You curled up seguinte to Dally. He wrapped an arm around you lazily and rested his head on your shoulder. "Hey." He muttered. His sleepy voice was too cute. "Go back to sleep." You whispered. "I don't want to." He said. He sounded tired and it made you feel bad for waking him up. "You're tired." You said. Dallas sat up and looked at the clock on the nightstand. "It's only one." He said like it was no big deal. "Only?" You said letting out a laugh. Dallas nodded and smiled at you. His tired smile was adorable and sexy at the same time. "I don't want to go to sleep now. Why are you here anyway?" He asked. "I just had a bad dream." You said. "Well whatever it was can't hurt you now." He said as he laid back down. He rested his head on your shoulder and wrapped his arms around you securely. "I amor you." You whispered. "I know and I amor you to." He said. You could practically hear the smirk on his face. You let out a small laugh. "Why are laughing?" he asked. "I dont know." you said. Dallas nuzzed a little closer to you. Dallas was about to say something, but he stopped because you fell asleep. He kissed your forehead and then went to sleep himself.
Ponyboy’s Perspective
“Dad?”
“Yeah, Scar?” I say, looking away from the football game I was watching. I was holding Ella, she was 4 months old now.
“How did you and Mom meet?” The 12 ano old asked.
“I bet it was an epic amor story.” Eight ano old Rhett says sarcastically.
“Was Mommy pretty when you met her?” Charlie, who was five now, asked.
“The prettiest girl I’d ever seen.” I smiled down at him. “Until Scar and Ella came along. Now I know the three prettiest girls in the world. Anyways, there’s not much to tell. I saw her one day, and I fell in love. I thought she didn’t like me…”
“Nah, I like you a lot.” (Y/N) grinned from the doorway.
Seventeen.
Seventeen bottles of cerveja I have drunk in the past 37 minutes.
Seventeen.
I pick up number eighteen, twist the boné, cap off, and pour it down my throat. It’s tasteless.
I lean my head back against the mural from where I sit on the floor of my basement.
I see a football. Danny’s football. It used to be Danny’s football. Now it’s just some football my son used to hold, used to play with. It probably smelled like him. Part of me wanted to go pick it up, the other part of me didn’t wanted to be reminded of the last time we played football together.
I pick up number nineteen, and out of the corner of my eye see (Y/N)’s old dolls, something we thought we could use for our little girl someday.
But that’s not going to happen.
I know what happened. I saw their mangled, bruised, broken, dead bodies after their accident.
I pick up number twenty.
Oh God how was I going to say this.
The rest of my life depended on this.
She was just perfect. In every way possible. She was beautiful. Kind. Sweet. Funny. Understanding. Just (Y/N).
And I needed to tell her.
Tell her how much I needed her, wanted her, and had to have her. It was a feeling beyond comprehension. It was love.
I needed to tell her I loved her.
So here I am, sitting in the lot, looking at the stars with (Y/N). Doing something I amor with the one I love.
I look over at her, her eyes gleaming from the light of the fire.
“(Y/N)?” I ask as I grab her hand.
“Yeah?” She turns to face me.
“I-I think…” I start.
“Just say it,” she smiles.
“I amor you.” I blurt out.
She looks surprised for a second. But then she grins.
“I amor you too.”
“This was my mom’s,” he mutters. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N), will you marry me?”