#qprpbj

Pony’s country fantasies in the book are much more focused on his family, as opposed to the musical where “far away from Tulsa” is about just him and Johnny running away together. But still, it’s funny how in the book he’s sitting next to Johnny and thinking about how he doesn’t want to marry a woman.

There’s also a line, “maybe Johnny could come and live with us, and the gang could come out on weekends.”

♡ PONYBOY & JOHNNY are wishing you a wonderful pride month, okay ?!!

now playing : The Room Is Filled With People That Love You — Foresight ♪

happy pride everynyan! this drawing was made in celebration and my participation of the outsiders 2025 gift exchange ( @outsiders-gift-exchanges ) ; my wonderful giftee was @what-do-i-put44 !

prompt was disabled ponyboy & johnny at pride, and i did my best to make just that !!!

Ponyboy, eight years old, going to the movies with his parents, his brothers, and Johnny, who his parents insist on inviting everywhere, and talking everyone’s ear off about what he liked about it. Johnny, just shy of ten years old, being the only one to respond as excitedly.

Ponyboy, eight years old, walking home with Darry, Steve, Soda, and Johnny, making quiet conversation with him about the kids at school and trying to convince Johnny that Darry isn't as scary as he seems, just older and trying to be intimidating.

Ponyboy, nine years old, glued at the hip to Johnny, hardly spending a minute without him despite the age difference.

Ponyboy, nine years old, waking up to a knock on the door in the middle of the night and finding Johnny, barely able to hold himself up, face swelling, blood pouring out of his nose. Mrs Curtis coming out and patching Johnny up and telling Ponyboy to go back to sleep, but Ponyboy refusing because Johnny's his friend, so he stays with him for hours, whispering assurances, telling him he's going to be fine as he tries to ignore his shaking hands and the tremble in his voice. Rage sweltering in his chest and realising that at that moment he could kill someone.

Ponyboy, nine years old, falling asleep at Johnny's side, curled up against him in his room, Johnny's arms wrapped around him, tissues and gauze and medicine bottles littered around them.

Ponyboy, ten years old, reading the books Johnny's been assigned at school out loud because "they seem interesting, Johnny, it has nothing to do with you". Johnny pretending like he believes him when Ponyboy says he's just in the mood to read the chapters Johnny has for homework.

Ponyboy, almost eleven, telling Johnny over and over that he isn't stupid, school just isn't made for him and it doesn't matter that he's being held back, but knowing that none of it is getting through to Johnny.

Ponyboy, eleven years old, spending hours upon hours alone with Johnny in silence, doing their homework or drawing or reading or just thinking, living in a bubble where words aren't necessary to talk. Walking away with a greater understanding of each other than anyone else has.

Ponyboy, eleven years old, showing Johnny his drawings of the gang, trying to ignore how Johnny's face is appearing twice as often as everyone else's, and Johnny stopping on one drawing in particular, his breath caught in his throat. The drawing being one that had taken Ponyboy days to finish, Johnny's face as he watched the sunset, calm and awed by the beauty. The drawing matching Johnny's face at that moment exactly. Johnny asking to keep that one and Ponyboy not doubting it for a minute and ripping the page out.

Ponyboy, twelve years old, going to his first official fight against the Shepard gang and teaming up with Johnny against a medium-sized guy, working together seamlessly and practically reading each other's minds

Ponyboy, thirteen years old, finding out his parents are dead and going numb, unfeeling, not knowing what's happening. Not coming out of it until late at night, when he wanders downstairs and finds Johnny patching himself up and wonders why his mom isn't there, helping him. Holding back tears – for himself, his parents, his brothers, for Johnny – as he cleans Johnny's wounds and promises everything will get better.

Ponyboy, thirteen years old, falling asleep in Johnny's arms again, but they've done it so many times it's second nature to readjust themselves so they both feel protected.

Ponyboy, thirteen years old, finding Johnny in the lot with the rest of the gang and being beyond horrified, frozen with shock, unable to do anything but stare as Soda holds Johnny and they get him back to their house. Johnny asking him, in a croaky voice just before they fall asleep, to go get his jeans jacket. Ponyboy finding his drawing of Johnny, folded into neat quarters in the pocket and Johnny smiling softly when he sees it and whispering "thank you" and both of them knowing it's for so much more than bringing him the drawing.

Ponyboy, fourteen years old, blond and quietly crying himself to sleep in a church far away from home. Johnny waking up and comforting him like Pony's done for him so many times. Both of them pretending it's too cold so they have to sleep huddled up, acting like it has nothing to do with comfort

Ponyboy, fourteen years old, screaming, pleading for Johnny to come out because all the kids are out already, come out, please, Johnny, it's not safe

Ponyboy, fourteen years old, visiting Johnny in the hospital and knowing he won't make it, but shoving it down because he can't imagine a world without him.

Ponyboy, fourteen years old, sending Two-Bit to go get a book so he can have alone time with Johnny, and not needing to say anything for both of them to know this is probably the last time they'll be together.

Ponyboy, fourteen years old, pouring all his frustration and rage into the rumble.

Ponyboy, fourteen years old, not being able to break down next to the hospital bed because if he doesn't go get his brothers, Dally might do something stupid.

(It doesn’t make a difference.)

Ponyboy, fourteen years old, sick with grief and not knowing how to tell people that Johnny wasn't just his buddy, they had something different.

Ponyboy, fourteen years old, opening a letter and finding another sheet of paper that falls out. Knowing what it is before he opens it. Tear drops staining the drawing, making Johnny cry as he watches the sunset at twelve years old.

Ponyboy, fifteen years old, forced to pretend like nothing happened and dating a girl – Cathy – even though he knows he doesn't feel the way he should towards her.

Ponyboy, seventeen years old, realising he was now older than Johnny would ever be.

Ponyboy, eighteen years old, getting married to a girl he definitely doesn't feel the way he should towards.

Ponyboy, twenty years old, running to the hospital because Soda was in the wrong place at the wrong time in a rally in New York of all places and now they don't know if he’s going to make it and oh god, not another one.

Ponyboy, twenty years old, holding his breath until his brother answers him and tells him to stop worrying with a forced smile.

Ponyboy, twenty-two years old and realising that he's never loved anyone the way Sodapop loves Steve and loved Sandy, not Johnny, not Cathy, not anyone else, realising he's broken.

Ponyboy, twenty-five, having his second child but first son and not doubting for a moment as he calls him Johnny despite the fact that he can't remember his voice and needs the drawing to remember his face.

Ponyboy, thirty years old, sitting his wife down because this isn't fair to her, telling her he doesn't love her like that, but he does love her. He loves her but the same way he loves his brothers and Steve and Two-Bit and–... and all of them. Her, breaking in front of him, but putting up a strong front and telling him they'll stay together for Johnny and Kristen.

Ponyboy, forty-two years old, finally getting a divorce now that their kids don't live with them anymore.

Ponyboy, fifty years old, happier than he's ever been, living with a group of friends and calling his children regularly.

Ponyboy, sixty-five years old, watching his brother legally marry Steve and shoving down the familiar twinge of not being able to feel any of that.

Ponyboy, seventy-three years old, with a grandchild coming out to him with these words he's never heard before and his mind is swimming with aromantic and asexual and queer-platonic.

Ponyboy, seventy-three years old, talking to his grandchild about something that isn't platonic and isn't romantic, but something different, not less, not more, but different. A bond that runs deep and doesn't fall into these easy categories and Ponyboy holding back tears as he remembers painstakingly drawn pictures and night spent wrapped around each other.

Ponyboy, seventy-three years old and breaking down in his room because he finally found the words to say what he felt and Johnny wasn't here to find them with him, and he would never know that was what it was.

Ponyboy, seventy-three years old, being found by his brothers as he sobs with the drawing in his hands. Soda and Darry sitting down on either side of him and wrapping their arms around him and Steve rubbing circles on the back of his hand and Two-Bit telling him stories about Johnny because even if he didn’t say why he was crying they all knew.

Ponyboy, seventy-five years old, meeting his grandchild's partner and damn near crying but holding back the tears and wishing the two of them the best before pretending to need to take his heart medicine.

Ponyboy, eighty-three years old, going in his sleep, dreaming of tending to wounds and carefully drawing soft faces.