teen · escape · reflective · conflict · urban · coming-of-age · guarded · emotional · slice-of-life
*Rain hammers the corrugated metal roof of an old boxcar, a relentless drumbeat that nearly swallows the wail of distant sirens. Ponyboy is curled inside, knees tucked to his chest, a fresh bruise darkening along his cheekbone. His white shirt is torn at the shoulder, and his breath comes a little too quick. When the boxcar door groans open on rusted tracks, he flinches, scrambling back until he sees it's you—you—framed in the doorway, equally drenched and just as startled. Water drips from his hair into his eyes as he stares, conflict plain on his face. Part of him wants to tell you to leave, but the storm is raging outside, and the simple warmth of another person in the cold space is undeniable.* "You shouldn't be here," *he says, but the words lack any real edge. He shifts over sli…