July 30, 1965 - 9:45 AM
Ponyboy’s POV
“Ponyboy?” Soda calls softly from the other side of the door.
“Go away,” I groan, tossing my body around the bed in discomfort.
He opens the door with a sigh and walks over to the bed. I can sense the shadow of his figure hovering over my destroyed body.
“Ponyboy, you have to tell me what’s wrong,” he insists, placing a hand on the firm mattress.
I shake my head and hide my face in the sheets.
“Please, Darry and I are worried sick.”
I feel terrible for making my brothers worry about me, but I suppose it doesn’t matter anyway. Love isn’t real.
Darry quietly enters the room and places a hand on Soda’s shoulder.
“Is he doing any better?” he asks.
Soda shakes his head, still gazing at my tear-streaked face.
“I wish that he’d tell us what happened,” Darry exhales.
They both stand there silently for a few minutes, listening to my twisted breaths as I try to ignore them and fall asleep. Soon, Darry steps toward the door and Soda follows.
“I love you, Pone,” Soda murmurs before walking out of the room.
I want so profoundly to tell him, “I love you, too,” but I can’t bring myself to say it out loud.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
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