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It’s going to be a hot summer in Tulsa, Oklahoma.
It always is, but Pony could tell from the way it was only late May, and he could see waves coming off the pavement. He was sure if he took his shoes off, he’d burn the skin on his foot right off.
He had been hanging out in the DX, with Soda. But that got boring as soon as Steve came in and started getting on his back about getting a job.
He wanted to, he really did, but Darry wouldn’t let him get a job before summer vacation hit.
It’s Sunday, so it wouldn’t be hurting anything if he was at work instead of bumming around at the park.
But there’s nothing he can do about it, so he sucks it up. There are plenty of families up and about, even in the heat. He feels bad for some of the mothers who chase after their kids, their hair frizzy in the humidity.
He brings his cigarette to his lips and takes a deep drag.
“Baby Curtis, ‘s that you?” he hears a very familiar voice yell from behind him, before he feels a hand on his shoulder.
“Hey, Curly.” he says, and he sounds so tired Curly laughs as he hops the top of the bench and sits next to Pony, keeping an arm around Pony’s shoulders and a grin on his face.
Technically, the Curtis gang and the Shepard gang weren’t on the best terms, but Pony didn’t really care about all that too much anymore, and Curly got off on breaking the rules. Even if they were arbitrary ones his brother made up.
Pony feels the material of Curly’s jacket and scoffs. “Leather? In this heat?”
Curly smirks and pulls Pony closer. “C’mon man, I ain’t gonna give up my image ‘cause the temperatures rise. I can handle a little heat.”
Pony pushes him away and watches as Curly accidentally falls off the edge. His blood freezes for a split second, remembering all those stories of the hood Curly Shepard.
It only takes a second for Curly to look back up, eyes bright with laughter and Pony remembers that, for whatever reason, whether it be pity or friendship, Curly didn’t give a shit what Pony did. As long as it didn’t hurt him or his siblings, of course.
“Fiery today, huh? Tempers rise with the heat.”
“What poem’d you pull that from?” Pony asks, amused.
Curly smiles with all his teeth when he responds, “Not any you would know.”
Pony glared shortly before turning his attention back to the park. One of the mothers was wrangling her child back into a stroller and he smiles, one hand covering his mouth.
Curly leans back on the bench, neck craned as he looks at the sky.
A few months ago, it would’ve been the opposite. But after seeing so much death, Pony couldn’t help but want to soak in life. And Curly had been learning how to manage his mind better.
Not for any particularly virtuous or soul-seeking reason, he just didn’t want to end up doing another months-long stint in the reformatory only to come back and find he missed some of the craziest events in Tulsa history. (His words, not Pony’s.)
They sit like that for around 3 minutes before a member of Tim’s gang pulls up to the park and calls Curly over.
Curly just claps Pony in the shoulder as a goodbye and jogs over.
There was nothing else to do in the time it takes for Pony to gather enough energy to get up and start making his way home. By the time he stood, he might as well have been stuck there with the amount of sweat that covered his skin in a thin sheen.
He really needs to get a job.
A few more weeks, and Pony will be freed from the shackles of not having anything to do on the weekends.
The heat combined with the boredom is genuinely killing him.
He tries focusing on the drawing he’d been doing for the last hour, but there really was only so much you can add to a tree before you start going insane.
Pony almost welcomes it, when he hears Curly call out a greeting from behind him.
He snaps his sketchbook shut and stands up. Curly is coming down from a hill, his leather jacket still on.
It’s getting closer to June with every passing day, and Pony genuinely doesn’t know how he can stand the feeling of it.
“Jesus, man, you’re gonna catch heatstroke.”
Curly grins, like he’s proud of it. “At least I’ll look tuff when I die.”
Pony stiffens up a little before letting out a breath and shrugging. “Sure, that’s one way to put it.”
Curly wraps an arm around Pony’s shoulder and starts walking. “Do you know what our brothers are fighting about this time?”
Pony shakes his head. “No. But I’ll bet you it’s something stupid.”
Curly grins. “You’re probably right. Tim chewed me out just ‘cause I was hanging out with you. Fuckin’ snitch that Mees is.”
“Mees?”
“Guy in the gang.” Curly says. “He’s real annoying, but Tim likes ‘im.”
Pony huffs out a laugh. “I get it.”
Curly rolls his eyes. “No way, man. Your gang is close as brothers. All of you.”
“Steve.” Pony says, a smirk on his face and Curly lets out a laugh.
“I coulda guessed.”
The sun is setting and Pony pauses to look at it. Curly doesn’t notice for a few steps. He stops eventually and turns back around, seeing Pony staring at the horizon. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”
Pony huffs. “What do you think?”
Curly smiles. “I’m guessin’ the sun.”
With a hum of agreement, Pony nods. “You got it.”
“You’re gonna hurt your eyes.” Curly says.
But he stands there, watching the horizon until the sun goes down, right by Pony’s side.
It starts slow, kind of like the last few weeks of school before summer vacation hits.
Accidental meet-ups every time. Pony’s hanging around the corner store and here comes Curly. Curly’s causing trouble down at the Dingo and Pony just happens to be there too.
It starts with deep conversations about absolutely nothing over shared cigarettes on the warm spring nights.
It starts with Curly trying to throw his jacket over Ponyboy every time he mentions how hot it must.
It starts with sneaking into the Drive Thru without paying and hiding in the bathroom when someone from either of their gang comes over because they don’t particularly want the trouble.
It starts with friendship.
It should’ve stopped as soon as it started, when Curly got scolded for hanging out with Pony.
But Pony likes not being tied to the name of Bob and Curly likes not being in Tim’s shadow.
And both of them like not being bogged down by the title ‘Greaser’.
It’s easy, it’s effortless. It’s nice.
There’s only three more days before school will get out, and Pony finds himself a lot less concerned with his summer job prospects.
They’re laying down in the grass. They’re on a hill near the highway, Tim’s stolen car parked at the very bottom. “I like the stars.” Pony comments, turning his head towards Curly. “Do you like the stars?”
Curly, who’d been half asleep, takes a second to respond. “Yeah man. Yeah, I like the stars.”
“You ever think about if they know each other or not?”
Curly hums. “Nah. But I will, now. So, thanks for that I guess.”
Pony laughs and turns his attention back to the sky. “Do you like lightning bugs?”
“I guess.”
“Do you like the ocean?”
Curly’s quiet for a second, and Pony hears the soft rustling of Curly turning his head to look at Pony. “I’ve never been.”
Pony sighs. “Me neither. I still like it, though.”
“What else do you like?”
“I like the sunsets. And the sunrises. And I like liking stuff. I’d be pretty miserable if I didn’t have anything to like. I like books and drawing.”
Curly cuts in. “I like your drawings too.”
“I like the cold but not being in it.”
Curly nods along, listening to Pony go on about it. It had been a while since he’d listed stuff he liked. A while since he’d actually sat down and thought about it and now he had someone listening to every word.
“I like music. And I like cards, in a game and when they’re just there to sort. I like writing stuff.” he thinks for a second before turning to Curly. “What do you like?”
Curly starts talking about things he likes and it strikes Pony, how close they are. His heart speeds up as Curly talks about green and insects and dirt and collecting blades.
His throat bobs as Curly talks about sand (an odd addition to the list but not entirely unexpected) and hotwiring cars and leather jackets (of course) and summer.
Curly’s face is up towards the sky again, but when he finishes the list, he turns to Pony. He must say something funny, because he smirks.
But Pony can barely hear over the blood rushes to his ears. He’s not in control of his body when he leans over and his lips press against Curly’s.
Curly jerks back and Pony immediately gets snapped back to reality.
He sits up immediately. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Curly.”
Curly puts a had on the back of his neck. “No, no. It’s okay. I wasn’t—it wasn’t because I didn’t like it. I mean, I was shocked. But...”
Pony barely hears him, head resting on his knees as he tries breathing. “I’m sorry.”
His voice cracks on the last word and Curly can feel his chest tighten uncomfortably.
He gets a better grip on Pony’s neck and slowly raises his head up, waiting for Pony to get the message from the small tug.
Curly has one hand on the back of Pony’s neck the second time they kiss on a hill next to the highway, an open expanse of sky above them.
Pony swears he can feel some stardust float down and land on their shoulders as they kiss on top of the hill.
The meetings continue well into summer vacation. Pony has a part time job working at an ice cream parlor by then, and Curly comes to visit him often.
Once he gets off work, he hops in the car with Curly and they drive to a place no one will see them. They talk and they mess around, ruffling each other's hair and stealing sweet kisses.
Pony finds himself lying to his brothers about when his shift is supposed to end, just for the little security that comes with knowing they won’t question him when he gets home.
They’re in a park, now. Not the city kind, the actual nature parks, that span acres of land. There aren’t too many in afternoon trip distance of Tulsa, but there are the couple either in the city or right outside of it.
Under the cover of trees that were full enough in the summer to hide them from prying eyes, Pony and Curly messed around. They chased each other over rocks and kissed when they caught up.
It’s somewhere in between the time Curly tripped over a root to land in a puddle and the time they’re both running out of breath from laughing that Pony gets gut-punched with the realization that this isn’t just messing around.
He’s looking into Curly’s eyes and he’s overwhelmed. He’s overwhelmed by a type of love he’d never felt but was always described by books and the late-night talks he had with Soda.
Neither of them has ever been in love before. Pony’s loved before, sure, but he’d never been in love, and before this, no one was ever sure Curly even had the capacity to love anyone outside himself and his siblings.
Pony’s loved before, but never like this. Not in a dizzying way that makes the ground slip out from underneath him and force him to fly when he looks at Curly. Not in a way that makes his entire world expand.
He leans forward and kisses Curly.
Not a rare occurrence, but it’s different. It’s feeling being poured into the physical touch. He can tell by the way Curly responds that he gets it.
Even though he knows neither one of them will ever admit it, Ponyboy Curtis understands what love is in that moment.
They make their way back to the car after that, and Curly drives them, silent in the wake of the realization.
He gets dropped off a block from his house and walks in through the front door, afraid that Darry will get on him for being too late.
Instead, he sees Steve, Soda fussing over a cut on his face. “What happened?”
Darry sighs but smiles when he says, “Steve and one of the Shepard gang got caught up in a street fight.”
“I won.” Steve says, smiling. His nose looks more crooked than normal and it’s clear he’s expecting some kind of congratulations from Pony.
All Steve gets is Pony walking away without another word. A sick feeling spreads from his stomach.
Outside the realm of street fights and petty gang wars, exists Pony and Curly.
A separate entity that Pony thought nothing could ever touch.
But now, their meetings are tinged with fear. Both gangs have been getting more violent and it’s leading up to a rumble. Just like every other time they’ve fought, him and Curly will be expected to exchange punches at least once, as the youngest of their respective groups.
They would do it. He can tell that in the way his stomach tightens but his mind hardens with resolve when he thinks about it.
He can tell in the way Curly’s always been sharper than him, hardened by the streets in a way that is both so like and unlike Dally.
But that doesn’t mean they particularly want to.
They drive further out of town each time they get in a car after Pony gets off work, coming back later if only it means getting a glimpse of the world outside Tulsa. A world they wouldn’t have to worry about the implications of a rumble.
But that’s not the only fear that exists.
There’d been a story that broke just a few days ago about a boy from a few towns over. He’d been beat to death after it came out he’d been with a guy.
Darry had shaken his head, and muttered about what a shame it was. Pony thought he’d looked a little green.
It’s fear that keeps them on opposite sides of the car when they drive even though there’s nothing they want more than to be all over each other.
It’s fear—of change, of feeling, of themselves, of perception—that keeps them on the ropes, constantly ready to get up and start fighting every time they steal a glance or a kiss.
“What if we rumble?”
It’s dark out. It’s supposed to rain later that night, and there are heavy clouds covering any light from the moon or the stars. Lightning bugs light up the meadow they’re in, off the beaten path. It was on the way to a fishing spot Pony’s dad had taken him to a couple times.
Only 20 minutes from home, if he timed it right, Darry would buy that he was at the Drive-In.
“Then we fight.”
Pony sighs. “Each other?”
Curly sets his jaw and pulls Pony closer. “We ain’t got a choice, Pone.”
The finality of it feels like a death sentence.
Two weeks later, Curly and Pony will meet each other again, under the heavy cover of clouds at midnight.
But this time, their gangs will be there and the air will be filled with blood and the sound of pain instead of lightning bugs. Curly and Pony won’t be Curly and Pony. They’ll be Curtis and Shepard.
Shepard’s blood will spatter on the collar of Curtis’ shirt and Pony will throw up.
He’s not sure if it’s because it’s blood or if its because the blood is Curly’s.
He’s just sure of the heavy nausea and the gagging that comes with it.
Soda doesn’t question it, just combing back his hair. “Sorry, baby. We shouldn’t have made you go.”
Pony can’t do anything but throw up again.
There’s no apology. There’s just an understanding of appearances between them.
“You all won.” Curly says.
Pony nods. It doesn’t feel like a victory.
“That means it’s over. They can’t yell at us for hanging out.”
Pony smiles. “At least.”
“At least.” Curly agrees.
He tucks Pony further into his side and asks. “Do you like fighting?”
Pony’s silent.
“I really don’t know.”
Curly hums in surprise.
“I mean, I don’t like fighting, but I don’t hate it either. I feel a little better. After Johnny and Dally, every time I break my fists on someone else’s skin, it’s better, than it was before.”
Curly doesn’t seem to mind the convoluted feelings. “What do you hate?”
Pony huffs out a laugh and he starts listing things off.
He’s pleasantly surprised that the list of things he hates is much shorter than the list of things he likes.
When he turns the question back on Curly, he’s not as shocked to hear the same thing.
Love is complicated. Especially when neither one of you will call it that and especially when you’re both boys in the 60s and especially when your gangs have a tendency to declare a rivalry for odd reasons.
But Pony and Curly are content to exist outside the bubble of socializing and gangs and fighting for a little bit. Just when they’re together.
They’re more than content to float around in their own bubble filled with stardust and kisses and secret meetings and lightning bugs.
They’re more than content to love.