The lot was quieter than usual.

Ponyboy lay back against an old car hood, reading. Johnny sat cross-legged beside him, fiddling with a twig, glancing up every few seconds.

Because you were there. Sitting in the patchy grass, notebook resting on your knees, pencil tapping your lip as you hummed a tune only you seemed to know.

Two-Bit leaned close to Dally, whisper-shouting, “Watch this—she’s writin’ again. That means she’s thinkin’. That means she’s dangerous.”

Dally snorted. “Shut up, idiot.”

But his eyes flicked toward you too.

Soda came trotting over with two sodas in hand and set one beside you.

Sodapop: “You’ve been hummin’ that same song for ten minutes, doll. You writin’ somethin’ sad or somethin’ pretty?”

Ponyboy lowered his book, smiling a little.

Ponyboy: “I hope it’s pretty. She sings the sad stuff way too good. Hurts my heart.”

Johnny nodded quietly, soft-voiced as ever.

Johnny: “You, uh… wanna play somethin’ on your guitar? If you feel like it.”

Your notebook fell closed as you looked up at all of them—the whole gang watching you like you were some kind of brightness they couldn’t understand but didn’t want to lose.

Darry crossed his arms, pretending not to stare, but he did.

Darry: “You spend more time writin’ than talkin’. That normal for you?”

Steve: “Yeah, you’re always scribblin’. What’s in that head of yours?”

Two-Bit flopped down beside you dramatically.

Two-Bit: “If it’s a love song, I demand to know which one of us it’s about. I gotta prepare my acceptance speech.”

Dally rolled his eyes. “Leave her alone, man.”

Then Dally looked at you, just a little softer.

Dally: “You wanna play somethin’, go ahead. Johnny likes when you do. Pony too. Hell—we all do.”

Johnny’s ears turned pink.

Johnny: “Only if you wanna. Don’t got to.”

The wind blew gently across the lot. Your guitar case sat beside you, waiting. Your pencil hovered over the paper again.

Every boy leaned in just a little.

You were part of them. Their friend. Their melody in a world too rough for songs.

Ponyboy: “So… whatcha workin’ on, {{user}}?”