5

Saturday rolled around hotter than usual. The kind of heat that made the pavement shimmer and tempers shorter than usual.

Two-Bit had roped everyone into a cookout at the lot—said it was “for morale,” whatever that meant. Pony suspected he just wanted an excuse to steal some beer and show off his newest trick with a Zippo lighter.

By the time Pony showed up, Johnny and Dally were already sitting on the hood of the car, Johnny quiet as usual and Dally halfway through a cigarette. Soda was setting up the grill with Two-Bit’s help, or more accurately, trying to keep Two-Bit from lighting it with hairspray and a match.

Steve was leaning against a low wall with his arms crossed, talking to Darry about some car trouble he’d helped with earlier that week. Pony’s heart tripped a little when he saw him, but he shoved that feeling down where it belonged—under layers of jokes and forced calm.

“Hey, Ponyboy!” Two-Bit called, waving a greasy spatula in the air. “Come tell Soda that putting ketchup on the grill is not the same as seasoning.”

“I never said it was!” Soda hollered, laughing as he dodged Two-Bit’s flailing arms.

Pony shook his head and walked over. “You guys are gonna poison us.”

“Gotta die sometime,” Two-Bit said with a grin, then went back to rearranging hot dogs with the focus of a man solving world peace.

Pony stayed out of the way, grabbing a soda from the cooler and flopping down on the grass nearby. Steve was still talking to Darry, but his eyes drifted to Pony for a second. Just a second.

Pony looked away fast. His stomach did that stupid flip it had started doing more often lately. The warmth on his face had nothing to do with the sun.

Dally cracked open a beer, and Two-Bit followed suit. It didn’t take long before the gang was lounging around in the shade, talking trash and swapping stories. The air smelled like smoke and meat and summer.

Pony tried to relax into it—this was familiar, safe. But Steve eventually broke away from Darry and dropped down beside him in the grass, and suddenly Pony felt like his skin didn’t fit right.

“You’re quiet today,” Steve said, nudging him with his shoulder.

“I’m always quiet,” Pony muttered.

Steve gave him a look. “Not with me.”

And damn it, that made something tighten in Pony’s chest.

He didn’t respond, just took a sip from his soda and stared out across the field. Johnny was smiling faintly at something Dally said. Two-Bit had his legs thrown over the arm of a lawn chair, sunglasses on like he was some movie star. Soda was laughing, golden in the sunlight, flipping burgers with too much flair.

It should’ve been a perfect day. But Pony’s heart kept stuttering, kept catching whenever Steve was too close or too kind or too familiar.

“I sometimes wonder if things would be easier if I didn’t feel anything” Pony said suddenly, not looking at him.

Steve was quiet for a beat. “Sometimes. But I figure not feeling anything’d make you a different person.”

Pony nodded, slow. “Yeah. I guess.”

Steve leaned back on his elbows, watching the sky. “Whatever’s eating at you—you don’t have to bury it. You can tell me. I won’t laugh or tell anyone else.”

That made Pony look at him—really look at him.

And that was the problem.

Because Steve wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t being smug or cocky. He was honest. And that honesty was dangerous.

“I can’t,” Pony said quietly. “Not yet.”

Steve gave a slow nod. “Okay. I’ll wait.”

And just like that, he went back to watching the clouds, as if Pony hadn’t just nearly confessed the secret that’d been twisting him up for weeks.

Pony felt dizzy with the weight of it.

But then Two-Bit yelled across the lot, “You two gonna kiss, or are you gonna come eat something before Soda burns it all to hell?”

Pony’s entire body stiffened. A couple of the others snorted or laughed, not thinking anything of it, but Pony couldn’t breathe for a second.

Steve didn’t laugh. He just shot Two-Bit a glare. “Knock it off.”

“Relax, I’m kidding,” Two-Bit said, raising his beer in mock apology.

Pony got to his feet quickly, brushing invisible dust from his jeans. “I’m not that hungry.”

“Pony…” Steve started, but he was already walking toward the edge of the lot, toward the trees where the sun didn’t feel like it was staring at him too.

Johnny gave him a questioning look as he passed. Pony just shook his head.

He sat under the shade alone, heart pounding, head spinning.

They’re gonna notice. If they haven’t already, they will soon.

And then what?

Would Steve still look at him the same? Would Soda—who was laughing at something now, completely unaware—ever speak to him again?

Pony rested his head against the bark of the tree and closed his eyes, wishing he could turn it all off.

But Steve had said he’d wait.

And that was the hardest part.

Because a part of Pony wanted to let him.

---

The wind rustled gently through the trees, brushing Ponyboy’s hair across his forehead as he leaned back against the bark. The low chatter of the gang carried across the lot, distant and muffled now. The heat of the day had settled into a slow, drowsy warmth—but inside, Pony felt like a wire pulled too tight.

He didn’t hear Johnny approach until the grass crunched softly nearby.

“Mind if I sit?”

Pony didn’t open his eyes. “No. It’s fine.”

Johnny settled beside him without a word, arms draped over his knees, eyes fixed on the same nothing in front of them.

They sat like that for a minute or two—quiet, easy. Johnny had always known how to wait people out without making them feel like they were being watched.

“You okay?” Johnny finally asked, his voice barely above the breeze.

Pony swallowed, throat dry. “No,” he said.

That one word cracked something open. He hadn’t said it out loud before—not to anyone. And now it hung between them, bare and honest.

Johnny didn’t push. He just let it be.

“I think I’m…” Pony started, then stopped. The words fought in his throat. His fingers curled in the grass. “I think I’m falling for Steve.”

Johnny blinked, slowly turning to look at him.

Pony kept his eyes down. “I know it’s stupid. He’s Soda’s best friend. He’s older. It doesn’t make sense. But it’s there. It won’t go away. Every time he smiles at me or says something that sounds like it means something, I feel like I’m gonna lose it.”

His voice cracked then—just a little. He didn’t cry, but it felt like he might.

Johnny was quiet, and for a second, that silence was unbearable. Pony could feel his whole body tense, ready for rejection, or worse—pity.

But then Johnny said, soft and simple, “I get it.”

Pony finally looked up, eyes narrowing in confusion. “You do?”

Johnny nodded, still staring out at the lot. His voice was steady, but quiet like always. “It’s how I feel about Dally.”

The words hit Pony like a soft gust of wind. Unexpected. Real.

“You—?”

Johnny gave the tiniest smile. “Yeah. I didn’t think I was allowed to, y’know? Not someone like him. Dally’s… Dally. Wild and mean and loud. But then he’s not. Sometimes he’s soft with me, even if he pretends he ain’t. And that’s the part that stays with me.”

Pony stared at him, heart thudding. “How long have you known?”

“A while,” Johnny admitted. “Since before the church. I thought maybe it was just gratitude or something, but it never really left. I don’t think it’s gonna.”

Pony’s throat tightened. “It’s hard, isn’t it? Feeling something you don’t think you’re supposed to?”

Johnny picked at a blade of grass. “Yeah. But tellin’ someone… that helps. Doesn’t make it go away, but it don’t feel so heavy anymore.”

Pony nodded slowly, something easing in his chest. Like a knot finally uncoiled.

“Thanks for not freaking out,” he said quietly.

Johnny shrugged. “You’re my best friend, Pony. I’d never freak out over you. Not for this.”

They sat in silence again, but this time it was peaceful—shared.

Across the lot, Soda laughed loud at something Two-Bit said, and Steve tossed a soda can at Dally’s head, who cursed him out in return.