p. curtis | please don't go

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( ponyboy curtis x [gn] reader )

A LIGHT KNOCK sounded from your room window, shaking you out of the sleep you had finally started to drift off into. it was well past midnight, on a saturday, and you let out a small groan as you turned to face away from the window to try and get back to bed.

the attempt proved to be fruitless as another knock came from the panel of cheap material once a again, earning a tired eye roll from yourself as you sighed and sat up, throwing off your covers before wearily trudging to your window.

you gripped the cold metal of the lift, unlocking the sash before pulling the rail up and over your head, the drifty breeze of the night brushing against your warm cheeks.

expecting a bird, or maybe a squirrel to appear in front of you, you were caught off guard as a teary-eyed and messy-haired teenager came to stare back at you.

"pony?" you questioned, rubbing the sleep from your eyes in confusion. "what're- what're you doing here?"

the brunette looked jittery, his hands lightly trembling as he reached up to clasp them around the sill of the window. "i'm leaving- we're leaving, me an' johnny."

you blinked vigorously, wondering if the words you were hearing came from some odd nighttime hallucination due to your lack of sleep. "what?"

"johnny, he—" ponyboy paused, inhaling sharply as he attempted to calm down his ragged breathing. "bob's dead."

"bob? who the hell is—" you paused at the realization, your eyes widening. "that blockhead soc from earlier?"

your best friend nodded, running a panicked hand through his messy and grease-free hair, small droplets of water sliding down his neck. "johnny killed him."

"what?" you breathed out with wide eyes, reaching a hand out to lightly trace your thumb along a bruise that was beginning to form on the boy's cheek. "did he do that to you?"

"they were gonna drown me," pony explained, leaning into your touch as his eyes darted around the inside of your room in nervousness. "he... he was protecting me."

" 'they' ?" you repeated as you dropped your hand back down to the window sill. "were his asshole friends there, too?"

the brunette nodded, his hair flapping along slightly with the movement. "they ran when johnny killed him."

𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐌 | 80s & 90s Where stories live. Discover now