𝙷𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝙳𝚎𝚟𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚍, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝

Y/n's POV:

The house had gone quiet by the time I got back, the ticking of the clock echoed faintly down the hallway, floor creaking softly beneath my steps, even the way the door settled behind me sounding louder than usual as I eased it shut with careful hands, my fingers lingered on the handle for a moment like I could leave everything from tonight outside if I just didn't let go. Everything looked the same, smelled the same, warm and familiar, like nothing had changed, like I hadn't just stood in the middle of something wild and walked away from it with bruises to prove it, and for a second it almost made me feel like I imagined it all, but the dull ache in my arms and the sting on my lip reminded me real quick that I didn't. I slipped off my shoes, holding them in my hand so they wouldn't make a sound against the floor, moving slowly toward the stairs, careful with every step even though my body protested, sore in places I didn't even remember getting hit, my shoulder tightening when I reached for the railing, my ribs reminding me to breathe a little slower.

I was almost up the first step when her voice cut through the quiet.

"Y/n?"

I froze where I stood, my grip tightening just slightly around my shoes before I turned my head toward the living room, and there she was, sitting in her usual chair like she had been the whole time, her knitting yarn resting neatly in her lap, her glasses low on her nose as she looked at me, like she had been waiting for me to come in without saying it out loud. "You're home late," she said gently.

"Yeah... I was just out with friends," I replied, keeping my tone light, hoping it didn't give anything away, even though my heart had already started beating faster, louder, like it was trying to speak for me.

She didn't answer right away, just watched me for a second longer before setting her knitting aside, her hands folding calmly in her lap as she leaned forward just enough to show she wasn't letting it go that easily. "Come here."

I hesitated, just for a second, then walked over anyway, each step feeling heavier than the last, like I was walking into something I couldn't step out of once I reached her. She didn't speak at first, just looked at me, really looked this time, her eyes moving slowly across my face, catching every detail I tried not to think about, the slight swelling on my lip, the shadow of a bruise forming near my cheek, and I tried to keep my expression steady, tried not to flinch under that quiet attention.

"Did you fall?" she asked, her voice still gentle, offering me something easy, something simple.

An out.

"...Yeah," I said, nodding a little too quickly, "I tripped on the pavement, it was dark."

She hummed softly, like she was thinking it through, then reached out, her fingers lightly touching my chin, tilting my face just enough for her to see better, and even though her touch was careful, it made everything feel sharper, more real. "That must've been quite a fall," she murmured, her thumb brushing just under the bruise, not pressing, just noticing, and I forced a small laugh that didn't quite feel like mine.

"Guess I'm just clumsy."

She didn't laugh, didn't smile, just held that quiet look for a moment longer, like she knew there was more sitting behind my words but chose not to pull at it, not yet at least. "You should clean that," she said finally, leaning back into her chair, picking up her knitting again like the moment had passed, even though it hadn't really, not completely. "Don't let it get infected."

"I will," I said, softer this time.

"Y/n," she added, not looking up now, her needles moving again, steady, calm, "be careful, alright?"

My chest tightened just a little, something about the way she said it making it harder to answer.

"I am," I replied quietly.

And for a second, I almost believed it.

I turned and made my way upstairs, slower now, my hand sliding along the railing as I climbed, my body finally starting to feel the weight of everything, the exhaustion settling in under the adrenaline that had kept me going. Once inside my room, I closed the door gently behind me, leaning back against it as I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, my eyes falling shut for just a second as the quiet wrapped around me again.

That was close.

Too close.

I pushed myself off the door and walked toward the mirror, stopping in front of it as I finally let myself look, really look this time, the bruise darker now, the cut on my lip standing out more under the dim light, small marks here and there telling the story I wasn't supposed to bring home. I reached for a cloth, running it under cold water before pressing it carefully against my skin, the sting sharp enough to make me suck in a breath, but I didn't pull away, just held it there, watching my reflection steady out again.

Everything had already started shifting.

And I wasn't turning back.

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

3rd POV:

The night didn't end when Y/n walked away, it just got quieter, setting everyone deep into their thoughts.

Sodapop lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting loosely on his chest, but he wasn't thinking about the fight or the win or even the soreness creeping into his muscles, his mind kept circling back to her, the way she laughed in the car, the way she didn't hesitate when things got rough, the way she tried to brush off her injuries like they didn't matter, and it made something in him shift, something soft and stubborn all at once, like he wanted to keep that light in her from ever dimming, even if he didn't know how.

Steve sat at the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees as he rubbed the back of his neck, replaying the fight in his head, but not his own hits, not his own moves, just hers, the way she stepped in without thinking, the way she held her ground against someone bigger, stronger, and didn't fold, and he found himself shaking his head slightly, a small, almost impressed smile pulling at his lips before he caught himself and looked away, like admitting it out loud would make it something more.

Two-bit lounged back, arms behind his head, staring up at nothing in particular with that usual grin still lingering, but his thoughts were a little sharper than he let on, replaying her reaction to his jokes, the way she blushed but didn't back down, the way she fit into their world without trying too hard, and he chuckled quietly to himself, already thinking of the next thing he'd say just to see that reaction again.

Johnny lay curled slightly on his side, staring at the wall, quiet as ever, but his thoughts were anything but still, they kept drifting back to her voice, the way she said his name, the way she asked if he was okay, and it made that warmth settle in his chest again, steady and unfamiliar, something he held onto carefully like it might disappear if he moved too fast.

Ponyboy sat by the window, knees pulled up slightly as he looked out into the night, but he wasn't really seeing anything out there, his mind replaying every moment, every word, every almost-said thing that got interrupted, and he let out a quiet breath, running a hand through his hair as he leaned his head back, wondering how something so simple could feel so complicated all at once.

Dally was outside on the porch, eyes half-lidded, cigarette burning low between his fingers, acting like nothing stuck, like nothing ever did, but every now and then his gaze would drift off, unfocused, replaying the moment she stepped into the fight without hesitation, and though he'd never say it, not out loud, but there was something there. Warmth in his chest when she stood so near or talked to him.

Darry stood by the window, arms crossed, looking out into the dark, but not really seeing it, his thoughts still circling the same thing, the same realization sitting heavier than he liked.

None of them said a word.

They didn't have to.

It was already too obvious, at least if she were to notice.

(GUYSSSSS TWO MORE CHAPTERSSS LEFTTTTTTT!!!!!!)