THROUGH THE YEARS ; JOHNNY AND PONYBOY
(love this ask btw, platonic Johnnyboy is my lifeboat)
It was a dusty summer afternoon when Johnny Cade and Ponyboy Curtis first met. Johnny, a quiet boy who never seemed to look anyone in the eye, was sitting alone on a park bench. His eyes were fixed on the ground, his long, dark hair falling messily around his face, as if he were trying to shrink into himself.
Ponyboy, only 11 at the time, had passed him several times over the past week. Something about Johnny intrigued him—he wasn’t like the other kids, the ones who ran wild in the streets. Ponyboy wasn’t really one for confrontation, but he didn’t mind the silence either.
On that particular day, as he walked home from the library with a book tucked under his arm, he saw Johnny sitting there again. Without thinking much about it, he walked over.
“Hey,” Ponyboy said, sitting down next to Johnny without asking. “You come here often?”
Johnny flinched at the voice, but when he saw it was just another kid, he relaxed. “Not really,” Johnny muttered. “Just… thinkin’.”
Ponyboy smiled, his eyes bright. “I’m Ponyboy Curtis. You live around here?”
“Johnny.” came the quiet reply. Johnny clearly wasn’t one for much conversation, but Ponyboy wasn’t deterred. He gave Johnny a small, understanding smile.
Ponyboy wouldn't consider himself awkward, his brothers would, but that's they're own opinion. Pony was determined to make a friend of his own. And Johnny seemed like a great candidate.
After a pause, Ponyboy asked, “You like to read?”
Johnny looked at him, puzzled. “Read?”
“Yeah,” Ponyboy said, holding up the book he’d been carrying. “I love reading. You ever read anything?”
Johnny’s brow furrowed as if the concept was foreign to him. “Not really,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “I'm not really...good at stuff like that."
Ponyboy shrugged. “You should read more, then. Books can take you anywhere. I can read you something if you like.”
The conversation was awkward at first, but the two boys sat together for a while. Johnny didn’t say much, but there was something in his eyes that made Ponyboy want to stick around.
Over the next year, Johnny and Ponyboy saw each other more and more, often meeting in the same park where they first met. While Ponyboy was becoming more confident, his words coming easily, Johnny remained as shy and timid as ever, especially when it came to opening up about himself.
One afternoon, Ponyboy found Johnny sitting by himself again, his face bruised from another fight—Johnny says its the Soc's, his sleeves pulled down to hide his scars. Ponyboy didn’t ask what happened. Instead, he sat down beside Johnny, not saying anything at first.
“You okay?” Ponyboy asked, his voice soft but concerned.
Johnny didn’t look up. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” Johnny says, giving him the fakest smile Pony had ever seen.
Ponyboy didn’t push him. They sat in silence for a while, both of them watching the sky, lost in their thoughts. Ponyboy, ever the one to fill silence, broke it with a casual comment. “You know, we should really get you to read more..”
Johnny looked over at him, his eyes narrowing. “Huh?”
Ponyboy laughed. “There's books out there about kids like us, y'know. I think you’d like some of them.”
Johnny, still unsure about reading, shrugged. “Maybe.”
Ponyboy handed him the book in his hands anyway. “Take it. I’ll let you borrow it, no strings attached.”
Johnny hesitated but finally accepted the book, looking at the cover as if unsure what to make of it.
They sat there for a while longer, the easy camaraderie starting to form between them. Despite Johnny’s quiet nature, Ponyboy wasn’t put off. He simply stuck around, a constant presence that Johnny had begun to rely on.
A year later, their friendship had grown, though it was still unspoken and simple. Ponyboy would often see Johnny walking down the street, his head low and hands shoved into his jacket. Johnny’s father was harsh on him, and the quiet bruises on Johnny’s face told the story of a home that wasn’t kind to him—Darrel has figured out about his folks just a few weeks ago, saw his daddy chasing Johnny out of the house with a two-by-four.
One day, as they walked together to the Dairy Queen, Ponyboy noticed Johnny was unusually quiet. “You feeling okay?”
Johnny nodded, though his face said otherwise. “Just tired.”
Ponyboy, always one to lighten the mood, nudged him. “You know, I’ve been reading this book, and it’s really good. You might like it. It’s called Of Mice and Men—you know, it’s got this guy, George, who looks out for his friend, Lennie. Sounds like something you’d be into.”
Johnny didn’t respond right away, but he looked up at Ponyboy with a soft, grateful glance. “You really like books, huh?”
Ponyboy smiled, tossing him the book from his bag. “I do. Maybe you’ll like this one too.”
Reading wasn't something greasers were meant to be into. Pony knew a few that could barely read at all.
Johnny hesitated but took the book. It was a small thing, this quiet exchange, but it was another thread in their growing bond. It wasn’t the loud, dramatic moments that defined their friendship—it was these simple, small acts of kindness.
Growing Up Together
Age 14 and 16
By the time Ponyboy was 14 and Johnny was 16, they had grown even closer. Ponyboy had become more outspoken, especially with the gang, while Johnny remained quieter, but the two shared an understanding that needed no words. They spent long hours together, even on the worst days, whether it was walking down the street or sitting in the park late at night.
One evening, Ponyboy found Johnny sitting by himself on the curb, his knees drawn up to his chest. The bruises on his face from the latest fight with his father were still healing, and his eyes were tired.
“Johnny,” Ponyboy said softly, sitting next to him.
Johnny didn’t look up, but there was a slight nod to acknowledge his presence. Ponyboy didn’t want to push him to talk, but after a moment, he did.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but I really appreciate you, Johnny. I mean, you’ve always been there, even when I didn’t know how to help.”
Johnny’s eyes flicked up to Ponyboy, confusion and gratitude mixed in his gaze.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Ponyboy continued, his voice sincere. “You make me see things different. You keep me grounded.”
Johnny didn’t know what to say at first, but he finally muttered, “I’m glad… you don’t mind me.”
Ponyboy grinned. “Mind you? You’re my best friend, Johnny. I’ll always be here.”
The night stretched on as the two of them talked—about their families, about school, about the future. It was a quiet night, filled with nothing more than the sound of their voices and the occasional distant car.
Ponyboy glanced over at Johnny. He had grown used to the quiet moments with him, the unspoken words, the understanding in his eyes.
“Thanks. For being my friend—I mean.”
Johnny’s eyes softened. “You don’t have to thank me. We’ve always been friends.”
And that was the truth. It wasn’t about the big, dramatic moments—it was about the quiet understanding, the shared laughs, and the comfort of knowing someone had your back, no matter what.
They didn’t need to say much more. They both knew it. They’d always have each other. And that was enough.
