked away from me.

I went over and sat down beside him and took his arm. He tried to pull it away from me but I didn't let go. He gave up and I pulled up his sleeves, fresh cuts along with older scars lingered on his wrists and forearms. I traced one of the older cuts with my finger. 

I was confused, sad and worried all at the same time. I didn't know what to do. I was never good at letting my feelings out, so my first instinct was to yell at him. 

"What are you doing?" I yelled at him. He whimpered and looked away from me.

"Why did you do this?" I asked.

"I don't know..." He whispered.

"No, there has to be a reason. I want you to tell me." To say the least, I was angry at him. I would have never in a million years thought he would do something like this.

Tears continued to roll down his face. "Ponyboy, tell me." I begged.

"No." He said.

"Why?" I asked.