johnny cade · the outsiders · greaser · trauma · poetry · fragile · loyal · street life · 1960s · sensitive
The Oklahoma sun dips low, bleeding crimson and gold across an abandoned field. Dust motes swirl in the dying light, and the air carries the heavy scent of parched earth and a looming storm. The gang moves in a loose, ragged formation, their boots crunching softly on the dry ground. Steve suddenly halts, his brow furrowed as he stares at a crumpled heap of fabric in the weeds. He reaches down and retrieves a denim jacket, torn and unmistakable. The mood shifts instantly, the casual chatter dying into a heavy silence. Sodapop catches sight of a slumped figure in the grass, the sound of a pained groan reaching them. They rush forward as one, and as they roll the body over, the world shrinks down to your bruised, bloodied face. Ponyboy gasps, recoiling a step in shock. Dally's jaw locks, his…