Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own "The Outsiders" or any of the Curtis' Gang. Sigh. The real owner of "The Outsiders" is my favorite author, the fabulous S.E. Hinton. I also do not make a profit from the stories that I write here on this site.
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Well, I was told/requested, whatever you want to call it, to wrap it up, but I realized hat this wasn't very long yet, but this is kind of the halfway point, or it could be the end of you guys really hate my story.
Sodapop's POV
"Hey Soda," I heard Darry say. I jumped out of my seat where I had fallen asleep, startled. He started to laugh.
"Don't do that!" I whisper-yelled.
"I'm going to carry Pony to his old bed and I suggest you go to bed too," Darry told me. He looked a lot better, it was a miracle what
"Alright," I mumbled. I hoped that Ponyboy didn't have a nightmare tonight.
Darry's POV (Next morning on Sunday)
I was sitting in Pony's room after Soda has left for work, drinking coffee.
"I love you," I mumbled, not meant for Ponybly to hear, but he didn't anyway.
"You do?" He questioned, still half asleep. I felt like he had stabbed me in the heart.
"Yes. Why wouldn't I?" I questioned.
"You like to yell," he mumbled. The last question started to make sense, but it didn't hurt any less.
"I do it because I love you and I get worried," I told him. He nodded.
"Makes sense," he mumbled right before he fell back asleep. I just hoped that he remembered our talk.
Ponyboy's POV
"I love you," I heard a rough voice mumble, almost too quiet for me to hear.
"You do?" I questioned softly, not really understanding what I was saying or talking about. If I did I would have responded with "I love you too" in the first place.
"Yes. Why wouldn't I?" He questioned me.
"You like to yell," I mumbled, agsin not thinking about what I was saying or who I was talking to, just subconsciously talking to him.
"I do it because I love you and I get worried," he told me, emotion lacing his voice. I think I nodded.
"Makes sense," I mumbled right before I fell back asleep.
I didn't have a nightmare that morning while I was asleep, instead I dreamt about Darry, thinking about ways to understand him and what I had missed when we were arguing. Maybe those cold blue eyes were just rivers of feeling that froze over during the winter.
A/N: Ah! *squeals* The feels are just too much to handle. Sorry that that was short. Should I end the story there?