🦇 Siena 🦇

He's the one in the wrong after all. He stood you up. He should been the one to come crawling to you begging for forgiveness, not the other way around.

With everyday that passes, you lose more and more hope that he will. Soon enough, you find yourself avoiding him less. While you still don't talk to him, you stop turning the other way when you see him, you don't always avoid his gaze.

Talk to me, your mind begs, apologize.

Steve feels like an asshole. He knows he's in the wrong, he knows he hurt you, but he can't bring himself to say sorry. Will an apology be enough? Do you hate him? He's unsure of what to do, and his friends' conflicting advice isn't helping.

Sodapop has told him to buy you flowers, go to your house, and give a heartfelt apology. Dallas has told him that you overreacted and that you'll come crawling back with an apology once you realize that. Ponyboy told him that he hope you break up with him. Surprisingly, Ponyboy's "advice" was the most helpful, because it made Steve realize that you has every right to break up with him and hell, you probably want to. Of course he didn't want you to do that, so within an hour of hearing that, he was at your door with flowers, ready to beg you not to leave him.

It was a Thursday night and you weren't expecting visitors, so when you heard a knock at the door, you hoped with every ounce of your being that it was Steve. When you open the door and see him holding a bouquet of your favortie flowers, you have to fight back a smile from appearing on your face- you're still supposed to be mad at him after all.

"Hey." Steve says weakly.

"What are you doing here?" You do your best to sound snippy.

"Apologizing." He states. "I'm sorry, baby. I was a jerk and I can't believe I stood you up. You're the most perfect girl in the world and you deserve the best, and I wasn't the best. I'll be better, okay? I'll never forget something like that again. I- I miss you. I miss talking to you and looking into your eyes, and.. and hearing your voice, and making you smile. I don't want to be on a break anymore, baby, I need you."

For a moment, you're stunned, but after digesting what he said, your eyes weld with tears. "I miss you too." You say quietly, feeling pathetic all over again for being emotional. You still felt a little bitter for being stood up by him, but more than anything, it just made you sad.

He steps closer to you. "So no more break? We're going steady again?" He asks hopefully.

Even though most of you is screaming yes, you hesitate. "Never stomp on my heart like that again."

He shakes his head quickly. "Of course not. I didn't mean to, I swear."

"Okay." After remembering that you're still holding the front door open, you step back inside and let him walk in before closing the door.

"Okay as in we're no longer on a break?"

You nod while dabbing the inner corners of your teary eyes with your sleeve.

Steve drops the flowers and swiftly wraps his arms around you in a tight hug. "I missed you so much." He says before inhaling deeply, his face buried in your hair.

You giggle softly. "You dropped the flowers."

"I haven't gotten to touch you in almost two weeks. Don't blame me for having priorities."

You embrace him just as tightly. The hug seems to last hours, but it doesn't feel like enough. Eventually, Steve pulls back slightly so he can gently grasp your face and connect his lips with yours. Desperately, he kisses you. His movements are controlled yet wanting. He moves a hand down to your hip as his lips tell you how sorry he is and how much you mean to him. It doesn't take long, however, for the kiss to become feverish. His tongue dances over your lips as he holds you tighter against him.

After a long -but not long enough- amount of time passes, you take a break from making out in your entryway to take a breath.

"I missed that too. You have soft lips." Steve comments as he runs his thumb over your bottom lip.

You smile. "I missed kissing you too." You mutter.

He grins before attacking your neck with longing kisses. You giggle. "Steve!"

He smiles against your neck and wraps his arms tighter around you, hugging you again. You hug him back happily.

"Sorry I didn't apologize sooner." He pulls his head away to look down at you. "I should've chased after you that day and I didn't. Should've never agreed to take a break." He says as he moves his hand to cup your cheek.

"It's okay. I'm kinda sorry I was avoiding you, but I was mad."

"I would've been mad too." He shrugs. "Dallas told me that you were overreacting," he says teasingly, knowing that that will offend you.

"What?" You exclaim, "That fucking asshole. You stood me up!"

He laughs. "Calm down, baby. You weren't overreacting, I know."

You don't stop pouting, so Steve kisses you again. You melt into the kiss.

"You forgive me, right?" He asks once you both pull away.

You nod. "Yes, but you're still on thin ice, you better not fuck up again any time soon."

He lets you go and crotches down to pick up the flowers off the floor. "I won't, baby, I promise. I never meant to hurt you, and I'm never going to again."

You smile. "Good. Come'er, I'm going to put these in a vase," you say as you start towards the kitchen.

Steve happily follows. He's more than happy that you forgave him and now things can go back to normal. He thought about you every day you two were apart, and he's so thrilled that he gets to hold you and male you smile again.

"You know, I'm glad you forgave me so quickly, cause I was prepared to get down on my knees and beg for forgiveness," He says half-jokingly as you fill a vase with water.

"I don't forgive you anymore." You say.

"Stop it, I'm not actually doing that."

"Then I guess the break continues..." You tease, you keep your head turned towards the flowers so he can't see your smile.

You hear his knees hit the ground. His hands come to your waist to turn you towards him. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Please take me back, I'll do anything," he says pleadingly.

Heat raises to your cheeks. "I- I was joking. Get up, you idiot. I forgive you," you stammer as you grab his arm to pull him up.

Steve laughs as he stands up. "You're cute. I love you."

You turn back to the flowers. "You're cute too, and I love you too."

an: Sorry for being so inactive! Thanks for reading ☺️

After a beat you say: "I'm coming in, Dally." You open the door gently, as if there was a sleeping bear on the other side. Dallas looks over at you. He looks defeated and terribly sick. Your care for the boy overcomes your fear of getting sick, so you walk over to him. He's splayed out on the bed and his hair his stuck to his sweaty forehead.

"Go away." Dallas groans.

You ignore him and sit down on the edge of the bed.

"You're gonna get sick." He says more like threat than a warning.

"I've accepted that." You place the back of your head against his forehead, then his cheek. Your touch alone already has Dallas feeling better.

"My goodness, you're burning up, Dal." You comment as your brows knit together in concern. You cup his cheek and rub gently with your thumb.

Dallas turns his head away from you and coughs. You pull your hand away.

"Have you drinken anything today?" You ask, knowing that he probably hasn't.

"No." He rasps.

"Oh, Dally. I'll go get you some water, should make you feel a little better." You brush his hair off of his forehead and gently press a kiss to it before getting up and exiting the room.

Dallas doesn't like how his heart picked up when you kissed his forehead, and he definitely doesn't like how damn caring you're being. What an idiot, he tells himself, getting herself sick for me. He pretends the heat that has risen to his cheeks is only from the sickness, but he knows that not true.

By the time you return, Dallas had sat up and was now sitting with his back against the wall. You smile sweetly when he catches your eye, then you close the door behind you.

"Here, baby." You say as you hand him the glass of water. "I ransacked the bathroom and got you an Advil too."

"Thanks." If he didn't feel like absolute hell, he would've told you not to call him baby, like he always does. At least that's the justification he gave himself. He definitely didn't like the term of endearment. He swallows the Advil with the water.

You sit on the edge of the bed, staring at him with a worried expression. "Are you hungry?" You ask. He takes another sip of the water then shakes his head.

"I'm sorry you don't feel good. I should've made soup or something before I came over but I wasn't thinking and I was hoping that you weren't sick and-"

"It's fine." He cuts you off. "... you being here is enough. More than enough." He wants to bite his tongue. He can't believe he just said that.

"You may not have an appetite cause you're sick, but you still need to eat, Dally." You say matter-of-factly.

Dallas smiles. "You care about me too damn much, sweetheart."

"I care about you the perfect amount, which is a lot."

He doesn't deserve you. He doesn't deserve your kind heart and caring nature. He doesn't deserve your smiles or your kisses. Hell, he probably doesn't even deserve to be within a 10 miles radius of you, at least, that's what he tells himself. Maybe something's seriously wrong with you, he thinks as you move closer to him, sitting beside him now. Maybe his heart is racing because he's scared that you're crazy and not because he's scared that he's falling in love with you.

"Don't come whining to me when you get sick." He tells you.

You give a heart-melting giggle. "Oh, I absolutely will."

Dallas smiles back.

"Finish your water." You tap his glass, snapping him out of his thoughts about you. Maybe it was him who was going crazy.

Dallas downs the rest of the water, and you take the glass from him and put it on the nightstand. "Do you want more water?" You ask.

He shakes his head.

"Well, I'll get you more soon anyway. You need water."

Dallas stares at you for a long moment before holding your chin and kissing your head. "Thank you."

A smile appears on your face. "For what?"

"You know what. ..for taking care of me.""

"I ain't doing much, Dal. I should be doing more. I could've made you soup."

"You're doing more than anyone's ever done for me. And I fucking hate soup."

You fail to repress a smile. "Oh."

"Yeah, so stop beating yourself up-" He turns his head to cough.

"Cough into your elbow! You're contaminating this room." You tease and gently poke his chest.

"I think it's already well contaminated, doll, and so are you."

"Don't remind me. You're lucky I care about you."

He can't help the warm smile that spreads onto his face. It feels unnatural, but not unwelcome. He knows you're absolutely right.

"I'm so damn lucky." He says in an unusually soft tone as he wraps his arms around you.

"I'm sorry you feel sick." You say after letting the air marinate in comfortable silence for a minute.

And for some reason, that does it. It clicks in his brain that he feels so strange and soft and mushy, because he loves you. You make him feel better because you're sweet and he loves you. His heart swells at your smile and aches at your pain. You haunt his dreams and his thoughts, you circle his mind like its your second home. Your voice is smoothing, your manners settling, your hands grounding.

He can't tell you. Could a perfect girl like you even love him back? He doubted it. So instead, he kisses your head and hugs you tighter against him.

"Thank you for caring." He mumbles against your hair.

"That's the least I can do." You tell him. "I hope you feel better."

He grunts in agreement. His eyes are already closed. Dallas didn't tell you that he loves you, hr can't imagine that he ever will, but he loves you. Your frame in his arms makes him feel alive, makes him feel like he'd endure anything for you. A fever is nothing. You're his everything. Suddenly, he feels really bad that he's getting you sick.

You just about scream when you see him, sleeves rolled up, hair greased-back, and covered in oil, digging in his tool box, next to some soc's nice car. He definitely forgot. You park in the first spot you see and almost break your car door from swinging it open so hard.

"Steve!" You hollar as you angrily walk over, fists cletched so tight that you can feel your nail digging into your palms and it hurts. The click of your heels against the concrete is menacing.

His head snaps in your direction and he smiles, clearly not sensing your angry-as-hell-and-could-kill-a-man vibe. "Hey, baby. You look pretty."

You ignore his compliment and yell, "35 whole ass minutes, Steve! That's how long I waited!"

Taken aback, Steve stares at you with a worried look for a long moment. He then wipes his hands on a nearby, dirty rag as he stands up. "Waited for what?"

You throw your arms out in frustration. "You!"

The small bell rings as Soda walks out of the gas station. He smiles in your direction. "Hey, mind if I borrow Steve for a minute? This guy's asking about his car and-"

"No, no! Of course I don't mind! Take him, because clearly this job and the customers are more important to him than me."

"What are you talking about?" Steve asks in frustration.

"You stood me up!"

Steve stares at you for a while before the dots connect in his head. "Oh shit! That date was today?"

"Yeah, it was." You say condescendingly. "I waited for you. I wasted 35 minutes of my life sitting there and waiting for you! After a while, I started to worry about you!"

Soda had slipped back inside while you were speaking, but not before patting Steve on the shoulder for good luck. Steve steps closer to you. "Baby, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking-"

"Oh I know you weren't!" You snap while subconsciously taking steps back. "When was the last time you thought about me, huh? When was the last time I was in the forefront of your mind? Cause lately-" Your voice weavers. "Lately you don't seem to think of me at all."

Seeing tears in your eyes felt like a punch in the gut to Steve. His face fell, and he started to approach you again, but more cautiously. "I do think about you. All the damn time." He says a little too harshly as he grabs your arms. He gently rubs your arms with his thumb before you pull them away.

"It's too late for sorry." You take another step back as you hold back tears. "You're always sorry." You snivel.

"I'll make it up to you!" Steve pleads as he resists every urge to reach out to you again.

You scoff, but it comes out more sad and pathetic sounding than you intended. You put a hand over your heart like it will stop the ache. It doesn't, you imagine the blood spilling out from the gaps between your fingers. This isn't Steve's first major mess up, and you have a feeling that it won't be his last. You feel torn, part of you wants to believe that he'll make it up to you. Part of you wants to smile and forgive him and get excited for the flowers you'll be getting soon. The other half of you is seething and is ready to set your future flowers on fire.

You shake your head. "I can't..."

"Please, babe, I know I messed up."

You sniffle and try to quickly and discreetly wipe away the few tears that had fallen from your eyes. "Maybe... maybe we need to take a break.." You mutter, confidence unable to find its way into your voice.

Steve stares at you. "A break? Is that really what you want?" He asks sadly.

You shrug, then nod. 'Yeah."

After a few seconds of silence, Steve stands up straighter. "Fine. Whatever."

"Okay." You cross you arms.

"Get outta here then." Steve mirrors you, crossing his arms. You let yours fall to your side.

"Fine. Maybe you'll finally start thinking about me now."

"Maybe I will." Steve says callously. He watches as you walk away, and watches as you get into your car and slam the door. He watches as you drive away in your car that he's worked on several times, always for the low price of a good kiss. He walks back over to the car he had been working on once you're out of sight. He squats down next to his toolbox, then buries his face in his hands.

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