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“Those shiny rings look real nice,” Curly murmured. “I could always steal one fer you, Ponybabes.”
Ponyboy raised an eyebrow, ignoring the way his cheeks started to burn. “I told you to quit callin’ me that,” he said. “Makes me sound like some damn broad.”
Curly shrugged, leaning closer, a cocky smile on his face. “That’d make you my broad, wouldn’t it?” he asked cheekily. “You’d like that wouldn’t you, doll?”
Ponyboy rolled his eyes and shoved Curly away before shoving his hands into his pockets. “Don’t say that,” Ponyboy grumbled. “Darry would kill you and I’d help him. I ain’t no queer.”
Curly paused, before frowning and looking back towards the rings. “I ain’t sayin’ nothin’, Ponyboy — and I never called you a queer. I was j’st makin’ a statement. You can cool yer tits.”
Ponyboy huffed, rolling his eyes. “Even if you didn’t say nothin’, the implications could do a lot,” he muttered. “Go ‘round shoutin’ ‘bout queers and you’re bound to get jumped. By both Socs and Greasers. If that sounds like a good time, I think you should go talk ‘bout this with Tim or sumthin’.”
Curly clenched his jaw together. “Yer gettin’ wise,” he replied, his eyes locked on the ring in front of him. “Yer my buddy Ponyboy, but if you don’t watch yer trap—”
“ — You’ll jump me?” Ponyboy asked, looking at Curly, raising an eyebrow. Curly looked back, trying to think of an answer. He wouldn’t necessarily jump his buddy – that’s not how it works, but if Ponyboy got too mouthy with the wrong people, it’d sure go to hell quickly.
Curly swallowed the lump in his throat, watching Ponyboy’s eyes swirl with something careful, maybe even uncertain. “I wouldn’t hurt you,” he whispered, the air filling with something heavy. Curly clenched his fists together. “Despite what Tim says, ‘m not that much of an idiot,” he scoffed, his frown deepening. “I know when I need to lay off.”
Ponyboy stiffened, his eyes filled with emotions Curly was sure Ponyboy could name being the damn dreamer he was, but Curly himself couldn’t. The air was suffocating, and if Curly was good with words, he’d probably lament about the tension between him and Ponyboy, the thing that only continuously seemed to grow as the years continued to pass.
He heard Ponyboy inhale sharply, an all too familiar anger starting to show. Not many people could piss Ponyboy Curtis off, but once you did, you were usually in for a hell of a ride.
“I ain’t callin’ you stupid or an idiot or whatever you just called yerself,” he snapped, stuffing his hands into his pockets, his green eyes looking anywhere but Curly. His cheeks were slightly flushed. “I’m just sayin’ you gotta watch yer words, Curls. Especially when we’re in public where anybody could be listenin’. Yer a Hood ‘nd ‘m a murderer. We can’t be talkin’ all willy nilly. It’d be preposterous.”
“Then let’s go to my house,” Curly replied without thinking. “Or yers. Somewhere where we won’t get judged. Since yer so scared of that.”
“I’m scared of what damage those Socs would do,” Ponyboy muttered, his eyes darting towards the door before looking back at Curly. “They’ll lay off for a bit, but since Randy and Cherry went silent, I’m assumin’ the Rumble truce is thinnin’ the Socs patience and they’re about to ignore it.”
Curly hummed, slightly tuning Ponyboy out, his eyes still locked onto the one ring. If he just snagged it, he could probably run out relatively quickly; and if anything, it’d only be a night or two in the cooler. Nothing he hadn’t dealt with before.
“I swear ta god Curly Shepard if you touch that damn glass ‘m cuttin’ yer hair off,” Ponyboy stated, his lips twisting into a scowl. “The state barely allowed me to stay with Darry and Soda so if I get caught with you, I will beat yer ass.”
Curly normally would retort, if he knew Ponyboy wasn’t decently strong for a boy his height. Now don’t get him wrong – Ponyboy wasn’t anything special by any means — but he was strong and nimble from Darrel Curtis teaching everybody how to do flips and all that. If he really wanted to, he could probably pin Curly, especially since he was just in the cooler for a few months.
“It was a few months ago,” Curly defended. “‘M sure that it’s fine now, ‘kay? Nothin’ —” He paused, watching as Ponyboy’s knuckles turned white.
“Yeah it was a few months ago, but we’re still dealin’ with the losses, Shepard,” Ponyboy snapped. “I lost my best friend and two members of my gang. I witnessed every single murder in that fuckin’ week. So you better watch yer mouth.” He stepped closer to Curly, his eyes blazing with anger. “It was a such a fuckin’ relief when we found out the court wouldn’t take us away. So it may not have been a big deal to you, Shepard, since you got taken in by the fuzz over liquor, but it was a big deal to my brothers and I, so you better watch yer trap, ‘cause you’ve been gettin’ too mouthy.”
Curly swallowed thickly. “Guess yer rubbin’ off on me,” he said cheekily, and though he sounded teasing, his face said something else. Curly knew he looked tired. He looked at Ponyboy — at the fading anger — and looked for what made him, Curly Shepard, a hood, fall so hopelessly in love with the boy who’s seen too many horrors in a lifetime.
Ponyboy’s hair still had that stubborn curl near his neck – though it was around the side of his face since it was cut– but it was one that wouldn’t listen despite the amount of grease he used, and his eyes still held that gentle shine whenever he talked — or yelled — about something he was passionate about. Despite the anger that shimmered behind them, there was still that wariness, that care. His fingers still twitched with anticipation, and feet were always angled in a way that made it easiest to bolt in case the fuzz came.
Ponyboy sighed. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said, instead of replying to Curly’s previous comment. “I feel like every time you say sumthin’, ‘m just waitin’ for the other shoe to drop where you get taken from me; and then everythin’ will crumble again. I don’t think I can handle that for the third time.”
“I think ‘m too stubborn to leave you,” Curly murmured. “Yer the only thing that keeps me in school half the time. If you were outta my life, Tim would skin me.”
Ponyboy hummed. “I’ll have’ta hold you to that promise, ya’know,” he replied, voice soft.
Curly gave his lopsided grin, the one that was reserved only for the people he truly cared about. “Obviously,” he agreed, raising his hand, the ring he quickly took glinting in the light. “That’s why I want you to have a ring. Not ‘cause yer my broad, but so you know I won’t leave.”
Ponyboy opened and closed his mouth, his surprise evident. “You stupid hood,” he said, gently taking it from Curly’s grasp. “I don’t understand how you can do this shit.”
“Tim can’t seem to figure it out either, so when you properly meet the family, you’ll have sumthin’ to properly connect ‘bout!”
Ponyboy cuffed the back of Curly’s head. “Dar and Soda won’t let me near y’all,” he replied, raising an eyebrow. “So don’t bring any of that up just yet.”
“You know I won’t.”
Ponyboy opened his mouth to retort, but paused for a moment, his eyes flickering around the empty store. He shut it once, before sighing. “Yer lucky I love you,” he whispered, putting the ring on.
I love you to, Baby Curtis. M sory if that did not show.
- Curly Shepard
Ponyboy swallowed the lump in his throat. “When’d this happen?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Tim stuffed his hands into his pockets, and for once, Ponyboy didn’t see the cocky attitude on the hood. It was replaced with something solemn.
“He told me to give it to ya last week,” Tim replied. “Nuthin’ happened till a few days ago.”
Ponyboy’s fists tightened, the paper crinkling.
“Oh,” he said curtly.