Lover Boy//Dallas Winston Fanfic

by vamp1rebat

Summary:

Triggering themes: Alcohol, depression, ptsd, abuse, sexual assault
***
Dallas Winston is 21 and miserable, and he feels like all of his friends have moved on with their lives. Pony is off to college with Johnny, Soda and Steve have joined the army, Twobit is obsessed with a new girl, and there is no way in hell Dally would ever be caught dead hanging out with Darry. Dally feels angry and alone, both feelings not foreign to him, but it's hard when he feels like all his friends have left him behind. While struggling from job to job and trying not to let his depression get the best of him, Dally feels like he lost hope. That is, until he meets a boy who (although extremely arrogant and annoying according to Dally) manages to change his heart in more ways than one.

Chapter 1

I walk the streets alone; hands stuffed deep into the pockets of my leather jacket. My shoes scrape the gravel as I mumble to myself, my mood sour and drained as the sunlight above peaks through the puff of clouds and shines on my back.

I'm not really sure why I stayed in this crummy town, bouncing between equally crummy jobs with nothing left to show for it. Pony is off to some fancy writing college in the country, having graduated early at 17, and Soda and Steve joined the army about a year ago. Even Johnnycakes left. He followed Pony to the country even though Johnny dropped out of school a while ago and is now in a wheelchair. They say he can't walk again after he got heavily burned, but he survived, and I know there is no way that a wheelchair is gonna stop him from living a great life. And I get why he moved. With Pony being Johnny's boyfriend and all, why WOULDN'T he go live with Pony? But still. It hurts me to think about all my friends up and leaving me like that. Even now just thinking about it causes a bitter taste to hit my mouth and sting my lips.

The only ones around now are Darry and Twobit, and there's no way I would ever want to hang out with Darry. I would see if Twobit were free, but I know he's not. Two is too busy hanging out with Ivy (a new broad of his) to ever notice me.

But whatever. I'm over it.

"Ugh, this fucking blows," I grumble.

I curse and spits on the ground, causing an elderly woman to look at me in disgust as she wraps her bright red scarf tighter around her neck. I roll my eyes at the woman and give her the bird as I hurry to walk away.

Not knowing where else to go, I browse over the useless junk often sold in Tulsa stores, my eyes catching an old record shop. Johnny loves records, and a goofy smile etches its way onto my face as I remember Johnny humming along to Elvis on Darry's record player.

Even though I don't got any money, I find my feet leading me inside the shop. A bell overhead jingles when I enter, and mt eyes widen at all the records piled high on shelves or stuffed into bins. There must be thousands of records crammed into this tiny street store, and I gasp as I take it all in.

"You gonna buy something, or just gawk in the doorway?"

My head shoots up and annoyance flutters around my face like moths, my brows drawn together as I squint up at the blonde boy slumped along the counter. His hair is messy and unkempt, and freckles line his nose and cheeks, each dot following one after the other like they're playing follow the leader. His blue eyes find my own, his light pink lips drawn in a firm line, and I stiffen as I feel the boy's stare linger, drifting lazily from me to the floor. In that one glance I feel exposed, naked, raw, as if that boy can somehow see through me with just one sweep of the gaze. It makes me uncomfortable, feeling so vulnerable when I haven't even said a word.

"Why are you staring at me?"

"Why are you in my store?"

I huff as the boy raises his eyebrows. Amusement flickers behind glass eyes yet his face remains unchanged.

"So? Are you buying something or just need a place to sulk? Cause either way I got five minutes left until my break, and I really want a break today, ok? So do us both a favor and hurry up."

"Break? Why would you need a break? It doesn't look like you got many customers today, hotshot."

The boy's eyes drift up once more, a smirk fighting its way to his lips, "I got you, and you drain my energy as much as a thousand customers would."

I chuckle, "I could say the same."

This time the blonde boy does smile, and he lightly shakes his head, gesturing towards the shop with his hands, "Well, then do us both a favor and hurry the fuck up."

"You got it, Blondie"

The boy rolls his eyes, yet his smile remains. "Do us both a favor and never call me that again."

I find himself biting back a smile, my stinging sour mood fading to a light prickle of the skin. Who does this boy think he is, talking to THE Dallas Winston like that, as if I don't have a record a mile long and am one of the toughest greasers around? Or well...I was.

"Better watch ya mouth, Blondie," I pop a cigarette in my mouth like it's a piece of candy, digging around in my pocket for a lighter, "Before I shut it for you."

The blonde's eyes twinkle and he bites his lip, a curious look flashing its teeth in his eyes, "Is that a threat or an invitation?"

I wink, my back already out the door, "I guess you'll just have to wait and see."

"You get on my nerves," The boy calls out after him. "Like irritatingly so."

"Oh, I know."

I let the door slam shut behind me, and I smile to myself as I walk, knowing full well where I'm going to stop by tomorrow.

Chapter 2

By the time I get home, I still can't stop the smile from riding up my face. It's almost as if it's permanently stuck to my lips, like a wad of gum desperately clinging to the bottom of a shoe. I'm not used to feeling this way...to feeling happy, really. It's different. It's foreign. And it scares me.

"Jesus Christ," I mumble to myself, unlocking my front door, "I barely know the guy and my brain won't stop yapping up a storm. Get out of my head, Blondie. Ya don't belong there you stupid--"

I open my door to find my dog, Sammy, tumbling out to greet me. Sammy's a golden retriever, and he's old, yet he still loves to practically tackle me whenever I get home. Sammy was a present from my...parent figure...when I was a kid, and he's been one of the only family I've got, well, besides the gang that is.

When I first came to Tulsa though, I had to leave Sammy behind. It broke my heart, but I couldn't afford to take Sammy with me. A year or two later though, just after the rumble, it was Johnny who went up with me to New York to get Sammy back. It was Johnny who finally found his voice, and helped me stand up to my dad, if I can even call him dad. It was Johnny who held my hand as I cried.

But that's all in the past now, and I shake my head to get rid of those memories and instead pats Sammy on the head with my free hand.

"Come on Sammy. Let's take you out."

Sammy barks and I chuckle, patting Sammy once more on the head, "Come on Goober. Go take a shit and piss."

Sammy happily trots down the steps of my apartment, happily waiting for me at the end of the hallway. I close my door, lock it again, and head outside.

Once outside, Sammy does his business as I take a drag from my cigarette on the fire escape. I hold the cig between two fingers, rolling it back and forth between my fingers in thought as I take a quick puff and blow a smoke ring.

"Damn," I mutter, "That Blondie sure was something. I wonder what his name is."

"Hey! Is this your dog?"

My heart thuds hard in my chest like the stomping of feet as I glance down at the blonde boy from the record store. The boy is bending down to give Sammy some pets, and Sammy is furiously licking his face like it's his ultimate mission to give as much love as possible.

I shake his head and chuckles, climbing down the fire escape to meet the arrogant blonde on the grass, "Yeah, that's my Sammy. You like dogs, Blondie?"

The blonde laughs, his golden grin contagious, and stands up from off the ground. He dusts himself off and gives Sammy another pet, and Sammy eagerly licks at his hand.

"I love dogs! I used to have one when I was a kid," The blonde looks up at Dally, a slight smile on his lips, his cheeks golden apples as the sun sets, and encases his face in a gleaming, golden glow. "But she died when I was 8. It just right about killed me."

"Aw damn," I scratch the back of my neck, not really sure what to say. "I'm sorry, man."

The blonde looks up at the sunset, his eyes glazed over with emotion, yet he doesn't look sad, just remembering the past, "It's cool. It was a long time ago, but it was good to see a dog again. Yours is really cute."

Both the blonde and I reach at the same time to pat Sammy's head, and I blush - actually blush - when we accidentally touch hands. The blonde pulls away first.

"Sorry about that," He says. "You can go first."

I cough and looks away, my cheeks burning coals on a roaring fire, "It's alright. You go."

The blonde boy smiles and he pats Sammy on the head, "Well, I gotta get going, but it was nice seeing your dog. You on the other hand..."

He trails off yet I can see the smile on his face, and I smirk, "Oh yeah, totally, you're just the worse."

"Oh, I know." He winks,

This catches me a bit off guard and he starts to walk away, but not before turning around to say, "Oh, and by the way, your fly has been down the whole time. But nice underwear."

I freeze and glance down, my face steaming as I quickly zip up his fly, "Jesus Christ, and you only mention that, NOW, Blondie?"

The boy shrugs and whips back around on his feet, "What can I say? I liked the view."

Oh. My. God.

I shake my head, a blush creeping up my face and neck, yet I manage to gain my composure, "Hey Blondie, wait up!"

I tell Sammy to sit and jog after the blonde, and I just manage to catch up with him.

"You could have stopped walking, you know."

The blonde grins, letting his gaze drifts to my lips, "I like it when hot men chase after me."

I cough and looks away, my thoughts like two broken jigsaw puzzle pieces that just won't stick together. I'm always so flirty, always have been, so why is it so hard to talk to this annoying blonde? "Well, I never got your name."

The blonde chuckles at this, digging around in his bag for a notebook and pen, "How about my name and number instead?"

I smirk, "I'd like that."

The boy smirks back, "I'd like that too."

He quickly scribbles something down on the paper and tears it out, but instead of handing me the note directly, he slides it into my belt.

"Call me sometime."

With that he turns back around, and I let him go, but not before opening up the paper to reveal...

"You gotta work for it harder than that, cutie ;)"

I groan, my heart stooped as I crumble up the note and throw it on the ground, "What a fucking tease."

Chapter 3

Notes:

TW: Sexual assault flashbacks in the italicized part.

He touched me. I could feel him touch me. His hands all over me, suffocating. I feel like I can’t breathe. The air only chokes my lungs in a gnarled fist, and all words leave my brain. His dark eyes are two skulls that linger and twist along my body, eating me up, snapping from within. His even darker hair falls in front of his face as he grins. His hands feel like fire.

“Come on, I know you like this, Dallas.”

“No!”

My eyes fly open, my mouth parted in a gasp as my nails dig into my legs. No. No. No! It takes me a minute for my eyes to adjust to the dark around me, my mind the haze of a static filled TV, and it is only then do I realize that I’m in my bedroom. I’m here. I’m not there. I take a deep breath in through my mouth, but it doesn’t help my breathing, nor does it help calm the pounding of heart against bone.

Sammy whines at my feet, nudging my toe with his muzzle. He places his head on my foot, his eyes droopy with tire, and I move my hand to pat his head.

“It’s ok Sammyboy,” Sammy still whines, and I pat the bed, so he knows it’s ok to climb up, “I’m ok, boy. Or well, at least I will be.”

Sammy leans his body against mine and I hug his soft, fluffy body close to mine, burying my face in his fur, but I don’t cry. I won’t cry. I won’t. I can’t.

“I guess I scared you real bad, huh, Sammyboy?”

Sammy huffs in response as he puts his head on my shoulder and licks my ear. I laugh and ruffle the fur on his head, giving him some head scratches. My eyes wander to the clock, and it reads close to 2am. The record store won’t be open, but I know what else will be. Buck’s.

“Hey Sammy, wanna go for a walk?”

Sammy’s ears perk up slightly at the word “walk” and I can hear the swish swish swish of his tail as he starts to wag it. This makes me laugh, and I climb off my bed, careful not to lean on Sammy’s tail. I fumble around in the dark for a bit as I try to find a shirt that doesn’t smell, but I don’t bother to change my pants. I was too tired and fell asleep in my jeans, which isn’t a rare occurrence for me, and I chuckle as I remember how that always used to annoy Pony. Pony has a lot of sensory issues, and he could never fathom why in the world I’d ever want to fall asleep in jeans, and this would set him up for an hour-long ramble of every reason under the sun on why not to do that.

“Why does it matter so much to you Pony, huh?” I’d say with a smile, “It’s not like you’re the one sleeping in the same bed as me.”

That would always get the kid to shut up, especially if I followed it up with a wink. He then would blush like crazy, and it was also so funny to me because boy could his ears get red. It was like he grabbed a glob of red paint and lathered each ear and cheek. That’s how red it was.

Then he’d glance at Johnny, and Johnny would only shake his head and say something like, “Oh knock it off, Dal.” and only then did I listen, because no one in the gang is ever mean to Johnnycakes, and I want to keep it that way. The kid had enough to deal with at home, but at least he’s away from all of that now.

I sigh as I pull a faded gray-t shirt over my head, my lucky gray necklace rattling a bit as it swishes on its chain. I always wear my brown leather jacket and this metal necklace that has a dog tag on it. It was from my grandpa when he was in the Army, and even though he’s dead now, he was honestly the only goddamn good person in my family. He died when I was 8 though, and everything only went downhill from there. The jacket was also his, and it just about swam on me when I was 8 years old, but I’ve been wearing it ever since. Who knew that such an awful man like my…dad…could come from someone so great? If you could even call him my dad. Hell, I haven’t called him my dad since I was 5, before my mom up and left us. After that, he was my old man, but I don’t even know if I even think of him as family anymore. I don’t know. Shit’s complicated, and I don’t want the hell of it.

Once I grab my jacket from where it lay on my dresser and slip on some black converse, I whistle for Sammy to come here, and he does. I can hear the click click click of his nails on the wood floor of my apartment, and I grab his leash from off the hook, and clip it on his collar.

“Come on Sammy, let’s get outta here."

Chapter 4

Summary:

I think I forgot to mention the exact date this fic takes place, but I'm making this story take place 4 years later in 1969. This date is important especially for later things that are gonna take place. Also sorry for taking so long to update! It's my summer break yet I've been working closing shift at my job which has been tough on my sleep schedule, so I haven't had much motivation to write. I hope you guys enjoy though!

Tw: Slurs 

When I arrive at Buck’s, the place is packed, way more packed than usual. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Buck’s this packed, which is wild to see. But when I get a closer look at what all these people are hovering around, I see it. Drag Queens. What the hell? Buck has Drag Queens performing here now? I raise my brows at the sight of them, all in gorgeous dresses of various shapes, sizes and colors, some with head dresses, some with very poofy hair, and extravagant makeup plastered on their faces with accentuated lips and a variety of colors looped around their eyes and cheeks. It’s all so breathtaking that for a moment, I forget how to breathe, and I even wonder if I’m dreaming or some shit. Buck got Drag Queens??

To top that off, I’ve never seen a Drag Show before. The only time I ever really came close to seeing Drag Queens were really late out on the streets, and even then, it wasn’t pretty, because the last time I saw a Drag Queen…they were getting arrested and beaten on by the cops. I know that they have clubs for these types of things, but I’ve never been because I’ve always been way too scared. It’s not that I’m not comfortable with my sexuality, of course I am, I’m THE Dallas Winston, pff I’m hardly scared of anything (but even I know that’s a lie). It’s just, that’s exactly the problem. I’m THE Dallas Winston, I got an image to uphold. I’m known for my record, I’m known for talking dirty to girls and partying hard, but as I get older, man…I wonder if it’s all even worth it, you know? I’ve got Sammy back now, I’ve gotta find a good paying job that doesn’t just fire me because I “gave them attitude and slacked off” when we all know that’s code for “We can’t have the image of our business be tainted by a hood”.

Even though ever since the Rumble 4 years ago, hell has it really been 4 years?, social classes didn’t really die down completely like we all hoped. They're still a problem, but now people look down on queer people…which sucks when you’re a grease and queer. Although, no one really knows that I like guys and girls, no one except the gang. Even Buck doesn’t really know, so why is he having his bar turned into a Drag Show?

“Hey Dalllll! Whas uppp?” Buck comes staggering towards me, obviously drunk and smelling heavily of beer, smoke, and BO.

I crane my head in disgust, but Buck doesn’t seem to notice, and drapes an arm around my shoulder, his hot breath hitting my ear (and my nose) everytime he speaks, “Dalllll” He draws out my name again, tilting his head and pointing around at the Drag Show that’s about to begin,

“You’re just…jus in time! Dese fags, the fairies, gon put on a show an I hears it makes da big bucks for for, yk…da fagggs.”

His sentence doesn’t really make sense, but I cringe at his use of language, trying to slide myself away from him, yet Buck, he’s like an eel, slippery to get away from since he’s drenched in so much sweat, and he has a power, lighting, flashing in his eyes, is it delight? Anger? Passion? Who knows, but it’s there, it’s burning, it’s unnerving.

“Ok Buck,” I sigh, turning away from him and instead trying to focus on the show. Buck instead ignores me and continues to yap my ear off, yet I don’t care, because the show is about to start and I’m raging with excitement and nerves.

Suddenly, the lights turn off, and we are surrounded in darkness, wavering figures huddled close with anticipation. Sammy yips at my side and I quietly tell him to shush, putting a hand on his head to calm him and myself, and then, the lights flash on, and the first drag queen makes their way to the makeshift stage.

They’re dressed in a sleek black dress that glimmers with gold, purple, and blue sequins, and a feathered crown on their long, flowing, blonde curls. Painted on their face is a zigzags of blues, purples, and pinks in staggering lightning bolts, and my heart seems to stop in my chest.

This is it, am I really here? Yet something seems vaguely familiar about them, and I can’t really figure out why. I’ve never been to a drag show before, yet why…why does this person feel so familiar? Just then the drag queen on stage catches me staring, and she winks at me, and I swear is that a slight smirk wavering on her lips that are coated in a heavily thick black gloss?

But whatever that was, whatever I’m feeling, only wavers in the air for a brief moment of grace, for all is snuffed out of the room like a candled flame that hit a gust of wind, for I can hear the sirens before I even seen the flashing lights, and the show is shut down.

“Dallas!”

My head whips around, and I see an officer grip the blonde drag queen by the arm, practically lunging himself at her and snapping her hands behind her back, causing her wig to be knocked off her head and tossed to the ground.

My heart picks up in speed, and fear pinches my cheeks and washes over my eyes. He shouldn’t be…why…

“Blondie!”

And I too, am snuffed out.

“Dallas Winston, you are under arrest.”

Chapter 5

Notes:

Sorry for the short chapter and long wait time for an update! I've been working closing shift at my job so I've been very drained and not really in the mood to write lately. I do hope you enjoy this chapter though, and I'll try to update again soon! Thank you for reading and sticking with this story! I really, really love and appreciate all the kudos and nicw comments that I receive. It really means all to me :)

“...You’ve got to be kidding me”

Twobit winks at me, a fake mustache under his nose and a top hat placed neatly on his head. He’s wearing a dark tan suit with a red scarf which I have no clue where he got, and a thin blonde stands next to him wearing a slim wine colored dress with tiny black heels that click when she walks. She clings to his arm and practically purrs when she speaks, pecking him brightly on the cheek.

“Oh my darling boy, you got yourself into some trouble, haven’t you? What do you think we ought to do with him, hun?”

I scrunch up my face and look at Two, giving him a “what the hell?” look, yet he brushes me off and sighs dramatically, playing along with the strange woman glued to his side, “Oh It’ll be alright, sweetums, our little Dallas here will be alright, especially since we are bailing him out.”

Two puts emphasis on the word “bailing” like I’d expect he’d be here for some other reason than to help me, but I don’t get why he had to wear this ridiculous disguise and bring this strange gal I never even seen before and pretend to be my parents. The gang has had no problem busting me out of the cooler before, so I doubt the disguise was at all necessary.

The officer on the other hand seems to be eating this whole charade up. He keeps eyeing the girl rather hungrily, admiring her long legs and thin torso, and I can tell he finds it just hilarious that Two is so committed to this bit. 1. This officer isn’t dumb and can see through this whole thing, hell, anyone with eyes and a brain could, and 2. This officer has known me a damn while and probably knows almost every member in my gang, so he knows this is all a huge, damn bluff.

“Come on, Dallas,” The officer has a big fat smirk on his face, “You can leave with your parents now.”

He unlocks my cell, and I glare first at him, and then at Two and whoever my mom is, “What the hell do you two think you’re doing?”

Two gasps and puts an arm around my shoulder, shaking his head and feigning disappointment, yet there’s still a cheeky grin running up his lips, “Now, is that any way to talk to your pops, young man?”

I huff and roll my eyes, pulling away from him and stuffing my hands into the pockets of my jeans as we walk outside, “Yeah, yeah, whatever pops. Thanks for bailing me out.”

Two grins and wraps me in for a hug, but this time I let him, “Anytime. I’ve missed you, Dal. We should get the old gang back together soon.”

I stiffen a bit and clear my throat, pulling away from him, “Yeah, that’d be nice, but you know how busy everyone is so…”

Two sucks in a breath and then lets it fall, “Yeah, but hey! I’m always around, you know that, right Dal? And not just for bailing you out of jail either.”

I nod but I can’t stand to meet his eyes. So much has changed since we all grew up, and it’s so damn scary, you know, growing up and everything, and also the fact that it feels like everyone is just leaving me behind. I mean, Two says he’s here for me, but we’ve never been too close, and even now he seems way too preoccupied with this new chick, whatever her name is, and there’s no way in hell I’ll ever willingly contact Darry (he’s not my type of guy to hang around if I’m being honest, and I feel like he was always constantly judging me even though he’s been one of the guys to bail me out). I’ll never ever admit it, but I’m terrified of being left behind and forgotten, especially by people I care about like Johnny and Pony, and maybe...maybe even Blondie, although I’d never say that out loud. Speaking of Blondie, I hope he’s ok. He’ll probably get let off easy, but you never know, especially since he was in drag. I find myself looking back at the jail, as if through the walls I could somehow make out Blondie, wherever they had put him.

“Hey Dal, you ok?”

I look up to see Two. His arm is around that girl of his, and his brows are furrowed tight in confusion, still wearing that ridiculous disguise. But I don’t tell him the truth. I just nod and lie through my teeth, like I always do, and like I probably always will. Show no weakness. That’s my motto, and that’s how it’s always been. It’s just easier for everyone that way (but even I don’t believe me).

“I’m fine. It’s all cool,” I open Two’s car door and climb in the back while his broad climbs in the front next to him.

She turns to me, and this close up I can tell that she’s real pretty with these nice plump lips and babydoll blue eyes, “You ok back there, doll? I’m sorry it’s a bit crowded. Two never cleans up his car even though I’m constantly reminding him.”

“More like constantly complaining.” Two chuckles and puts a hand on her thigh while she rolls her eyes, yet there’s still a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

“Oh, now stop it.” She shakes her head and swats his arm while Two laughs his ass off like she said the funniest thing in the world. She then locks eyes with me again, and with that one look I can tell she’s gonna start a yap fest. All girls like her are the same, and so very predictable, “I believe your name is Dallas, right? Two’s told me so much about you and his other friends, and I’d absolutely adore meeting you all. My name is Ivy by the way, and I just really love–”

I drown out her rambling, none of it really of interest to me. Besides, my mind is still stuck on Blondie, and I’m starting to worry about if Sammy is ok, even though I trust that Buck would have kept him safe. Besides, Sammy is a smart dog. He knows how to get himself home. But still, I can’t help but worry, and that’s driving me insane because I hate feeling anxious. It makes me feel weak, and like I’m not in control, and if I’m not in control, then that’s when life starts to feel like it’s all going to shit.

“Hey Two, how long until we get to Bucks?”

Two’s eyes dart to me and then back to the road, “About 10 minutes. Why?”

"Nothing. Doesn’t matter.”

See, and I did it again. Brush it off and act cool. Pretend like you don’t give a shit and then you don’t get hurt. But I can’t help but wonder how much of that is really true, because no matter what I do, no matter what I say, trouble likes to find me, and even though I try and lock it all inside, even I can’t escape feeling hurt. And sometimes…I’m scared I never will.

 

Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Notes:

I'm so, so sorry for not updating this in forever and I'm sorry it's very short! Things got very stressful because I was dealing with shit family stuff, college, and things aren't great in the US rn (if you're from the US then you'll understand lol).But now I'm back and imma try and update all my fanfics as soon as I can. We love coping with writing silly little fanfics :3

It's been days now since I was arrested, and I cannot stop thinking about Blondie. I'm so worried about whether or not he's ok, and he hasn't been at the record store. I've tried asking his boss about him, but that's kinda hard when I don't exactly know his real name, and his boss kinda looked at me real strange when I asked him where Blondie was. His response was "Look kid, I don't got time for no games. Buy something or you're out".

If I'm being honest though, he probably only said that because I'm a hood, or well, I used to be more of a hood than I am now. Now I don't really care so much about stupid reputations, not when I got Sammy and bills to pay. Hell, I don't even got a car no more and I could really use one. I had stolen a car in the past, a red beauty, but she got busted up real bad after I had let Twobit borrow her for the weekend a while back. Motherfucker never even paid me back neither. Hell, I hadn't even been in jail for months until the other day, and honestly, that's a hell of a record if you ask me, but there ain't no one asking so I guess it don't matter anyway.

Now though, I'm doing something that past me would have rather died than do, but unfortunately, its gotta be done. I look up at the old house that so many members of our gang have called home over the years. It's seen better days, could really use a paint job, and it feels so quiet and strange without so much bustling and noise. But damn I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel some sort of nostalgic shit in the pit of my stomach right when I saw the old haven. Either that, or maybe I just really gotta shit, but who knows, ya know?

I take a deep breath through my nose, and Sammy happily yips at my side. I smile down at him and give him a scratch on his head, and his long, wet tongue wraps around my fingers, leaving them all slobbery and wet but I don't care none. God, I love him so much.

"Alright, Sammyboy," I lean down to his level and look into his big, watery brown eyes. Sammy looks back at me, smile stretched so wide over his long jowls, and thick slobber sliding down the sides of his mouth like a leaky faucet. "We don't got very much money for food and the apartment, so looks like we gotta ask ol' Darry for help."

But Sammy just stares back at me, his mind blank with his goofy smiles and panting, and I end up smiling despite myself and patting his head. His fur is soft and warm in the summer heat, and so is his presence as I stare into his eyes. I know that Sammy won't talk back to me, but it's enough to calm my nerves by talking to him.

"I'm nervous, bud. I hate to admit it but I am. I'm nervous bout talking to Darry, cause he and I don't exactly get along real good an I haven't spoken to the guy since Pony left for college and Soda left for war."

I take a deep breath again and stand up, "Alright Sammy, I gotta quit stallin. I know I do."

I grab Sammy's leash and smile as he trots alongside me to Darry's door. I'm not even sure if he'll even help me. Hell, I'm not even sure if he'll even let me in, but Sammy needs food and rent is due this afternoon and I can't get kicked out. Not again.

With my legs shaky and my heart hammering in my chest like a ricocheted bullet, I lift up my arm to the worn, splintering wood, and I knock.

Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Notes:

Tw: Use of the R-slur

Also, I headcanon Soda to have ADHD, Dyslexia, and red and green colorblindness :3

I'm also sorry for not updating in so long! I know I say that on every chapter that I write, but I am sorry about it because I know yall have been waiting for an update for a few months now. I just get really busy because of college and work, and I am majoring in creative writing, so I have to focus on my assignments most of the time. However, I did write an original short story for my fiction workshop class. Is that something that I should publish here for yall to read? Lemme know in the comments if you'd like to read my short story from my class, and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Darry opens the door, and he looks like he got hit by a truck. There are dark circles under his eyes, and heavy, dark stubble lines his cheeks and travels down his neck. His worn brown eyes meet mine, and he grunts and steps aside to let me in. I nod my thanks at him and walk inside, Sammy’s feet clicking on the already scratched up hardwood floor.

“How are things?” He asks just as Soda screams “Dally!” from the couch. I whip my head in the direction of his voice and a big smile spreads on my face as Sammy yips happily at Soda and runs over to him. Sammy loves Soda, and he attacks him with kisses as Soda coos and baby talks to him. I am confused why Soda’s here though, especially since he had left to join the war not too long ago. Darry got out of drafting because of his injuries with his back from constantly working and chronic back pain, and Pony got out because of school, and Johnny because of his burns and wheelchair. I was supposed to be drafted, but I didn’t qualify because of how many crimes I committed and because of the severity of the crimes, which yeah I’m no longer that proud of my past offenses like I used to be, but that’s better than war. I don’t know why Twobit didn’t go, but Steve is still in the army. He and Soda went together.

“I thought you were in the war, man,” I walk over to Soda and he gets up to hug me. I stiffen a bit in his arms, but then I try to relax as I tell my brain to shut up because it’s just Soda. Soda isn’t like him . “What, they let ya go or somethin?”

“Actually, yeah,” Soda laughs and ruffles my hair and I scowl. “Apparently, I got several things wrong with me. So much so that the army general called me a retard.”

Soda’s lip scrunches and his mood curdles like bad cheese at the memory, “But yeah, you know how I can’t see colors right sometimes, and also how I can’t read no words right, and can’t keep still for longer than a minute. Guess that affected me too much from performing well in war.”

As Soda says this, he’s pacing from petting Sammy to picking up trash from off the table, to throwing the trash away, back to Sammy, grabbing a slice of chocolate cake, and then coming back to Sammy - proving his point that he can’t sit still for the life of him. Even when he’s actively trying to sit still, he’s always fidgeting and has to do something with his hands, like right now, he’s petting Sammy and watching how his golden fur moves along with the movements of his hands, Sammy’s hair weaving in and out of Soda’s fingers as he plays with his fur. I also remember how Soda never did well in school because of how he couldn’t read things or spell words right. He explained to me once that all the words looked jumbled together, and how Darry or Pony have to lay out outfits for him because Soda can’t tell the difference between the colors red and green. But It’s not that he’s stupid, and I have to keep myself from trying to find whoever that general was who called Soda a retard, because none of that makes him stupid because it’s not his fucking fault.

“Nah Soda, man,” I put an arm around his shoulders. “You aren’t a retard and you’re very smart in other ways, you know? Booksmart isn’t the only kinda smarts to have. You’re streetsmart, and you’re very smart with cars and horses. No one can tell what’s wrong with a car in under a minute and also ride a horse as well as you do, man. Trust me, you aren’t dumb. Not in the slightest.”

Soda sighs and leans into me, a slight smile on his face despite the hidden waterfall tears that he won’t let show, but that I know are there because I do the same exact thing when I gotta cry. We all do, well, except Pony. He cried a lot as a kid, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say that he still does.

“Thanks, Dal.”

“No problem, man.”

Soda slips out of my hold and plays with Sammy more as Darry comes back over with two cups of coffee and a plate of chocolate cake. My stomach growls at the cake, and I have to stop myself from devouring the whole thing whole like a snake unhinging its jaws to scarf down a mouse.

“So Dal, what ya need? Money?”

A piece of cake falls out of my mouth and onto the plate as I clear my throat, my cheeks burning up a storm, “Yeah, but I mean…How’d ya know?”

Darry chuckles and cracks a grin, but it looks forced and doesn’t help at all to hide the rings of restless sleep slapped onto the lower lids of his two tired eyes, “Just a hunch. How much ya need?”

I shrug, tossing a piece of cake back and forth on my plate with my fork, “Well, I got rent due tonight and I gotta get food for Sammy, and well uh, food for me too. But,” I sigh as my eyes drift to the ground. “I feel bad for askin yall and I don’t wanna take too mu–”

“Don’t,” Darry puts a hand on my shoulder and then he stands up to go grab his wallet from off the kitchen table. “It’s alright to ask for help, Dal. We’re here for you.”

He then hands me a wad of cash, and I don’t know how much he gave me without counting, but it was way more than I expected, “But Dar–”

“No.” Darry’s eyes are firm as his eyes lock targets with mine. “It’s yours.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Darry’s rough hand once again finds my shoulder and then he leaves, telling Soda that his back hurts so he’s taking a nap, and to take out the trash before dinner. Then I hear his bedroom door shut just as Soda salutes and says, ‘Yes sir, Darry sir!’ I roll my eyes at Soda’s antiques, and he grins back at me, his smile lingering behind my eyes and cheeks from the warm waves it causes to crash through me.

“You staying for dinner, Dal?” Soda tilts his head at Sammy as he asks that and Sammy mimics him, tilting his head in return. “I think Darry’s makin burgers.”

My stomach rumbles and I’m about to say no because I don’t want to intrude, but Soda takes my growling stomach as an answer and laughs his damn head off.

“I’m going to count that as a yes so that you can’t say no,” Soda’s cheeky grin is still smack on his face as Sammy paws at his leg from where Soda sits sprawled out on the couch.

I roll my eyes, “Yeah, yeah, now scootch over on the couch. I wanna see what’s playin on TV.”

“Yes sir, Dally sir!”

And with that he salutes, and cackles like the sound of a yipping hyena running around the savannah, and my god, have I missed this place, even if it's hard for me to admit it.

Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Notes:

Tw; S*xual assault flashbacks

Sorry it's been about two months since my last update, but here you go! I'm also sorry that this one is a bit short, but I have another chapter planned out so it should be uploaded soon. Thank you all again for reading my story! It means a lot to me to have so much support, and I love every single one of your nice comments!

I was born from battle, so maybe that's why I fell into him. He was wrong for me, yet fit me in all the right places - no matter if I wanted it or not. He didn't care. He didn't. Yet doubt made me think that maybe he did, maybe he did, maybe he didn't–no. Why am I thinking of him? He hurt me. Why now–

“Dally, you ok?”

Black strands over his face like vines, covering the eyes that drift further, down down down.

“You want this, don't you Dal?”

His hands won't stop touching me, won't stop moving near places he shouldn't have been.

“Dally?”

“You're so good for me, Dal. For us. God, I need you. More–”

There is no us, he just wants a quick fuck and then he'll leave you. No! Stop! But maybe, that's all you're good for. A quick fuck…No!

“Dally–”

“I like when you beg for me to stop. Just makes me want it more…”

Stop! Stop! Stop!

“Dally, wake up!”

Soda stands above me, his hand on my shoulder and shaking me awake. I must have fallen asleep on the couch after dinner, but I don't remember doing so. My head pounds in my skull, and I groan as I rub at my temple.

“Hey man, what time is it?”

Soda’s brows bunch up in concern, but he doesn’t acknowledge anything, at least not out loud. He probably knows better than to talk to me when I don’t want to talk about it, not that he knows what happened. He probably never will but judging by his face and the way his lip lands in between two teeth as he bites down, or the way slight wrinkles weave themselves in between his scrunched brows, tells me all I need to know. But instead, he drops it, or rather I drop it, because I’m not giving him nothing. This is something I’ll take to the grave before ever admitting to anyone out loud, because I don’t want to seem weak, even though there’s no lying that I already am. But it’s scary, you know, when you end up becoming your own worst fears.

His eyes drift from me and to the old clock hanging on their kitchen wall, “About half past 10. You wanna stay the night? You and Sammy are more than welcome to.”

At this, Sammy leaps up on Soda and he laughs as he licks his hand. Sammy looks at me with watery puppy dog eyes as if to say, ‘Please let us stay, dad!’ but I shake my head. I don’t wanna be more of a bother than I already am.

“You wouldn’t be a bother,” Soda says as if reading my mind. “But I understand if ya wanna get home.”

“Yeah, I better head out,” I get up from off the couch and grab Sammy’s leash from off the floor, “But thanks for having me though, and thanks for dinner, and the money.”

Soda cracks a grin, and in the stretch of moonlight, he looks like a ghost, “You’re welcome, Dal. And I mean it that anytime you need a place to stay, our couch is always open, and anytime you need some money or food, you know where to holler, ok Dal?”

I nod, “Ok. Thanks, man.”

“No problem, partner.”

Soda wraps his arms around me, and I can feel myself involuntarily stiffen out of habit whenever people hug or touch me, but then I relax as I tell myself over and over again that it’s just Soda.

Soda pulls away, and I can still make out his goofy grin in the moonlit dark, “Stay safe out there, Dally.”

“Will do, Soda.”

Sammy yips as we head out the door, and I find my eyes drifting back, just for a second, to the closest place I can call home. But then in a second, that feeling of warmth is gone, as the gravel under my feet crunches in the dark. The moonlight hits my back, and it’s like a hand shooing me out the door, as I force myself to walk away.

Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Notes:

I finally updated! I'm so sorry it's been so long. Writer's block has been hitting hard, and I also started a new year at college. Thank you for those who are sticking around despite the slow updates, and I hope yall enjoy. Thanks for the support!

There was a time where the only sense of thrill I got was from jumping people weaker than me. I liked feeling the grooves of my knuckles hitting the soft flesh of their face, and the force from jabbing my shoe into their ribs as hard as I could, to the point where maybe, just maybe, I could hear a crack. For in the light of dawn, I was an animal. I was snarling. I was cold. I was mean, and only thought of myself and how to survive. But beating others up for your own gain isn't survival - it's tyranny. And I never wanted to be a tyrant; I just wanted my pain to stop.

But I am no hero, even with all the good I try to do now, because I can never redeem myself. I can't stitch past wounds, and I sure as hell can't wash off dried blood from a villain's hands. But if there is no hero in a story, then how can you keep a villain from re-living the past? Because if even the rings of a fallen tree can't forget its age, then who will ever forget what I've done? Because there comes a point when second chances become too many, but hell no will that stop me from trying. Again. And again. And ag–

“Hey! What the hell are you guys doing? Stop!”

I tell Sammy to sit and stay as the light from the streetlamps makes arcs along my back as I run.

There are three of them - three leather jackets - orange tigers on the back - Hoods. One has a million piercings on his face and strands of black rope hair that falls in front of his eyes. He raises a fist to punch someone in white while a blonde wig is dirty and trashed on the pavement next to his shoe. The guy to his right has the body of a grizzly bear, and long curly rags of brown hair with a beard like wild roots growing on his face. A bloodied dress with an even bloodier face is in his big, pawlike hands, and streaks of red fall down from the victim's nose and into their mouth. Their shudders and gasps as they try not to choke on red rings in my ears, just as I knock the third guy, a skinny and freckled red head who looks like he's barely 19 and keeping watch, to my right, and then kick the brown-haired bear in his face. The guy with black rope hair tries to come up behind me, but I swing my elbow into his Adams' apple which leaves him wheezing and catching his breath. When his buddy falls to the ground, the big bear's nostrils flare like the snout of a bull, and he tries to sneak up on me to my right, but I flip out the only switchblade I still own - a long pointed beauty that was a gift from Twobit way back when I got burned and still wanted to rumble - and when they see the blade, the cowards think better and scram, not wanting to get busy with a weapon when they're not armed. I dunno why those hoods aren't armed, but they seemed to do enough damage on the poor sucker without none, and it's not until he smiles at me that I know who it is.

“Blondie! What the hell?!”

I kneel down infront of Blondie, and I don't even care that he’s covered in blood as I hug him anyway. But he only laughs in my arms, and I feel him shift as he mumbles faintly the words: “F-Fancy seeing you here, grease.”

“I ain't no grease,” I scoff, yet a smile still tugs itself onto my lips. “I'm just a person.”

Blondie spits out a tooth and it hits the pavement with a ping, russet rain still dribbling down to his lips and staining his teeth as he smiles weakly at me, “Thanks for saving me, my hero.”

I roll my eyes yet help him to his feet, trying to ignore the pink dusting my cheeks at him calling me his hero. Judging from the way Blondie is wearing a fitted white gown with smeared black makeup on his eyes and cheeks, and by looking at the frizzed and stained wig crushed at our feet, he was out in drag, hence why he got jumped. How can he be so stupid? I should be mad at him for going out on his own this late at night in drag, but I ain't.

“Come on, stupid. I'm taking you home.”

“Oh wow, well at least take me out to dinner first, Mr. Dallas Winston,” Blondie smirks despite his lips coated in red and the missing tooth. “Didn't know you were so eager, but that's ok, cause that's how I like it.”

He then gets closer, his bloody lips grazing my cheek and brushing against my ear. “And I know you'd be such a good boy for me.”

I blush and cough, calling Sammy over to me. I then grab Sammy's leash and make sure that Blondie isn't swaying as I put an arm around him, “Just come on, Romeo. Let's get you cleaned up.”

It's silent for a minute before Blondie speaks again, leaning his head against my shoulder as his teasing tone quiets down in the dampening dark, “You aren't mad, are you? At me, for you know…”

“For getting both of us arrested? For walking out here in the dark in drag? For being such a tease?” I look at him with a blank expression and I swear for a moment Blondie looks pained at the thought of me being mad at him. “Mad at you, beautiful? Never.”

A red speckled smile creeps its way onto cracked lips, but even when covered in his own blood, he's beautiful, “Oh you flirt! I didn't know you had it in you, but I'd rather have you in me instead.”

I almost stumble and drop us both onto Sammy, but I catch my footing even though both cheeks and my ears are bathing in red, “Let's just uh, get you inside, doll.”

Yet the smirk on Blondie remains as the streetlamps make his skin glow, and by the way he looks at me, all smug and teasing, it makes me want to either add to the blood on his already punched in face, or grab his bloodied cheeks and smash his lips onto my own. I want to say that I don't know which one is worse, or which one is the one that's making my heartbeat faster, and faster, and faster, but we all know that's a lie, and I lie to myself all the time.

“Well then," Blondie grabs onto my arm and rests his cheek on my shoulder, and my god the way his eyes are looking at me..." Why don't you lead the way then, mi amor?”

His voice is sweet, yet his eyes hold lust, and I cough into a closed fist as I take one step after the other and try not to fall.