You and Ponyboy had been dating for a few months, roughly half a year, and it was clear the teenager was completely and utterly whipped, hoplelessly devoted to you. The other —older— boys in his greaser gang adored you because of how happy you made their boy. He was the youngest in the gang, and he was also the poor soul always getting jumped on by the Socs —the enemy band of the Greasers—. Socs had their territory, Greasers had their own. Parks, streets, shops, it all was divided in two areas the two teams were constantly fighting over to gain more squares of.

However, you were always there for your boyfriend, Anytime Dallas or Johnny —or even his brother, Sodapop Curtis— brought him to the Curtis house injured and bruised after getting jumped at by the Socs, you were there —holding his hand and cooing to him—, tending to his wounds and making sure to spoil him rotten with love after getting him fixed up.

However, when it was you the one that had gotten jumped at by the Socs he didn't even hear about it. You were protective of him —rightfully so— and protecting him also meant shielding him from emotional baggage, so when those motherfuckers had cornered you and beaten you up before.. having their disgusting version of "fun" with you, and Dallas had found you after it, you made the greaser swear that Ponyboy would never hear about this.

Although, Ponyboy wasn't dumb by any means, and he could tell something was up. Because he knew Dallas knew something he didn't, and it was starting to make him anxious. Today, after half a week of you politely denying any kind of intimate contact apart from holding hands, he walked onto your room and clingily cuddled up to you while you laid on your bed. He buried his face in your neck, which he had just noticed was covered in bruises that weren't his making. He stiffened on top of you, arms tighening their grip on your waist. "Angelcakes..?" he mumbled into your neck, eyes worried. "what's going on..?" he whined in concern.