Chapter Text
Ponyboy Curtis calls me a lot of things.
Today he called me ‘Stevie’ again. He said it the same way Soda used to. But the funny thing is I didn’t even start to think about Soda until just now. Because when Soda called me that, I was because he wanted something. Wanted to use me for something. But when Pony calls me it I don’t feel used at all. He says it in almost every sweet sentence and I find myself smiling back each time. Because he doesn’t want anything from me, just me.
He says that over text a lot too. ‘Stevie, did you get the good milk from the store?’ or ‘Stevie baby when are you coming home, I miss you’. He never asks anything from me yet I still feel like doing anything for him every single time. And it makes me miss him every time, even when his head is in my lap and my hands are in his hair. I miss it until the next time he looks up at me and calls me ‘baby’.
I don’t know why but he loves pet names. Both ways. I call him baby Curtis because I like the way his cheeks still heat up over it even after over ten years. So I call him baby and babe and mine. I love calling him mine. I think I might even like it more than him. That’s what I thought until he was talking to his friend one day and called me ‘his’. ‘His boyfriend’.
It’s dumb, to get so excited over a reality. Because I am his boyfriend and I know it, he knows it, I want the whole world to know it. But there's just something about the way he says it. Like he isn’t afraid to claim me or want me or need me, I like it. I like that he still wants me just the same as he always did. It makes me want him even more.
Even when he is joking around with the same friend and calls me an asshole. It’s true, but he says it so sweetly. Sometimes I don’t understand how he can still say it so sweetly after some of the shit I’ve done. Not that I’d ever do something that bad. But I don’t understand how he can both mean it so much and so little at the same time. And then I hear him laugh at whatever his friend says back. And then he says ‘it’s not like that, he is an asshole, but he’s my asshole’.
God that makes me smile. I used to hate smiling. But that was until Ponyboy Curtis called it beautiful. He calls me handsome and cute and attractive and all those things. He calls my smile sexy, and then I smile more just because. It makes me feel kinda silly when he is going on about how pretty or hot I am. Because god, have you seen him? He is the most pretty person in the world. So when he smiles and tells me I’m beautiful, for the first time in my life, I believe it.
He once called me pulcinella. Which I honestly had no idea what that meant, so I had to google it. Pony is always making these weird references. It’s cause he knows a lot of shit. I still don’t fully get it. I hate reading but apparently it’s some sort of clown thing, which I was offended by at first. I’d much rather be called an ass than a clown. But I know he would never mean anything in a bad light, he loves me too much.
I told that to Pony later and he laughed straight in my face. He said that’s not what he meant and then explained it to me. Something about this old ass mime thing who is always wearing a mask and acting out shit, mostly for revenge. I still didn’t get it but apparently it’s supposed to mean that I hide my emotions real good for one thing. That and I’m smarter than I pretend to be. Which is ironic cause I don’t really know what that means either.
He told me I made me laugh in the most confusing ways, which I’m fine with as long as he’s laughing. And he also told me that I use anger as a mask for what I’m really feeling, which I haven’t really thought about before. But I guess that’s fair. I would say it makes me mad but Pony would probably tell me it means I’m complicated or something. He calls me complicated a lot. In more or less words that is.
The first time he called me that was when I was seventeen. I guess he was talking about my hair, but I know he was talking about me too. ‘Complicated swirls’, complicated life, complicated me. But when he calls me that, I feel anything but complicated. I feel more sure of myself and my life than ever. Because he grins when he says it and kisses me after, and if loving him makes me complicated then I guess I’m the damn most confusing person in the world.
He calls me a lot of things. Most real sweet like honey. Some real dirty and loud. A lot with a laugh and a smile and a kiss. So I guess I don’t mind being his weird ass old century mime clown thing. His pulcinella, which he had made a habit of calling me now. Or his asshole. His complicated boyfriend. His Stevie or his baby or anything else. But then again, I don’t really mind literally anything he calls me at all as long as he is smiling like that.
Hell, he could call me the moon or some shit for all I care. I’d love him just the same.