After their little moment on the couch during their last study session, things have surprisingly been the same. At least somewhat. Not that Ponyboy minded, but Curly's sense of personal space was worse than usual.

There wasn't a moment when the other male was hanging off of him for some odd reason or another. Curly always had an arm around him, and was always touching him in some capacity. Even during classes that they shared. The other male insisted on pressing against him.

Ponyboy didn't want to bring it up over the fact that he knew Curly would retract all of the affection. All of the touches would disappear, there would be a divide between the two of them. And he cared about Curly. He didn't want to make him feel bad for being touchy. There was nothing wrong with affection.

The redhead hums contently, leaned against his locker comfortably. It was the end of the day and he was waiting for Curly to make an appearance. It wasn't a study day or anything, but Curly got a bit upset if he left before him. Something about not walking home alone.

Although today someone else was pretty insistent to get his attention. It was another kid from their neighborhood, someone he could remember seeing glimpses of during school. But they've never held a conversation. Not that he could remember.

"Do you have the notes from Mr. Sampson's history lesson?" The boy asks. "I got some of them but he was going real fast today. I didn't quite catch all of it."

Ponyboy chews at his lower lip in thought. What was his name? Jeremy? No... Garrett! That sounded much better.

The redhead eventually nods his head.

"Yeah, I've got them," Ponyboy responds. He didn't think that their teacher had been going fast today. Mr. Sampson was as slow as ever, especially with his age. Maybe the kid was too embarrassed to say that he wasn't paying attention. "Do you wanna take a look at them?"

Garrett nods his head quickly.

"Please, you'd be doing me a huge favor."

And suddenly Garrett was in his personal space, their faces mere inches from one another. The redhead leans back a little bit, not bothering to fight the bothered expression that came over his features. He wasn't much of a talker outside of his own friend group or his brothers, so his face often did most of the talking for him.

"Yeah, just one moment then."

Ponyboy takes a step back, hoping that Garrett would get the hint that he enjoyed his personal space. The male slides his backpack off of his shoulders, moving to balance it against his knee while he opens it up. Although Garrett steps closer again, nearly smushing his backpack against him to the point where he couldn't get it open.

"You can back up if you want," the redhead says. "I can't quite get the notes if I can't open my bag..."

Garrett was unmoving. It was starting to become frustrating. Ponyboy parts his lips to say something before he is cut off from a voice behind him..

"He said you're too close, that means back the fuck up," Curly says harshly. "I ain't gonna tell you twice. Unfortunately I'm not as nice as he is. So back the fuck up or you're not gonna like what happens."

Ponyboy's cheeks were flaming. The redhead turns his head to spot Curly right behind him. His personal space wasn't much better though. He was nearly pressed against the other male. One of the older male's arms encircles his waist to tug him flush against his chest, creating distance between them and Garrett.

Garrett's expression was one of shock, like he didn't expect Curly to come swooping in, metaphorical guns blazing. The male huffs but he takes a step back. He wasn't pleased, not at all.

"Was just trying to get the history notes, asshat," Garrett responds.

"And you can do it from a distance," Curly snarls. "Get so close again and I'll kick your ass. We're heading out, so track down another nerd to get the notes from. This one is mine."

Ponyboy couldn't even talk. He was just... Gobsmacked. It was the only word he could think of to describe what he was feeling.

Curly called him his.

His.

His.

The redhead's cheeks flush a deeper shade of red. His heart was pounding. It wasn't long until hands grab at his backpack. Curly now had it in his possession, one of the straps slung over his shoulder, arm still firmly around his waist.

Curly tugs the two of them off and down the hallway, quickly exiting the school. The ravenette wasn't messing around, that was for sure. Ponyboy prided himself on his ability to read people. He was observant. Curly was... Curly was agitated and angry. Over what, he couldn't tell.

Had he been upset before this moment?

Did Garrett make him upset?

Once they got out to the main road, Ponyboy finds his voice.

"He was just wanting the notes," the redhead blurts quietly.

"Notes? He was looking for more than notes," Curly huffs. "In case you forgot, I share Mr. Sampson's class with you. And the dimwit. Fucker was staring at you the whole time. He's interested in more than just the notes."

Ponyboy makes a startled noise. As observant as he was, if he didn't know the person well enough, they weren't even on his radar.

"I didn't know that."

"Figured you didn't. He wasn't being subtle about it either. I better punch that bitch in the teeth for staring like that."

"You don't gotta go hurting anyone for looking at me."

"And why not? You're not some item to just stare at. Dude was treating it like he was window shopping. With intent to purchase."

Ponyboy couldn't help but grin at Curly's words, laughing. He found the other male's frustration amusing. Sure Curly had a temper, but he wasn't expecting him to get upset on his behalf. Never in his lifetime.

Curly huffs, tightening his arm around his waist. That made the redhead laugh even harder.

"Let's just get you home, yeah?" The ravenette suggests. "I can't study today but perhaps I can stick around."

"Is the Curly Shepard asking me to hang out?"

"With you? Absolutely not. I have a reputation."

Ponyboy nudges his side playfully.

"I bet you do, Curls. Big and bad. One might say the baddest."

Curly puffs his chest out in pride, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

"Damn right."

With that, the two of them start walking in comfortable silence. Curly's arm was a hot iron against his side, in the sense that he couldn't forget that it was there. And he didn't want to.

It was nice. Comforting.