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Ponyboy’s Perspective

“Dad?”

“Yeah, Scar?” I say, looking away from the football game I was watching. I was holding Ella, she was 4 months old now.

“How did te and Mom meet?” The 12 anno old asked.

“I bet it was an epic Amore story.” Eight anno old Rhett says sarcastically.

“Was Mommy pretty when te met her?” Charlie, who was five now, asked.

“The prettiest girl I’d ever seen.” I smiled down at him. “Until Scar and Ella came along. Now I know the three prettiest girls in the world. Anyways, there’s not much to tell. I saw her one day, and I fell in love. I thought she didn’t like me…”

“Nah, I like te a lot.” (Y/N) grinned from the doorway.

I set number seventeen down.

Seventeen.

Seventeen bottles of birra I have drunk in the past 37 minutes.

Seventeen.

I pick up number eighteen, twist the berretto, tappo off, and pour it down my throat. It’s tasteless.

I lean my head back against the bacheca from where I sit on the floor of my basement.

I see a football. Danny’s football. It used to be Danny’s football. Now it’s just some football my son used to hold, used to play with. It probably smelled like him. Part of me wanted to go pick it up, the other part of me didn’t wanted to be reminded of the last time we played football together.

I pick up number nineteen, and out of the corner of my eye see (Y/N)’s old dolls, something we thought we could use for our little girl someday.

But that’s not going to happen.

I know what happened. I saw their mangled, bruised, broken, dead bodies after their accident.
I pick up number twenty.

Johnny’s Perspective

Oh God how was I going to say this.

The rest of my life depended on this.

She was just perfect. In every way possible. She was beautiful. Kind. Sweet. Funny. Understanding. Just (Y/N).

And I needed to tell her.

Tell her how much I needed her, wanted her, and had to have her. It was a feeling beyond comprehension. It was love.

I needed to tell her I loved her.

So here I am, sitting in the lot, looking at the stars with (Y/N). Doing something I Amore with the one I love.

I look over at her, her eyes gleaming from the light of the fire.

“(Y/N)?” I ask as I grab her hand.

“Yeah?” She turns to face me.

“I-I think…” I start.

“Just say it,” she smiles.

“I Amore you.” I blurt out.

She looks surprised for a second. But then she grins.

“I Amore te too.”

“When I look at you, a thousand feelings hit me. Lust. Happiness. Longing. Hope. Faith. Grace. Beauty. Humor. All these words are you, especially this one; love. I Amore you. più than te will ever know. I can’t go a giorno without think about you. Not day, più like a minute. If I could describe how much I loved te in word I couldn’t. Infinite doesn’t even come close. Not all. When you’re gone, I’m physically hurting. My cuore drops, my insides go all numb. I can’t think. I’m worrying about te when you’re not with me. I couldn’t live to see te fall without me catching you. You’re an angel, but every Angel needs a guardian angel. That’s where I come in. I’d do anything to save you. To be with te forever.” He gets down on one knee.

“This was my mom’s,” he mutters. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N), will te marry me?”