𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛

February 14, 1966  

(A week Later)

Y/n's POV:

I didn't feel like going at all to the prom dance, but I couldn't say no to the boys. I was sitting on the gym bleachers, knees tucked inside my dress, trying to make myself unnoticeable in a room that felt way too big. I was dressed in a Y/F/C dress, the skirt falling just above my knees, with small roses Ma' had knitted at the end of the dress. My hair was pulled into loose curls, a bow holding back two strands near my face, and I kept fidgeting with it without really noticing.

Down on the gym floor, students danced under flashing lights and music that shifted between the Beach Boys, Elvis Presley, and The Beatles, which always cleared the floor the second the greasers recognized it, like some unspoken rule no one needed to explain anymore.

I was bored out of my mind.

Earlier in the night, it had started off in the best way. Two-bit, Ponyboy, and I had actually been part of the crowd for a while, laughing, grooving on the dance floor, but then we had to sneak Dally and Johnny in through the back doors so no one would start asking questions, and after that everything split off in different directions. They drifted away, Two-bit disappeared toward the food table already flirting with some blondes, and Dal's trio went off to get fruit punch.

The music was loud enough to blur thoughts together, and the sound of laughter filled the gym. I was thinking about getting up and finding Dal when I felt someone sit down beside me. I turned my head slowly and saw Bob holding a cup of punch, looking straight ahead like he wasn't sure whether to speak first.

"Hey," he muttered.

I stiffened, just enough that I hoped he didn't notice. "What?" I said, voice sharper than I intended, forcing it to stay steady. "Did Cherry leave you for a good-looking one?"

His jaw tightened slightly at that, eyes flicking toward me. "I'm here to make amends."

I leaned back slightly, crossing my arms. "Amends," I repeated flatly, testing how ridiculous it sounded out loud.

Bob exhaled through his nose, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. "I wanted to say I'm sorry for what I did. For the rumble, for... that night. I was drunk—"

I cut him off immediately, not even letting him finish the excuse. "Don't," I said, voice low and sharp enough that it actually stopped him mid-sentence.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"You don't get to wrap it in excuses," I continued, each word steadier than the last. "You don't get to show up,say 'I was drunk,' and expect that to soften anything."

Bob shifted again, grip tightening on the cup.

I leaned forward just a little now, voice colder. "You didn't just 'mess up.' You made a wrong choice. A lot of them, actually."

He opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, but I didn't give him space for it.

"And now you're here because what," I added, tilting my head slightly, "you think a sorry fixes it? You think that makes it disappear? You're full of bullshit."

His expression hardened, frustration flashing across his face for a second before he forced it down."I'm not sayin' it fixes anything," he muttered, lower now, rough around the edges again. "I just thought you should hear it."

I let out a short breath, not amused. "I heard it."

Then I paused, letting the silence settle properly this time, letting him sit in it without rescue.

"You don't get it," I said finally, quieter, but sharper in a different way now, more certain, more final. "And I don't think you ever will."

I saw it in his posture before he even moved—how his shoulders tensed slightly, how his jaw locked like he was swallowing something he didn't want to name.

"Maybe not," he muttered, voice rough again. "But I still said it." He stood slowly, like he wasn't sure what else he was supposed to do here, then hesitated just long enough to glance back down at me. "You don't gotta forgive me," he said, almost like it annoyed him to admit. "I ain't expectin' it."

I didn't move. I didn't want to think I was feeling some sort of pity. "Good," I said simply.

Something flickered across his face—frustration, maybe, or realization—but it disappeared just as fast as he showed it. He gave a short nod, more to himself than to me, then turned and walked away, blending back into the crowd like he had never been there at all.

The music rushed in to fill the space he left behind, loud again, careless again, like nothing had shifted. But I sat there still, arms crossed tighter now, staring out at the crowd without really seeing it. Because something had shifted. And it wasn't something I was letting go of just because he said sorry.I stayed sitting on the bleachers for a moment longer than I probably should've, watching the crowd move again like nothing important had just happened, like the world didn't just shift a little under my feet. My hands were still cold, even though I wasn't shaking anymore, and I kept my arms crossed tighter than before, like I could hold everything steady just by staying still.

That's when I felt someone sit down beside me again. I opened my mouth to cuss him off thinking it was some of Bob's dumb friend, when I turned my head slightly and saw Johnny sitting there, hands resting loosely in his lap, eyes already on me like he had been watching from a distance before deciding to come over. He didn't speak right away, just studied my face for a second like he was making sure I was actually okay and not just pretending again.

"You alright?" he asked quietly.

I blinked once, then let out a small breath. "Yeah," I said, trying to ease it with a laugh but it sounded forced.

Johnny didn't look convinced, but he didn't push either. That was just him. He nodded slightly, shifting a little closer without saying anything else, like his presence alone was supposed to be enough if I needed it.

Behind him, I heard movement—too familiar to ignore.

"Hey, there she is," Two-bit's voice came first, loud as always, breaking whatever quiet was left in the moment like it was nothing.

I turned just in time to see him walking over with Ponyboy beside him and Dally trailing just behind, hands in his pockets like he didn't care at all, even though his eyes had already locked onto the scene like he had been paying attention the whole time anyway.

Two-bit slid into the space on my other side, leaning in slightly. "What'd I miss? You look like you just had a deep conversation or somethin' serious and boring."

Pony didn't say anything right away, just sat down a little further up the bleachers, watching me with that quiet focus he got when he was thinking too much.

Dally stayed standing for a second, scanning my face like he was checking for something specific, then finally sat down one step below us, elbows resting on his knees.

Johnny glanced between them and me, then back again, like he wasn't sure if he should stay or move closer.

"I'm fine," I said again, a little more firmly this time, like I was trying to convince all of them instead of just myself.

Two-bit snorted softly. "Yeah, that's what everybody says right when they're not fine."

"I said I'm fine," I repeated, a bit too harsh–feeling bad when his smile dropped.

Ponyboy shifted a little, finally speaking. "What happened?"

I looked back down at the gym floor, watching people dance again, trying to find something normal in it.

"Nothing," I said finally.

Dally let out a quiet breath through his nose, like he didn't believe that for even a second but wasn't going to argue it out loud. He has gone through this before several times, I could tell he was bothered.

Johnny stayed close beside me, quieter than the rest, but I could feel it—he hadn't moved away.

Two-bit leaned back on his hands, looking up at the ceiling like he was thinking about something else now, but still close enough to stay in the moment. Ponyboy was still watching me.

Dally just said, low and rough. "You don't look like nothin' happened."

I didn't answer right away.

Because I didn't feel like nothing happened.

I just didn't want to worry them like I did a week ago.