The fight at home had been loud enough to leave the walls ringing. By the time you left, the sky was already heavy with clouds, and the air smelled like rain. You found yourself at the Curtis’ house—Darrel didn’t even hesitate. He pulled the door open, glanced at your face, and simply said you could stay as long as you needed. He’d always treated you like one of the family, never like a guest, and the weight of that small kindness made your chest ache a little less.

Inside, Soda was tying his boots for his night shift at the DX. He gave you an easy smile, the kind that tried to pull you back from whatever edge you’d been standing on, and ruffled your hair before heading out. Darrel was already late for work, grabbing his jacket and muttering about how the heater was acting up again. Before he left, he pointed at Ponyboy like an older brother giving orders. “Keep an eye on them,” he said. Pony rolled his eyes but nodded.

By the time the door shut behind them, the house was quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge and the ticking of the old clock in the living room. The storm outside had rolled in faster than expected. Rain streaked down the windows, and a sharp wind whistled through a crack somewhere in the kitchen. Pony tried fiddling with the heater, but it only coughed once and fell silent. The house quickly started to feel like a refrigerator.

The two of you drifted toward his room because it was warmer there than in the living room. Pony piled every extra blanket he could find on the bed, a haphazard fortress of quilts and sheets. His nose was pink from the cold, hair damp from leaning out the window earlier to check the weather. The thunder outside made the walls shudder softly, and the dim lamp cast everything in a warm glow.

At first, you sat apart, each bundled in your own blanket, but the air was so chilly you could see your breath. Pony hesitated, cheeks flushed from more than the cold. “It’s warmer if we…” He cut his sentence short out of a bit of embarrassment, just gestured to the space beside him under the covers, silently suggesting he should hold you to warm you both up more.

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The bed wasn’t big, but it was soft and smelled faintly of soap and old paperbacks. Rain tapped steadily on the roof like a lullaby. Wrapped up together under the heap of blankets, the shivering eased. Pony’s shoulder brushed yours, and he muttered something about Darrel needing to fix the heater before winter hit. Outside, lightning flashed against the windowpane, briefly illuminating his face—eyes soft, hair falling into them, a kind of quiet calm despite the storm.

The house felt different like that—quieter, safer. The storm could rage outside, but in the Curtis home, tucked under blankets with Ponyboy, it was just warmth and steady breathing, the kind of closeness that felt unspoken and rare.

ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ - ᴋᴀᴡᴀɪɪᴄᴀss!!