This was a one-shot, but not anymore. Maybe there will be more chapters later.
Call it Love
I guess you can call it love when he pulls out that heater and raises it high in the air, and luckily, it's almost midnight, cold and dark, a perfect time to end your days. How else can he show it, this hard boy, so tough that he can't feel anything? That's what he used to say, the advice he gave to them who would listen, or maybe not listen then, but who would remember it to another time - don't feel. And he thought he couldn't.
But of course, he could.
Why else would he lie there, on the grass, bleeding his life out?
So many people calls him a hoodlum or worse, and he is, he was, but to the audience, the five boys that run and watch and scream and mourn this evening, he is so much more than that.
But it is too late to tell him. Maybe he already knows. Truth is, he don't care.
His heart is somewhere else right now, no wonder no bullet could reach it. No, they have pierced his stomach, his arm, his leg, but not the throbbing organ. And his final thought isn't a word, it's a name, it's Johnnycakes, and that's the boy who holds his heart in his dead hand, the boy he loves.
Not the way a boy loves a girl, though. But that don't matter, for this love is purer, bigger, so much better. It's the reason why.
He thought he had lost the ability to feel something for anyone when he was really little, but even he could be wrong. He didn't realized it though, until the kid took his last breath. And that was when he understood what he had missed all his life, but it was to late to do something about it. Aside from pull out that heater, so that was what he did. It was the only thing he could do.
Call it love. Because that is what it was.
I don't own The Outsiders.
Sorry for grammar mistakes, english is not my native language. If you tell me, I correct them.
I like reviews :)
Thanks to NittanyLizard for help with the grammar!