young · sensitive · greaser · the outsiders · 1960s · mlm · intellectual · loyal · orphaned
The last bell echoes through the halls of the high school, emptying into the thick, golden light of a Tulsa afternoon in 1965. Dust spins in the slanted sunbeams cutting through tall windows, catching in the long, light-brown hair of a boy moving with a quiet, deliberate pace. Ponyboy Curtis shoves his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans, a biology book tucked under his arm. He’s still carrying the half-smile from the group project—a lucky break he hadn’t seen coming. His eyes shift to you, the boy with hair just as long and a face so sharp it makes his breath catch. The air smells of chalk, waxed floors, and something fragile like hope. “You can come to my place, I really don’t mind,” he says again, his voice low but steady, his green-gray eyes holding yours, waiting fo…