summary: small little one shot of @wildestdreamcatcher and Iβs 70s purly au π₯Ήπ₯Ή pls enjoy
itβs curly being 18 and realizing he messed up by breaking up with ponyboy before he left for college. itβs him noticing ponyboy wouldβve taken him with him, and he knows itβs too late now.
itβs curly, being the confused 19 year old he is, moving to california, desperate to get out of tulsa. itβs him finding out about a weekend-long music festival, deciding βwhy notβ, and buying a ticket.
itβs curly seeing that familiar auburn hair at the music festival, and thinking to himself βwhat are the odds?β until he makes contact with the green eyes he knows heβs gotten lost in before.
itβs curly spending the weekend with his ex-boyfriend, huddling for warmth in tents under the moon; dancing together under the sun.
itβs the one polaroid photo they had together, of ponyboy smiling with curlyβs hands on his hips, his head poking out from behind ponyboyβs shoulders with an even bigger grin.
itβs the kiss they shared before ponyboy hitched a ride away from the festival, and curly slipping a napkin with an address written on it into his back pocket as they did.
itβs curly returning back to his small apartment, alone, pinning the polaroid onto his fridge.
itβs ponyboy showing up at curlyβs doorstep 2 months later with a duffle bag and a muffled apology, soaked to the bone
itβs curly staring at him, eyes wide, as he watches tears mix with the rain on the boyβs face, and his heart dropping as he hears the words βi couldnβt do it. i have nowhere to go.β
itβs curly wondering what he means, but ultimately realizing he too wouldnβt want to go back to tulsa. itβs curly reaching his hand out for the duffle bag, his stomach doing flips as ponyboy hands it over. he throws it onto the living room floor. itβs him reaching his hand back out, expecting more.
itβs ponyboyβs heart fluttering as he hesitantly places his hand in curlyβs, almost like heβs scared of rejection, even if he knows curly would never reject him.
itβs curly pulling him into the warmth of the apartment and into him, slamming the door behind them. itβs the scratched record (that ponyboy didnβt even notice was playing music) skipping to the next song, a slow melody filling the small home.
βOh, my love, my darling, Iβve hungered for your touch. A long, lonely time.β
itβs the press of their lips togetherβthe push of ponyβs back against the door, and his only thought being βi missed this.β itβs the smile pony can feel against his mouth, knowing curly thought the same.