𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎

Warning: Might be too violent! Also, this chapter is longer than usual :)

Sunday, February 6

Y/n's POV

I leaned against a beat-up car, near a tree beside Johnny. The Socs and Greasers faced each other, trading glares and looks of disgust. The air felt heavy, something bad was already decided and we were just waiting for it to happen. I couldn't help but look at Bob. He stood two people away from Paul—the jock facing Darry, saying something I couldn't hear.

He looked different from the last time I saw him near the curb, tracking me down; Sober, angry, colder, somehow. Probably still stuck on the idea that the boys were hitting on his girl.

There was a reason I always stayed alert around the Socs—especially Bob. I knew Robert back in middle school. He was nothing like this, he used to be; sweet, intelligent, put together. The kind of kid teachers trusted without thinking twice. We used to sit together sometimes, talk about stupid things, normal things. Back when everything felt easy between the Socs and Greasers. But something escalated to hatred when three years ago one of the Socs, Henry Hansen, and a Greaser, Jonathan Davis, had started threatening to destroy each other's reputation by exposing their secrets. The thing is, they were friends. Rumors said it started when Sally Simmons, Hansen's girlfriend, started hitting on Jonathan behind his back. It's how things started flipping around. Socs started protecting his leader, and same the other way around. It's just stupid how people start fighting over the most absent minded subjects...

As I was saying; what twisted Bob was how spoiled he was. His parents never punished him. Not once. To them, he was perfect; his good grades, clean reputation, the kind of son people brag about.

That illusion didn't last past the start of high school.

He found a group that fed his ego, praised his leadership, and he ate it up like it was the only thing that mattered. Together, they made classes unbearable. Loud, disruptive, pushing everyone around like it was some kind of game. They weren't funny. They weren't kind. Just a nuisance no one could ignore and no one could stop.

One time, I dragged him out of class and told him to get it together just like his parents had begged me to do. I thought maybe, just maybe, he'd listen. That part of the old Robert was still there.

But he just looked at me like I was nothing. And that was it. Instead of fixing things, he chose to walk away from our friendship like it never mattered.

After that, I became the target.

He'd cover my locker in black permanent marker, scrawling horrible names just to get a laugh out of everyone else. Every day it was something new. Every day people stared. Laughed. Whispered. And every time, he'd just stand there like it was the best joke he'd ever heard.

And it worked. I was humiliated.

It's ironic how that works.

When I finally snapped and punched him, I was the one who paid for it. With detention, I got suspended for a month. Like I was the problem. Like he hadn't been pushing me toward it the whole time.

But he almost beat a boy to death... and nothing happened.

No consequences. No punishment. Just let him go free because his papa is rich enough to bail him out of jail. Or because his mama never would have thought that her baby was to cause such harm.

I got even angrier when Johnny told me he was the one who hurt him. Johnny had been trying to stay out of their way—jumpy, more scared than ever, like he was always waiting for something to come out of the dark.Then he pointed him out. The rings–the same rings that scarred his cheek.

The same boy who had threatened him over everything under the sun.

Johnny's voice got quiet when he talked about it, like even saying Bob's name out loud could bring him closer. His hands shook a little, and he kept glancing over his shoulder like they were already behind him.

That's what Bob did to people now.

He didn't make them fear, he didn't make them angry. He did something worse.

He changed them.

Just like he changed Johnny and scarred him for the rest of his life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~''

Finally, the rest of the greasers joined, the Shepherds, our gang, and others who came running in like this was the only place they were meant to be.

I was standing back, beside Angela Shepherd, who only came for the thrill of the fight. I never really liked Angela, but we weren't exactly enemies either, she just gave me a bad feeling I couldn't quite explain.

Daniel, my old friend, had joined in too, hearing about the rumble like everyone else. He stood out the moment I saw him, a couple of years older than me, four to be exact, with his dark hair falling loose over his forehead, dark chocolate eyes scanning everything carefully, and that same calm presence he always had. He reminded me of Johnny in a way, quiet but dangerous when pushed. He loved beating the crap out of Socs and then disappearing like some kind of masked hero, never sticking around long enough to be caught.

I hadn't seen Dally yet, but I knew he'd show.

Johnny had left a few minutes earlier to look for him, so I figured he'd come by sooner or later—Dally wasn't the type to miss a rumble.

"You joining?" Daniel asked, resting his arm casually on the hood of his car.

It was a Cadillac; clean, polished, and actually his.

That alone surprised me, considering most greasers either borrowed or straight up stole their rides. But Daniel wasn't like that, and neither was I. We didn't go around wrecking cars or stealing for the thrill of it. He preferred staying low, unnoticed on this side of town. Of course, he'd step in if one of us got jumped, but he wasn't the kind to start trouble.

"If I see one of our group getting beat, yeah," I said, keeping my eyes on the crowd forming ahead.

He chuckled softly, patting my shoulder. "You do good, kid."

I let out a breath, glancing back at him. "You're not worried?"

"Why would I be?"

I shrugged slightly. "You're up against a bunch of jocks who walk away like nothing ever happened."

He smirked, shaking his head. "Oh, hun, I've fought these guys before. Remember?"

And I did.

When I was twelve, walking home alone after school, thinking I could handle myself. Three boys had followed me, thinking I was easy to pick on, and I didn't stand a chance.

Not until Daniel showed up.

He took all three of them on by himself and made sure they remembered his name.

"Yeah," I said quietly. "I remember."

Two-bit suddenly came up behind me, throwing an arm around my shoulders like he always did. "And who's this?"

Daniel looked up at him, surprised for a second before recognizing him. "You're Two-bit , aren't you?"

Two-bit smirked. "Sure am."

"Daniel, this is Two-bit. Two-bit, this is Daniel."

They nodded at each other, sizing each other up just a little.

"Didn't know you had a boyfriend," Daniel said, raising a brow.

"No? I—uh—we're friends," I said quickly, pointing toward the rest of the gang. "And look, they're my friends too."

Two-bit grinned like he found that funny, but didn't say anything else.

Our attention snapped forward when the two leaders stepped in and clapped their hands loud enough to echo through the lot.

The rumble was about to start.

Two-bit and Daniel didn't hesitate, both running forward to join in with the rest.

I stayed back.

Angela was still sitting on the hood of her brother's car, checking herself in a small mirror like this was just another night out. "We're gonna win," she said, not even looking at me. "I assure ya."

"I know," I replied, my eyes already fixed ahead.

For a second, everything felt still.

Then it started.

The first punch landed hard, snapping someone's head to the side, and just like that the whole place exploded into motion. Fists flew, bodies collided, shouting filled the air as the greasers and Socs crashed into each other like waves.

I watched, heart pounding, every muscle tense as I tracked the boys through the chaos.

Then I saw Johnny.

He came running out from near the trees, heading straight toward me, and right behind him—

Dally.

"YOU KNOW A RUMBLE AIN'T A RUMBLE WITHOUT ME!" he yelled, charging straight into the fight.

A small smile pulled at my lips despite everything.

The boys held their ground, throwing punches, dragging Socs down, getting back up just as fast. It was messy, loud, and wild—but they weren't backing down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Johnny's POV

I stayed a little behind Y/n at first, watching her.

She rolled her sleeves up slowly, like she was waiting for the exact moment to step in. She had listened to Darry, didn't argue, didn't make a big deal out of it. She knew we worried, especially after what happened before.

Still, she came anyway.

I felt something warm settle in my chest just standing near her, like everything was a little steadier when she was around. When she talked to me, or even just said my name, it stuck with me longer than it should've.

Then everything shifted.

I saw Ponyboy go down.

A Soc had him on the ground, fists already coming down again, and before I could even move—

she did.

Y/n rushed forward and hit him hard, her fist connecting clean across his face. The Soc stumbled back, shocked more than anything, but he didn't stay down for long.

He stepped forward again, ready to swing at her and that's when I jumped in.

I kicked him hard, knocking the fight out of him for a second as he dropped to the ground.

Y/n let out a breath. "Thanks."

We both reached down, helping Ponyboy up.

"Thank you guys..." Pony muttered, still a little dizzy, holding his cheek where a dark bruise was already forming.

Behind us, the Soc groaned from the ground, muttering things like "It ain't fair," and "Damn you greasers."

Y/n glanced at me, her expression softening just a bit. "You good, Johnny?"

I nodded, a small smile slipping through before I could stop it. "Yeah... thanks."

I didn't really understand it, but something in me had settled. The noise, the shouting, the fists flying—it was all still there, just as loud, just as dangerous, but it didn't shake me the way it used to. The fear didn't vanish, it just eased back, like it wasn't in charge anymore.And all this time, I stood my ground.

The noise of the rumble kept building around me, fists still flying and bodies crashing into each other as the greasers slowly started gaining ground, and I could feel it in the air, that shift, that moment when things start turning in your favor even if no one says it out loud. I moved carefully through the chaos, eyes scanning, heart pounding, not out of fear but something more focused, like everything inside me had narrowed down to this one night, this one moment.

And then I saw him.

Bob stood a few feet away, breathing heavy, his hair out of place and his shirt half untucked, but he still carried himself like he owned the space, like nothing here could really touch him. His eyes locked onto mine and just like that everything else blurred out, the shouting, the fighting, all of it fading into the background.

"Well, well," he said, wiping blood from his lip with the back of his hand, a smirk pulling at his face like this was all some kind of game, "look who decided to show up."

I didn't answer right away, just stepped closer, steady, not breaking eye contact.

His smirk shifted slightly. "You really think you belong here?"

"I know I do."

Something in my voice must've caught him off guard because his expression flickered, just for a second, before he let out a low laugh, shaking his head like he couldn't believe it. "You should've stayed out of this."

I tilted my head slightly, my jaw tightening. "You should've left me alone when you had the chance."

That was enough.

He lunged first, fast and without warning, his fist cutting through the air toward me, but I ducked just in time, stumbling back a step as I regained my balance. He didn't give me a second to breathe, coming at me again, stronger, harder, and I brought my arms up to block, the impact stinging as it traveled through my bones, but I didn't back down.

I swung back, my fist connecting against his jaw, and his head snapped to the side, surprise flashing across his face before it hardened again into something meaner. He shoved me back, trying to take control again, but I held my ground, my breathing heavier now, every movement quicker, more deliberate, like my body finally knew what to do without me thinking.

"You got some nerve," he muttered, circling slightly.

"You don't know the half of it," I shot back, not taking my eyes off him.

The space between us felt charged, the fight around us still raging but distant, like we were caught in our own storm. Then we went at it again, trading hits, blocking, pushing, neither of us willing to step back, every strike carrying more than just force, carrying everything that had been building up for too long.

I swung again, harder this time, and it landed clean, sending him stumbling back just enough for me to step forward and keep the pressure on, not letting him regain that control he thought he had. For the first time, I saw it clearly, the shift, the way he faltered, the way his confidence cracked just slightly.

Then his attention flickered.

Just for a second.

He looked past me.

And I knew.

I didn't even have to turn to see it, but I did anyway, just enough to catch the sight of it, the Socs falling back, some already stepping away, others on the ground, hands up, done fighting, their voices rising in frustration and surrender.

We were winning.

No— we already had.

I looked back at him, breathing steady despite the pounding in my chest. "Looks like it's over."

His jaw clenched, fists tightening like he wanted to keep going, like he wasn't ready to accept it, but even he could see it now, hear it, feel it slipping out of his hands. The smirk was gone, replaced with something sharper, something frustrated and bitter.

Around us, the shouting started to change, less anger, more victory, greasers calling out, Socs backing off one by one until the fight unraveled just as quickly as it had begun.

And just like that It was done.

He looked at me one last time, something unreadable sitting behind his eyes, something quieter than before, and then he turned away, walking off with the rest of them without another word, no comeback, no last remark, just silence.

I stayed there for a moment, my hands trembling slightly now that the adrenaline was starting to fade, my chest rising and falling as everything slowly settled around me. Behind me, the boys were already celebrating, loud and wild, Two-bit shouting something I couldn't make out, Soda laughing, Steve yelling, Johnny somewhere close, all of them still standing.

I wiped the blood dripping off my busted lip, breathing softly after so long.

We won...

In their faces HA!