"Why don't bạn get a real job?" bạn scream at your boyfriend Dally. bạn two had been fighting a lot lately about money. "Maybe bạn should get one yourself!" He says back. "Excuse me? I stay here all ngày cooking, cleaning and making sure the house is fine, while your at "work" doing God knows what!" bạn feel your face heat up. "What did bạn just say" he says, angry bởi what your inferring. "Dally," bạn lower your voice. "I see the way bạn look at other women." "Don't ever accuse me of cheating on you!" He booms back. bạn hate it when he yells, it scares you. bạn begin to silently cry, and bạn let something take over you. Anger builds up in your head, and suddenly, bạn cái tát, đánh đập, smack him hard across the face. bạn look at the palm of your hand, shocked at what bạn just did. Then bạn look up to find an angered set of eyes looking straight your way. He clenches his fists and starts moving toward you. At this point, your unsure of what he's gonna do, so bạn sprint to the bedroom. bạn shut the door, obviously forgetting to lock it. bạn crouch down in the corner against the tường and begin to cry loudly. bạn can hear him walking toward you, his steps getting louder every second. "P-pl-please." bạn say, through sobs. "D-Don't hurt me." He crouches down beside you. "Baby?" bạn continue to bawl and he pulls bạn into his lap, your head against his chest. "Baby, I could never hurt you." bạn take your head out of his chest to look at him. He whips the tear off your cheek and puts your hair behind your ear. He kisses bạn gently. "I tình yêu you" he whispers.
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 bạn and Mom meet?” The 12 năm old asked.
“I bet it was an epic tình yêu story.” Eight năm old Rhett says sarcastically.
“Was Mommy pretty when bạn 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 bạn a lot.” (Y/N) grinned from the doorway.
Seventeen.
Seventeen bottles of bia I have drunk in the past 37 minutes.
Seventeen.
I pick up number eighteen, twist the mũ lưỡi trai, cap off, and pour it down my throat. It’s tasteless.
I lean my head back against the tường 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 tình yêu 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 tình yêu you.” I blurt out.
She looks surprised for a second. But then she grins.
“I tình yêu bạn too.”
“This was my mom’s,” he mutters. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N), will bạn marry me?”