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Ponyboy stared mindlessly at the instructions written on the chalkboard: ‘Father’s Day Poems’, His teacher droned on about what was expected as he passed blue sheets of paper for the activity, drowned out as his classmates whispered excitedly with one another about their summer plans.
It was the first week of June and there were two days left of school, the final Friday meant to just be a final graduation assembly, report cards already sent home so teachers just had to come up with mindless busy work for the remainder of class, no matter how boring it was.
'Mr Syme could do better than this’. Ponyboy thought to himself as he gripped his pencil with iron strength, his leg bouncing restlessly underneath the table and he could already feel his chest tightening.
Unfortunately for the boy, he was not lucky enough to be placed with his favourite teacher for sophomore English, instead stuck with this bastard who couldn’t have even provided him with an alternative writing prompt. It was obvious to everyone at Will Rogers at how much the Curtis family had lost in the past 2 years, the names of Johnny Cade and Dallas Winston lingering in the gossip at lunch tables, Ponyboy’s hair had finally grown out the botched bleach job but the ends still remained as dry as the Oklahoma summer.
Parents from the East side still gave Pony pity pats on the back and asking how him and his brothers were doing whenever he ran into one while doing the grocery shop, he still fell asleep staring at the cracked picture frame on his and Sodapop’s bedside table that held a crinkled, gray scale photo of the happy family, Ponyboy still just a babbling baby cradled by his Mama and his brothers’ grins reaching to their eyes as they hung off their Dad’s arms.
Ponyboy hadn’t seen Darry smile that wide in years.
Despite Pony’s reputation earned by being caught up in the murder rap, that doesn’t stop Socs from the occasional nasty comment or shove in the hallways.
‘Curtis what are you even gonna write about huh? Ain’t yer daddy dead two years?’ As Soc behind him jeered, leaning into his friend and laughing.
He’d gotten pretty used to this stuff, making a point push them into a locker, but for whatever reason Pony just couldn’t take it today and with that final remark he shoved his chair out forcefully, swung his backpack onto his shoulders and stomped out of the classroom, Chuck Taylor’s squeaking on the linoleum corridors, Mr Jones calling it out from the door of the classroom.
What was he supposed to do now? Ponyboy had never skipped school before, let alone storm out of a class that had just started.
There was another hour til school let out, he couldn’t just wander the halls unless he wanted a detention.
He could go home, but Sodapop had the day off today so no doubt as soon he would walk through the door he would be bombarded questions he didn’t have the strength to conjure up the answers.
Things had been slowly getting better between the Curtis brothers after Windrixville, Darry would still make sure his homework was done before he went out on Sundays, but he let Pony stay out after 10pm and didn’t immediately interrogate him has he walked through the door.
They would still get in plenty of rows of course, but made sure to not let it escalate and it would end with all three of the brothers on the couch, watching a comedy Soda picked out.
Pony mentally went through the places he could hide out til school ended, crossing out all the spaces which would be taken up by classes or where he was bound to be caught by the hall monitor or admin staff. His mind wandered to all of his friends at school today, before realising Curly Shepard would have to be hiding out somewhere, in their own shared class earlier today but Curly would never subject himself to last period English.
...
Ponyboy quickly shut the heavy clunking doors leading outside of the corridor, gently easing them back into the latch so it wouldn’t slam and give him away. He took long strides through the dry grass, careful to avoid long patches that would hold snakes or ticks, kicking up dirt that clung to his ratty sneakers. Sure enough, as he came closer to the abandoned sports shed the boy spotted a small plume of smoke wrapping around from the back of the small building.
He quietly rounded the corner to see the youngest Shepard leaning against the bricks, greasy curls pulled into a low bun- Ponyboy noticed how during the summer months Curly would always make Angela tie it back for him, the thick blanket always made his neck irritatingly sweaty. He looked unnervingly calm, body covered in shade from the nearby tree, his work boot (that had definitely been Tim’s at some point) tapping to an invisible beat, he had pushed his thick jacket up to expose his lean forearms, crossed with a cigarette pinched between two fingers, a thick gold ring with some intricate family crest that he had ripped off a Soc during a rumble hung on one while the other just a simple silver band made from a bent spoon, he had given Ponyboy a similar one.
Ponyboy almost didn’t want to disturb him, this was the most at peace he had ever seen Curly Shepard, usually bouncing off the walls with energy or riling up his siblings with a playful smile or face to face with some Socs, his lips curling up into a dangerous snarl, trembling slightly. Instead Pony watched carefully at the steady rise and fall of his chest, his eyes glazed over as he studied something in the distance, dark eyelashes fluttering at the blinking sunlight.
As his friend lifted the cigarette to his lips to take a drag, Pony decided to make his presence known. He kicked a rock towards Curly and pushed his tongue back with his index and middle fingers, calling their sibling’s shared whistle.
The tan boy jumped at the movement, head snapping to attention towards the sound and promptly dropping the cigarette, before his shoulders slacked in recognition.
'¡Jesús maldito Cristo! Tha hell do you think you’re doing giving me a heart attack like that!’ Curly spluttered, coughing up smoke and his hand clutched his chest dramatically.
Ponyboy snorted, ‘Didn’t mean ta scare ya Curls’.
’In what world is Ponyboy Michael Curtis skipping his favourite class?’ Curly teased in disbelief, head tilting to study his friend, ‘Have I finally corrupted you?’.
‘You wish’, Pony tried to joke. Despite the momentary distraction Curly’s friendly and teasing tone provided, the whole reason Pony was out here came to the forefront, but his voice was staring to waver as emotion came to the surface.
He offered his friend a sad smile before leaning against the cool bricks next to him, their arms brushing together.
He sunk down to the concrete, Curly crouching next to him as his thick eyebrows drew together in worry.
‘Hey Pones you know I didn’t mean it like tha- I’m sorry’. He reached over to brush his shoulder, head bowed, trying to catch Ponyboy’s gaze.
‘No no it’s not you’. Pony gasped, trying to hold back his tears and his leg started to shake. ‘It’s just-‘. His own sob cut him off.
‘Hey man, take your time.’ Curly offered gently, moving back to be shoulder to shoulder with Ponyboy, one hand slid up to the boy’s lower back, rubbing in slow circles.
For the next few minutes nothing was said, it was just Pony’s stifled sobs mixing with the cicadas, his eyes drawn closed whilst his friend sat by, offering the small amount of affection he could.
Ponyboy started again, explaining the situation, ‘…I just couldn’t take it Curls. Usually I’m good at ignoring em but shoot man, I just snapped and stormed out of the classroom.’
Curly was silent for a moment, nodding slowly and trying to digest what Pony had just recounted.
Not known for his considered responses, he blurted out, ‘Well shoot Pones, they’re all idiots. They don’t know you or what it’s like’.
Pony barked out a humourless laugh. ‘It’s all they know bout me, hell I hear tha middle schoolers talk about Johnny, and all the shit the Socs spew about Dallas- the goddamn newspaper about Sheldon’s death is still up on tha bulletin!’. Pony nearly wailed, hot tears streaming down his face, blurring his vision.
'I’m just trapped, it’s been my whole life and I don’t have anything besides the family I’ve lost.’
No matter how hard Pony tried to move forward with his life and maintain a sense of normalcy, trying to focus on his grades and the next track meet and how he could sneak into the drive in since the hole in the fenced had been patched up, the guilt of his mere existence continued to swell in his chest and leave him shaking in his brother’s arms at night. Why did his life deserve to continue while those closest to him had been cut short?
Curly wasn’t good at comforting, especially when it came to the matter of his friend’s parents. Even if the memories of the Curtis parents he had were filled with respect and fondness, Darrel Curtis Sr rushing to his aid when Curly had broken his arm when falling off the telephone pole in front of the family’s house and Ponyboy’s Ma handing him a cheese sandwich whenever he tagged along with Ponyboy after elementary school, he held a dark and ugly pit of resentment and jealousy for what the Curtis boys got. No matter how much Angela sobbed in front of the bathroom mirror trying to do her hair by herself or how many late nights Tim sits hunched over at their kitchen bench trying to balance bills and his gang’s business, the Shepard siblings would never have the experience of a parent tucking them into bed or driving them to school, and Curly could never let that go.
He couldn’t even try to relate, his own father had taken off as soon as Curly and Angela had been brought home from the hospital. From then his Ma had a rotating stock of at their worst, abusive, and at their best, deadbeat, boyfriends and/or short-lived stepdads before she also took off when Tim was 12.
And Tim Shepard, doing what he could for the younger twins to keep food on the table could never be a stand in for an adequate parent.
Curly didn’t know how to respond, so all he did was quickly study their surroundings before pulling in Ponyboy, wrapping the shaking boy into an embrace and hand flying to his hair, running through the reddish-brown roots.
‘Man, I’m sorry. All I know is that you’re one of the tuffest guys I know. I don’t know many Greasers who could go through allat and come out stronger like you did Pones. It’s really…’ Curly paused for second, trying to think of the word as Pony pressed his face into Curly’s shoulder.
‘…Admirable. It’s admirable’.
Ponyboy stopped crying, lifting his head to face Curly, before bursting into laughter.
‘Oh man, Curls, where’d you learn that word!’.
'Shut up Curtis! You’re not the only one who knows stuff!’. Curly huffed, resting his back against the wall, turning his face away to hide the blush blooming on his cheeks, fumbling with his pack of cigarettes.
‘I guess I’m corrupting you too.’ Ponyboy sniffled.
‘Is that such a bad thing?’ Curly asked, trying to stifle the hopefulness threatening to break out of his chest.
Pony shuffled closer again, pulling Curly’s gaze back. ‘No. Gimme that.’ The pale boy smiled brightly, gesturing for the cigarette. Curly muttered indignantly, lighting the cigarette before passing it over.
They were silent again, passing the cancer stick back and forth, the smoke surrounding them as they both stared out in the trees and carpark beyond.
‘Thank you, though. That means a lot comin' from you Curls.’ Pony offered quietly, meeting the other’s deep brown eyes with his own pale green, mouth pulled into grateful, sincere smile.
Curly Shepard nearly choked right then there, a lump in his throat forming as he had to hold himself back from reaching out to his friend, had to stop himself from cupping his jaw and pulling him in, he had to stop himself staring at his pink lips and studying the freckles blooming on his cheeks.
‘Yeah. Well. No matter what happens I’ll be stuck here with you too.’ Curly smirked, all he could was rest his hand on Pony’s knee, squeezing it lightly.
Ponyboy focused in on the touch, inhaling deeply, head snapping to watch the red brick school before glancing back at Curly, watching intently as his own hand grazed Curly’s knuckles, thumb tracing the grooves as his other hand picked at the hem of his flannel.
As much as Curly would never admit it to his face, he missed Dallas Winston bursting into the Shepard house at odd houses, causing Tim to run out with a baseball bat before throwing his hands up in annoyance at his friend, before Dallas would swagger into Curly’s room and swiftly pull him into a headlock, the latter trying to kick at his shins to escape.
As much as he wanted to admit he didn’t like Cade, he missed their heated arguments that flickered between Spanish and English whenever they crossed paths.
But since they had been gone, and since Curly had gotten out of the reformatory, Pony and Curly had gotten far closer.
They had always been friends, but Pony began to seek the boy out more and more, presumably to get a break from his rambunctious gang, and probably to forget about his grief and misery even just for a moment as Curly dragged him into petty crime and some of the dumbest activities on the East Side. Curly could admit that he missed Dallas Winston and Johnny Cade even if it would cause him significant strife and effort, but he could never admit he’s maybe a tiny bit thankful for their passing, if it meant getting closer to Curtis.
Unfortunately, the bubble that formed around Pony and Curly, rising and falling breaths matching each other and their entire sides pressed together, popped as soon as the final bell rang out and the rest of the school filed out to car park and bus stop, rowdy at finally being let go.
Curly sighed, pushing himself to stand above Pony, his content expression replaced by the much more familiar sneer as he sized up the crowds.
‘Well, Curtis, what’s the plan now?’ Curly asked lazily, his hand brushing against Pony’s as he reached for the cigarette.
Pony groaned dramatically, tipping head back. ’The thought of having to explain all of that to Soda is makin me sick jus thinkin about it.’
‘Wow, Ponyboy not wanting to hangout with the brother who hates ma guts? I’m in heaven.’ Curly snickered.
Ponyboy rolled his eyes, ‘Alright well got any bright ideas, wisecrack?’.
‘Anywhere that gets me out of this school. I’m barely here when I’m supposed to be, hell if I’m gonna be caught here after hours.’
‘You were at all of my track practices last week.’ Ponyboy bit back, smirking and taking Curly’s outreached hand to lift himself off the ground, dusting loose gravel on his jeans.
Curly sneered, ‘Semantics, c’mon now’.
‘Another big word!’. Ponyboy chuckled.
‘Shut yer trap Pone, otherwise I’m leaving yer smart ass behind.’ Curly muttered pacing ahead of Pony into the parking lot, distracting himself from the teasing by looking for Tim’s car.
…
They made it to the scratched car in the corner of the lot, Curly opening the passenger side for Pony as the latter joked something about being a gentleman.
'So, where are we goin?’ Ponyboy finally asked as they teetered out of Will Rogers, car rumbling beneath them.
Curly shifted the gear and turned onto the uneven road, clicking his tongue, ‘You’ll have to wait and see’.
The few cars that drifted past and the gushing wind that made Curly’s loose, Curly strands fly wild battled with his own unabashed rambling about the drama he had overheard from his sister. The boy in the passenger seat had his head resting on door and his legs drawn up to his chest, eyes flickering like a lizard’s as he switched between glancing out the window, tracing the powerlines and the run down houses to his friend driving the vehicle, making sure to react appropriately to his friend’s story and add his own sarcastic remarks, trying to stifle his yawns and drooping eyelids as he hung off Curly’s every word.
…
They had been driving for close to an hour before Ponyboy realised he didn’t recognise their surroundings. The sagging porches and overgrown lawns of the East side peetering out into rolling fields which held the occasional cattle. He was sure they had passed by Buck’s place, and might even be past the Dairy Queen that signalled the start of the highway.
‘Shit, Darry will lose his head if I even come close to Buck’s, I don’t wanna imagine what’d he think if he caught me out here.’ Pony tried to joke, voice wavering slightly as nervousness settled into his bones at the unfamiliar territory.
Curly laughed softly under his breath, ‘Yeah Tim’s only let me come out here with him couple’a time, don’t wanna find out what he would do if caught me out here with baby Curtis’. He replied, scanning along the side of the road before spotting the right turn off, gravel and tar dissipating into an uneven dirt road, untamed grass creeping through and flattened fencing swallowed by the greenery.
Pony’s stomach does a backflip at the other’s words and his heart rate picks up rapidly.
‘What the fuck Shepard? Whaddaya mean you’re not allowed out here alone? Where the hell are ya taking me?!’. Ponyboy blanches, spiralling as his voice goes up an octave.
'Hey Pone relax okay? This place is abandoned most of the time, the Brumly’s only sometimes use it for bootlegging, and Tim picks up blow from here. Don’t worry your pretty little head over it.’ He attempts to calm his friend reaching for his shoulder, car swerving as he fails to keep his eyes on the trail and not on the boy beside him.
‘Curly Shepard I swear ta god if somethin happens out here you won’t have to worry about any of our siblings, I will end you myself.’ Pony shoots daggers towards the drivers side, trying to muster up all of his frustration in his response, tension bleeding from his words, failing to protest at the warm hand on his shoulder.
‘Just…stay close to me okay? I promise it will be worth it Pones.’
‘Yeah whatever… just keep yer eyes on the road asshole.’ Ponyboy scoffs back.
…
=The car finally pulls up to the front of a dilapidated barn. The white paint is peeling and scratched, the bare planks warped and suspiciously bullet shaped divots pierced the wood. Rusted metal sheets lean against the walls, bottles and car tyres lying at the entrance to shack . The car doors slammed behind the teenagers, shattered glass crunching under their feet. Ponyboy gripped the switchblade in his pocket tightly, thumb tracing the tip of the knife deftly, trying to steady his breathing.
Curly has his blade out, flicking it up and down lazily. The hood tried to play it cool, even humming a tune and bumping playfully into the younger’s shoulder, but his slight pauses at any sound, the way his eyes twitched and his expression was set in a determined scowl watching the entrance to the barn gave away how tense he really was.
They made slowly made their way inside, light on their toes in case they had to make a quick getaway.
Inside it smelt distinctly of mildew, piss and strong alcohol. Several milk crates were stacked in the corner of the space, filled with intact, but empty, bottles, their old labels fading away, bits of scrap metal stacked in sagging cardboard boxes.
A sitting area had been set up with dirtied lawn chairs circling a stomped-out fire pit, even a small camping stove resting on the remaining charcoal.
A ladder led up to a loft space, the roof had given filtering in the late afternoon sun as dust and dirt floated in the rays.
Ponyboy snorted, breaking the nervous energy that had been suffocating the boys, ‘Well ain’t this cozy.’
Curly chuckles, ‘You can see the Brumly’s have really made themselves at home.’
‘What even was this place?’. Pony asked, running his hand along the milk crates, inspecting the bottles mindlessly.
Curly took a seat around the fire pit, answering slowly. ‘Tim said it held this farmer’s tractor’s in the 20s, then the Depression hit and he abandoned this place for the city to look for more work. Never came back, and some squatters took over and started bootlegging moonshine.’
‘And now it belongs to some hoodlums. What happened to the squatters?’ Pony asks, peering over his shoulder to look at Curly.
The young Shepard carefully avoids his friend’s insightful gaze, clearing his throat before muttering, ‘Tim and Buck probably took care of em.’
Pony just nods solemnly.
Everyone on the East side knows about the Shepard gang and their illicit hustles, their fearless leader Tim doing a whole lot more than just beating up West side Socs who messed with his little siblings. As much as Curly tried to avoid this topic of conversation, outside of ranting to Ponyboy about the idiots who worked for his brother and the trouble they managed to get in, and letting Pony know he’d be gone for a couple of days on some job the oldest Shepard wanted him for, Pony knew what was going on.
Despite the friendly greetings him and Tim exchanged whenever he went to hangout at the Shepard house, he was always sat facing the door at the table, either counting out little baggies of circular pills or 20 dollar bills or speaking in hushed whispers with members of his gang that would cease as the Curtis boy entered. Pony’s gaze would always land on the handgun permanently at Tim’s side and he shivered any time he though too hard about the who’s, what’s, when’s, where’s, why’s and how’s about Tim using it. He wondered if his friend had been taught to use it, or even if he had his own that was stashed away somewhere secret but accessible in the house, or even if it got tucked in Curly’s worn jacket’s inner pocket when he got sent out to do his brother’s dirty work.
Curly tried to keep Pony out of it, shutting down his friend’s probing questions and avoiding the concerned gaze when he came back battered and bruised, hoping the older Curtis brother’s would ease up on their warnings to the youngest sibling that 'Tiny Tim' was nothing but a hood and their friendship only meant trouble if Curly kept his best friend at a safe distance from the activities of the Shepard Gang.
Pony had become accustomed to the violence of the neighbouring gangs, any time he noticed Curly’s prolonged absence from school or the diner or the drive in or outside his window at night or his lack of calls to the Curtis landline, any time a gunshot echoed through the streets Pony’s heart would skip a beat, he would stay up chewing his nailbeds raw listening to Soda snore beside him as he waited for the familiar thump on the window from his friend, safe and sound and always looking to hangout with Pony, whether or not he could barely stand without swaying with a shiner decorating the side of his face, or was so jumpy he couldn’t handle teasing nudges, tears threatening to burst but never came.
Both of their heads snapped towards the quiet scratching in the back of the barn that was shrouded in darkness, Curly and Pony jumped into each other’s arms as a massive o’possum let out a gnarled squeak, pink nose twitching and greyish little body scurrying out and into the grass outside. They were both gasping helplessly, Curly leaning into Ponyboy’s space, grasping tightly onto his counterpart’s arm, he had dropped the switchblade in the process. The two looked at each other before bursting out laughing, clutching their sides and shoulders shaking the tension and their fear odd.
‘Tuff Curly Shepard dropping his switch because of a possum! What good is that gunna do grease!’. Ponyboy gasped, trying to catch his breath, nose scrunched and ears bright red, he leaned his head on Curly’s shoulder, trying to balance himself as the laughter shook his body.
Curly gave a weak shove to push the pale boy away, smacking him in the arm, the other trying to retaliate with a sucker punch to the gut, Curly narrowly avoiding the hit, stumbling back slightly.
He tried to act offended, his giddy smile and face red from laughter, ‘Man shuddup! Like you were any better, clutching onto me like a broad!’.
Pony had calmed down, his heart still beating fast as he watched the other lean back, endless laughter blanketing the two, his gaped tooth smile glinting in the sun light and beads of sweat appearing on his defined collarbone, locs of hair coming loose bouncing with the movement.
Ponyboy traced the thin sliver of Curly’s exposed stomach as his shirt had ridden up from their scuffle, all tan skin and lean muscle and a thin patch of hair trailing down past his waistband. It took all of his will to stop thinking about what it led to.
It was a hot early summer day and they were in the sun and all red from laughter, but Pony knew there more to the reason why it felt like he had been set ablaze.
He inhaled sharply, nudging Curly’s toe with his converse.
‘Alright c’mon why’d you bring me out here Curls? What are you showing me?’.
Curly’s eyes widened, his laughter ceded but his bright grin was still plastered on his face. ‘Yeah right!’. He turned on his heels and put his feet on the rungs of the ladder that led up to the loft.
He looked back at Pony below him, ‘Your pansy ass is gonna love this, start climbing Curtis.’
The expectant gaze from Curly’s deep brown eyes willed Pony to follow him up, despite his concerns on the sturdiness of the ladder.
‘Watch out for nails.’ Curly called as he hoisted himself up on the landing, dusting the grime off on his jeans.
Ponyboy scoffed, ‘Yeah tetanus is the least of my concerns when Curly Shepard takes me out to an abandoned barn used by drug peddling hoodlums.’
Curly didn’t answer, trying to stifle his smile, grabbing onto the boy’s wrist to help pull him up. He kept hold of Ponyboy’s wrist as he led him to the end of loft where the roof had caved in, gesturing dramatically out into the view beyond.
‘Lo and behold Curtis, what you have been waiting for.’
Ponyboy took his eyes off his friend to look out, his breath caught in his throat as took in the landscape.
The horizon was painted an almost blinding yellow, orange and pink streaks fading out into the pale blue of the early evening and shrouded the world in a hazy golden light.
The empty grassland stretched on for miles, tiny black spots of cattle milling about in the distance and winding barbed fences separating properties, he could imagine farmers preparing to ride out and herd livestock back in for the night.
His eyes followed the steady stream of cars entering and leaving Tulsa as the country side met with his town, the distant buildings rising in the centre of town, his mind wandering to his gang.
Darry would be just about to finish work, complaining about getting stuck in rush hour traffic, back aching from working in the sun all day and waiting to be in his armchair and a massage from his brother.
Steve would be finishing up work on fancy Soc car, wiping the grease from his face and oil staining his shirt, thinking about what was going on for dinner at the Curtis house, knowing he would swing by for a meal and poker game against his best friend.
Soda would be digging through the fridge for the leftover mince to put in the spaghetti, forgetting about the boiling pot on the stove.
Two-Bit would be heading over to the house with a new case of beers he owed them on his shoulder, racing so he could catch the Mickey reruns.
But right now he was alone with Curly Shepard in a cruddy barn, sitting shoulder to shoulder and legs dangling over the edge as they took in the painting beyond them.
Curly was watching the golden landscape just as intently as Ponyboy.
‘Curly… this is amazing.’ He nearly whispers, awestruck at the sight.
‘I knew you would like it.’ Curly sighed happily, knocking his knees against Pony’s. ‘I get why you like them.’
‘What? Sunsets?’. Ponyboy raised his one eyebrow and smirked indignantly at the other.
‘Yeah, I dunno, they make me think of when Tim would pick me and Ange up from elementary school, and he would try and steal us popsicles from the convenience store.’ Curly offered a soft smile to Ponyboy who hummed contentedly in response.
‘And uh.. they make me think of you.’
That catches Pony’s full force of attention snapping back from the view to bore into Curly, he can’t help the blush that rises to his cheeks and how his heart thumps in his chest like it might fall out. ‘Really?’.
‘When I’m on a job that Tim put me up to, usually hunting down someone who owes em money, I’ll lookout the at the sunset and think about you watching it as well, from the lot or from yer window, reading sum book or smoking. Like no matter what happens we’re together.’ He realises how that sounds and has to drop his gaze from the staring contest he was having with Pony, the greenish gray eyes threatening to strangle him and steal his soul, picking out the dirt on his shirt.
‘If that isn’t one of the softest things you’ve ever said to me Curly.’ Pony teases gently. He can’t believe this hood, who spends most of his time scratching obscene images into mustangs or annoying the crap out of his (and Ponyboy’s) siblings, whose reality is defined by violence and in a completely different world away from Pony despite only living a couple of blocks away from each other can sit here and see what Pony sees in sunsets, when everyone else finds it queer or a waste of time.
‘If hanging out with the toughest Greaser in Tulsa means becoming a lil' soft, I’ll accept it’. Curly responds.
Pony then remembers the whole reason they’re out here, the English class and the writing activity and the dumb Soc and the emotions and memories of those who are gone threatening spill out, his mind immediately seeking comfort in Curly.
He hasn’t even thought about Johnny or Dallas or his Ma and Pa since he had found Curly behind the sports shed and they’d driven out here.
Maybe in alternate universe he would have preferred if Johnny was out here with him, handing him a new book to read aloud.
Maybe he would have wanted to be bickering back and forth with Dallas and trying to convince the blonde to buy him Dairy Queen on the way back.
Maybe in another circumstance he would want to be out here with his whole family, Darry and Soda in the field below passing a football while he fell asleep resting his head on his Mama’s lap as she ran her nails through his hair, hand in hand with his Pa and listening intently while he recounted his day at work.
But right now, all he has is the crooked nose and the curly mop of hair and the dimples of Curly Shepard, bathed in golden light, who was slowly leaning into Pony’s space, cupping his jawline and eyes fluttering shut.
Pony found himself meeting Curly in the space between, hand flying to the back of his neck, the ghost of his exhales tickling his face, the gentle press of his chapped lips encompassing his own.
It was slow and light as feather, and just as Pony tried to kiss back two hands were pushing against his chest and scrambling to put distance between them, Pony opened his eyes to see the tremble of Curly’s lip, eyes widening in shock and hands flying to his scale.
‘Shit-shit-fuck Curtis, man , I dunno why I did that you-you’re not like tha-‘.
Ponyboy had to pause for a second to fully grasp that his best friend had just tried to kiss him, before his joy spilled out in disbelieving laughter.
Ponyboy snickered, ‘Gosh Curls, you’re an idiot.’
Curly snapped his mouth shut and twisted his face into one of worry and confusion.
Pony continued to laugh as he placed both hands to the side of Curly’s face and guided him back in and pressed their lips together once again.
As Curly reciprocated, his content sigh was swallowed and he slid one hand back into the thick bundle of hair and the other one to grip just above his knee.
This was nothing like the kiss he had shared with Cathy Carlson after he walked her home from the dance, or the one he had felt obliged to give when he took a girl out to the drive-in after she had so carefully asked him at school.
They had all been nice enough, but Ponyboy would surely become addicted to this as Curly began to move his lips against his own, one hand rubbing in languid circles on his exposed lower back just like before at Will Rogers, the other cupping his jaw.
As he tried to break quickly for air he tugged a little on Curly’s curls, the boy letting out a groan and dived back in with new ferocity, tugging and nipping at Pony lips, he thought he might melt as Curly’s tongue traced his lips and slid against his own.
The boy shifted the hand that had been resting against Pony’s back to rest on his hip, sliding his finger under the thin shirt, thumb following the line of his boxers waistband.
Curly pushed Pony so he was nearly lying down, he gripped and tugged at the other’s worn leather jacket to keep them connected, nails scratching against his scalp that encouraged Curly to continue to move against Ponyboy’s mouth and drag his hips down to meet the other’s.
Curly shifted on top of Ponyboy, one knee slipping between Pony’s legs and nudging his thighs wider apart.
The angle and the movement of the hips and Curly’s leg in between his own was driving Pony mad, as Curly drove his thigh and pulled Pony’s hip down to he instinctively bucked at the friction, pulling away to let out an embarrassing whine.
As the noise slipped out he let go of Curly’s shirt and let himself fall back, head landing on wood with a soft thud. His hands flew up to hide the embarrassment and shock on his face, peaking through his fingers to watch Curly’s swollen and glistening lips bite back a laugh.
‘So I’m guessing that was okay? You liked it?’ Curly asked, trying to joke but his hopefulness slipping out, sitting back on his elbows and searching Ponyboy’s face for any sign of rejection.
Ponyboy groaned before removing his hands, one sliding up to squeeze Curly’s shoulder.
‘Yeah I did Shepard, obviously.’
‘Okay! Just making sure!’.
‘Would you want to do it again? With me?’. Curly asked, fiddling with the buttons on Pony’s flannel, unable to hold eye contact.
Ponyboy pretended to consider it, letting Curly hang in limbo for 3 long torturous seconds before nodding slowly and moving his hand up to trace the downright giddy smile breaking out on Curly’s face.
The boy reached over to interlink their other hands, bringing their joined knuckles and kissing lightly before flopping back beside Pony, both squinting up into the sky.
They stayed in thoughtful silence, Curly’s thumb circling the back of Pony’s hand whilst he occasionally squeezed to let him know he was still there.
...
When the last traces of orange were being invaded by a deep blue and twinkling stars, Ponyboy sat up and removed his hand from Curly’s grasp, despite the pitiful protests from the other.
‘We should probably head back’. He finally said.
Curly groaned dramatically, ‘Why did you have to ruin it?’.
‘What? Would you rather my brother’s send out a search party and then ban me from seein' you again when they find out you took me to a hideout for gangs?’. Ponyboy answered sarcastically, raising his eyebrow.
Curly admitted defeat, ‘Fine. I spose not’.
Ponyboy grinned, leaning over and pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of Curly’s mouth, pulling away and standing up, rolling his eyes as Curly pouted at the loss of contact.
The older boy landed next him at the bottom of the ladder, swiftly wrapping his arm around Pony’s shoulder and leading them out, Pony instinctively snaking an arm around his waist.
‘Can’t believe you didn’t get us killed.’ Pony said as Curly turned the key into the ignition, car rattling to life and began shifting the gear to drive.
'See I told you we’d be fine! And I managed to cheer you up’. Curly replied triumphantly, whipping his head around to reverse the car.
'And I even got a kiss out of it’. Ponyboy met Curly’s backward glances and they each held shy smiles.
'Yeah. Lucky me.’ Curly smiled.
…
Ponyboy felt the car roll to a stop as he lifted his head from the door, blinking, trying to gauge their surroundings.
‘Hey Pone, we’re back, you were out cold!’. Curly nudged him more awake, stretching his own legs out from the footwell. ‘Figured I’d drop you here so yer brother’s wouldn’t spot me.’
Pony nodded, looking at the lot through the wind. It had sat empty ever since that October night, nobody from the gang could bring themself to face it knowing that Johnny Cade wouldn’t be huddled up by his fire, switchblade at the ready. Someone had ripped out the upholstery from the shell of the car, and Pony couldn’t help but think of how Steve would be disappointed at that site.
The empty cans had been cleared away, but the mattress that someone had dragged out there laid in the overgrown grass, fuzzy green mold poking out the bottom.
The tree that sat in the by the chainlink fence still had the initials ‘PB + J’ carved into its bark.
‘Yeah I best go.’ Pony admitted, disappointment weighing heavy.
He climbed out of the front seat and swung around to the driver’s side, leaning in close to Curly through the open window.
‘So uh… I’ll see you soon? Maybe?’ Ponyboy asked, suddenly awkward and scratching the back of his neck.
Curly only scoffed, ‘Hell it wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me to kiss you and run off would it Pone?’
‘I think technically I kissed you’.
Curly only rolled his eyes, the pink dusting his cheeks illuminated as he flickered his lighter, drawing a cigarette up to his lips.
He leaned back in his seat, looking at Pony thoughtfully and breathing in the tobacco.
He exhaled slowly, smoke trailing out his nostrils ‘I’ll call you when I’m home?’.
Pony ducked his head down bashfully to hide his smile before agreeing, reaching in to steal the cancer stick.
He then glanced around the neighbourhood, taking in the houses and any passerby. It was nearing dinner with all the curtains closed, if people weren’t eating dinner inside they were already at Buck’s or the rodeo.
Pony mustered up all his remaining energy and leaned through the window to press a proper kiss to Curly’s lips, the boy reciprocating immediately, smiling against Pony’s face and moving his hand to cup his cheek gently.
‘See you later, Ponybabe’. He said as they broke free.
The other boy immediately cringed, face scrunching up ‘No way you’re calling me that’.
‘I’ll find somethin!’
And with that Curly Shepard sped off down the road, taking the risk lean out the window and wave while honking wildly.
‘Idiot’. Pony thought to himself, finishing the cigarette at the lot, back against the tree that held the evidence of his and Johnny’s friendship.
…
The Curtis gang were eating dinner when the phone rang, interrupting Darry complaining about his boss at work.
Soda hopped out and beat Pony to the phone, the youngest flipping him off as Two-Bit and Steve laughed at Ponyboy.
‘Curtis residence!’ Soda answered, his cheery grin immediately falling ‘Oh it’s you. What makes ya think you can talk ta my brother?’.
…
‘Don’t bullshit me Shepard.’
…
‘Fine. Whatever. Just make it quick, Carlos, we’re eating. And tell Tim he owes me a deck of cards.’
Ponyboy was practically buzzing for Soda to get off the phone, the eldest sitting there shaking his head in silent laughter at his brothers.
‘It’s for you, kiddo.’ Sodapop held out the phone for his brother, keeping it far away from his body and pinching it between his thumb and index finger, nose scrunched up in disgust as if Curly’s mere crackling voice at the other end of the line was enough to taint the object.
Pony led the phone into the hallway, closing the kitchen door behind him despite Soda’s indignant protests.
‘Hey Curls.’ Pony greeted, overly cheerful.
‘¡Dios mío! I swear your brother just wants to kill me.’
Pony chuckles, about to respond before another voice interrupts.
Quién es?’ Angela’s voice called out in the background.
…
‘Relájate, hermana. Es solo Ponyboy.’ Curly answered his sister, the other boy perking up at his name, trying to follow along with the Spanish from the limited phrases Curly had taught him.
…
‘No lo sé. ¡En fin, ve a preguntarle a Tim!’
…
‘Sí, lo que sea. ¡Vete a la mierda, Angela!’
‘Angela says hi. Anyway I won’t be at school tomorrow, Tim is pretty pissed that I had his car for so long today so he’s making me go out on a job. But they’re playing a new movie at the drive-in tomorrow night, if you wanted to go with me? I should be back by then.’
Ponyboy paused, taking a moment to listen if his brothers were snooping at the door, he lowered his voice.
‘Curly Shepard, are you askin me out on a date?’
‘If it was would you say yes or no?’
‘Yes.’ Pony answered eagerly.
‘Kay, well I’ll pick you up at 8 tomorrow?’. Pony can tell Curly is trying to hide his excitement.
‘Stay safe Curls. Don’t be stupid.’
‘You know that’s not easy for me. Bye, doll.’
'Tell Angela I say hi back.’
The line went silent, as Pony shook with excitement and smiled to himself.
‘Ponyboy Micheal Curtis if you don’t hang up that phone and come eat I swear ta god!’