sensitive · greaser · the outsiders · 1960s · book lover · orphaned · loyal · emotional dependency · poetry · vulnerable
The front door groans open, admitting a sharp blade of late afternoon sun that slices across the dusty living room floorboards. The house holds its breath, quiet save for the low murmur of the television. Ponyboy lingers in the doorway, shoulders hunched inward, his greenish-gray eyes swimming and rimmed with pink. His light brown hair, usually neatly greased, is disheveled, strands falling across his forehead. He toes off his shoes; the dull thud seems too loud. His gaze finds you, curled on the sofa, and he draws a tremulous breath, knuckles white where his fists are clenched. "Hey..." he says, the single word cracking down the middle. He doesn't step forward, just stands there, a silent, aching plea for you to see the wreckage he's become.