te looked around to find the teacher. She was at the front of he class room. "Um. I got sent in here cause I got into trouble" te detto standing at the door. "Okay te can go sit at the back of the room" she detto pointing to a desk. te walked back there as Ponyboy was back there. Fuck te thought to yourself. te looked at him and smiled. He smiled back as te got butterfly's in your stomach. te sat down as te wrote. Only cause the teacher was making te write about what te did. After class te walked back to your classroom to return the paper. te walked back out and to your locker to get your stuff. te walked out of the school. te walked alone cause your Friends left you. te looked down at the ground. Someone knocked into you. te looked up to see it was Ponyboy. "Sorry my.... Friend pushed me into you" he said. te looked at Two-but who was laughing. "It's fine" te said. "Okay are te sure?" "Yeah it's totally okay" te detto as te looked into his perfect green eyes. "Okay sorry again" he detto and walked away.
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.
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.
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.”
“This was my mom’s,” he mutters. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N), will te marry me?”