♡ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜱᴀʏ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ♡

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(Johnny's POV)

I didn't mean to say it. It just slipped out.

I quickly pursed my lips shut and my eyes went wide, but to my luck, she was already asleep.

Even though I wished I hadn't said it, a small part of me was glad that I did and hoped that she heard it.

Our words played in my head like an actual exchange, one that didn't really happen but one that I wished did.

I love you, Johnny.

I love you too, Cary.

My arm was draped across her pillow and around her head. She was facing me, her face mere inches from my chest. I felt her warm, steady breaths through my shirt as her chest rose and fell on pace. She was still wearing the same green skirt and white shirt from last night, and it hung loosely around her shoulders.

It was dirty: gray bands wrapped around one of her arms and smeared down the sleeve, light brown smudges were splattered across her front, and the most sickening was the thick, red-brown skid marks along her back from the brick wall she was thrown against. Despite her dirty shirt, her dark auburn hair was somewhat neat, probably thanks to my fingers brushing through it last night.

I caressed my fingers across it again. She was one of the few girls I knew that had long, full hair that actually looked healthy. Granted, I didn't know that many girls, but regardless it was beautiful. Natural beach waves ran past the middle of her back and came together in a V-shape, a defined shine all the way through. Her locks flowed whenever she walked, and in the breeze her light, wispy bangs floated around. They framed her perfect face, and the slight, rust-orange tint of her hair accentuated her bright eyes.

Her eyes intrigued me the most: the way they passionately swirled between blue and green made just a single look enough to mesmerize me. They were the same color as Darry's, but unlike his—hard and icy with determination—hers were more lively and shined with laughter when she was having fun.

That shine had been disappearing lately, ever since she picked up double shifts at the diner. Today, they were as dull as rocks. I was afraid if this kept happening that I would never see that shine again. The thought broke my heart, so I quickly pushed it away.

I heard Two-Bit laugh in the next room and remembered we weren't alone. Even though I didn't want Two-Bit to think anything, I didn't want to leave Cary. I couldn't.

Besides Ponyboy, Cary was the only person I felt really understood me. All of the guys were so focused on being hard and tough as nails—shoot, I tried to be, but everyone knew I wasn't. Not since I got jumped. Especially Dally. He was so tough that the only emotions he had was anger and bitterness that morphed into numbness. If someone got shot right in front of him, he'd shrug it off and go grab a beer. He might even take the guy's wallet.

Cary was a different kind of tough. The kind of tough where she was comfortable enough in her own skin to not worry about judgement from other people. The kind of tough where she could stay strong in difficult situations. The kind of tough that could deceive you underneath her kind soul and gentle heart. The kind of tough that made me fall for her in the first place.

As I laid next to her on the bed, gently stroking her hair, I realized just how lucky I was to know her, much less have her asleep in my arms.

~

(Cary's POV)

Music. There was music playing.

Forties classics echoed around me, Dean Martin singing through a phonograph. The music, though pleasant, was laced with the most horrific human scream I ever heard, as if crying and pleading for mercy. The voice was unintelligible, but sounded desperate.