Chapter Text
“when my world is caving, you’re my safe haven.”
— safe haven; ruth b.
Johnny’s folks are at it again.
Their shouts can practically be heard from a mile away, and Johnny is certain that even screaming every existing word in the English language would not be capable of drowning them out. He’s sick of this, having to deal with his parents’ constant arguing day after day. It’s sad how this happens far too often; it’s sad that Johnny is used to this by now.
And yet, why should he even be complaining? It was either this or having to be hit and abused by his own parents. He would gladly take the first option any day—even if it meant dealing with their quarreling.
The boy sighs defeatedly, deciding that the one thing he can do in order to block out their shrieks is to get away from it all. He opens the door out of his room slowly, noticing a trail of broken glass that could have been mistaken for a twisted kind of pathway. As soon as he lays eyes on the shattered pieces of empty bottles, he lets out a loud gulp. He always hated whenever his father drank; Johnny could handle his parents’ screams or even being yelled at himself, but he knew for a fact that, when the alcohol came into play, his house wasn’t the safest place to be in. The mere sight of the shattered glass is Johnny’s last straw—he has to get out of there.
He sits on his bedroom floor, contemplating ways to escape the house. He can’t simply exit his room and walk out of the front door without his parents seeing him. And, even if he could succeed in devising a distraction and leaving without anyone noticing, it’s practically impossible for him to navigate his way through the house without accidentally stepping on a piece of glass. It would be like walking on a tightrope, and Johnny doesn’t want to go through so much trouble just to exit his own home. It’s settled, then; he has to resort to another method of leaving. Whatever it takes to escape this hellhole, Johnny thinks to himself. His eyes suddenly perk up at the sight of his window, a devious idea forming inside his brain.
It isn’t his best laid out plan, but it was better than staying at this house, having to bear the sound of his parents’ piercing screams.
Johnny opens the window carefully, looking down to the ground below. This distance from his room to the stone planks of his backyard isn’t a lot, but it is still very much there. Johnny gulps, not wanting to risk an injury in order to flee the scene. And yet, he can hear the screams grow louder and louder now, and he wants nothing more than to be anywhere else. Making up his mind, Johnny braces himself, reminding himself that the wounds he is about to receive couldn’t possibly be any worse than bruises from his own parents.
As gravity makes itself useful, Johnny jumps from the window, groaning as he comes into contact with the ground. It is a rough landing, but it is worth it nonetheless. Johnny gets up, wincing from the small injury he received on his arm. I must’ve gotten a small bruise from when I fell , he concludes.
Johnny unlocks the gate from his backyard to the outside world, inhaling the scent of freedom as he stumbles onto the street. His five seconds of peace is suddenly interrupted when he hears police sirens in the distance. As the horns appear to be getting closer and closer, Johnny quickly closes the gate behind him, suddenly wishing that he was safe in a building. Despite the fact that the situation with the police signal and the cops themselves probably have absolutely nothing to do with the boy, Johnny still feels a little wary as he makes his way to the Curtises’ household.
Ponyboy’s house isn’t too far from his own; it’s only a few short blocks down the street. Johnny is grateful that his best friend isn’t too out of reach. He often goes there in order to find a small sense of comfort, even if it doesn’t completely heal the wounds—both mentally and physically—from own parents. It is still something positive for him to have, just for once, and it is a spot that Johnny kept dear to him. One could say that it was the only place where Johnny has ever truly felt at home.
As soon as the Curtises’ household comes into clear view, Johnny smiles. He is filled with so much joy to the extent that he doesn’t even notice the sun starting to set behind him, slowly lowering out of view. Johnny goes up to the door, knocking a few times. Almost immediately, Ponyboy appears on the other side of the door, grinning in surprise. “Johnny!” he exclaims, thrilled to see his best friend. “You’re just in time, Johnnycake. Come, quickly!” Ponyboy grabs Johnny’s wrist, leading him inside the house. The duo start running as fast as they can, leaving Johnny unaware of the reason why. Ponyboy drags him into the backyard, stopping suddenly in order to catch his breath.
When the two step outside, Johnny is astonished. He has never seen something so…beautiful. The sun’s light radiates throughout the whole sky, sinking slowly. Johnny stands dumbfounded, for he always thought that moments like these were only possible in paintings or photos or even in the movies that Ponyboy seems to enjoy so much.
Johnny sneaks a glance at Ponyboy, his heart immediately melting at his reaction. Despite the fact that Ponyboy has already witnessed a sunset multiple times (Johnny would know—his best friend talks about it all the time), the boy seems to be struck dumb by the beauty of it all. Johnny finds himself shifting his focus from the sunset to Ponyboy. Johnny doesn’t even bother looking at the sun anymore, for his eyes remain fixated on his best friend. God, how is it possible for someone to be so beautiful? Johnny has always known that Ponyboy is attractive, since the green in his eyes and his perfectly greased hair was always a dead giveaway. And yet, it’s only during that moment that Johnny took his beauty for what it really is. Perhaps it’s the way Ponyboy’s eyes light up when he gets excited over the littlest of things, or maybe it’s the way he smiles whenever he’s happy…
Johnny shakes his head, trying to snap out of a sudden trance that he has seemed to be put in. What is he even saying? Nonsense…all of that talk is nonsense . He can’t be thinking things like these; he just can’t. Johnny looks back at the sunset, but even this beautiful sight of nature can’t compare to the person he just stared at. He scratches his head, confused. Why is his heart pounding at such a fast pace, as if it was fighting for its own chance at survival? Why does he not seem satisfied by the sunset, knowing that, once he looks at Ponyboy, he would not want to look at anything else?
By the time Johnny comes to terms with his surroundings and is pulled out of his own thoughts, the sunset is practically over. All that’s left is a sullen, dark streak of color that’s left in the sky, looking rather dull in comparison to the previous sight.
Ponyboy turns back to Johnny, a cheery smile still plastered on his face. “That sure was beautiful, wasn’t it?” His voice has a touch of dreaminess to it, a sense of softness and fragility that makes Johnny want to scoop him up and protect him from all the difficulties that this cruel world will throw at him.
“It really was…” Johnny replies, his voice trailing off.
The two boys remain standing there in the backyard, staring at the sky above them. It takes Johnny a couple seconds to finally realise that Ponyboy’s hand is still firmly gripped on his wrist. Blood rushes into Johnny’s cheeks as he blushes slightly, suddenly having an overwhelming urge to intertwine their hands together. Not knowing how to step out of this trance, Johnny follows through with what his mind tells him to do, taking Ponyboy’s hand in his. Ponyboy’s hand is so unbelievably warm, and Johnny doesn’t know how to bring himself to let go. Johnny feels a pang of guilt wash over him, worried that he might just be selfish for constantly having a never ending want for affection from Ponyboy. However, he doesn’t let the guilt completely overtake him just yet. Call it what you want, but holding Ponyboy’s hand feels like the missing piece in an over complicated puzzle. It felt right; it felt beautiful—and he’s sure as hell that no feeling could ever outshine this. Johnny gives Pony’s hand a little squeeze, stealing a glance at him to see if he has noticed.
Pony seems a bit flustered, a tint of red covering his cheeks. He awkwardly takes his hand out of Johnny’s, shoving both of his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “We should probably head back inside.”
Without saying a word, Johnny follows his friend back into the house, feeling a pang of disappointment deep inside him.
Is it wrong for him to wish that they would’ve continued holding hands?