wewe woke up inayofuata to wewe boyfriend Dally. wewe fell asleep kwa him last night. wewe two had thrown a party last night for your Marafiki birthday. wewe walked down stairs to make breakfast. wewe were making eggs as wewe felt something around your waist. "Hey baby" Dally alisema and put his head on your back. "Hey Dal" wewe said. He walked to the jikoni meza, jedwali and waited for the breakfast. wewe put it on the meza, jedwali and watched Dally eat it. wewe sat down and ate with him. After wewe ate wewe did the dishes cause wewe knew Dally wasn't going to. "Hey babe what do wewe want to do today?" "I don't know" wewe alisema and turned around and looked at him. He put his arms on both sides of wewe and put his forehead against yours. "We could have some fun in the bedroom if ya know what I mean" he alisema and kissed you. "No Dal" wewe alisema and pushed him away. "Babe" he alisema as wewe walked away and he grabbed your hand. "Dal wewe know I'm way younger than you" wewe said. "So" he alisema and shrugged his shoulders. "You know I hate to think about it" wewe alisema and crossed your arms. "Please just this once?" wewe hesitated before answering. "Fine Dal just this once" wewe alisema as he picked wewe up and carried wewe to his room. That siku the two of wewe 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 wewe and Mom meet?” The 12 mwaka old asked.
“I bet it was an epic upendo story.” Eight mwaka old Rhett says sarcastically.
“Was Mommy pretty when wewe 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 wewe a lot.” (Y/N) grinned from the doorway.
Seventeen.
Seventeen bottles of bia I have drunk in the past 37 minutes.
Seventeen.
I pick up number eighteen, twist the cap, herufi kubwa off, and pour it down my throat. It’s tasteless.
I lean my head back against the ukuta 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 upendo 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 upendo you.” I blurt out.
She looks surprised for a second. But then she grins.
“I upendo wewe too.”
“This was my mom’s,” he mutters. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N), will wewe marry me?”