the outsiders imagines

the flowers - ponyboy

pairing: none

warning: please do not read this if you are sensitive to topics like death and suicide.

summary: y/n's flowers keep going missing. she discovers the culprit and the pain he carries within him.

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When Y/N checked her flower beds every morning, there were always a few flowers missing. The first time, it was one of the petunias. The next, a daffodil. The times after that, the violets, the daises, and the roses seemed to dissipate into thin air. She didn't understand it. She had to convince herself that she wasn't imagining things, that the holes in the soil were clear evidence of her beloved plants being uprooted. She wasn't sure what was happening, but she was sure of one thing: if someone had been stealing her flowers, she was going to catch them.

Y/N devised a plan. The next day, she sat in a rickety old lawn chair, which she had placed strategically behind a tree in her backyard. The sun hadn't come up yet, but she was ready to catch the thief redhanded. She watched the ground for hungry groundhogs, nest building birds, or even a dog that might mistake the flowers for a snack, but she saw none. What she did see, however, was someone in a gray sweatshirt, the sleeves cut off, sneak into her lawn and pluck a few flowers out of the ground.

"Hey!" Y/N exclaimed. The figure stopped dead in their tracks, slowly turning around to face her. Y/N ran towards them, and as she approached the culprit she saw that it was a young boy, around her age. He was quite a bit taller than her, with light brown, almost red hair and greenish grey eyes. He seemed perfectly calm, despite being caught stealing. "....Ponyboy Curtis? Are you the flower bandit that's been uprooting my petunias?"

"Uh...yes," he spoke, his voice gravelly and deep. Y/N crossed her arms and squinted at him with all the anger she could muster. She recognized Ponyboy from school; he'd been in her freshman algebra class three years ago. She hadn't seen him since, but he still had those same beautiful eyes the Soc girls dreamed about. Not that any of them would admit that to their boyfriends, of course. Ponyboy was a greaser, after all.

"Why? Don't you know that stealing is illegal? I could press charges for trespassing, you know."

"They're for someone special," the boy spoke softly. Y/N's anger subsided, curiosity taking its place.

"Oh really? Prove it. Take me to them."

"But-"

"No excuses. I want to see who this person is, and if they're special enough to warrant you stealing flowers out of my garden."

Y/N watched as Ponyboy sighed and slumped his shoulders forward. Without another word, he began walking along the sidewalk, Y/N right on his heels.

They didn't speak to each other. Ponyboy seemed perfectly content with ignoring Y/N, and Y/N was perfectly fine with not conversing with the flower thief. She was angry, as expected, because those flowers had taken years of sweat and blood to cultivate. No one was special enough for her flowers, she was sure of it. It was probably his girlfriend, anyway. Y/N was ready to give his girlfriend a piece of her mind.

It was when Y/N noticed that they were walking on the same street they had been walking on two minutes prior when she finally spoke up. "Hey, Ponyboy. No funny business. Why are we going in circles?"

Ponyboy didn't answer. Y/N rolled her eyes and said, "Stop playing around."But he continued to walk without saying anything. Y/N was getting increasingly frustrated, but she grit her teeth together, clenched her fists tightly and kept walking. At some point she looked back at Ponyboy and realized he was gesturing at the bushes lining the sidewalk. He pointed at a small hole in between two of the bushes, tilting his head towards it.

"You've got to be kidding me," Y/N said, but Ponyboy dove straight in, so she squeezed through the bushes behind him. Dead leaves stuck to her shirt; as soon as she reached the other side, she brushed them off.

"Where are we?" Y/N asked, looking up. Then, her mouth fell open; Ponyboy stared at her coldly as she took in the sights around her.

They were in a graveyard.

She followed him, hands shaking, as he walked towards a marble tombstone. When she looked closely, she saw a pile of dead flowers: her petunias, her daffodils, her violets, her daises, her roses. They were stacked upon each other, the beauty of them ever present despite being all shriveled up and dead beyond repair. She slowly looked up at Ponyboy and opened her mouth to say something, but he was already speaking.

"My brother Sodapop..."

"I'm so sorry," Y/N sputtered, shaking her head. Ponyboy didn't need to tell her what had happened to his brother. His story was the same as many other young men his age. She wanted to reach out and hug Ponyboy, to comfort him, but her feet stayed glued to the ground. She watched, gaping, as Ponyboy knelt down in front of the tombstone, reading the name engraved on it over and over again, as if it was the first time.

"And to answer your question, Sodapop is worth risking being charged with stealing and trespassing for," Ponyboy added quietly. He looked down at his shoes before turning and walking straight out of the cemetery, disappearing through the bushes. Y/N stared at the tombstone, realizing her big mistake. She looked at it, then at the dead flowers, then at the tombstone again.

And from everyday after that, Y/N picked a single flower from her flower beds each morning and brought it to Sodapop's grave. Sometimes, she'd see Ponyboy there, sitting next to the headstone. He'd ignore her presence, opting instead to whisper to his brother, pretending like Sodapop had never died. Once, Y/N made eye contact with Ponyboy. She'd almost choked on her own breath at the sight of his eyes: lifeless, void of any emotion. As if Sodapop had taken Ponyboy's heart and soul with him.

Then one day, Ponyboy stopped showing up. Y/N didn't see him for weeks, then months. She assumed that maybe he had gotten a job, gotten over Sodapop's death, or had maybe even gone off to college.

Y/N didn't see him again until his tombstone appeared next to Sodapop's.