te woke up successivo to te boyfriend Dally. te fell asleep da him last night. te two had thrown a party last night for your Friends birthday. te walked down stairs to make breakfast. te were making eggs as te felt something around your waist. "Hey baby" Dally detto and put his head on your back. "Hey Dal" te said. He walked to the cucina tavolo and waited for the breakfast. te put it on the tavolo and watched Dally eat it. te sat down and ate with him. After te ate te did the dishes cause te knew Dally wasn't going to. "Hey babe what do te want to do today?" "I don't know" te detto and turned around and looked at him. He put his arms on both sides of te and put his forehead against yours. "We could have some fun in the bedroom if ya know what I mean" he detto and kissed you. "No Dal" te detto and pushed him away. "Babe" he detto as te walked away and he grabbed your hand. "Dal te know I'm way younger than you" te said. "So" he detto and shrugged his shoulders. "You know I hate to think about it" te detto and crossed your arms. "Please just this once?" te hesitated before answering. "Fine Dal just this once" te detto as he picked te up and carried te to his room. That giorno the two of te didn't come out of his room for a long time.
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?”