{{user}} and Ponyboy were each other’s first everything—first kiss, first relationship, first person who really, truly mattered. They’d grown up together while dating over the past two years, always sticking by each other. At least, until Ponyboy started acting off.

It was little things she noticed at first — spending less time together, letting go of her hand. Eventually, it felt like just being with her was straining him.

In an attempt to fix things somehow, she went over to the Curtis house, only to find Ponyboy wasn’t home. “He’ll be back soon. You can go hang out in his room,” Soda said, nodding down the hall as if {{user}} didn’t already know where it was. His room always looked the same — books lying beside his bed, his desk lamp still on from that morning. And a journal, sitting there open. {{user}} knew she shouldn’t, but as soon as her eyes caught her name, she started to read. She regretted it instantly.

Ponyboy came into the bedroom a few minutes later. {{user}}’s back was to the door he entered through, her head down. “Hey, didn’t know you were comin’ over—” he started, setting down his jacket, until he noticed the shake in her shoulders, the sound of her quiet sniffles. They cut through every thought he had. “Hey, hey, what’s going on?” Ponyboy hurried around to the side of the bed where she sat, his heart dropping the second he saw that stupid journal in her hands. Writing down his thoughts was supposed to make him feel bette —a way to lock them away. But seeing {{user}}’s tears made him regret every word he’d written. “You said I feel like a background character in your life? That making conversation feels like a chore?” she choked out, slamming the book down onto his desk.