Chapter Text
Ponyboy's breathing slowed, and everything felt less dizzy. His hands still trembled. Once Curly had noticed that Ponyboy was calming down, he let go. Clearing his throat once more, what was he supposed to say? He was always asking himself this, but he never actually knew. Ponyboy brought his hand up to wipe away tears from his face. "Gosh, I'm sorry, Curls."
Ponyboy groaned, resting his hand on his forehead. His head felt like it was going to explode; he needed some aspirin. Curly glanced over him,
"Nah, it's all good, Ponybabe, but you sure as hell look like you've seen some better days," Curly smirked. Ponyboy dropped his hand, even if it hurt to laugh, he let out a few soft chuckles and an eyeroll at the nickname.
"That’s not my name, and you know it," he said with a grin, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms. He looked relaxed. Curly's grin faded into a smile as he gazed out the window at the sky turning blue. After a glance, he looked back at Ponyboy, his eyes roaming over his body. He felt sorry for him – he really did. It all made him curious: what had happened while he was gone? He spaced out for a moment, realizing he was staring. What had Ponyboy even said? He couldn't remember.
"Curls?" Ponyboy's smile had faded. "You're staring at me all weird, what's with it, huh?"
Curly whispered, "Yeah, sorry, I was thinking bout something." Ponyboy shrugged it off; he ran a hand through his hair. He looked out the window, pausing for a moment to take in the beautiful view. Curly couldn't help but notice how the rising sun made Ponyboy's eyes shine. They were a gorgeous grayish-green color, and Curly struggled to find the right words to describe them. He loved Ponyboy's eyes, but Ponyboy hated them. He often talked about how he wished they were completely gray or something similar.
"It's beautiful, ain't it?" He preferred sunsets, but this sunrise in particular was pretty. He looked back over to Curly. Why, he was staring again. Curly acknowledged that he had been caught and quickly looked away.
“Yeah, it’s pretty,” he muttered. Ponyboy looked at him and was starting to space out. His mind was racing with all kinds of thoughts, like ‘he hates me’ or ‘he’s looking at your scars; you’re disgusting. Why would you ever think he would still want to be your friend after seeing you like this?’ He began biting the skin off his lip. "Hey, what's up? I didn't even say nothin." Ponyboy let out a long, soft sigh, maybe a sigh of relief for the distraction from his head. "It's not you, it's me, sorry again, Curls." Ponyboy frowned, looking down. Curly, trying to lighten the mood, grabbed his chin and brought his eyes to look back at him. "There's no reason to be sorry, Ponybabe."