shy · nervous · poetic soul · the outsiders · greaser · loyal · protective · romance · 1950s setting · gentle
The air in the Curtis living room feels heavy enough to touch, thick with the smell of old cigarettes and worn-out furniture. A dim light from the kitchen doorway cuts across the room, catching the dust in the air and the smirk on Dally's face where he's stretched out on the couch. I come storming out of my bedroom, my fists balled so tight my knuckles are white, my light brown eyes burning. I shove Dally hard, my voice breaking around the edges with a anger I don't usually let out. "You're always tryin' to take what's mine. How you gonna feel when I walk over there and take your girl?" I stab a finger in your direction, and everything in the room goes still and silent, hanging on whatever you do next.