Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There were a few beat-up lanterns strung around the drive-in, throwing off this soft orange glow like the world was in a warm filter. Summer nights made everything feel slower, humid air and drawn-out sunsets. People taking their sweet time pretending they got nowhere else to be.

Same old place. Same old movie, some dumb sitcom playing on the screen. People still laughed too loud at all the wrong moments. Girls behind them were giggling at nothin’, and the guys up front were already throwing crap at each other like they couldn’t go a whole hour without being idiots.

Dally sat back in his seat, legs wide, hands stuffed in his leather-jacket pockets. He didn’t care much for the movie, wasn’t even really looking at the screen. Beside him, Johnny sat real still — too still, then shifted, slowly spreading his legs the same way. Dally didn’t say anything, just felt the kid’s knee bump into his.

He figured Johnny’d flinch, and sure enough, he did. Pulled back a little, like the touch meant somethin’. Dally didn’t move though. He just kept sitting there, smirking a little to himself.

Johnny was talking soft to Ponyboy on his other side, saying nothing important. Movie stuff. People stuff. Dally only half listened. Two-Bit dropped by, cracked a dumb joke, then wandered off again with Steve and Soda; off to get drinks or flirt or whatever.

Dally watched the crowd for a while, mostly outta boredom. That’s when he noticed the group of girls behind them, maybe six or seven of ’em, all chattering like birds. Didn’t take long before Two-Bit and Steve were back trying to be charming. Dally didn’t even try hard, he just turned a little in his seat, facing Johnny while tossing a few lazy comments over his shoulder at the girls.

They laughed. Of course they did. They always did.

Johnny shifted again. Nervous. Like he didn’t know where to look now. Their legs kept brushing, and Dally noticed. Hell, he noticed too much when it came to Johnny — even when he didn’t want to. The guy wears everythin’ on his face, you’d have to blind not to notice.

After a few minutes, Dally leaned in, real close. Their heads nearly touched. “Hey Johnny, what do you think of that blond?” The kid blinked, looked toward the girl. Dally tracked his line of sight. She was glancing over now and then, biting her lip or some girly thing like that. Dally grinned, half outta habit, half to mess with him.

“She’s been lookin’ at you,” he murmured.
Pony chimed in, “She’s cute, ain’t she?”
“Cute? Hm.” What a dumb word. Dally rolled his eyes but didn’t say nothin’.

Johnny looked again. Dally watched him watching her. She had a white sweater, thin gold chains, smooth skin, the whole bit. A good-looking girl, for sure. But Dally didn’t care. Not really. “Uh yeah, I guess,” Johnny said, but his eyes flicked back toward Dally right after.

And for a second — too long a second — they just stared at each other. Dally didn’t look away. Didn’t know why he didn’t. He studied Johnny’s eyes, those long lashes that made him look soft even in the dark. Soft like... like someone else.

It hit him, a girl he’d slept with a few nights before. Dark lashes, too. Big brown eyes. He cursed himself, hard and quiet. Swore he wasn’t gonna sleep with her again.

“Pfft. That’s it?” he laughed, too loud, standing up quick like he needed to shake something off. “You’re hopeless, kid.” He stretched, wandered over to stand near Two-bit, who was still working his charm. Pony nudged Johnny, told him to go talk to the blond. Dally heard it but didn’t look back. He already knew Johnny wouldn’t.

The kid wouldn’t know what to say to a girl like that anyway. Not with him around.

Later, Dally lit a cigarette behind everyone at the drive-in, near the drinks they were selling. But hidden in some shade formed by the trees, arms crossed as he leaned against the fence. He could still see Johnny in the corner of his eye. He gave him a long look once more, getting used to it.

He saw the other blond, similar shade to his own locks. Looking at Johnny the same way he was. Mouth slightly parted, eyes lidded. Though he himself wouldn’t make that connection.

The movie played on, not that he gave a damn.

He thought about the way their knees had touched, the way Johnny mirrored him, the way he didn’t mind it. He thought about the way Johnny looked at him when he asked about that girl. Like Dally had asked the wrong question.

And maybe he had.

He flicked ash onto the dirt and tried to stop thinking altogether.

A few days passed, days blended together hazily and the summer continued. Dally started to think a lot more, but it seemed every time he did, it would only end in frustration. It was like every thought would push him to think about soft things, and sentimentality wasn’t his thing. Not even close.

It was late into the night when Dally was heading over to a loud house with people smoking out at the front porch. He joined them temporarily, before following his gut and heading into the house. Trying to give little thought about who he might see.

He pushed his way throughout the crowd of people. Heavy thudding and blasting music filling his loud, unwanted mind. He spotted the guy he was looking for, clean-shaven, freshly washed hair with some nice clothes; too nice. As expected from a Soc.

Dally was confused at the idea of a ‘neutral party’ but it really is true. There really is Soc’s and Greaser’s hangin’ out together. Pretending that there ain’t fights going on every other day between them.

“Lucky.” He called out, Buck told Dally that was his name. He kept his fists ready just in case, wouldn’t be the first time a Soc tried somethin’. The Soc gave him a sly smile. “Yeah what’s up?” Dally considered whether this guy knew who he was or nah.

“You owe me. You know Buck right? The weed.” Lucky gave him a look of acknowledgement, nodding his head. He shuffled around in his pockets, handing Dally a wad of cash. “This good?” It was more than enough, he was throwing cash around. “I’m not looking for hand outs.”

He counted the cash in his hand, and gave some of it back the guy. He turned around knowing he still came out ahead, keeping a bit more than what was owed for himself. Shortly after, a girl approached him. “You should’ve just kept it Dallas,” she smiled kindly.

Dark lashes, soft brown eyes.

It’s the girl he slept with before, Johnny-looking one. “I ain’t no charity” He muttered, pocketing it anyway. He tried to erase the memories of the drive-in, he didn’t want to keep thinkin’ about his friend. How his eyes were like a girls, a pretty one at that.

“Drink with me?” The short brunette asked, handing Dally a beer. He took it. Taking big sips. They started talking, then touching, then she kissed him. He held her waist while they made out, she kept wanting more, while he kissed back like he was trying to forget.

She held his wrist and dragged him upstairs. “Do you even know my name?” She giggled while they found an empty room, with an empty bed. Dally quickly ran through the list of girl names in his head, while sitting down pulling her onto his lap.

“Um.. Like Ellie? Right, I got it yeah?” She burst out laughing. She made herself too easy to impress, didn’t even care about how little he remembered. “It’s Lily, but I’ll forgive you this time Dallas. Just ‘cause you’re so cool.” Dally leaned back, her still on top of him, but his eyes drifted past her for a second.

Johnny never called him that, but he thought it — maybe. But not like her, not like that. Right?

“Yeah I get that a lot.” It’s just a word.

The rest of the night was a blur. Dally just remembered her saying he was holding back, too soft, that she thought he was rougher the last time they fooled around. Maybe it was the eyes. Dally left and walked throughout the night till his legs gave out, or maybe his head, making it to Buck’s couch before dozing off.

He was left with cheap perfume on his hands and a name he didn’t remember.

-

Chapter Text

Rain hit the pavement like it was pissed off. The streets mirrored the sky. Everythin’ cold, empty, slick with grey. Dallas Winston kept walkin’ anyway. He didn’t wait for the weather, he had shit to get done.

His jeans were soaked and stuck to his skin. It didn’t slow him, only made him move faster. Alert to his surroundings, he held his head up despite the hard drops hitting his face. Face stern and stoic, unflinching, as he moved past the parking lot.

Someone made him stop.

“Johnny?” The figure was curled up, leaning against a wall. Dally slipped Johnny’s hood back, revealing his face, one that had been hit too many times. Cuts, a bruise forming under one eye. His eyes were restless.

“Fuck. Johnnycake.” Dally crouched without meaning to, pulled the hoodie higher as if that could hide anything. He didn’t ask how. He didn’t have to. Dally slung Johnny’s arm over his shoulder, an arm around his waist to hold him up.

“Ponyboy’s, right?”
Johnny shook his head, breath small against Dally’s jacket. “They’re sick.”

‘Course they were. Nowhere else to be. Nowhere good, anyway. Johnny hated being a bother. And being seen like this — it wasn’t just a pain, it was embarrassment.

There was a motel a block over. Dally had cash for once. He paid without thinkin’, jaw tight the whole time.

The room smelled like old cigarettes and cheap soap. Johnny stood shivering, not sure what to do with himself, just looked at Dally with pleading eyes.

Dally shoved Johnny’s jacket off, then his hoodie, stopping at his shirt. The hoodie was pushing it. He didn’t know why he felt the need to help him with that, anyway.

Dally tossed the wet stuff over a chair, went out to buy gauze and rubbing alcohol, shouting “Shower!” on his way out. He came back with a bottle of whiskey under his arm, gauze in his hand.

There were no spare shirts. Just a radiator and a bed that’d seen better days. Dally hung his black t-shirt over it and leaned shirtless against it, letting the warmth sink in. The shower clicked off. Johnny stepped out in boxers, damp messy hair hanging at his neck.

Dally sat in the old arm chair in the corner of the room, with the supplies on the bedside table next to him. Johnny accepted his help, walking over to him.

Johnny stood too close; neither of them moved. Dally dipped the rag, not saying anything. Rinse, dab, press. Johnny breathed quick and quiet. They’d done this before — but it was different this time, Johnny being so exposed and fragile.

Usually Johnny would be more shy, covering up his wounds. But he looked as if he wasn’t in the room, like he was invisible rather than naked.

Dally’s hand remembered where the pain mattered.

He worked slow with the cuts, careful with the alcohol. He paused at the bruise under Johnny’s ribs, the skin black and purple. “Nothin’ I can do for that.” His knuckles brushed Johnny’s side; accidental, if you wanted it to be.

He looked up and saw Johnny studying him like a question he didn’t know how to answer. Dally jerked his eyes away. “I got a shirt for you,” he said, sort of formal. Johnny’s fingers brushed his when he took it.

“Thanks,” he replied. “You didn’t have to.”
Dally folded his mouth like he might say something sharp, then didn’t. He lit a cigarette instead. Smoke made the room smaller. Easier to handle.

“Take the bed,” Johnny offered like he wanted to mean it, guilty or whatever.
Dally smirked “No way, you paid.”

Johnny scoffed, both knowing the truth but pretending otherwise. Dally dropped into the chair and pretended to sleep, tapping the side of the rough fabric. Johnny laid down a few seconds later.

Dally heard a soft murmur, “I like the rain, makes things quieter.” He stayed silent but didn’t ignore it. Johnny shifted and scratched his scabs in his sleep. Dally told him to stop. Johnny didn’t hear him, and Dally didn’t say it loud enough to wake him.

Morning was thin and grey. Dally woke up wrapped in the thin motel blankets, Johnny not in bed. He found him on the balcony, jacket back on, lost in the clouds. The room smelled of cheap coffee someone else had drunk.

“You slept well,” Dally remarked. Johnny glanced over, looking like he wanted to tease but didn’t know how — just let out a soft “hm” through his nose. Dally lit another cigarette. They listened to cars go by down on the wet street, in their own heads.

He shifted on the balcony, stretching his shoulders, feeling the heavy air cling to his skin. Johnny’s gaze lingered a second too long, tracing the line of Dally’s shoulder. For a second, something hot twisted in Dally’s gut.

He shifted his stance, stretched his arms behind his head like he was just loosening up, a half-second of showing off, just to see if Johnny would keep looking.

“Teach me how to fight.”

Dally blinked. Oh. So that’s why he’d been staring. Not knowing what he expected.

The first time someone taught Dally how to throw a punch. It wasn’t because they wanted to protect him, but because it was survival. There was no patience, no kindness in that lesson, just the sharp sting of fists and the cold grind of fear turned to rage.

Back then, fighting was a way to hide. To stop feeling small. Johnny askin’ for this, it was different. It wasn’t about hiding. Johnny flinched at loud voices, shrank under fists. He showed his fear. Never tried to hide it.

But he never let go of himself. He didn’t drink it away, didn’t pretend to be tougher than he was. He just stayed, shaking, and did the hard thing anyway. Even if it cost him.

Dally recalled one time he was coughing up blood in a random alley, his head foggy, probably fainted or some shit. Bitter taste of alcohol still lingering. Johnny came, didn’t say anythin’ just kept him sitting up so he wouldn’t choke. Cleaning his bloody nose with his sleeve.

He felt so pitied, but Johnny was the best person that could’ve come.

He still had hope, too — that was the craziest part. After everything. Somehow, Johnny could still believe the world had somethin’ good left in it.

Dally couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that way.

Hell, maybe he never had.

He exhaled slow, almost laughed at himself.
“Teach me how to fight,” Johnny said again, quieter this time.

Dally leaned against the doorframe, flicking the lighter open and shut. “You don’t need to fight, Johnnycake,” he muttered. “You just gotta stop lettin’ people think they can touch you.”

Reputation’s what keeps you breathing. Dally always kept a pocket knife in his jacket, not intending to use it unless he had to. People oughta know not to mess with you. That was the only kind of advice Dally knew how to give.

Johnny looked at him, stubborn, waiting. Dally sighed, rubbed the back of his neck.
“Alright, I’ll show you. Basics.”

Johnny’s face lit up with something like hope.

Dally looked away, flicked his lighter once, twice. Hope was dangerous, didn’t belong in guys like him.

-

Chapter Text

The daylight stung at Dally’s eyes, the sun was already too damn bright. Yesterday, everything was dark and soaking, and now it was like the world forgot it ever stormed. Typical.

Dally was exhaling smoke rings, lookin’ at how they fade. Johnny walked alongside him, kicking rocks, a coffee in hand. Dally got it for him on the way out of the diner after breakfast. He needed the energy if they wanted to get anything done.

They were walkin’ towards one of the many fields nearby. Dally took the cardboard cup out of his hand for a second and took a small sip. He drank straight from the rim. “Tastes like melted cake.” He said, making a face.

“You didn’t ask.” Dally handed it back with a shrug. “Didn’t think you’d care.”

“I don’t.” Johnny said, sipping it after him. “Still gross though.” He mumbled. He drank the rest of it before tossing it in the garbage.

Dally flicked his cigarette to the side. “Alright,” he said, stretching his neck side to side. The field wasn’t anything special, patchy grass, some trash and bottle caps scattered around. But it was quiet, a wide open area.

Johnny looked out over it, slow and unsure, like he was trying to picture himself there. He stepped out onto the wet grass, moving further in.

“We’ll start slow.” Dally took off his jacket, ditching it on the ground beside one of those random abandoned walls you find. Walkin’ over to Johnny, positioned behind him.

His hands settled on his shoulders. “You’re too stiff, relax.” He felt Johnny breathe out under his palms, trying to do it right. Dally moved back to adjust his stance. Gave small critiques, liking how Johnny listened.

“Keep your chin down. You ain’t tryna model, you’re tryna not get your teeth knocked out.”

Johnny smiled “You think I could model?” Caught Dally off guard, that one. He huffed a laugh, all breathy and quiet, more outta surprise than anything. Johnny looked pleased with himself.

Dally walked him through throwing a punch. How to stand, how to throw from your shoulder, not just your arm. He corrected Johnny’s fist, curling his fingers in tighter.

Dally opened his palms, and said “hit me.” Johnny hesitated, but eventually complied, punching weakly. Dally gave Johnny a deadpanned look, “wow so strong aren’t ya?” Johnny didn’t look embarrassed, rather he had a playful smile and Dally felt he needed to be more strict.

“Let’s be serious now.” Dally backed up a step, shook out his hand. “Again.” Johnny hit him twice more. Dally grabbed his wrist, turning it over in his hand. “You’re holdin’ back.”

Johnny shrugged. “Don’t wanna hit you for real.”

Dally scoffed. “You won’t.”

He moved in closer, too close maybe, lifting Johnny’s arm again to correct his angle. His fingers wrapped around Johnny’s forearm, guiding it slow like it mattered. “From here,” he said, quieter. “Don’t swing wide. Straight line, fast.”

Johnny nodded, eyes flicking up to meet his. Dally felt himself lose his train of thought for a second, a bit thrown off, not knowing why.

“Lemme show you.” He stepped behind again, reached around this time, took hold of Johnny’s fist with one hand, his elbow with the other. Moved his arm through the motion, decisively.

Johnny tensed. Dally felt it.

“You’re alright,” Dally muttered. His voice came out lower than he meant it to, and his grip on him eased. Johnny didn’t say anything. Didn’t pull away, either.

Dally let go. Too slow. His hand dragged along Johnny’s arm a second longer than it needed to. He didn't like how it stuck with him.

They went a few more rounds. Johnny still wasn’t great, but he was getting bolder, not scared to move into Dally’s space now. That was new. He was looser, too. Dally could see it in his shoulders.

“Good, keep doin’ that and you won't break so easily.” Johnny gave a half-grin, eyes squinting a little from the sun. “I’m tryna remember it all.”

“You don’t gotta think so hard. Just feel it. Let it come outta your gut.” Johnny came at him again, but Dally caught his wrist mid-air.

“Too soft,” he said.

Johnny tried again. Dally grabbed his other hand, twisted it behind his back — not hard, just enough to unbalance him. Johnny stumbled, but Dally caught him with a hand around his waist.

Close. Way too close.

Johnny’s breath hitched. He didn’t let go right away.
He should’ve let go.

Instead, his fingers tightened slightly at Johnny’s side, grounding him. His other hand was still around Johnny’s wrist, but he wasn’t holding him like an opponent anymore.

Their eyes met. Long enough for something to move between them.

Dally’s voice came low. “You’re leanin’ in too much. You’ll lose your footing.”
“Is that why you’re holdin’ me?”

Dally smirked. “Nah, I’m testing you on how to escape from someone's hold.”

Johnny didn’t answer. Didn’t look away either.

Dally was the one to break it — let go of his wrist, loosened his grip on Johnny’s side like it was nothing. Like his heart hadn’t just kicked up for no damn reason.

“Alright,” he muttered, stepping back, brushing his hands off on his jeans. “That’s enough sparrin’ for now. You’d be dead in a real fight, but maybe just mostly dead.”

Johnny huffed a laugh. “I’ll take it.”

They walked to the edge of the field, where the grass got long and the world felt quieter. Dally dropped into the dirt first, legs out in front of him. Johnny followed without a word, close enough that their knees almost touched.

Dally lit a cigarette, passed it over without thinking. Johnny took it, like he always did. Familiar. Easy.

“You get any sleep last night?” Dally asked, watching the smoke curl in the air.
“Some,” Johnny said. “Dreamed a lot. Can’t remember what of.”

Dally nodded, like he understood. Maybe he did.
Wind stirred the grass. Birds wouldn't shut up near the trees. Didn’t sound like the same world he knew.

Johnny leaned back on his elbows, glancing over at him. “I did alright, right?”

Dally flicked ash off his knee. “You didn’t cry. You listened. That’s better than I thought you'd do.”

Johnny smiled a little at that, turned his face toward the sky. Dally looked at him sideways, looked at the way the sun caught his cheekbone, the half-healed bruise that was startin’ to fade.

He looked like somethin’ solid in a world that never held still for long.
Dally took the cigarette back and didn’t say a word, but his hands still remembered the shape of holding him.

And his chest still hadn’t gone quiet.

-

Chapter Text

They’d been meeting each other on the field more than Dally liked to admit. He told himself it was outta habit. He was just killin’ time, teachin’ Johnny a few things to help him out. But lately it just didn’t feel like that, he blamed Johnny for that, he had a way of makin’ silence feel heavy.

He kept sayin’ it didn’t mean nothin’. If he said it enough, maybe it’d stick.

“Got a light?” Johnny asked. Dally tossed him the lighter, tried not to watch how his fingers trembled a bit when he flicked it.

“Hold it closer,” Dally said. “You’re gonna burn your damn hand.” Johnny did as told. Took a drag. Coughed. Dally smirked, leaned back on his elbows.

“Still can’t smoke worth a damn.”
“Still tryin’,” Johnny said, a little grin showin’.

They sat quiet for a long while, only the wind movin’ the grass, the smoke driftin’ between them. Dally kept tellin’ himself to leave, that he had places to be. But he didn’t move.

Johnny asked for another cigarette, Dally reluctantly shared the last one in the pack. They shared it, taking turns, Dally blew smoke in Johnny’s face. "What the hell!?" Johnny grimaced, but then laughed, the sound low and easy.

The laughter settled, and Johnny’s voice came softer, almost like a question. “you ever look at the sky?” He stared out into the oblivion, Dally followed his gaze.

People didn’t ask Dally many questions, made Johnny stand out. Usually he’d think this kind of stuff is a waste of time, but now it felt like it was something he needed.

“What for? Nothin’ there.”

Johnny thought for a while, “Dunno, it’s gold. It’s kinda cool no?” He waited for a response but Dally couldn’t find anythin’ to say, until he looked at Johnny.

The sun hit Johnny’s face just then, light across his cheek, parts of smooth skin that weren’t scarred or bruised glowed a warm yellow.

“You’re gold.”

Dally hadn’t mean to say it. Johnny laughed, a little surprised, asking, “What?” Dally didn’t bother explaining, so they both just left it.

Johnny was good like that, he never pushed. Just let things be. That was what made it worse. Dally didn’t deserve that kind of quiet. He let the words hang in the air, waiting till Johnny found something else to say.

“Dally, you think life’s always this hard?”

They didn’t look at each other, Dally’s jaw tightened. Thinking back to the motel, how Johnny’s scars had faded just to gain new ones. Constantly more fights, constantly the same ones. “You get used to it.”

Dally didn’t want him to get used to it, but that was wishful thinking he couldn’t have.

“You shouldn’t have to.” Johnny said.

Something in Dally snapped right then, quiet but sharp. He didn’t wanna hear that. Didn’t wanna be seen like that, not by Johnny. Not by the kid who still looked at the world like it could change if you stared hard enough.

“Don’t say stupid stuff like that,” Dally said.
Johnny frowned. “It ain’t stupid.”
“It is.”
“Why’re you mad?”

“I ain’t mad,” Dally said too fast, and then he was. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about. You think you can just sit here and—”
He cut himself off, couldn’t finish.

Johnny’s eyes were wide, calm, waitin’ on him. That look. Like Dally was worth somethin’ to him, made his chest twist up.

Before he knew it, he grabbed Johnny’s collar. Quick, rough. Not violent. Just urgent. His mouth hit Johnny’s like a strike — but the kiss landed slow. Lingering. Soft.

The space between them got smaller, tighter, like it was pulling them in.

Dally pulled away, his heart pounding, hand still fisted in Johnny’s shirt. Johnny just stared at him, stunned, eyes big, mouth open a little like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

“Dally—what—”
“Don’t.” Dally muttered, already shakin’. “Don’t say nothin’.”

A silence stretched between them while Dally tried to find something to say, where to put his hands. Johnny blinked, slow. His hand came up like he might touch his mouth, then stopped halfway.

“Dal..”
“Stop.” Dally snapped, harsher than he meant, looking the other way.

“You kissed me,” Johnny said, like he couldn’t believe it.
“You made me.” He knew how stupid it sounded, he hated how his voice broke on it.

Johnny blinked, hurt flickerin’ across his face. Dally couldn’t stand it, that look. That soft, breakable look. It made something ugly rise up in him.

Johnny looked down, shoulders tensing up. “I didn’t—”

“Just drop it,” Dally barked, louder than he meant. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” His throat closed up. He wanted to hit something, throw something, feel anything else.

Johnny reached out, slow, like he was trying to fix it. “Dal—”

Dally jerked back like he’d been burned. “Don’t touch me.” The look on Johnny’s face, the hurt, it was too much.

He turned, started walkin’ off before Johnny could answer. His hands felt too hot, his chest too tight. Every step away made the shame worse.

He could still feel the shape of Johnny’s mouth against his, still see the shock on his face. That trust.

He told himself it didn’t mean nothin’. That it was just tension, confusion, anger — not what it felt like.

He told himself Johnny didn’t matter that way. That he never would. But when he flipped his lighter lid back and forth, the same one Johnny had touched, his hands still wouldn’t steady.

And for the first time in a long time, Dallas Winston couldn’t deny he was scared of what he’d done.

-

Chapter Text

Dallas had an empty beer bottle in his hand as he sat by the cold water on a ledge. Smoke curled around him while his leg moved up and down. Things were too quiet, yet his head only grew louder.

With the car stolen from Buck, he had traveled about twenty miles to Mannford, to the outskirts. Hidden by trees and bushes, he had parked out by a random cove and stayed there for a few days.

Out here, no one could see him, and that was the point.

He was filthy, had run out of spare clothes, the lake being his shower. He hadn’t cared for it. The sharp bite of the water cooled his skin till it turned red, and for a second, it cleared the noise in his head. Almost like a cigarette, but with pain—made it stronger.

Everyone must’ve known he left by now, gone without a word, probably confused. Dallas doubted that Johnny told anyone anything, but he couldn’t know for sure. Either way, every time Johnny’s face crossed his mind, he tensed up.

His dark eyes looked almost pitying. Dally wondered if Johnny would forever look at him differently, or look at him at all.

He threw a rock into the water. It skipped once, twice, then sank. The only sound was the wind through the trees, and for a moment it felt like the whole world was pressing down on him.

He looked back at the car he’d parked. Tulsa was still out there. Johnny was still out there.

He didn’t know what he’d say, but he didn’t want Johnny to remember him like that. It was fucked up. A mistake.

Dally tossed his cigarette into the water and headed back to the car, starting the engine. Headlights cut across empty fields as he drove back toward town, passing a red light on the way.

Maybe he’d fix things, or maybe he’d ruin them more.

The DX station was around the corner, and gas was running out. He pulled the T-Bird up to the pump and filled the tank. The engine ticked as it cooled. Buck was gonna be pissed when he came back.

The place smelled like gas and fried food, as usual. Sodapop looked up, eyes widening a little. “Dally? Where the hell have you been?”

Dally grunted, leaning on the counter, trying to keep his voice flat. “Nowhere.” Dropped the cash on the register, snagged a soda off the shelf, didn’t meet his gaze.

Steve smirked, like he was used to Dally’s shit. “Figures.”

Dally pushed the door open, Soda calling out after him. “Steve’s car got wrecked! Come by the Curtis tomorrow,” he paused a bit before adding, “Johnny will be there, maybe you should—”

Dally cut him off. “I’ll be there.”

It felt the same, like nothing had changed. Like Dally never made that mistake. Back with little effort and a bitter taste on his tongue.

The sun was already starting to set when Dally finally drove up to the Curtis place. He sat there for a minute, staring at the cracked porch steps, listenin’ to the voices inside. Laughter, radio, the clatter of dishes. The noise that made a place feel alive.

He almost drove off. Instead, he shoved the car door open and went up the porch.

Soda was the first to spot him through the screen door. “Well, look who’s back,” he said, grinning. “You want somethin’ to eat? Darry made pasta, but it’s cold by now.”

Dally just shrugged his shoulders in response, his eyes already scanning the room. Pony was on the couch, a book open in his lap, Johnny sat beside him, half-listening, half somewhere else. He looked up when Dally came in. The smile he gave wasn’t really a smile.

The conversation in the room carried on, easy and loud, but it all felt far away. Johnny began flipping through the newspaper Soda had left on the table. The corners of his mouth twitched, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find what. Dally opened his mouth, then closed it again. Every word felt dangerous.

Two-bit came in from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a rag. “You still got Buck’s car?”

Dally shot him a look. “What’s it to you?”
“Just askin’, man. You disappear a week and come back lookin’ like hell. Don’t think you asked to borrow it either.” Pony snorted, “wouldn’t surprise me.”

Dally forced a grin, but Johnny didn’t laugh. Didn’t even look up. Dally felt the need to make an effort to stop staring at him. “Yeah, real funny,” He muttered, heading for the door.

He stepped out into the yard, where he parked his ride by the steps. He lit a smoke, leaning against the car door, trying to shake off the feeling that he’d just messed something up without even knowing how. Inside, he could hear the muffled sound of voices again — the kind that used to pull him in, now pushing him out.

Steve’s car looked pitiful sitting in the front yard, hood dented in, back window smashed clean through. Steve crouched by it, muttering curses. “Damn Socs think they can wreck my wheels and walk off laughin’?” he said, kicking the bumper.

Soda came out from behind him, towel slung over his neck. “You sure it was that blue Mustang again?”

Steve nodded. “Saw the sticker. Same bastards that jumped Pony last month.”

Two-Bit whistled. “They keyed it too? Man, that’s personal.” He joined Steve and Soda, eyeing the damage, weighing what could be fixed and what couldn’t.

Dally leaned against the T-Bird, cigarette burning low. “Let’s go pay ‘em a visit.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, straightening. “Saw ‘em near the park earlier.”

From the porch, Darry’s voice cut through the air. “You guys better not be talkin’ about goin’ after ‘em.” Soda grinned, swingin’ his towel. “We’re just gonna talk, Dar.”

“Uh-huh,” Darry said, unimpressed. “Last time you ‘talked,’ Pony came home bleedin’.”

“Pony ain’t comin’ this time,” Sodapop said. “Ain’t his fight.”
Pony shot him a glare but didn’t argue. Truth was, he looked half relieved.

Johnny stood by the bottom of the step rail, eyes on the wrecked car. He didn’t say anything for a bit, just kicked at a crack in the porch wood. “You sure it’s a good idea?” he asked quietly, mostly to Dally.

Steve laughed under his breath. “We ain’t lookin’ for your blessing, Johnnycake.”

Johnny shrugged a little. “Didn’t say you were.”

Dally glanced at him quick, then jerked his head toward the car. “C’mon if you’re comin’.” Johnny hesitated, chewing on the inside of his cheek before stepping off the porch. “Guess I am,” he said, voice low.

They found the Mustang less than half an hour later, parked behind the store. Socs laughing, a six-pack balancing on the hood. Steve cracked his knuckles. “Four of ‘em. Easy.”

Dally stopped the car and turned to the others. “No blades,” he warned. “In and out.”

The others nodded, already moving out. Johnny hung back, shoulders tense. When the first shout rang out, he flinched, but he didn’t run. He stayed close to the car, watching them swing wild.

The air was filled with shouts and the dull thud of blows landing. Dally’s fists flew with reckless intensity. While distracted by one of the guys, another one lunged at him from the side.

Before he could react, Johnny came and shoved the attacker hard enough to stagger him.

This gave Dally enough space to keep swinging, but now Johnny was involved in the fight. Things got worse when he saw the flash of a blade grazing Johnny’s upper chest. The rest of the gang was distracted, further away.

“Don’t—” Johnny started, shoving him off. The guy shoved back, and Dally was on him in a second. He slammed the Soc against the hood, denting the metal, and the knife clanged to the ground.

“Back off.” Dally barked, voice low and ruthless; the sound cutting through the lot.

He swung hard, fists hammering the guy without holding back. Blood coated his knuckles by the end. With a shove, Dally sent him sprawling to the ground, then stepped back, letting him run.

The fight ended as quickly as it had begun. The Socs scrambled into their car, tires squealing as they tore off. The parking lot went quiet except for everyone’s heavy breathing.

Soda wiped his mouth. “You tryin’ to kill the guy Dal?”
“Could’ve,” Two-Bit said, half impressed.

Dally drove back in near silence. The others were buzzing, laughing about the fight. Johnny didn’t say a word. He stared out the window, blood dried on his collarbone, the reflection of streetlights moving across his face.

When they dropped the others off, Dally pulled the T-Bird to the side of the road. Johnny was now in the front with him, avoiding eye-contact.

”You wanna die?” Dally asked, lighting a cigarette. Johnny crossed his arms, sliding down slightly in his seat. “I can’t just do nothin’ Dally.”

Johnny rubbed the cut on his chest, picking at the dried blood.
“Yeah? Well this is what you get for saving people.” Dally snapped, Johnny being quick to make a remark. “Ain’t that what you do?”

Smoke filled the space between them.

“I taught you how to fight so you wouldn’t get hurt.”

Johnny didn’t look at him, and Dally regretted sayin’ it.

“Where am I drivin’ you Johnny?” He murmured, turning the engine back on. “Just leave me here,” Johnny sighed, hand on the door. “You know I’m not doing that Cade.”

“Don’t call me th—just, drop me back home.” Dally began turning the wheel, eyes on the road, stopping at the lights. He muttered a “bye” before Johnny left, not earning one in return.

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