the outsiders imagines

just tell me - sodapop

pairing: sodapop x winston reader

warning: none

summary: sodapop has a secret. you beg him to just tell you.

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"I'm so young and you're so old...this, my darling, I've been told."

Paul Anka's voice rang out through the stiff, hot air in Sodapop's room. As the two of you lie on the ground, a soft breeze makes its way through the windows. You watch as Sodapop's wheat gold hair dances in the draft, your eyes eventually dropping down to his chest. He wears a a tiny silver chain around his neck, the one he took from his mother's dresser after she died. He never wears it around the gang, only you, because he doesn't like being harassed for "wearing jewelry like a broad."

"Y/N," he whispers, his eyes fluttering open. He pushes his hair out of his face with his hand before pushing himself up off of the ground. You turn your gaze to his ceiling, embarrassed to have been caught staring at him. "I...I gotta tell you something."

You look at him and immediately notice how shaky his hands are, and how he keeps blinking and blinking like a speck of dust had invaded his eye. You mirror his actions, sitting up on the ground and bringing yourself closer to him. "What is it?" you whisper back.

Sodapop's glance shifts to his bedroom door before coming back to meet your eyes. "Look, you gotta promise me that ya won't tell your brother what I'm about to tell you. He'll s-skin me alive, that's for sure," he stammers. "And I haven't told anyone this so you're really the first person that is gonna hear this, and I probably should have asked Darry if this was a good idea but I was real nervous and..."

"Soda, I'm not gonna tell Dallas. Just tell me," you interrupt, crossing your arms over your chest. "Are you...Are you gonna break up with me?"

"What? No, no, of course not." A confused look appears across Sodapop's face before quickly disappearing. "No. Look Y/N..." His voice trails off as he begins playing with the chain around his neck, fidgeting as he did when he was real nervous. "Ever since my parents died, I've felt real numb, ya know? Like the world just stopped. Or like I'm frozen in place while the world goes on without me. I never really feel happy anymore, except when I'm around you."

"Oh, Soda..."

"No, listen. Anyhow, I was thinkin' real hard last night in bed. About you. How you drive me real crazy. How you're so beautiful and pretty even when you're not trying. Even when you wake up from a long nap and you have stinky breath," Soda laughs, evading the playful hit you attempt to give him. "So I was thinkin'. When my folks died, it was like I forgot how to love. I mean, I still loved my brothers of course, but it just wasn't the same."

"What are you getting at, Soda?"

Soda's fingers leave the chain and begin fiddling with the hem of his DX shirt. "You taught me how to love again," he says quietly. "And Y/N Winston, I love you. I love you more than anything in this world and maybe you don't feel the same way but hell, Y/N. I'd do anything for you."

Your mouth drops open, and you find yourself unable to form any words. Finally, the words you'd meant to say to him for months, maybe even years now, are out in the air...and they'd come from him. You stare at him, the love of your life, unable to move even a muscle. You blinked, once, twice, three times, searching for something, anything to say.

"Y/N?"

"I love you, Sodapop Patrick Curtis," you blurt out.

You wish you had brought your Polaroid camera so you could have captured the smile that spread across his face after the words left your mouth. And maybe the kiss that followed, the kiss that was unlike any other that you've ever shared.