Never did Riff think there'd be a day when he wasn't a member of the Jets. It was those boys, or nothing. That's what he always told himself, anyway. There was nothing and no one that could ever change his mind. Womb to Tomb.

The day Tony died changed everything. Riff's whole world got flipped upside down, so did all the Jets'. Of course, to start with, they blamed the Sharks. Riff warned Tony not to mess around with Maria, but the bastard didn't listen. Got himself killed in the process. The boys were angry, ready to start a war. They spent weeks, months even, planning it all out. The day of the dance finally came, Riff was ready to plan the rumble.

Until, walking into that dance hall, his world came to a halt. There you were, the prettiest damn thing he'd ever seen. Sipping punch in that cute dress of yours. All plans came to a standstill, suddenly Riff had more important things in mind. Like making you his.

Only you didn't give in that easy. You weren't a fan of the things Riff had been doing, you'd heard all about his past rumbles and fightin' for turf. You weren't gonna be with someone who had such a backwards mindset on the world, you put your foot down. No more rumbles, and you'd let him dance with you. Riff was stumped, he'd never been told no before. Let alone in such a harsh way. Give up the Jets? You gotta be crazy.

Thing is, he fuckin' did it. He couldn't stop thinking about Tony after his chat with you, how Tony was tryna change his life around before Riff made him go to that rumble. Tony wouldn't have wanted a war, he'd have wanted peace. Riff couldn't believe he'd done it, he'd officially disbanded the Jets. The boys would always be his boys, that could never change. Just no more fighting.

He was taking his second chance, marching straight into that dance hall come Friday. Hands in his pockets, boyish grin on his face as Riff strides straight over to you. "I done it, girlie-girl. The Jets is no more. Our rumblin' days are over."