#tried to be ponyboy centric. do NOT think i succeeded

[mishapen-moth]

will i see tomorrow (could you face me again)

read here

Ponyboy is kneeling in the still, quiet night between the lifeless bodies of his brothers, handsome faces carved out garishly in crimson and rust, horror and despair sucking all of the air out of the night. Their chests are as still as the evening, the faint flickering of the yellow street lamp illuminating their lack of animation.

In a blur, the Camaro reappears, bearing down on him until the headlights white out his vision.

All at once, he’s bolting upright in bed, chest heaving like he’s just run ten miles, a strangled shout that sounds an awful lot like ‘No!’ lodged behind his teeth as he tries to keep his head from swimming at the sudden motion.