The Outsiders Imagines

Johnny • Autumn Woods

Johnny often wished that he had a camera.

Almost every autumn he mentioned it, probably without even realizing that he was doing so. There was this one cat, a black one with green eyes that'd prance around the neighbourhood and scurry in and out of alleyways, crunching leaves as it went. Johnny called it 'The Halloween Cat', it liked him, all of neighbourhood cats did because he'd sneak them some food from time to time. It was a pretty cat, slick and soft and Johnny wanted to take a photo of it. By anyone elses' better judgement, he wanted to keep the cat as a pet. He probably would if he could. It acted like it belonged to him anyway.

"I wish Pony would shut up about how the leaves look, cause now I can't help but see how pretty it all is... you know?"

He wore old, beat up orange converse shoes that he'd thrifted once when September arrived; "You know, to match the leaves." He'd say. Johnny liked the Fall time more than he cared to admit. He looked pretty cute when his nose was going pink and he'd pull on an old beanie, flattening his jet black hair. Those bangs still hid his eyebrows though. When all the leaves turned orange, you liked to fill up camping mugs with hot maple coffee in the morning and go exploring in the forest. It was something that you, Pony, Johnny and sometimes Curly did often when you were younger, minus the coffee. You and Johnny still liked to keep the tradition even if you were older now.

Today, you told Johnny when you let him into your kitchen to fill up the camping mugs with hot coffee that you had a surprise and you'd show him once you guys had walked into the forest a bit. "Look what I've got." You grin, sitting beside Johnny on a log and reaching into your tattered backpack. Johnny was wearing a brown flannel, it was a little big on him so he had to roll up the sleeves, you guessed it had belonged to Two-bit before.

Johnny had a few of his hand-me-downs.

You pulled out a bottle of Bourbon and Johnny shook his head, grinning.

"Ain't it a little early for whiskey?"

Whiskey was interesting. One time, you had the house to yourself and Johnny and the gang came over. Dally had whiskey, a lot of it actually and before you knew it you were all reeling drunk. You'd kissed Johnny as a dare. You don't remember it, but thats what Pony told you. Johnny never brought it up.

"Just a little spritz of it in our coffee will taste real good, warm us up too." You giggle.

"You're a bad influence." Johnny laughs, offerring up his mug anyway so that you could pour a little bit of it in for him.

"Cheers." You clinked your camping mugs together and sipped your Bourbon-coffee mix while walking through the forest, crunching leaves under your converse as you went. You could barely taste the whiskey but you weren't about to risk pouring too much in.

"Its so pretty..." Johnny mumbles, looking up at the trees, squinting because they stretched out so high in the air.

"Remember the time we saw a coyote here?" You grin, hopping over logs and kicking piles of leaves.

"Yeah!" Johnny almost scoffs, as if he could never forget. "I was about half scared to death, I remember we beat it out of there and left Curly Shepard behind." The two of you laughed fondly at the memory, it sure was funny now but terrifying when it happened. When Johnny laughed you noticed the cold white air leave his lips, it was real chilly out but luckily not windy. The sun shone some, and brightened up the orange leaves that decorated the forest. It wasn't warm though. Just bright, and chilly.

"Gee, your hands are going pink." You tut, Johnny shrugged sheepishly, saying that he forgot his gloves at home. "Take mine, I got pockets." You nod, handing them over to him before he could say he didn't want them. You cared a lot about Johnny, well - the whole gang did. The boys all worried about him like he was their real brother. But you, you cared in a different way. It wasn't enough to simply be a buddy. Sometimes you thought about it how it might be to hug him, or hold him even. You hoped that if you ever did, he'd melt into you, but something told you that he'd shy away and draw in on himself.

He was weird about affection, but you reckoned he needed it.

"We should get everyone to come here one night and we can have a campfire, maybe tell spooky stories." Johnny suggests, interupting your most intimate thoughts while the two of you walked. You liked the sound of that, nodding that it was a good idea.

When the two of you hung out, time seemed like it disappeared right through the wind and through the woods itself. You could talk for hours and laugh and understand eachother without anything ever being awkward. It was a fear of yours, that if you ever tried to let this friendship seep into anything else, you'd lose your best buddy.

"Its nice when we come out to the woods and just get to hang out like this." He says, out of the blue. It was good when he spoke first, because you knew how much he hated to be the one to start conversations, even if you had known him for a long time.

"Yeah, I think I might even like it more than going down to the dingo." You admit and he nodded as though it was an obvious opinion.

"Oh, for sure - its real peaceful out here...well, minus the time we saw that coyote."

You both laughed, kicking leaves together and watching squirrels scurry past you. He was so close that occasionally his arm brushed against yours and when he spoke, you could smell the maple latte mixed with the camels he'd smoked. He was fiddling around in his back pocket, pulling out a cigarette.

"You want one?" He offers.

"Sure."

He handed it over, reaching into his flannel pocket for that cheap orange lighter of his. It was really his colour. Hunching over ever so slightly and cupping his hands around the end of the cigarette, he lit it. You watched it dangle from his lips, the warn glow bringing back the colour to his frozen cheeks. Burgandy leaves swirled about him, and he pulled his beanie down a little more, leaning over to light yours for you, you didn't even have to ask.

It likely only took a couple of seconds, but he seemed to move in slow motion. Your eyes flickered upwards, glimsping over at his deep brown, almost black ones. He said that they were brown, though most everyone else was sure that they were black. You couldn't tell.

The both of you were much too shy to hold eye contact for too long, and once he'd lit yours he looked at his shoes awkwardly, nearly burning his finger when going to touch the cigarette. He forgot that he'd lit it. Sometimes, you got him feeling nervous. He'd known you for so long and you'd only ever been friends but it was the little moments like this that made him wish he was brave enough to say something.

You cared for him more than anyone else he ever knew; he felt it when you took the time to make sure he came to hang out, or when you'd share your cigarettes and tell him secrets. That drunk whiskey kiss, gosh it made him feel like a someone. He felt that you cared when you'd ask him casually if he'd eaten that day, when you'd let him through your window at midnight when he looked all busted up, when you let him cry on your shoulder and never bring it up again or when you laughed with him and made him feel alive.

It was scary, to think that someone really wanted him around the way that you did.

One of these days, he knew that he had to say something.