Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The relentless beeping of the alarm clock sliced through the early morning stillness. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a gentle warmth that kissed her face. With a resigned sigh, she reached out to silence the insistent noise, her hand moving with the sluggishness of someone still caught between sleep and wakefulness. As the beeping faded into silence, she stretched, allowing a weary yawn to escape. As she slowly rose, ensuring her bed was tidy she begun to get ready. I should really get some curtains for that window she mused, hoping for fewer interruptions.

Lost in thought, she dressed in her customary red uniform, carefully applying a touch of makeup to accentuate her eyes and securing her hair to keep it neatly in place. The day ahead seemed poised to follow its usual routine, predictable and uninspired. A fleeting thought crossed her mind-perhaps she should embrace a moment of spontaneity, seek out a bit of trouble, and break free from the monotonous grasp of seasonal boredom.

She was an entirely typical 17-year-old girl, residing in Tulsa, Oklahoma. It was the year 1965, a time of vibrant drive-in movie theaters, colorful diners, the legendary Elvis Presley, raucous drunken rumbles, greasers, Socs, and a sea of ordinary folks like herself, caught in the midst of it all. Her family's financial situation was far from lavish; they didn't cruise around in sleek Corvettes or Mustangs, but they were not struggling in abject poverty either. She occupied a modest home, shared with her loving parents. Their humble abode stood squarely between the upscale West side inhabited by the Socs and the more rugged East side populated by the Greasers. In a world teeming with drama, their household remained an oasis of tranquility-a picture of everyday normalcy.

At 8 each morning, she would venture out of their house to catch the school bus. The chill in the air this day was particularly biting, the wind tousling her hair as she sighed, boarding the familiar bus and occupying her usual spot amongst the same faces, on the same old streets. Gazing into the distance, a sense of yearning overwhelmed her-an aching desire for change, for something out of the ordinary.

As she disembarked from the school bus, it was as though her silent pleas, accumulated over the years, had been granted. Her solitude was abruptly shattered.

“Hello there,” a greaser said as he approached her. She hesitated, then responded tentatively, “Hi…” puzzled by the unexpected interaction. As she scrutinized him, she saw a boy with long, greasy light brown hair, gentle features, and a glimmer in his green eyes. Dressed in a pale purple top, blue jeans, and battered white Converse, he appeared only slightly younger than her.

Breaking the silence, he asked, “Are ya alright?” She considered the question for a moment, unsure how to answer while feeling the curious stares of onlookers. “I am. Why do you ask?” she replied. Before the greaser could elaborate, she felt an itch on her nose. As she raised her hand to brush it, she noticed the redness.

"That's why," he remarked, his concern evident. Cursing under her breath, she realized the cause of the predicament. Oh damn, damn, how did this happen? It wasn't even warm out today, let alone hot.

"So, how come a dame like you is bleeding from her face? Were ya hurt?" He inquired once more. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I... I don't know," she stammered, frantically searching through her bag for something, but to no avail. "Here," he offered, handing her a tissue. "Thank you, you're so... kind, I mean, considerate," she corrected herself, her gaze dropping to her bloodied hand.

"You say that because I'm a greaser!" the boy exclaimed.

"Oh, I didn't mean to-" she began, only to be interrupted. "No, it's alright, really," he reassured her, lightly patting her arm with a warm smile. She chuckled softly under her breath.

They continued walking in the same direction, and the boy seized the opportunity to resume their conversation. "What's your name, anyway?" he asked. "Y/n," she replied. "And yours?" "Ponyboy," he responded. "That is a very unique name," she remarked with genuine interest. "Yeah, well, my dad was quite an original person... that is he's not alive anymore," he said, his tone turning somber. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. That's terrible," she offered quickly, not wanting to dampen the mood. "Nah man, it's not your fault," he replied, gazing into the distance as they walked side by side, the silence between them becoming companionable.

Their journey eventually led them to the all-girls high school. "Uh, this is me," she said awkwardly. "Alright, I'll see you around, Y/n," he said, beginning to walk away. "Goodbye, Ponyboy!" she called after him, receiving a single wave in response. As she watched him depart, she couldn't help but think, Well, that was certainly a different and unexpected start to the day...

Throughout the morning, her thoughts were preoccupied with the encounter with the boy. As she walked to her locker, sat through class, and went about her day, her mind kept drifting back to him. Despite his greaser persona, he had conveyed a sense of sweetness and kindness, leaving her with an intense curiosity to learn more about him.

---

A week had passed, elusive and unremarkable, without a single encounter with him. It occurred to her that lingering around her house or the all-girls high school might not be the most fruitful strategy for crossing paths with someone she had met only once.

Today school had dismissed earlier than usual, and the sunlight cast a gentle warmth over the world, despite the lingering chill of early spring. The bus, as usual, had departed long before, so she decided to walk home, choosing a path less familiar, though it ran parallel to her usual route. The tranquility of her walk was marked by an eerie emptiness, as if the town’s inhabitants were absorbed in their routines of labor or study. As she meandered through the quiet, serpentine streets leading home, everything was abruptly shattered by the sudden eruption of shouts and the unmistakable tone of aggression that pierced the calm.

Instinctively, she pressed her back against the stone fence guarding a nearby house. From her concealed vantage point, she observed the source of the commotion—a group of Socs, their Blue madras shirts and carelessly parked red Corvair marking their presence. Amidst them, an unfamiliar boy stood out, his smaller, more fragile frame starkly contrasting with the aggressors around him. She could almost feel his trembling as he was subjected to their merciless assault.

She understood the risk of exposing herself to the Socs and resolved to act with discretion. Spotting a sizable, sharp-edged stone nearby, she hurled it with precision at the back window of the car. A sudden, tense silence enveloped the group as they turned their attention to the vehicle. It took them a moment to comprehend the disruption, and when they did, their voices erupted in a cacophony of outrage. Seizing the moment, she fled the scene, racing down the street with an urgency to distance herself from the enraged Socs. She found sanctuary in a nearby park, crouching behind a tree. From her concealed position, she watched the red Corvair retreat, its occupants still seething with anger, their furious voices echoing as they disappeared from view.

Deciding the danger had passed, she retraced her steps through the streets to reach the boy. Uncertain of his condition, she was relieved to find him still in the same spot, seemingly unconscious. "Hey, are you okay?" She gently nudged the boy's shoulder, her eyes scanning the array of cuts and bruises that marred his fragile frame. The boy appeared delicate, with innocent features, dark and greasy hair parted to the side, and tan skin.

His dark eyelashes fluttered as he slowly regained consciousness. "Ah-h," he gasped upon seeing her, his hand inching back into the wire fence behind him, as though he wished to disappear. "O-oh, I'm so sorry," she stammered, taking a step back and withdrawing her hand.

Concern etched across her face, she inquired, "Are ya alright?" The boy exhaled shakily, summoning the courage to reply, "Yes." "You don't look alright to me," she insisted firmly, furrowing her eyebrows and pointing at a still-bleeding cut on his forearm. The boy seemed taken aback, as though he couldn't recall recent events.

"What's your name, boy?" she asked, studying him closely. "J-johnny," he replied quietly, his voice trembling. She offered a reassuring smile, which seemed to alleviate his anxiety to some extent. Yet, the distant shouts that suddenly pierced the air caused her to stiffen once more and to turn her head sharply towards the source. Rising from her crouched position beside Johnny, a surge of dread swept over her. She feared the possibility that the Socs had returned, intent on completing their vicious attack.

In the distance, she discerned a few indistinct silhouettes sprinting toward them. "JOHNNY!!!" someone called out. Johnny, too, turned his gaze in that direction, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. His expression softened, and color began to return to his pale cheeks. She extended her hand to assist him to his feet, and Johnny grasped it with gratitude. Together, they faced the group that had just caught up to them.

A crowd quickly gathered around Johnny, seemingly oblivious to her presence. Three boys, roughly her age, formed a protective wall around him. "Johnnycake, are ya alright?" one of them asked urgently. "Did the Socs do this?" inquired another. "Was it that guy with the rings again?" another chimed in. "I swear to God, I'll kill him!" Yet another voice expressed anger. "It's okay, you're with us now, Johnny," they reassured him, their words brimming with both volume and genuine concern.

"Hey! Y/n!" one of the boys suddenly called out, and she turned to face him. It was Ponyboy.

"Hiya, Ponyboy," she greeted him warmly.

"Are you okay? Did the Socs also hurt ya?" Ponyboy inquired, his concern evident. "No, no, I just distracted them away from... uh, Johnny," she replied. "Thank you," Johnny turned toward her, gratitude evident in his eyes. "You really saved me, man."

"Who knows what would have happened if not for you!" another boy added. "I'm Steve," he introduced himself, extending his hand. Steve was tall and lean, with thick, dark, greasy hair, striking features, and a crooked smile. "Nice to meet you," she responded, shaking his hand.

The third boy extended his hand next, a stocky figure with dirty blond hair, gray eyes, and a cheeky grin. "I'm Keith, but everyone calls me Two Bit Mathews... or just Two Bit." She shook his hand as well. Before either boy could say more, she turned her attention back to Johnny. "We should get you patched up, Johnny. Your arm's still bleeding bad," she insisted.

"I said I'm fine," Johnny protested weakly. "No, you are not fine. Come on, we'll go to my house," Ponyboy intervened, draping his arm around Johnny's shoulders and leading him away. "Oh, alright," Johnny relented.

The group began to walk away, leaving her momentarily behind. "HEY! Y/N! YOU COMING WITH US?" Two-Bit called out. "ALRIGHT!" she responded, jogging to catch up with them.

As they walked, she struck up conversation with Ponyboy. "Where do you live?" "Just right here," he responded, pointing to a somewhat weathered-looking house. He unlocked the metal wire fence gate and they ascended the cracked concrete steps, stepping through the peeling white front door.

Chapter Text

The house had a quaint yet slightly cramped feel to it, with visible cracks marring its aging structure. It was evident that cleanliness was not a top priority in this household. The group made their way into the small, living room. Ponyboy carefully settled Johnny down on the couch.

"I'll fetch the first aid kit," he mentioned, then headed toward another door.

Steve settled on the floor in front of the television and turned it on, where a Mickey Mouse cartoon was in progress. "HEY! TWO-BIT! Mickey's on!" Steve exclaimed, sticking his head into the adjacent room. Two-Bit quickly wrapped up what he was doing and joined Steve, taking a seat beside him. He balanced a tray bearing a beer and a lone chocolate cake, all the while keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the screen.

I stood awkwardly near the front door for a moment but then opted to settle into a red sofa chair positioned to Johnny's right, just as Ponyboy returned with the first aid supplies.

"Here," Ponyboy offered, handing me a bottle of rubbing alcohol and some cotton balls. I stood up to retrieve them, moving around him to kneel in front of Johnny. Ponyboy aided Johnny in removing his dirtied jacket, tossing it aside, while I soaked a cotton ball in the liquid. "This might sting a bit, Johnny," I cautioned, bringing the cotton ball closer to his face. He winced each time it made contact with his skin, and I couldn't help but feel his distrust in me.

Ponyboy located the bandages, and together we carefully tended to Johnny's wounds. We wrapped his forearm and used a dozen plasters on various other injuries scattered across his body. "Look at you, you're practically good as new, man," Steve commented as he stood up, his face smeared with chocolate from the cake. Johnny mustered a faint smile in response.

My gaze flicked up to the crookedly hung clock on their wall, and I realized it was nearing 2 o'clock. My mother would be home soon. "Hey, guys, I should head out. I don't want anyone worrying about my whereabouts," I announced, rising from my seat. Ponyboy immediately offered, "Oh, I'll walk ya home then," and he opened the front door, following me outside.

"You really don't have to, I can find my way," I protested, accompanied by a playful eye roll and a smile. Ponyboy responded, a hint of concern in his voice, "Those Socs could come back, ya know. These days, you've got to be cautious." A brief silence ensued before I asked curiously, "So, do you live alone, Ponyboy?"

"After my parents passed away, I've been livin' with my two brothers, Sodapop and Darry," Ponyboy replied, exhaling a stream of smoke away from me. "Oh, I've heard of Sodapop. He's the one all the girls around here are crazy about, right?" I inquired. "Yeah, he's got that reputation," Ponyboy muttered. "I guess you must know him, then."

"A lot of girls are worried about him, wondering why he hasn't been at school," I mentioned. "He dropped out," Ponyboy stated bluntly. "Really? Why?" I asked, taken aback.

"Well, without our parents, we don't have much income except for Darry's job. He works tirelessly to provide, but Soda felt it was best if he also got a job to help out," Ponyboy explained, dropping his cigarette and extinguishing it with his foot. "Oh, the DX station, right?" I remembered as we crossed the road, nearing my street.

Finally, we arrived at my house. 

"Okay, well... I'll see ya, Y/n. You're pretty tough!" he exclaimed as I opened the door. "See you, Ponyboy! You dig okay too!" I responded cheerfully, closing the door behind me as he strolled down the driveway, lighting yet another cigarette.

---

The following Monday, I was on my usual bus ride home. The walk from the bus stop was relatively quiet, aside from a turmoil of thoughts clouding my brain at the upcoming exams.

As I was halfway down the driveway, a sudden shout pierced the air. "Y/N, GLORY, HIDE US! THEY'RE REAL HACKED THIS TIME!" Ponyboy practically sprinted toward me, spun me around, and simultaneously urged me toward my front door. Johnny was close behind him.

"What's going on!? Who's hacked off!? And why are you here!?" I fired off questions, fumbling with my keys in an attempt to unlock the door. We all rushed inside the house and locked the door securely. The boys let out relieved breaths, attempting to catch their breath while struggling to explain what had happened.

“They- they were and uh” Ponyboy started, “And, and they then oh real bad, hah-” Johnny finished. "Boys, BOYS!" I interrupted. "I can't make sense of a thing you're sayin'."

"Take a seat and catch your breath," I instructed, pointing to the couch. Ponyboy and Johnny practically collapsed onto the couch, still breathing heavily. "So," I began, handing them each a soda from the fridge to keep them occupied before they lit a cigarette in my parents' house, "We were walkin', right? Then, out of nowhere, these Socs just attacked us, shouting about a broken windshield," Ponyboy explained.

My eyes widened in realization. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry, that was me - I broke their rear windshield," I admitted guiltily. "For real, man? Why would you do that?" Ponyboy huffed. "S-she distracted them on Wednesday," Johnny chimed in, eager to defend me. "I'm so sorry this happened to you, Ponyboy, and Johnny, because I did that!" I apologized once more. "No worries. You saved Johnny the other day. It was pretty brave," Ponyboy reassured me, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. 

"Did they follow you?" I asked, my concern visible. "No, Johnny and I were careful. We cut through your neighbors' gardens so they wouldn't see where we turned off the road," Ponyboy explained cautiously. "At least, I think we weren't followed," he added uncertainly. "And we're sorry for intruding into your home without askin'," Johnny added, his voice barely above a whisper. "Don't worry about it; you're welcome here anytime, especially when my parents are out. Otherwise, explaining it to them would be a bit tricky," I replied, offering a reassuring laugh.

We spent the rest of the afternoon chatting and laughing, but around 6 o'clock, my parents called to say they'd be home soon and for me to start preparing dinner. In response, I hurried the boys out onto the front porch.

"Hey, Y/n, wait," Ponyboy called out, and I turned to look at him. "Would you like to go out on Friday?" he asked. I couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Aren't you a little young? How old are ya anyway?" Ponyboy stammered a bit, realizing his mistake. "I, uh... sorry, I meant to hang out with me and some of the gang... Johnny. We're going to the drive-in on Friday," he corrected himself. "Sure, sounds fun. I'll join you!" I agreed happily.

Ponyboy then mumbled, "Oh, and... I'm thirteen, turning fourteen soon."

"Alright, I'll see you on Friday, Ponyboy and Johnny," I said, closing the door. Ponyboy called out, "WE'LL PICK YOU UP FROM HERE! AND CALL ME PONY!" as they walked away. "ALRIGHT, PONY!" I shouted back, closing the door behind me with a smile.

---

I dedicated a full hour to getting ready, meticulously styling my hair and applying makeup. It wasn't a date, but looking nice never hurt anybody. As I stood by the front door, I took a moment to adjust the belt on my black coat, a barrier against the chilly spring weather. 

The long-awaited knock finally echoed through the house. "Hiya, Pony!" I greeted enthusiastically as I swung open the door. "Hey, you're lookin' real neat tonight, Y/n!" he complimented with a warm smile. "Why thank you," I replied with a grin, closing the door behind me. My parents were still at work.

I inquired about Johnny's whereabouts, and Ponyboy explained, "We'll pick him up on the way there." He lit a cigarette, and I couldn't help but shoot him a disappointed look. "I know, I know, I shouldn't smoke," he mumbled, his eyes rolling slightly. "Especially if I want to make the track team next year," he added with a self-deprecating chuckle. "You good at runnin', huh?" I asked, studying his expression. "Yeah, well, you saw me and Johnny the other day," he replied, recalling our encounter. "You looked pretty beat by the time you reached my front door," I teased, a hint of laughter in my voice.

Ponyboy's expression grew serious. "Well, yeah, all because of those damn Socs," he began, his voice determined. "One day, we'll beat them, and they... they won't dare cross us. Ever again." He took a deep drag from his cigarette, emphasizing his resolve.

I looped my arm through his, which was tucked into his pocket. The wind was biting. Ponyboy glanced down at me briefly, before he quickly averted his gaze. We were the same height, but he had a stronger build.

As we approached Johnny's house, the distant sounds of shouting caught our attention. The commotion seemed to be coming from inside the house. We halted in front of the driveway, and our eyes were fixed on the front door, which suddenly swung open. Johnny was practically hurled down the porch stairs, and he scrambled to his feet before sprinting toward us. "Are you okay!?" I asked, taken aback by the scene. Johnny dusted off his jeans and replied, "Yeah, I'm alright," as we resumed walking. "Are we late?" Johnny inquired, fidgeting with his hands - his gaze fixed on the ground with a touch of nervousness. I reassured him, "No, the drive-in only opened a few minutes ago. We'll make it," I added, glancing at the sky, which was beginning to paint itself in shades of gold.

We finally arrived at the drive-in, but much to my surprise, I found myself being pulled around the back. They led me toward a sizable tear in the lower part of the metal wire fence encircling the property. While Johnny and Ponyboy were in the process of squeezing through, I seized the opportunity to dash around and purchase a ticket to get in. I had no intention of getting dirty just to save a few bucks, although it seemed to matter more to them than to me. I took a seat and patiently waited for them to join me. They rolled their eyes as they passed me, letting me know that they were heading to grab some Cokes. I handed them a few, requesting they pick up one for me while they were at it. “Thanks”, I said as they walked off.

The evening air was crisp, and while the surroundings at the drive-in were peaceful, something always seemed to find its way into my tranquility. I felt a nudge to the back of my chair but decided to ignore it. A second one, and a third.. now it was becoming annoying.

I shifted in my seat to face the source of the irritation, a boy about my age seated behind me. His features were dark yet gentle, with a well-defined structure. His dark brown hair was fluffy without a hint of grease, and he sported jeans, a black top, and a brown leather jacket, with a cigarette sticking from his lips. He pretended to be engrossed in the movie on the screen. I turned back around, anticipating another nudge, and indeed, it came. But this time, before I could respond, I felt his warm breath on my neck. "What's a doll like you doin out here all on her own?" he inquired, but I chose to disregard his comment, hoping he would grow bored and leave me be.

He seemed to have retreated for a moment, but then I felt his presence behind me again. "Is your hair real? Are you a real y/h/c?" he teased, his fingers lightly touching and tugging at my hair. "Are you real?" he continued, a hint of humor in his voice. I couldn't help but crack a slight smile at his audacious remarks, but I remained composed, attempting to focus on the movie that played on the screen.

"Will you please stop botherin' me?" I finally spoke up after he pulled my hair once more. A brief silence followed, but then he started again. "How could I find out if you're a real, hm...?" he pondered, pointing at my lap before raising a finger to my eyebrows. “Here-”, before he could finish his thought, I reacted by swiftly bringing my elbow backward into his side. His comment had embarrassed me, and I didn't want him to see me blushing. "Can you just be nice and leave me alone!" I objected once more. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him try to lift his legs on the back of the chair to the right of me, but his legs slid off and he ended up falling out of his chair. I couldn't help but burst into laughter, and someone else joined in. I looked up to see Ponyboy and Johnny returning with the Cokes, with Two-Bit following closely behind.

"Hey, Dally, come sit up front with us!" Ponyboy beckoned with laughter, taking a seat to my left. "You know this hood, Ponyboy?" I asked him, a hint of irritation in my voice. "Well, yeah, Dally's my buddy," Pony replied confidently. 

"She's with you? How did you strike such a dame, Pony?" Dallas questioned as he settled down to my right. "I didn't strike anyone, Dallas. She's just a friend," Ponyboy clarified, rolling his eyes at him. "Oh, well, in that case..." Dallas started, his hand trailing around the back of my chair as he fixed his gaze on me.

"Get lost, hood!" I retorted, shifting closer to Ponyboy. "Oh, come on, doll... I know you're digging this," Dallas said, gesturing to his own body and inching closer while playing with my hair. My face grew warm, and I turned away from Dallas towards Johnny, Pony, and Two Bit, glaring at Ponyboy in annoyance. "C'mon, Dallas, quit it. She asked you to stop," Johnny chimed in, attempting to defuse the situation. But Dallas leaned in closer to my ear again, his face dangerously close to my neck, causing my heart to race. All he had to say in his deep New Yorker accent was, “Sweetheart..“  before I couldn't take it much longer. 

In a split-second decision, I grabbed my Coke and emptied it onto him, then hurriedly made my way out of the drive-in.

The night had grown quite dark, and I found myself uncertain of where to go. I had left the drive-in behind and started wandering in a random direction. My mind was still in turmoil, and I needed to calm down and cool off.

Assholes like Dallas, with their stinkin good looks and bad attitudes, always thinking they can get away with anythin... It infuriated me. Maybe I should have punched him right in his handsome face. That would have been satisfying.

As I walked, the effects of the charm began to fade. I took a closer look at the unfamiliar neighborhood I had wandered into, my senses on high alert. Everything around me had suddenly fallen eerily silent, and any noise had the potential to make me jump at that moment. I could hear the rumble of an engine behind me, and as it drew closer, the headlights cast a large, bright light onto me. It sent shivers down my spine, making me incredibly nervous. I didn't dare turn around, instead opting to quicken my pace.

Eventually, I turned onto a street that seemed somewhat familiar, but the car continued to follow closely behind. Inside the vehicle, I could hear the occupants chattering away, their voices filled with drunken slurs. It was a Mustang, unmistakably.

"Heyyyyy... beautiful..." one of the socs called out, their words slurred. I strained to make out the rest of their conversation, and it became clear that they were all intoxicated. "Well, c'monnn... hop in... we'll give you a ride," they persisted, their voices dripping with an eerie enthusiasm. "The ride of your lifeeee...!" another one chimed in, and they all erupted into hysterical laughter. The sound of their laughter echoed in my head, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable in the harsh, unforgiving light. "She's ignorin' us, guys!" one of the socs pointed out. "What do you say... we teach her a lesson?" Their laughter echoed menacingly. The car had come to a stop, but the engine continued to rumble.

Car doors swung open, and as I increased my pace to a run, it sounded like dozens of car doors slammed shut after the socs. Fear gripped me as their footsteps echoed, growing nearer. "She's getting away!" one of the socs shouted. I did my best to stay composed, but these socs were considerably larger and more athletic than me. In no time, they had closed the distance and lunged at me from behind. I fought desperately against their grip, kicking, shouting, and flailing my arms, but the sheer number of socs overwhelmed me. They managed to hold down all my limbs, while a fifth soc shoved a dirty rag into my mouth to stifle my screams. Tears welled up in my eyes as the uncomfortable position on the rough concrete took its toll. The fifth soc retrieved something from his back pocket, grinning maliciously. "How 'bout we give her a little haircut and show her who's in charge?" he suggested. The glint of the object in his hand revealed it to be a blade, which shimmered in the moonlight. I whimpered against the rag, terrified of what they might do in their drunken state. 

Chapter Text

The blade pressed against my cheek, dancing menacingly down to my neck and chest with each taunting movement, all while the socs laughed, deriving cruel amusement from my terror. I remained as still as possible, hoping that they might somehow forget about me and simply walk away. Tears streamed down my face, and the overwhelming sensation of vulnerability and powerlessness echoed loudly within. I lost all sense of what was happening as time blurred. At some point, their grip grew tighter, my clothes began being stripped of me, and the cold air hit my body harshly my world became a hazy, tear-filled void. I couldn't move or see clearly through the fog of tears, rendering their voices and laughter inaudible, leaving me trapped.

It seemed like hours had passed before amid the events unfolding around me, new voices emerged, and unfamiliar shadows took shape. Eventually, my limbs were released, and I found myself lying free from the captors. However, my newfound freedom was short-lived, as hands lifted me from the ground into a grasp. My limp body was wrapped in something warm, and a sense of cautious comfort washed over me. My mind begun sinking into the darkness.

At one point I remember opening my eyes and seeing the dark night sky and the moon, someone told me, “Don't worry doll you're gonna be alright”.

When I roused again, my eyes were met with a harsh, yellowed light. Faces loomed over me, obscuring my view of the ceiling. As my focus slowly returned, I recognized Johnny and Ponyboy. But who was the other guy?

"Who are you?" I asked, my body instinctively trying to jerk upright before collapsing back down under its own weight. Ponyboy moved as though to place a hand on my bare shoulder but decided against it, and explained, "It's okay, don't worry. That's Darry, my older brother." I flinched at his movements, suddenly aware of my lack of clothing. My mind was racing as I looked around the room. Dallas stood in the corner, casually smoking, while Sodapop was in the kitchen.

"What happened?" I inquired, trying to piece together the events that had led me here. Ponyboy struggled to find the right words to respond to my question. "We found you, and I don't think anythin' happened, but you were somewhat naked... not fully, of course, but they had a knife with them. You're pretty cut up and bruised real bad."

My eyes welled up with tears again as the memories of the previous hours flooded back. My eyes darted to the corner of the room where a previously saw Dallas, disliking the idea of him seeing me in this vulnerable state - but he was gone.

"Hey, don't worry, we've got you," Darry said, bringing my attention back and trying to reassure me. I'd never met Darry before, but there was something comforting about his presence. He had a kind and welcoming face, light brown hair slicked back from his face, small grey eyes, and he was very tall and muscular with broad shoulders. He appeared to be in his twenties.

It was Darry's turn to caution me, "This will sting a little," as he dabbed the alcohol-soaked cotton ball onto my cuts. It stung like crazy, but I didn't want to appear any more of a crybaby than I already felt. "Is there anyone we could call? Do you need a place to stay?" Darry asked, looking at me with genuine concern. The fact that I had never met him before made the situation feel even more exposed and embarrassing. I glanced away but knew I had to answer.

"Yes... could you pass me the phone?" I asked, feeling a bit embarrassed. Before I could dial the number for my home phone, I turned my attention to the crooked clock on the wall. It showed 9:15 pm, just before my curfew. "Could I... stay here?" I asked, looking at Ponyboy. "But if I can't, that's okay... I'll just need to find a place.. tonight," I quickly added. "You can stay with us! The couch is all yours for the weekend," Ponyboy answered, almost excitedly. I looked at Darry for approval, and he nodded slightly, offering a warm smile.

I called my house, and my mother picked up. I explained to her that I had met with a family friend at the drive-in and decided to sleep over at her house for the weekend. My mother allowed this, mentioning that alcohol and partying were off-limits. That was amusing to hear, considering my current battered state.

Eventually, Johnny and Two-Bit left to go home, and the brothers split off into their rooms after wishing me a good night. The lights were turned off, and I stared at the wall, watching the shadows dance from the wind blowing into the trees just outside the window. It was strangely comfortable. 

I didn't fully remember what had happened, but I hoped that everything would be better after a good night's rest. Slowly, I drifted off into a deep sleep.

---

I was awakened by the sound of sizzling in the kitchen. This time, when I attempted to sit up, my body cooperated. I looked around the small room, taking in my surroundings. To my left, there was a fireplace along the wall along with a small TV tucked into the corner, and to my right, the front door. Two sofa chairs, one red and the other beige, sat in the room.

I gingerly got up, carefully steadying my balance. However, I had to quickly sit back down when I realized that the only things covering me were my underwear and a large, soft blanket. Wrapping the blanket tightly around my body, I stood up again, feeling a bit more secure. I walked through the small dining area toward the kitchen, and as I peeked around the corner, I came face to face with Ponyboy cooking eggs. I opened my mouth, ready to say something, but he seemed to have anticipated my needs.

"OH, sorry, wait a minute, we thought you'd-" he exclaimed, rushing off into another room.

I waited for a few minutes and decided to rescue the eggs he was preparing before they burnt. I served them on the table. "Thanks, y/n," Ponyboy said, walking back toward me. He quickly handed me my clothes, which were neatly folded and presumably cleaned. "Did you wash these yourself, Pony?" I asked, raising an eyebrow with a teasing smile. "No way..." he muttered as he sat down at the table. "Darry does all the laundry," he finally answered, digging into the eggs. I chuckled at this, and he looked up, slightly confused.

"This is real good, y/n!" he complimented, talking with a mouthful. "I'm glad you like 'em," I replied, though I silently wondered where the bathroom was. "Hey, Pony," I asked, catching his attention while he was still eating. "Where's the bathroom?" He looked at me a bit embarrassed and pointed to a nearby door.

As I reached for the door handle, it suddenly swung open, I was met by a tall, slender boy with captivating dark brown eyes and brown hair that shimmered with hints of gold. His face exuded sensitivity, and a warm, charming smile graced his lips. Sodapop was standing there with nothing but a towel around his waist. We both blushed furiously, and I quickly averted my eyes while apologizing. Sodapop, equally flustered, hurried down the hallway, shouting, "DARRY, WHERE IS MY SHIRT?"

I entered the bathroom, relieved to change into my clothes, wash my face, and freshen up. I examined my body, wincing as I noticed the bruises on my wrist from the tight grip of the Socs. It was painful to look at, so I hastily covered it up and headed for the door. When I walked out, I found all the brothers seated at the dining table, enjoying their breakfast. "Good morning, y/n," Darry greeted me kindly. I took a seat at the table, serving myself some breakfast. They were engaged in their conversation, so I quietly ate enjoying their presence.

"How are you feelin', y/n?" Ponyboy asked, and I looked up from my plate, unsure of how to respond. Part of me wanted to burst into tears, but on the other hand, I kept thinking that nothing too serious had actually happened, right? "Hm… I'm fine," I replied cautiously, glancing back down at my food. "Well, would you like to go to the diner for some milkshakes with me and Jhonny?" Ponyboy asked. "Only if Dallas isn't there," I said dismally. I didn't want to have to face him on top of what I was already feeling. "Yeah, okay, I'll let him know," Ponyboy said, sounding a bit uncertain. "But, you know, he's not all bad-" Ponyboy was interrupted by Darry, who said firmly, "Pony, she said no, don't push it." Ponyboy lowered his gaze to his plate.

"I'm sorry," I began to apologize. "No need to apologize," Darry reassured me. "You have every right to not want to see him. He can be quite the douche sometimes."

After breakfast, I helped Sodapop with the dishes, and he shared a lot about the gang's dynamics with me. We all gathered in the living room to watch TV, and as the morning went by, more gang members started piling in. Two-Bit, Steve, and even Johnny joined us, filling the room with their diverse interests and sharing laughter over inside jokes.

Around 1 pm, Ponyboy stood up and announced our trip to the diner. Darry, concerned for our safety, insisted, "Ponyboy, take Two-Bit with you! You and Johnny need to be careful, especially with a young lady." His words carried a protective tone as he glanced in my direction. Two-Bit couldn't resist teasing Ponyboy, mockingly calling him "baby Pony" and petting his head. Ponyboy tried to protest, but Darry's decision was final. Annoyed, Ponyboy and Two-Bit ended up grappling with each other on the living room floor. Darry's authoritative shout interrupted their scuffle, "BOYS, BREAK IT UP!" He warned that he wouldn't ask again. Johnny and I couldn't help but laugh at the spectacle of Ponyboy and Two-Bit on the floor.

After they settled down, Ponyboy pretended to dust himself off and walked out the door, followed by Two-Bit, Johnny and I as we made our way to the diner.

Under the warm, inviting sun, we strolled along, our lively conversation and infectious laughter creating an atmosphere of sheer joy. It was a delightful distraction from the recent events, and for a brief moment, all my worries seemed to melt away. Eventually, we arrived at the diner and settled into a booth at the far end. The waitress approached our table, as Johnny sat next to me, while Ponyboy and Two-Bit took the seats across from us.

The waitress was a striking young woman who embraced the glamour of the era. Her makeup was bold, and she wore a daringly short skirt. Her low-cut top left little to the imagination, capturing the attention of the boys, who momentarily forgot why she had come over. “What would you like?” she asked again, breaking the spell she had cast over them. “V-vanilla milkshake for me," Pony stammered, while both Johnny and Two-Bit requested "a chocolate milkshake." I chimed in, saying, "the strawberry one, please." With our orders placed, the waitress gracefully departed, leaving the boys still somewhat captivated by her allure.

Ponyboy, Johnny, and Two-Bit entertained themselves by sending straw wrappers flying in all directions, occasionally targeting each other or even unsuspecting passersby. While most folks tried to brush it off, the irritation on their faces was unmistakable. But for me, it was a source of amusement and pure happiness. I eased into the lively atmosphere as the waitress delivered our milkshakes. For some inexplicable reason, those milkshakes tasted better than ever in the company of this newfound "gang." In that moment, I secretly wished for time to stand still, allowing me to savor every second of our conversations, and laughter.

But I wouldn't have the chance to finish my drink, because, like an unwelcome jinx, there he was – strolling in with that trademark smirk, confidently ordering a chocolate milkshake. My brows instinctively furrowed, and my glare was locked onto his direction. Ponyboy, sensing my unease, peered out from behind our booth, looking concerned as Dallas made his way toward us with his long stride. "Damn it, I told him not to come, y/n. I don't know why he's here!" Ponyboy apologized, but his words barely registered. My attention was wholly captured by Dallas – the way he walked, the tousled fall of his hair framing his face, and the mischievous smile on him that widened with every step closer to us.

The sound of his hands landing on the side of our table echoes in my mind, jolting me out of my trance. "Partyin' without me, I see?" Dallas remarks, his gaze sweeping over all of us. Silence hangs in the air, and every eye turns to me, awaiting my reaction. With a nonchalant air, Dallas slides into the booth next to me, to my left.

"What's this I hear about you, doll? Not wanting to see me, your knight in shinin' armor?" He keeps his gaze locked on me, casually draping an arm over my shoulders. I can't help but wince at his touch, my muscles involuntarily tensing. He notices the change and slowly retracts his arm, his hand then guiding my chin upward. "What's wrong?" he inquires, his expression taking on a more serious tone. At that moment, the waitress approaches with Dallas's milkshake, her attire even more revealing. She twirls her hair and sweetens her voice, attempting to engage Dallas in conversation, capturing everyone's attention.

But I can't hear them, I don't want to hear them.

I am still in the same position Dallas left me when his hand moved away from my face, but now tears are clouding my vision and streaming down my face. My mind drifts back to that night, recalling the moment when I opened my eyes to someone carrying me, calling me "doll," and offering reassurance. It's hard to believe it was Dallas, given how I woke up in the evening with the gang surrounding me, while he lingered in the corner, smoking a cigarette and then leaving without a word. And now, as he disregards my wishes and shows up at the diner anyway, it's as if he possesses a different, unseen side to him, hidden away in the shadows.

"What's wrong with her?" I overheard the waitress say, her face filled with disgust but painted to impress. The rest of the boys noticed the change in my demeanor. Dallas, in particular, appeared increasingly concerned for me. He waved the waitress away, and they all began bombarding me with questions. However, I couldn't comprehend their words, and I didn't want to be there, especially not in such a vulnerable state. I hastily wiped away the tears from my face and stood up. "Please, move," I nearly begged Dallas. He complied and rose from his seat, attempting to speak again “doll I didn-”, but I rushed past him toward the restrooms at the back of the diner. And slammed the door shut behind me.

I closed the toilet lid and sat down, the mirror conveniently placed in front of me, reflecting my tear-stained face. I despised that reflection, feeling like it portrayed weakness when I needed to be strong. I was weak. With my face buried in my hands and my eyes tightly shut, but that just made things worse I started seeing their faces and their expressions the way they were laughing at me. I couldn't stand to be in front of the boys, but being in the bathroom.. alone only made things more devastating.

The door handle turned, and I realized I must have left it unlocked. I hastily wiped the fresh tears from my face before the person could see me. It was Johnny. He gently closed the door behind him and locked it. He came over, kneeling in front of me, and took hold of my trembling hands, reassuring me that everything would be alright. In the dimly lit bathroom, Johnny shared a part of his past, how he had been jumped by the Socs long before I knew him, how they had beaten him so badly that he ended up in the hospital. He spoke of sleepless nights plagued by nightmares, the fear that gripped him upon waking, and the haunting sound of passing cars.

I tried to tell him how weak I felt and how what happened to me wasn't as serious as what Johnny had endured. I felt like I was just being a baby. But Johnny wouldn't hear it. He told me, "You are not in the wrong, y/n. Somethin' did happen, and it was very wrong. You should not brush it off. You were assaulted, and it was their fault. They should be punished for their disgusting actions, not you. Don't punish yourself, and don't belittle your feelings." Johnny's words made me feel validated, and I couldn't hold back the tears any longer. They flowed freely as he wrapped his arms around me in a tight, comforting embrace.

Chapter Text

It felt like hours before I could gather the courage to touch up my face and finally leave the bathroom. When I opened the door back into the diner, my ears were immediately filled with the lively sounds of chatter and laughter. The contrast between the bustling atmosphere here and the cold, quiet loneliness of the bathroom was stark. Walking beside Johnny, I found solace in his presence. Though he wasn't physically imposing, his heart was one of the biggest I had ever encountered.

Approaching our table, I noticed that the boys had vacated their seats. I glanced at Johnny, my voice wavering as I inquired, "W-where did they go?" My words trailed off. Johnny offered a reassuring smile and replied, "Let's step outside for some fresh air. They probably got tired of waitin'." Though I felt a pang of disappointment at not being able to finish my milkshake, I agreed and followed him outside.

Johnny and I left the diner, heading to the nearest park. As we strolled through its pathways, we engaged in conversation. Johnny was typically reserved around larger groups, but when it was just the two of us, it felt like a door opened to a whole new world of topics and discussions. There was so much more to him than met the eye. I began sharing details of my life prior to meeting the gang, and surprisingly, we found common ground in our experiences. By the end of the afternoon, I felt a sense of rejuvenation and renewal, as if I could truly conquer the world, despite the challenges. Strangely, even if I had wanted to cry, there were no tears left in me. In that moment, I found a profound sense of peace within myself.

Johnny and I made our way to the Curtis house, the sound of laughter and conversation echoing from inside. As we stood at the front door, I took a deep breath, preparing myself for what lay ahead. Johnny, ever the supportive friend, opened the door and followed me in. Upon entering, I was met with a sea of surprised expressions from the group: Pony, Two-Bit, Darry, Dallas, Steve, and even Sodapop. Everyone had likely heard about the events of the previous night and the diner incident, even if they hadn't been there in person. Johnny and I walked further into the living room, and it seemed like the gang had momentarily forgotten how to react. However, as if on cue, they snapped out of their daze and started bombarding me with questions. They ushered us to sit on the couch where Pony was already seated.

"Are you okay?" "Will ya be okay?" "Do you want anythin'?" "Do you need a hug?" "Should we kick Dallas out?" The questions came rapid-fire. Johnny attempted to intervene, suggesting they give me some space, but his words were drowned out by the barrage of questions. Finally, he raised his voice, practically shouting, "GUYS, MAYBE YOU SHOULD GIVE HER SOME SPACE!" The room fell silent. I did my best to answer the questions. "Yes, yes, no, already got one from Johnny," I replied to those I could remember. Then, with a hint of a smile, I added, "And no, Dallas can stay." Dallas seemed surprised by my response, and I hoped this decision would help avoid making enemies within the group. As the gang settled back into their various activities, from playing poker to watching TV and indulging in cake, I decided to step outside for some fresh air.

Quietly closing the door behind me, I settled down on the front porch stairs and turned my gaze to the sunset. The sky transformed, shifting through a gradient of hues as it grew progressively darker. Lost in my thoughts, I didn't hear the door open again until someone joined me on the stairs. I glanced over to see Dallas. He seemed different from the guy I encountered at the drive-in or the diner a touch gentler perhaps. With a simple hum, I acknowledged his presence and kept my eyes on the changing sky. Dallas broke the silence, passing me... my milkshake? I couldn't believe my eyes.

"DALLAS!?" I exclaimed, a jumble of questions and astonishment bubbling up within me. I couldn't find the right words, so I burst into laughter, and to my surprise, he smiled. "You... you brought me the whole glass!?" I managed to say amid my laughter. "How – why –" I continued, very amused by the situation. I couldn't stop laughing as I asked, "How did you do that?"

"I asked politely," he replied, rolling his eyes. We both knew that wasn't true. "You stole it?" I questioned further. "Desperate times call for desperate measures," he chuckled. It had been a few hours, so the milkshake was far from good, but the gesture warmed my heart coming form him. "Thank you, Dallas," I said sincerely. He didn't meet my gaze, instead focusing on a ring he was fiddling with. "No problem, man," he mumbled, his voice soft. "I'll see you then," he said abruptly, getting up and walking off the property. "Bye!" I called after him, but he didn't look back. As he walked away, I couldn't help but admit to myself that he wasn't as annoying as I had initially thought.

As the evening turned cooler, I made my way back inside the house. We sat down for dinner with Two-Bit, Steve, and Johnny. After the meal, the three of them left, and I offered to wash the dishes. With the dishes cleaned and put away, I made up the couch with fresh sheets. The room dimmed as the light was turned off. Exhaustion weighed on me; the past twenty-four hours had been an emotional rollercoaster. I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer and drifted into a slumber as soon as my head hit the pillow.

---

This time when I woke up, nothing was quiet. The TV blared with Mickey Mouse, Steve and Two-Bit, each with a beer in hand, sat on the floor, absorbed in the cartoon. Pony and Johnny, on the other hand, had taken over the kitchen. Their laughter filled the room, carrying quite loudly. Amidst the noise, Soda and Darry were racing around the house in a frantic search. "I'M GONNA BE LATE, GET OUT OF MY WAY," Darry's voice rang out. "NO WAY, I'M ALSO LATE, AND WHERE IS MY HAIR COMB?!" Soda shot back. "DID YOU TAKE MY COMB, PONYBOY?!" I witnessed Ponyboy darting out of the kitchen and through the front door, followed closely by Soda. "HEY, WAIT FOR ME, SODA!" Steve called out chugging the beer and hurrying out after them. Darry followed at a much more leisurely pace, hopped into his truck, and drove off. Meanwhile, Two-Bit and Johnny also decided to head out, discussing their plans as they left.

I just sat there on the couch, a little dumbfounded. Nobody said a word to me, and everyone went about their own business. The house, which had been bustling with activity just moments ago, turned quiet in seconds. I rose from the couch, taking my time to freshen up, get dressed, and prepare a sandwich from the random ingredients I found in the fridge. As I peered into the fridge, my thoughts wandered to the state of this house.

In gratitude for their hospitality and the food they provided, I decided the best way to repay them was by cleaning the house. I embarked on my cleaning mission, dusting, vacuuming, and tidying up every corner of the house. I quickly finished the living and dining room and proceeded to tackle the bathroom. The condition of the bathroom was quite appalling, and to my surprise, no one had returned home yet.

By the time I finished cleaning the bathroom and moved on to the kitchen, I heard the door open. I glanced in the direction of the sound to find Dallas entering with a cigarette between his lips, surveying the environment. Once he spotted me, he greeted me with a nonchalant "Heya, doll," and started inspecting the rooms. I returned the greeting with a simple "Hi" and continued scrubbing the countertop, I could sense his subtle admiration.

"Are ya alone?" Dallas inquired as he paused in the kitchen. "Yeah," I mumbled, still focused on my cleaning. "Alright then, I guess I'll come back later," he responded, turning towards the door. "You don't wanna stay with me?" I questioned, making a playful remark. He turned back around. "Am I too boring for ya?" I asked with a smile, arching an eyebrow. "Extremely," he retorted, rolling his eyes and sauntering over to lean on the table.

"You're such an asshole, Dallas," I said, chuckling. "What did I do, except maybe take your breath away?" he replied, I didn't even need to look at him to know that he was smirking. "Very annoying," I commented as I went to wash the rag in the sink. "I know ya like me!" Dallas called out. "YEAH RIGHT!" I shouted back. I returned to the room and turned my back to him once again.

"Hey, hey, I think ya missed a spot, sweetheart," Dallas teased, laughing softly under his breath. I spun around to find a pile of ash on the table I had just cleaned.

"DALLAS WINSTON!" I shouted, throwing the rag at his face. "YOU ARE GOING TO GRAB THIS RAG AND WIPE THE TABLE!". He looked genuinely surprised but followed my orders. I couldn't help but laugh at his sudden obedience. "You're somethin' else, man," he commented as he handed it back to me after swiping at the table carelessly. "Thank you! You're a darlin'," I said before moving on to clean the next room.

I reached the door of a room I hadn't been in yet, but when I tried to open it, it wouldn't budge. Dallas caught up to me, saying in a more sympathetic tone, "That's their parents' room. It's always been locked since their passin'."

"Oh," I replied, not knowing what else to say. I turned around to face Dallas, and we were suddenly very close. My face turned a little red due to the proximity, and I looked down, backing up against the door. His hand gently lifted my chin, making me meet his eyes. I noticed faint freckles on his cheeks that seemed to not have been there before.

The front door swung open with a bang. "Y/N, ARE YA STILL HERE?" Ponyboy's voice echoed through the house. I quickly slid out of Dallas's playful hold and walked into the living room to greet them. "Hi, Pony, Johnny, where were you?" I asked, but they seemed to ignore my question, too busy being amazed at how spotless the house now looked, except for their own junk, which I had left untouched. Dallas walked out to stand behind me. "You... you're amazing, Y/N. I haven't seen this place look so clean since..." Ponyboy's voice trailed off, almost inaudible by the end.

"I really should go now," I said, grabbing my few belongings and walking towards the door. Dallas offered to walk me home. "Yeah, alright, jerk," I mumbled as I walked past him onto the street. He caught up with me, asking, "A jerk, huh? Is that what you were thinking before we were interrupted?" My face heated up as I recalled the earlier moment. "Yes, precisely. You're a jerk," I replied confidently. "Haha, if you say so," Dallas said, lighting another cigarette. We continued walking until we reached my street. "Shoo now, I'm fine from here," I told him, not wanting to reveal exactly where I lived. "Is this your home?" he teased, pointing at a nearby trashcan. I couldn't help but laugh. "Precisely!" I replied

"Precisely..." Dallas chuckled, walking off. "If ya say so, doll." He waved his hand, and I rolled my eyes in response. Walking home with a smile on my face.

---

Ponyboy and I had planned a study group for ourselves, though two people don't make much of a group, Johnny and Two-Bit decided to tag along.

When the final bell rang on Monday, I hastily gathered all my study materials and rushed over to the front of my school. As I arrived, I could see the boys waiting on the other side of the road, right across from the school. Crossing the road to join them, I cheerfully greeted them, and they all returned the greeting. Together, we headed towards the library, but not before making a quick stop at a corner store. It seemed they all suddenly ran out of cigarettes, though I had a feeling they were more interested in avoiding studying.

The small bell above the store's entrance jingled as we entered, catching the attention of the cashier. While the boys tended to their cigarette needs, I wandered through the store, perusing its contents. Turning a corner, I spotted a familiar head of hair. Dallas was attempting to stuff something into his pocket while keeping a watchful eye on the cashier. I didn't condone stealing, despite having some childhood experiences myself. I contemplated saying something to him, but Dallas seemed to anticipate my intentions. He quickly grabbed me, his hand covering my mouth, and practically dragged me out of the store. The rest of the gang and the surprised cashier watched us in amazement as I was pulled outside. 

As soon as we hit the street, my initial shock wears off, and I manage to wriggle out of his grip. "DALLAS!" I can't help but shout at him. He shushes me, pressing a finger to my lips, and chuckles at his previous actions.

Asshole

I slap him across the face and walk away from him. "Aw, come on, doll, this can hurt no one," he says, almost pleading as he approaches me. He reaches over my shoulder and offers a pack of cherry sours. I take a moment to consider his peace offering. "Okay, but only as compensation for what I had to go through in there," I say sarcastically, accepting the candy from his hand and turning to face him. 

Opening the wrapping, I put one in my mouth and ask, "How did you know I liked these anyway?" Dallas thinks for a moment before grinning, "Intuition." I cock an eyebrow in response to his answer. "Thanks," I mumble, and walk past Dallas to join Ponyboy, Johnny, and Two-Bit who had just left the store.

"Ready?" I ask them. They all wear a somewhat dejected expression but nod. I put the candy in my bag, and we continue on our way to the library.

"HEY, WAIT!" Dallas shouts, catching up to us. "Where are y'all goin'?" he asks. "You wouldn't enjoy it," I reply, and we keep walking. "No, tell me," he persists, "You'll get bored," I say.

"C'mon, doll, it couldn't be much more borin' than what I was planning to do anyway," he says, grabbing my wrist to stop me. "Alright, come with us then. We're going to the library," I tell him with a smile. This time he stops in his tracks, "Wait, what?" he asks, but before he can change his mind, I take his arm and lead him toward the library, which we've just reached.

Inside, we find a quiet corner table with not many people around. Dallas takes a seat to my left, Johnny on my right, and Ponyboy and Two-Bit sit in front of us. I take out my workbooks and begin writing.

"No smoking allowed in libraries," I inform Dallas as he reaches into his pocket for a cigarette. He gives me a disappointed look but complies. A few minutes pass, and Dallas is rocking in his chair, observing the people in the library. Ponyboy is writing something in his own book, while Johnny and Two-Bit...

"What are you doing?" I ask them, and they all look up at me. "Shouldn't you do some work?" I add, confused. "Uh, well... we were hoping..." Two-Bit starts, "We don't really know what to do, man," Johnny quickly finishes. "Hmm, alright, here, let's start with this," I say, taking out a book. I guess the reason they're here is to get tutored by me. I work with Johnny and Two-Bit for half an hour, being cautious of Dallas' movements and actions.

"Dallas," I say in a stern voice when he tries to place his feet on the table we're at. He removes them. Dallas entertains himself with his ring, twisting and turning it. You'd think his finger would have fallen off by now.

"So, what is it you were planning to do that couldn't be more boring than this?" I ask him with a smirk. Dallas rolls his eyes at me. The next thing he tries is leaning into me and twirling my hair in his hand. I ignore it, focusing on Johnny and Two-Bit. This seems to make Dallas annoyed. So he begins poking my cheek with his finger. "Y/n, y/n, doll-", "WHAT?", I say also a little annoyed, he's stunned at my reaction for a second. "Shut your trap, Dallas, and let us work. God, you're annoying," I say, going back to what I was doing.

Dallas sits there for a moment but eventually decides to get up and go wander the library. I do later regret saying that.. it seemed unnecessarily harsh.

"What's his problem? Why doesn't he just leave?" Ponyboy asks, looking up from his textbook. "I don't know," I say, writing something down. "You know he's being awfully nice to you," Two-Bit adds. "He's only like that with Johnny usually."

"Yeah, that's some 'nice' he is," I say, chuckling and looking around, trying to spot him, but to no avail. "No, I'm serious, the way you talk to him... he'll never allow anyone else, man," Two-Bit says again. I shrug it off and go back to tutoring them. They are helpless, really.

Ponyboy is a freshman, and I'm a junior, but so is Two-Bit because he failed last year and had to stay. Johnny recently informed me of his want to go back to school, so I'm helping him study for a placement exam.

A couple of hours pass, and we decide to pack up and go home. "I'm so out of it, man..." Johnny moans as we carry ourselves out of the stuffy library and into the fresh evening breeze of a spring afternoon. The sun is still out, and the streets are active. We turn the corner, and there, lying on the bench, asleep with his head hanging off the edge and a cigarette in one hand, is Dallas Winston.

I walk over to him quietly and sit on the side of the bench, reaching for his hair. I tug at his soft locks. "Wake up, handsome, or the fuzz will catch you," I coo at him. His eyes flutter open, and before I can stand up, he pulls me into an embrace, seemingly wanting to go back to sleep and closing his eyes. "Shut up, doll," he mumbles.

This catches me off guard. I jerk out of his hold and jump back to the rest of the gang. They are all laughing at this. Dallas slowly sits up at the absence of me from his grasp and rubs his eyes, bringing the dimmed cigarette to his mouth. This doesn't do anything, so he just throws it on the ground and fishes out a new one. I watch the way he does this, unaware of his surroundings or what I might be feeling because of his actions. He seems to be in his own little world, lighting the cigarette on his necklace that he always wears.

Finally, he stands up and looks at the sky for a moment before bringing his eyes down to me. "Well, c'mon, doll, I'll walk ya home," he says, beginning to walk in the direction of my residence. I wave goodbye to the rest of the boys and follow behind him. "You didn't have to stay," I say, catching up to his side. "I... I wanted to," he replies, keeping his eyes on the footpath. "You were bored, though. Admit it," I tease. "Yeah, well, I got a nap out of it," he chuckles.

Soon we arrive on my street, and I make sure to walk behind him. But he keeps going all the way to my house. "How'd ya know where I live?" I ask him, observing his face for clues to his impossible persona. "I got my ways," he says, brushing it off. "Thank you for walkin' me home, stalker," I say, grinning at him as I open the front door. "No worries, sweetheart. I'll make sure to visit sometime," Dallas says, winking.

"Goodbye, jerk," I say, closing the door in his face. He stands for a moment, chuckles, and walks off.

Chapter Text

Exhaustion and stress weigh heavily on me. Exams are just a week away, and despite my extensive knowledge, I'm plagued by self-doubt. It feels like all the information I've gathered will evaporate on the day. School days stretch endlessly, each one more miserable than the last. The weather is improving, the temperature rising, and all I can think about is the freedom that awaits me. I yearn to break free from this academic burden and bask in the joy of summer.

It's around 6 pm, and I find myself alone at home. My parents are out, leaving me in a cluttered room, overwhelmed by the schoolwork on my desk. The weight of it all is stifling, and I can't seem to concentrate. My heavy eyelids threaten to close as I'm lost in my thoughts. Suddenly, a sound interrupts my daydreaming. Clink. At first, I'm unsure if it's coming from inside or outside, but then it happens again. Clink. I turn to face my window, realizing that someone is throwing rocks at it.

Approaching the window, I peer outside and discover Dallas Winston, a smirk playing on his lips. I regard him with a somewhat indifferent expression, crossing my arms over my chest. With some reluctance, I open the window and lean on the sill, looking at him. "Whadya want, Dallas?" I inquire, attempting to maintain an air of disinterest. He responds, "Do I need a reason to come visit you, doll?" His smirk remains, and I raise an eyebrow at his casual demeanor and don't answer, "Are you alone?".

"Why would I tell you that?" I say, "Can I come in?", I turn to look around my room, and my eyes land on the pile of schoolwork on my desk, just this is enough for me to answer. "Yes".

I walk over to unlock my front door, and there he is standing. I pause for a moment to observe his posture. Leaning against the door frame, he smirks and leans in close to me. "Hey, sweetheart," he says, his breath warm on my skin. My cheeks flush, and I look away, stepping aside to let him in.

"Take your shoes off, and toss the cigarette," I instruct as he enters. "Alright, alright," he concedes, complying with my request. "Sorry... I can't have the house smelling of smoke," I explain softly. Dallas smiles and surveys the living room, taking in the furniture, the potted plants, the muted color scheme, and the array of electronic gadgets near a desk.

"Wow, what's with all the machines, man?" he asks, drawn to the computer equipment. "My father works with electronics and computers," I respond. Dallas's curiosity is piqued, particularly by the big square boxes with screens and typewriter-like keys. I eventually pull him away from the gadgets and lead him to my bedroom, where I sit him down on the bed to regain his attention.

"What are you here for, Dallas?" I ask him once more. "I don't know, man. I was bored and just wandered over here," he replies, fiddling with his ring. I sigh and sit down at my desk, turning to the work I was doing before. The silence stretches on, taunting me. Even though my back is facing him, I can sense his gaze on me. I decide to grab the book I was reading at the time and sit down on the bed with him, my back against the wall.

"It's so quiet and peaceful here," Dallas starts, gazing out the window. "You can't get this kind of quiet where I live," he continues. "It's so stuffy and loud; you can't even hear your own thoughts." I sympathize with him; I, too, prefer peace and the quiet of my room and the outdoors.

Dallas's head leans against me, and I stay still, immersed in my book. Eventually, he dozes off to sleep. His body radiates warmth, and despite his larger size, his weight doesn't bother me. I forget all about the stress I was experiencing earlier and get lost in the fantasy of my book. Time passes swiftly, one hour, then two, and the sun begins to set on the horizon.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway shatters my peaceful world and jerks me out of my reading. My parents are home. I place the book aside and whisper to wake Dallas. "Dallas! Dallas Winston!" His eyes flutter open, and he lifts his head, looking a bit bewildered. He starts stretching and yawns. "My parents are home!" I whisper. He looks at me, still not fully comprehending the situation. I push him off the bed and open my window. "Out, quickly," I urge.

"Okay, I'll go, I'll go," he yawns again as I hurry to get his shoes from the front doorstep. When I return, he's already perched on the windowsill with his feet hanging outside. "Here," I whisper, passing his shoes. I can hear the front door has already opened. "HONEY, WE'RE HOME!" my mother shouts. Dallas swiftly puts on his shoes and jumps out. I watch him from the window.

"That was the best nap I've had in a long time," he chuckles. "See you," I whisper to him. He winks, walks toward my fence, jumps over it, and turns around with a cigarette already in his mouth, waving goodbye.

---

Friday, May 28, 1965. The final bell rings, and it marks the beginning of a long-awaited summer. I rush out of school with excitement bubbling inside me and make my way to Ponyboy's school. We had planned to meet up and go to the movies together. I arrive at his school and stand waiting at the gate, flipping through a book I picked up at the library.

"Hi, y/n!" Ponyboy waves as he walks up to me, his face beaming. "Hey, Pony, you ready?" I ask. He nods enthusiastically. "Yeah, let's go." As we reach the movie house, there are quite a few people inside, perhaps also celebrating the end of the school year.

"Oh, look, Pony, what about that one? Starring Paul Newman? You like him, don't ya?" I ask, pointing at a large poster with the words 'What a Way to Go' printed on it. "Oh yeah! He's real neat, don't ya think, y/n?" I shrug in response. "I don't think I'm really into the blond, blue-eyed type." Ponyboy smirks and nudges my shoulder, joking, "What do you dig, long-haired greasers then?" I laugh at his comment, but my smile gradually fades. I find myself lost in thought, pondering my own feelings.

Who am I attracted to, really? Definitely not those pesky blond Socs; the mere thought of them sends shivers down my spine. So, what about the greasers then? The only person who keeps coming to mind is Dallas. That handsome devil. He's so annoying, yet I can't seem to keep him out of my head.

My thoughts are interrupted by the lady at the ticket desk. She speaks in a rather monotone voice, "What movie and how many tickets?" Pony responds quickly, "What a Way to Go, two tickets," and starts searching for cash in his pocket. "I'll pay for mine," I say, taking out cash and counting out $0.70, then handing it over to the attendant. With our tickets in hand, we enter the small movie room. Ponyboy and I find a couple of seats somewhere in what we assume is the middle of the room and sit down. The room still bears the lingering haze of cigarette smoke from the previous screening. Not everyone has left; some moviegoers have stayed behind for another round. To our left, a few girls are giggling, there's a mother with a baby in front, a weary-looking businessman behind us, and at the back, a couple is necking, likely unaware that the last movie has ended.

I turn my attention back to the front as the movie begins. I've been to the movie house with Pony a few times now, and I know how he gets when the first light hits the screen. He becomes so engrossed in the movie that you couldn't get a word out of him. So, I sit in silence, enjoying the film just as much.

Ponyboy and I end up sitting through a couple of screenings because we don't have much else to do. When the film concludes for the second time, it's already 8 pm, and I've agreed to have dinner at the Curtis house. When we walk out into the evening sun from the darkness of the movie house all we could think about was the summer ahead.

"Don't you think that was Paul Newman's best performance yet?" Ponyboy looks up at the sky, his gaze filled with longing. "Paul Newman's?" I inquire. "Yeah."

"I think he deserves an Oscar," I respond thoughtfully, also casting a glance at the sky, which is taking on a golden hue. Ponyboy hums in agreement as we continue on to his house. Somewhere along our walk, the rumble of an approaching engine reaches our ears. I can sense my own unease, and Ponyboy must have noticed as he gently places a hand on my shoulder, pulling me closer to him. He looks back to check and reassures me, "Don't worry, y/n, it's just some woman in a fancy Mustang."

But to me, the sound is not just an engine. It grows louder, almost painfully piercing, and it stirs up memories of that night. I can't keep the haunting images at bay. As the car passes us, I barely notice, my gaze fixed on the ground as we walk. We turn into Pony's driveway, and he opens the door, his hand still on my back.

From the kitchen, Darry's voice echoes, "Ponyboy, y/n, is that you?" He peeks out, eyes widening, and utensils dropping to the counter as he rushes toward me while Ponyboy closes the front door. Darry places his hands on my shoulders, his voice laced with concern, "What happened? Are ya hurt?" He looks me up and down, searching for any signs of injury. I bring my hands to my face, covering it finding it hard to control my breathing. Ponyboy speaks for me, "No, no, we saw a Mustang. It just kind of freaked her out." I pull my hands away to look at Darry, uncertainty in my eyes, he breathed out a sigh of relief and backed away from me slightly. "You're alright?", he asked again guiding me to the couch. The haunting images still torment me, their faces and laughter trapped in my mind despite my escape. There I finally noticed Dallas, he was looking up from the couch observing this interaction between Darry and me intently, quietly and not daring to utter a word.

When I sit on the couch, Dallas gently wraps his arm around me, pulling me closer to him. I notice Darry's raised eyebrows, as if warning Dallas about his actions. Dallas's shoulder supports my head, and his mere presence relaxes me, causing the tormenting images in my mind to gradually fade and my breathing to steady.

Still without saying a word, Dallas provides a comforting sanctuary. I focus on his rhythmic breathing, the scent of cheap Kool cigarettes that clings to him, and the texture of his brown leather jacket against my skin. Perhaps it's because Dallas was the one who carried me out of there on that harrowing night, or for some other reason, but his touch brings solace. Everything else fades away, and nothing seems to matter anymore. 

I lift my hand to his chest and turn over the necklace that Dallas always wears to light his cigarettes. The inscription reads, St. Christopher protect us.

Chapter Text

Soon, the rest of the gang starts to pile into the small Curtis house. I pull away from Dallas, engaging in a conversation with Johnny, who just sat down beside us on the couch. At this, Dallas gets up and leaves. He seems a bit uncomfortable, a far cry from his usual confident self. "Soo... Y/n," Johnny says, watching the door shut behind Dallas. I hum in response, my attention also drawn to the door.

"What's up with you an' Dallas?" Johnny asks, turning to look at me. A pause hangs in the air, and I ask, "What?" not entirely sure if I heard him correctly, my thoughts still consumed by Dallas. Johnny repeats his question, "What's up with you and Dallas?" He smirks at me. I glance at the window, which provides a view of Dallas walking away down the street, then back at Johnny. "Nothing is going on," I respond. "Oh, come on, Y/n, I can see the way you two look at each other and how he treats you compared to everyone else," Johnny insists. I contemplate his words.

"Really?" I ask, somewhat surprised. "What, really?" Johnny replies, but he doesn't sound as sure anymore. "I didn't notice, I—" I begin to speak but am interrupted by Darry's shout from the dining room, "DINNER!" He announces, and we all follow into the small room between the living room and the kitchen. The room is lit with a dim light there's a wooden piano tucked into one corner and a desk in the other. The dining table is only meant to fit 5 people but somehow all 7 of us fit in. (That is Darry, Soda, Johnny, Steve, Two-Bit, Pony, and me).

The dinner was nothing short of chaotic, loud, and fun. After the meal, we all sat down to hang out and play poker together in the living room. "Where's Dallas?", I ask the gang and no one seems to mind the question, I get answers like:

"Probably out causin' trouble",

"I don't know man",

"drinkin'",

"picking up some broad".

But Johnny stares at me from across the room judging my question. The conversation I had with him earlier comes back to me and he's probably thinking the same thing. I roll my eyes at him, placing my cards into the circle between the gang winning the pot. They all start moaning and whining, at my 5th win this evening. "How do ya do it y/n?", Two-Bit asks falling backward with his hands to his face, he was very sure he would win this round betting quite a few. I shoot an innocent smile his way and wink. Only Two-Bit, Steve, Johnny, and Soda are still playing, Darry went to sleep a while ago since he has work early tomorrow. He managed to drag Ponyboy into the shower before that. "It's getting late," I yawn, glancing at the clock.

"Alright, all of y'all, out ya go," Sodapop says, getting up. He agreed to drive me home in Darry's truck. "Shhhh, don't make a noise; we don't want to wake anyone," he whispers, hurriedly directing Steve, Johnny, Two-Bit, and me towards the door. When I turn the handle and swing the door open, I am startled to see a figure who was reaching for the door handle himself at that moment.

"Hi, Tim," Two-Bit says from behind me. "Hi," Tim replies almost urgently. He's tall and looks somewhat tired and worn, with slicked-back dark hair, deep blue eyes, and a scar running from his temple down to his chin. He steps aside, and we all walk out. "I'll be taking the couch," Tim says, as if giving a heads up. "Okay," Soda answers, leading us down the front porch stairs, while the front door slams shut.

The others keep walking down the street, while I get in the truck. It's a little rundown and rusty in places, but it seems to start up and work just fine. The car pulls out into the street, and I wave goodbye to Johnny, Two-Bit, and Steve as we pass by them. Then a few minutes of silence follow.

"Who was that?" I ask Soda, breaking the silence. "That... that's Tim Shepard," he pauses to collect his thoughts, "he's a friend of the gang's, and we often scrap together, our gang and his."

"He sleeps on your couch?" I ask but then wonder if that's too much information. "Uh, well, he's kind of all over the place. He has his own place with his siblings, but everyone needs some time away from home sometimes," Soda answers carefully. I nod, acknowledging his answer, and turn to look out the truck window. The sky is completely dark, and the streets are almost perfectly still, with the light from the traffic signals dancing around us. The time is nearing 11 o'clock.

Eventually, the truck pulls into my driveway. "Thank you, Soda," I say as I get out and shut the door. "No problem, goodnight!" He replies, and I return the sentiment before heading inside.

---

Around noon, I finally managed to peel myself off my bed and began to go about my day at a leisurely pace. After washing my face, I prepared some breakfast, which was now technically lunch. Brushing my hair out, I headed out the front door with a book in hand and made my way down the driveway. The warmth of the day and the bright, nearly cloudless sky put me in high spirits. I took my time getting to the Curtis house, relishing the beautiful weather. I wasn't entirely sure what I would do when I got there, but I had planned to spend the whole day.

Rounding the corner onto his street, I jogged up the porch stairs and walked into the open front door. "Hello, Y/n," Two-Bit greeted me from the floor. "Hi. Where's everyone else?" I asked, looking around the room and down the hallway. "They'll be back. They went out somewhere," Two-Bit replied, still engrossed in watching Mickey Mouse chasing something on TV.

I settled onto the couch, asking Two-Bit, "Mind scootching over a bit?" He looked back at me with a touch of confusion but complied, shifting slightly for me to watch aswell. "Mickey's my favorite," he confessed, to which I couldn't help but chuckle, noting the Mickey Mouse shirt he was sporting. "Yeah, I can see that," I teased, acknowledging his choice. He smiled at me and returned his attention to the action on TV. We sat together in silence, enjoying the cartoon, and it was a comfortable, easy quiet.

After some time, I heard the shouts of boys from outside. First, Ponyboy and Johnny came running into the house, breathless and laughing about something. They paused, their hands on their knees as they tried to catch their breath. "Hi, hi, Y/n," they managed to huff out as they glanced at me. "Hello," I greeted, a smile spreading.

Shortly after, Dallas entered, slightly out of breath but not as visibly as Pony and Johnny. He tossed a cigarette out the open front door and slumped onto the couch next to me. Resting his arms and head on the back of the couch, right after he ran a hand through his hair. He stayed like that for a moment before tilting his head toward me and asking, "What are you starin' at?" A smirk formed on his face. I couldn't help but smile. "Don't flatter yourself," I playfully replied, moving his face aside with my hand.

As I started to get up from the couch, Dallas's hand grasped my wrist. I looked down at him and saw that he noticed the scars that are yet to fade, "What?" I asked. He mumbled, "Nothin'," softening his grasp before releasing my wrist, leaning his head back on the couch again. It seemed as though he wanted something but wasn't quite sure how to ask for it.

"Ya want a coke?" I offered, addressing the whole group, with affirmations from Johnny and Pony, "YES!" Dally simply nodded, which I took as a yes. I headed to the kitchen, grabbing a few bottles from the fridge and passing them to the boys who had seated themselves on the floor with Two-Bit. Returning to the couch, I handed the last one to Dallas. He took it and promptly downed the whole bottle in a single swig. I stared at him in surprise.

Once Dallas finished the bottle, he handed it to me, I couldn't help but chuckle as I pushed it back to him. "You didn't say the magic words, mis-ter," I teased. He glanced over at me and smoothly looped his arm around my back, pulling me in for a kiss on the cheek, and uttered a lazy, "Thank you, sweetheart." I smiled, my face flushed with a mixture of surprise and delight, and pushed him away once again.

With the empty bottle in hand, as I walked off to dispose of it in the bin, I saw Johnny smirking as I walked by. Upon my return to the room, I found Dallas lounging on the sofa with his legs stretched out. I crossed my arms and looked at him, conveying a sense of annoyance at his lack of movement. He appeared as if he had just noticed me and gave me an expression that silently asked, "What's wrong?" Expecting he wasn't going to move, I decided to march out of the front door and sat down on the porch stairs with my book. Dallas moved the curtains behind the couch to see me and shouted, "HEY DOLL, YOU CAN SIT ON MY LAP, YA KNOW!" Laughter from the others followed his comment, but I merely extended my middle finger in his direction, not bothering to turn around to look at him. Really I was smiling, enjoying this playful banter.

I read my book in silence, spending most of the day on the porch since Dallas had made his initial entrance. As the time neared 6 o'clock, I finished my book and decided to reenter the house. Inside, the scene was much the same as when I'd left - Two-Bit, Pony, and Johnny on the floor in front of the TV, and Dallas on the couch, now in a peaceful slumber. I hatched a plan to awaken him. I sneaked into the bathroom and filled a pot with water. Returning to the living room, I stood over the peacefully sleeping Dallas. I mouthed to the boys, "3... 2... 1..." and then spilled the water all over his face and torso.

Dallas reacted with lightning speed, springing up and pulling out a switchblade, pointing it right at me. I froze in place, holding my hands up as though I was being arrested, one hand clutching the pot. After a moment, of him wiping the water from his face, he lowered the blade and stared at me, mouth slightly agape in astonishment. I couldn't contain myself any longer and burst into laughter, joining in with the other boys. Dallas appeared ready to tackle me with the switchblade, so I quickly threw the pot at him and made a run for it, darting out of the front door and down the street.

It took Dallas a moment to sheathe the blade, toss the pot at Two-Bit (who was laughing the hardest), and then sprint out of the front door in pursuit of me.

Despite my initial head start and lighter frame, I soon grew tired, not being used to running around much. Dallas quickly closed the gap and caught up to me. He grabbed me from behind, still soaking wet, and pulled my back into his chest. I laughed and struggled to get out of his grasp, both of us thoroughly exhausted. After a while, our laughter subsided, and Dallas rested his face against the side of my neck and shoulder. I moved my hands to hold onto his arms, which were wrapped tightly around my waist, and dropped my head against his. We stood there in the middle of the street, trying to catch our breath.

Finally, Dallas shifted his head, and his lips grazed the side of my neck, igniting something within me. He turned his face to look at me from above, his intense eyes tracing the features of my face. A loud car horn honked, breaking the silence, and Dallas whispered a "sorry" to me and led me off the road onto the sidewalk holding onto my waist. His hand eventually dropped off my waist as we neared the Curtis house. He didn't follow me inside but stayed out on the porch. I glanced back at him, and he slightly looked up at me while lighting a cigarette.

Inside the house, Johnny jumped up and mimicked examining me, "He didn't hurt ya, did he?" he asked with a nervous laugh. "Nah, don't worry, he's under control," I reassured him. "Hey Y/n, there's a party at Bucks tonight. Wanna come with me and Dallas?" Two-Bit asked, getting up off the floor. "Yeah, I guess. I haven't been to too many parties, though," I admitted. "Oh, you'll be dandy," he said, patting my back and heading out onto the front porch. "When is it?" I asked, following him. Two-Bit glanced at Dallas, waiting for an answer. "11," Dallas said between puffs of smoke. "Alright, I'll be heading home then," I said as I descended the porch steps. "Why?" Two-Bit asked, "Well, because I want dinner and need to change," I replied, slightly confused. "You doll yourself up, and I'll pick you up then," Dallas suggested through another exhale of smoke. I nodded and walked away. "Bye!" I called out, waving to them. "BYE!" Two-Bit shouted, imitating my wave mockingly. Dallas slapped him on the back of his head and smiled at me.

At home, I did just as I mentioned to them. Ate dinner with my family and changed into a dress fit for the occasion. I sat down to wait. It was getting late, and Dallas was still nowhere to be seen. Soon, I heard a knock at my window. I circled over to it and opened it slowly and quietly. "Dallas, you're late," I said sternly. "Yeah, yeah, I know, doll," he said. "I... I just got caught up with some business..." He turned his head and mumbled off somewhere.

"What are you doin' here, at my window?" I asked, somewhat perplexed. "Well, can't have your parents seein' me, huh, doll?" he answered, smiling cheekily. I raised an eyebrow. "Right, of course. Why would my parents let me leave with someone of the likes of you?" I replied sarcastically, he only playfully batted his lashes. Shutting the window, I went to the living room and explained to my mother that I would be out very late and not to wait up for me. She didn't like that, of course, going to bed without knowing I was safe, but she complied when I said I'd be accompanied by two guy friends - of course she didn't know they were greasers. Teenagers will be teenagers, after all.

I walked out the front door and shut it behind me, looking for Dallas around the driveway. I somehow spotted the cloud of smoke from behind a electricity pole on the other side of the street. Walking over, sure enough, he was there waiting. "Hey, doll," he said, turning towards me. He stared at me for a moment, I could see he was looking me up and down. "What?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest suddenly feeling really conscious about my outfit "Nothin', c'mon, let's go," he replied hurriedly, grabbing my hand and dragging me out onto the road.

I looked down and noticed the bruises and blood on his knuckles. It wasn't super visible as it was dark out, but noticeable enough. "Dallas, what kind of business did you say you were attending?" I asked carefully, gripping his hand tighter. "Oh, uh, it's nothin', don't concern you," he replied and then turned to look at me, noticing I was examining his hand. He quickly snatched it from my grasp into his other hand.

"Did you get in a fight?" I asked again, wondering if it was even okay to ask him this. He seemed a little... unstable. "Yeah," he mumbled. I jogged up to his side, looking at him carefully, noticing his furrowed eyebrows. "You're okay?" I asked, concerned. "Yeah, man, it's not uncommon, ya know, I'm a greaser," he replied, seemingly confident in his words. "And I'm a real tough one at that!" He added proudly, giving me a reassuring smile. I smiled back at him, deciding to not push the conversation.

Chapter Text

Dallas remained uncharacteristically quiet for the rest of the walk to the party. We eventually arrived at the venue, only to find that it was a bar. Panic started to creep in as I realized my age might be an issue. I turned to Dallas, voicing my concern, "Dallas, I'm only 17. Do you think they'll let me in?" In response, he let out a chuckle and assured me, "Don't worry man, they know me here. I always stay here, they'll make an exception for you."

"Wait, you live here?" I asked, taken aback by this revelation. The bar's entrance bathed the surroundings in an overwhelming mix of noise and red light. The intensity was such that it felt like the radiance could be noticed from outer space. Dallas, seemingly undisturbed, simply commented, "Ya learn to deal with it" as he pushed the door open and lead me in with an arm at my waist.

When we entered, the room was drenched in that monochromatic red, and the sheer intensity of the visual assault made everything seem surreal. People stopped in their tracks, and I couldn't help but feel their gazes were fixed on me. However, I soon noticed that the women were also eyeing Dallas and whispering to each other, leaving me wondering what they meant. Dallas came to a halt at the bar counter, and over the din, I could hear him place an order, "Two beers, Buck," addressing, I assumed, the guy behind the bar. I stepped closer to Dallas and leaned in to tell him that I didn't want a drink, but amidst the noise, he didn't seem to hear me or notice my presence. So, I tugged at his shirt to get his attention. He turned around to face me, leaning his back and elbows on the counter behind bim, and asked, "What's wrong, doll?" His voice barely carried over the loud chatter. I repeated myself, raising my voice, "I don't want to drink."

"Oh, come on, ya need to loosen up," he insisted, his hand gently tracing the waves of my hair. I shrugged off his touch, prompting him to reach for one of the bottles Buck had just placed on the counter for us. "No, Dallas, please, no drinks," I urged. Just as I spoke, someone pushed past behind me, shoving me into Dallas. I cursed under my breath, when I turned to face him again, he was gazing at me. "Okay, no drinks," he promised, reaching to touch my face again.

Before we could continue, our conversation was interrupted by Two-Bit, who strolled in from what seemed to be the blue room. "Hey, you two," he greeted us. I pushed away from Dallas and turned to face Two-Bit. "Hi," I replied. "They're playin' cutthroat in the other room. Wanna join?" Two-Bit directed his question to Dallas. "Doll?" Dallas turned his attention to me. "Uhm, I'll stay here," I said, taking a seat at the counter (having never been into pool-games particularly). "Alright, suit yourself," Dallas said as he followed Two-Bit, and the two of them disappeared through two archways into the room that was blasting a contrasting blue light to the red.

In reality, I was quite scared and didn't want to be left alone. But I knew that I'd never grow up if I didn't try new things. Perhaps it was time to loosen up and strike up a conversation with someone here. I didn't want to end up following Dallas and Two-Bit around the entire night, especially considering that the other girls had been giving me dirty looks. So, I perched on a stool in front of the counter, taking a moment to contemplate whether I should venture out, maybe try dancing or something. After all, I hadn't been to many parties, let alone bars. Feeling a bit more determined, I caught the attention of Buck, the bartender, and asked for a glass of cola. I took a few sips to bolster myself, then got up and started walking in the opposite direction from the other boys.

I wandered into a room where every corner and every inch of wall space seemed occupied by couples necking, which made me quite uncomfortable. As I looked around, I accidentally walked straight into a tough-looking boy. He had short, dark hair and unusually expressive eyes that almost looked like he had makeup on. He wore a leather jacket and had an earring dangling from one ear. "Watch where you're goin', broad," he snapped at me, his height towering over mine. I'm pretty sure my eyes must have been wide in surprise because he began backing me against the wall. "What are you starin' at... hm?" he demanded. "Looking for somethin' to do?" he added, smiling a wide, toothy grin.

With ease, he took the glass I still had in my hand and placed it somewhere. I couldn't help but notice that there were a few guys behind him, presumably his friends. His hands snaked around my waist, and I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the situation. I knew I needed to find someone and get out of this as soon as possible. Somehow I followed my intuition to escape and slid past the guy's grasp, fleeing to the other room. It wasn't easy to push past the drunk crowd of people, but my stature helped me navigate without being noticed easily. Looking back every few seconds, I could see them wondering around. I managed to push through the crowd and entered the room with the pool table, where I found Dallas and Two-Bit engaged in a game with a group people, others watching intently. I practically ran into Dallas as soon as I entered.

"Hey, hey, are you alright?" Dallas asked, placing his hands on my shoulders to steady me. I looked back towards the other room and then at him. He showed a hint of genuine concern for my well-being. "Uhm, yeah, I just..." I began to explain, but he interrupted with a question, "Is someone botherin' you?" I nodded, directing my gaze down the hallway where the guy was still looking for me. By this point, Two-Bit had also noticed my worry and was scanning the crowd himself. Rolling up his sleeves, Two-Bit and then Dallas walked past me into the crowd, heading towards the others. A blonde lady who had been observing the pool game approached me and asked, "Are ya alright?" She sat me down in a nearby chair. I nodded, not wanting to lose sight of the boys.

I watched as Dallas confronted the guy who had made a pass at me. It looked like a fight was about to break out, with shouts as they dragged the guy and his friends outside of the building. "Want a cigarette, or maybe a drink?" the woman offered, I declined, but she still shoved a full glass into my grasp. "Is this alcohol?" I asked her, "no".

A considerable amount of time passed before she attempted to strike up a conversation with me again. I think she sensed my growing concern about what was happening outside. "How do ya know them?" she asked, taking a drag of her cigarette. "We're friends," I replied. "Oh yeah?" She asked in return, curious about my involvement.

"I'm with Two-Bit," she said, smiling and blowing smoke in my direction. I returned her smile, assuming she was trying to cheer me up, and waved away the smoke from my face. "Dallas is... somethin', I've gotta say," she started. I laughed nervously, "Oh, I'm not... Dating him or anything.."

"Hmm, I was almost certain..." she began saying something more, but my head started spinning, and I got quite dizzy for a moment. I brushed it off as fatigue from everything happening. Just then, I saw Dallas and Two-Bit walking back in. Two-Bit had a bruise on his right cheekbone, but Dallas, well, he looked as perfect as always, running his hand through his hair.

I walked around to where Dallas and Two-Bit were already being interrogated by the blonde. "What happened?" I asked as I joined in, concern showing in my voice. "Don't worry, they won't come near ya anymore," Dallas said, placing a reassuring hand on my waist and leading me over to the pool table. I tried to get a good look at his face to assess any injuries, but he pushed me gently away. It was frustrating how he didn't tell me things. I mean, I was part of this as much as he was. I felt like I deserved to know what was going on.

Third-Person POV

For a moment, she stumbled, catching Dallas's attention. He turned to examine her, asking, "Are you okay?" She shook her head, as if trying to clear her mind, and headed back to the chair she was sitting in earlier. "I don't feel so good, actually," she answered, stretching her words near the end. Dallas didn't break his gaze away, his curiosity piqued. "Are ya drunk?" he asked. She did decline his drink earlier. "No, I couldn't be," she replied with a nervous laugh and reached for the glass, downing it in one gulp.

Dallas thought nothing of it and returned to the pool game with Two-Bit. Y/n continued to stare at Dallas, wondering what had transpired outside. Her thoughts kept returning to that, but she tried to push them aside as the music from the other room caught her attention. She wasn't sure if it was a good idea, given what had happened earlier. However, with those guys gone, she figured there couldn't be any harm in exploring what the party had to offer. Slowly, she leaped off her chair and ventured toward the room where the music was blaring, and people were dancing with abandon. The song playing was 'Dancing in the Street,' and Dallas kept a watchful eye on her as he followed her into the room. He told the people at the pool table, "Games over, boys," and walked off.

He pushed his way through the crowd, and y/n was dancing now. She noticed him and walked over, placing her hands on his shoulders. "Hey, Dally," she laughed. Her use of 'Dally' surprised him; she had never called him that before. "Dally, Dal," she called out to him. "What?" he asked, grabbing her by the waist because she wasn't standing straight. "Ha, dance with me, Dally," she said, spinning him amidst the crowd of people. "No, I'm not dancin' doll," he chuckled at her antics.

"Oh, please, Dal," she pleaded. "No, no, I can't dance, besides, you're drunk," he protested. "I'm not druunk," she replied, slurring her words and raising her hands to wrap around his neck. "Pleaseee," she asked once more, making sure to stare right into his eyes, searching his very soul. "Haha, alright," Dallas gave in to her pleas. It was true; he couldn't dance very well, so he awkwardly moved around while y/n twirled and spun, appearing to have the time of her life. Every few steps, she stumbled a little and held onto him, tightening her grip.

They went at it for a good hour or so until it seemed they both had had enough. "Come on, doll, we should go," Dallas said, trying to lead her off the dance floor. However, she insisted on staying. "Noo, one more song, Dally," she said. The next song was slower than the rest. She tightly wrapped her arms around him and placed her head on his shoulder. Dallas didn't resist, but he didn't seem to encourage it either.

While they were dancing, Two-Bit stumbled upon them. "Glory, when did yall get so close?" he asked, a grin plastered across his face. Dallas was quick to answer, "She's drunk," he said, trying to justify the situation.

"Yeah... Yeah, and when’re ya gonna show her a good time.. move to the bedroom?" Two-Bit laughed. "No, Two-Bit, really, she's drunk," Dallas replied more sternly.

Y/n had heard the words 'bed' and lifted her head off Dallas's shoulder to look at Two-Bit. "Take me to bed, Dallas," she said looking him in the eyes, now being the one to lead them off the dance floor. "Doll, we should get you home," Dallas said, going with her toward the exit. "No, no, Dallas, my parents would kill me," she said, coming to a halt at the exit door. "What am I gonna do with you, then?" he asked her, once again catching her as she stumbled. "Bed, Dallas," she said bluntly, looking toward the staircase to the second floor.

Two-Bit couldn't stop laughing now. "Man, I gotta say the answer's right there in front of you," he laughed. Dallas rolled his eyes at him and looked back once more at y/n. "Okay," he sighed and wrapped an arm around her, leading her up the staircase. This was a little difficult, but eventually, they got to his room. Y/n just walked straight to the bed and collapsed on it, moaning about her head hurting. "Shit, Dal, I am out of it," she said, yawning and making herself comfortable.

In a matter of seconds, she had dozed off.

---

First-Person POV

I finally opened my eyes, the persistent banging becoming increasingly annoying. My vision was hazy, and I struggled to make out my surroundings. I extended my hand, searching for something to anchor me. To my left, I felt a dusty floral curtain, and to my right... Dallas.

"Dallas," I whispered, my confusion growing. Why was he in the bed with me? And where was I?

As I pulled the curtain, the light from the street lamp outside illuminated the unfamiliar room. I had never seen this place before. The walls were battered, and the room was in disarray. The banging continued, and I thought I heard a voice coming from outside the door. "Dallas," I whispered, shaking his sleeping body. He turned over with a sleepy grumble, "Whaddya want, man?" And then, the voice from outside the door sounded again, "DALLAS!" It had a high-pitched, drunken quality, likely belonging to a woman. I watched Dallas's expression shift to irritation as he furrowed his brows, rubbing his eyes. He reluctantly got up from the bed and slowly walked over to open the door.

I sat up, still feeling a little dazed and confused, trying to make out the dark figure behind the door. I strained to listen to their conversation: "Dallas, honey, let's have some fun," she said with a laugh, "like the old times."

"No, Sylvia, get out of here. I'm not interested in cheaters," he replied, making an attempt to shut the door. But Sylvia was persistent. "Oh, come on, baby. I want you, and you want me," she insisted, her hands moving to his shoulders. He shrugged her off firmly, his voice stern and serious, "Sylvia, do ya know what time it is? GET OUT!"

There was a pause in their conversation, and then she started again, her voice losing its previous high pitch, "I heard you found yourself a new slut to screw, huh? I've also heard she's younger," her tone now rude and vulgar. I couldn't help but wonder who she was talking about. "GET OUT, SYLVIA," Dallas shouted. Then she made a bold accusation, "Oh, I get it. She's with you right... in there, isn't she?" In response to this, Dallas shut the door in her face. Her banging against the door was still audible, "FINE, DALLAS. SCREW HER. BUT WE ALL KNOW YOU'RE GONNA COME BACK TO ME, JUST LIKE YOU ALWAYS DO!"

"FUCK YOU," he shouted through the door.

I assumed she left, and Dallas turned around, hands holding his face, and sighed. I thought I heard him mutter something like "bitch," but it might have been my current state of mind playing tricks on me. He looked utterly exhausted. With a deep breath, he placed his hands on his hips, gazing up at the ceiling briefly before locking eyes with me, his expression still serious. The headache I'd been staving off finally caught up with me, and I winced, clutching a hand to my forehead. "Oh, Y/n, do ya need... Wait here," Dallas quickly said before opening the door to check if the woman had left and then disappearing somewhere.

A few minutes passed before he returned, quietly shutting the door behind himself, carrying a glass of water and aspirin. He handed them to me, and I drank the water gratefully. "Thank you, Dallas," I said as it started to take the edge off my headache. Dallas sat on the side of the bed, and I took a moment to collect my thoughts before speaking. "Uhm... where are we? And what happened?" I asked, confusion evident in my voice. "This is one of the rooms at Bucks, I stay here sometimes," Dallas answered quietly, toying with the ring on his finger while surveying the room. "We were at a party downstairs, and you got drunk, even though you specifically told me you didn't wanna drink," he continued, "so I don't know what happened, man." He looked over at me with a mixture of concern and wonder.

I placed the glass on the shelf beside the bed, feeling my wits slowly returning. "I didn't want to drink," I repeated, nodding in agreement. "What happened then?" I attempted to recall the events of the night-what I did, where I went, who I saw. Dallas shrugged, and his eyes held a hint of concern. "What was in the glass you had with you?" he asked. "I remember asking Buck for cola. You don't think he could have...?" I began to say but was cut off. "No, not Buck. He would never..." Dallas reassured me.

I considered the possibility and suddenly my eyes widened. "Holy shit, Dallas," I nearly shouted, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder as another wave of headache washed over me. "What if Two-Bits blonde spiked my drink with somethin', Dallas?" I looked up at him, desperate for answers. But Dallas appeared surprisingly composed.

"Dallas," I insisted, shaking him. "Y/n, I think we should go back to sleep. You need rest," he advised, attempting to pacify me. But I wasn't about to fall back into the abyss of sleep; I was wide awake now. A realization began to dawn on me. I turned to face him again. "What time is it?" I asked. Dallas checked a small dusty clock beside himself. "About 5 AM," he replied. "Oh, I need to go!" I leaped out of the bed, rushing for the door. Dallas, still drowsy, followed after me. "Hey, y/n, slow down. Where are you going so early?" he asked. "I need to get home, Dallas. My father wakes up at 6," I replied, a sense of urgency in my voice. "Okay, wait a second," Dallas said, walking over to the drawers in front of the bed.

I finally noticed his bare figure, though he still had his jeans on. I watched him pull a plain black shirt over his head. He had a nice body, I must admit. Together, we descended the stairs to the first floor. The bar was now completely deserted, with only a few people here and there, slumped against the walls, sound asleep, beer bottles stacked on every possible surface. We carefully navigated our way through the objects and made it out into the street. The cool morning air persisted.

"Here," Dallas said, shoving his jacket into my chest. I grabbed it and wrapped it around my shoulders. The dress I wore did little to protect me against the chilly temperature. "Thanks," I said, looking up at him, but he kept his eyes forward. "Hey, Dallas, what happened?" I asked, "At the party, ya mean?" Dallas interjected. "Ya had a run-in with Curly."

"Who's that?" I asked, puzzled. "The guy with the earring, the one me and Two-Bit slugged," he explained. His face resurfaced in my mind. "Oh," I said. That's certainly not someone I want to meet again.

Dallas continued, "And, well, you went over the edge and danced. You made me dance with you, man." He chuckled softly under his breath. "I'm sorry," I replied, wondering if I had been too much. "No, don't be. It was.. fun," he said with a smile. It was a far cry from the Dallas I'd first met, the one who bothered me and made my stomach churn with the things he said. Now, he was walking me home and offering me his jacket.

"I was real drunk?" I asked, still surprised. "Yeah, you were hella tipped. Every few steps, I had to catch you. I couldn't go anywhere without keepin' an eye on ya," he teased. I laughed a little embarrassed at my actions. As we reached my street, the sun was beginning to rise. Dallas accompanied me to the side of my house. We stood there, both gazing up at my bedroom window. My bedroom is on the first floor but the window is situated so it's around five feet from the ground outside.

"Ya leave it unlocked?" he asked. "I'm not sure," I said, not having anticipated having to sneak back in. "Alright," Dallas said, lifting me by my legs and hoisting me onto his shoulder. I was surprised but didn't say anything, quickly moving to slide the window open, which it did. I sighed with relief. Looking down at Dallas, he moved me forward by my waist and I latched onto the windowsill, helping me the rest of the way inside.

I looked back out the window at him. "Thank you, Dallas," I said, smiling. He smirked back, "Oh also y/n, you told me to take you to bed last night," he teased and began walking off. I stared out the window, my mouth slightly agape in shock. "What.. Dallas?!" I almost screamed. "Shh, you'll wake your parents," he warned, placing a finger to his lips before turning to walk down the driveway.

Chapter Text

I walked up my street, heading to the grocery store, a list of items my mother needed clutched in my hand. The early afternoon sun painted long shadows across the bustling streets, setting the scene. As I turned the corner of a familiar street, I paused, my attention drawn to a weathered sign marked "DX" It was the unmistakable insignia of the gas station. A thought nudged at me was this the station where Sodapop worked? Curiosity took hold, and I decided to investigate. With some time to spare, I approached the gas station. A group of boys encircled a sleek Corvette, and among them was Steve. Spotting me, he made his way over.

"Hi, Y/n," he greeted with a friendly nod. "Hello," I replied, scanning the group to identify the others. Steve couldn't resist asking, "Do ya need somethin'? Are you lookin' for someone?" I hesitated for a moment before responding, "Not particularly. I just thought I'd stop by." My gaze shifted to the station's store entrance as Sodapop emerged.

"Hiya, Soda," I greeted warmly, and he replied with a welcoming smile. "Hey, Y/n, wanna come inside? Ponyboy and Two-Bit are in there," Sodapop suggested, motioning toward the small building, while Steve went back to being engrossed in inspecting a car's mechanics. I accepted Sodapop's invitation and followed him in.

When I entered the small store building, its atmosphere offering a sense of comfort. My gaze quickly landed on Ponyboy and Two-Bit, who were leaning against the counter while sipping on ice-cold Pepsi's. "Heya, guys," I greeted, reaching into the fridge to grab a cola. Placing a couple of coins on the counter near the register. "Hello," Ponyboy acknowledged me with a nod, while Two-Bit responded with his trademark wide, toothy grin.

"Haha, Y/n, so ya finally show," Two-Bit teased, taking a playful jab at my absence. I arched an eyebrow in response. "Now why wouldn't I?" I asked. "After what happened at the party, I didn't think you'd ever show," he continued, chuckling mischievously. Ponyboy observed our exchange, curiosity piqued. "What happened at the party?" Pony inquired, genuinely interested. "Nothin' much, really," I replied, trying to downplay the situation. However, I knew that with Two-Bit, things could easily take on a life of their own.

"This hotshot got real drunk at the party and managed to rope Dallas in," Two-Bit revealed, grinning a toothy smile. "I saw them dancin' together." Heat crept into my cheeks as I recalled the party and the fact that I'd never actually known how to dance. 

Two-Bit continued, eagerly sharing his perspective with Ponyboy, who was now laughing uncontrollably. "DALLAS TOUGH DALLAS WINSTON WAS DANCING AHAHAHAA!" Ponyboy laughed, knocking his Pepsi off the counter in the process. I instinctively jumped back as the glass shattered on the floor. Ponyboy briefly stopped his laughter to assess the mess before continuing, the hilarity of the situation evident.

The woman behind the counter appeared annoyed by the commotion and hastily rushed over to clean up the spilled drink.

Eventually, Ponyboy and Two-Bit managed to calm themselves down, but Two-Bit's mischievous grin remained intact. "Y/n, how in the world did ya get so drunk that Dallas danced with you?" Ponyboy inquired, genuine curiosity in his eyes. I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to reply. "I think someone spiked my drink," I said, nodding as I explained, "Wait... so," Ponyboy began, but his voice trailed off as he contemplated the implications. His expression transformed into deep thought, struggling to come to terms with the situation.

"Your blonde dame handed me a drink and said it ain't alcohol, Two-Bit," I said, recalling the events, "and I also drank what I thought was cola before I bumped into that awful guy with the earring." Two-Bit regarded me with an inquisitive look.

"Curly?" Two-Bit asked, his tone implying some familiarity. "Glory, Curly? You for real, Y/n?" Ponyboy chimed in, his eyes widening in surprise. I wondered if he had an unfortunate encounter with Curly aswell. "Yeah, his friends were there," I added. "I didn't think he was that kind of guy, Y/n," Ponyboy said, his tone laced with concern. "You know him, Pony?" I asked, perplexed by the revelation. "Yeah, he's Tim's brother, and we're friends," Ponyboy confirmed, his brow furrowing as he considered Curly's actions. "He just doesn't know you, Y/n. I don't think he'd be like that if he knew you." He defended Curly, but I couldn't help but feel uneasy. Curly had frightened me, and I had no desire to encounter him again.

A contemplative silence settled over us as Ponyboy, Two-Bit, and I sat together, sipping our drinks and observing Soda and Steve goofing off instead of working on the cars outside. However, Two-Bit couldn't resist breaking the silence. "So, Pony, did I tell ya about Y/n pleadin' Dallas to take her to bed?" he teased, a sly smirk on his face. My reaction was immediate; I stood up abruptly, placing the cola bottle loudly on the counter.

"I think it's about time I leave," I declared, walking out of the store. Laughter followed me, and I couldn't help but glance back to stick my tongue out at them before continuing down the road. I had completely forgotten the grocery errand I was initially sent for.

---

Ponyboy had given me a call and asked if I'd like to join him and the gang to watch the horse race in town. That afternoon, I got ready and headed out the door, making my way to the Dairy Queen near the Curtis house. Our plan was to meet there, grab some lunch, and then head to the racetracks. I had never been particularly interested in horse racing, but the opportunity was too good to pass up, especially when I heard that Dallas was going to be riding.

The small red and white Dairy Queen building was surrounded by a parking lot. As I walked through the cars, I scanned the area for the gang. I spotted Darry's Ford parked close to a nearby tree and made my way over. Ponyboy, Darry, Two-Bit, and Johnny were standing there, waiting for me presumably. 

Two-Bit, in his usual fun way, extended a hand towards me and exclaimed, "Why, howdy there, fair dame! Say, what brings ya to our humble gatherin'?" In a deep theatrical sort of voice. They all greeted me with cheerful grins. Darry, being the most mature of the group, asked, "How are ya, y/n?"

"I'm great, especially now that I'm here," I said happily.

We gathered by the glass window to place our order. The guy at the counter greeted us, we took a moment to discuss our orders, and eventually, Darry took charge of ordering, being the older one among us. "Three cheeseburgers, two Brazier deluxes, two fries, three Pepsi colas, two sundaes, and two banana splits," Darry read out, glancing at each of us as we reminded him of anything he might have missed. With our order placed, we moved to the parking lot, where we idled around, waiting.

A sleek Corvair pulled up, and three Socs stepped out, engaged in their usual laughter and chatter. I observed their movements, the way they spoke, and concluded that they weren't drunk, which put me at ease to some extent. But the rest of the boys had noticed the Socs too. Two-Bit exclaimed to the gang "This is our territory." As If reminding them of the fact. Before I could say anything, the gang had already moved toward the Socs.

"What do ya think you're doin'?" Two-Bit asked, his tone turning cold and serious. "Ya better watch out; this is our territory." The blond Soc retorted, "Nup, pal, you better watch your mouth", "before we beat it in," another added. Two-Bit lunged at them, but Darry swiftly pulled him away, muttering, "Lay off." However, the Socs heard this and mocked, "Is the grease scared of us?"

I stood by, unsure of whether I should intervene or say something. The two groups of boys were now circling each other like animals, and the tension was tangible. Darry and Two-Bit seemed ready to fight, flexing their arms. Ponyboy stood and watched cautiously with Johnny, and Johnny well his face was pale and the hand hovering over the back pocket of his jeans was visibly trembling.

I remember Ponyboy told me that after the incident with the Socs Johnny, sweet Johnny who couldn't hurt a fly carried around a 6-inch switch blade, and that he would be ready to use it if he ever needed to.

The Socs grinned, enjoying riling up the gang. "You scared grease?" one of them taunted, suddenly Ponyboy was knocked off his feet as they got impatient, prompting Two-Bit to lunge at them once more. This time, Darry didn't hold him back; instead, he joined in, putting one of the Socs in a chokehold leaning against a car near by. Two-Bit attempted to land a punch on the second Soc, but the Soc dodged and retaliated swinging back at him. The third Soc took this opportunity to confront Ponyboy, who seemed weaker and smaller in comparison to Darry and Two-Bit. In no time, they were on the ground, wrestling each other.

There were gasps from nearby spectators who quickly moved away from the scene, not wanting to get caught up in the chaos. Suddenly, I heard the distinct clink of a switchblade and turned to see a fourth Soc approaching my heart rate increased as if on que. Two-Bit was alarmed and moved quickly grabbing a bottle from the ground, smashing it against his knee, and handing it to Ponyboy, who had scrambled to his feet. Two-Bit also took out a blade, moving it forward warning the socs off any further movement.

The standoff showed no signs of ending peacefully and no one was backing down ..that is until sirens sounded in the distance. Panic spread, and everyone scrambled to disperse. The Socs spat at the greasers' shoes before getting into their Corvair and driving away.

The gang visibly furious managed to relax as they watched the vehicle leave. I stood there, still stunned by the entire event, trembling, my eyes wide, waiting for someone to make a move. The gang turned to look at Johnny and me, and Ponyboy approached me, still holding the broken bottle. "Y/n... I could never use this, I couldn't hurt no one" he said, gesturing to the bottle. My expression must have conveyed fear, as he felt the need to reassure me. I nodded softening my expression, though I was still somewhat afraid.

"I know, Ponyboy," I replied. "I know you couldn't."

Two-Bit quickly resumed with his jokes, and Darry went on with his usual banter, lecturing Ponyboy about fights and rumbles. But there was tension in the air among all of us after what had happened. Johnny and I mostly stayed quiet, eating our meals while sitting on the hood of Darry's Ford, staring blankly into the distance.

Johnny shifted uncomfortably next to me, his voice trembling as he spoke, "Do... do you ever just get tired?" He hesitated, "You know, of all the rumbles, the greasers and socs..." His voice trailed off, and I could see the sadness in his eyes. I wasn't sure what to say. While I hadn't been involved in all of this for long, I'd experienced enough to despise it. "Johnny," I began, "I'm very, very tired, but being here with you and the gang is what makes this existence a little less miserable." I chose my words carefully, trying to convey the mix of exhaustion and friendship we all shared. I placed an arm around his back and pulled him in close. He sniffled, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "I'm sure it will get better, Johnny," I added, attempting to reassure him. However, deep down, I couldn't fully believe it myself. The endless cycle of rumbles didn't seem to be ending anytime soon. He nodded into my shoulder and then got up to walk over to the nearby trashcan to dispose of the empty soda bottle, he reminded me of a lost puppy.

"Alright, everybody in!" Darry shouted, starting up the Ford. I quickly wiped my hands and jumped off the hood, getting in the back seat with Johnny and Ponyboy. Johnny had seemed to calm himself down and was now engaged in a conversation with Ponyboy. "We can all escape to the countryside, where there will be no greasers or socs," Ponyboy said with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "And we can all live together. You too, Johnny. We can build a farm, and maybe Sodapop will even get Mickey back." Johnny's spirits lifted at the thought.

"Who's Mickey?" I asked, not recalling the name being mentioned before. I saw Darry look up into the rearview mirror and smile at us. "When Soda was twelve, goin' on thirteen, he worked at a stable. There, he befriended an irritable horse named Mickey Mouse," Ponyboy began his story. "Mickey might have belonged to someone else, but he was Soda's horse," Ponyboy said confidently, gazing out the window. "The horse made trouble often, kicking other horses. He would only listen to Soda, coming when he called and chewin' on his shirt or collar," Ponyboy paused. "But then the owner sold him, and Soda was extremely sad. He cried."

"That must suck," I said, and Johnny agreed listening intently. "I saved my money for almost a year to try to buy him back, but he was never seen again," Ponyboy looked solemn now. I wondered about the horse, what kind of life he might be leading now, and whether he truly loved Sodapop back. But there couldn't be any other option; everybody loved Sodapop.

At some point, we arrived at the racetracks and got out of the Ford. Two-Bit was finally 18 as of a week and went to place a bet excitedly, Johnny and Ponyboy followed, promising Darry not to do the same. I was left with Darry. We walked over to find some spare seats in the front row and sat down. "Have you been here before?" Darry asked, and I shook my head, surveying the field in front of the stadium seats. There were many important-looking people scurrying around, but no horses were in the gates yet. The race was due to start in 40 minutes.

"Look over there," Darry said, spotting the horses and jockeys in the closed-off Paddock area, presumably warming up. It was quite a distance, and I squinted my eyes, trying to spot which one was Dallas.

I heard the familiar voices of Ponyboy and Two-Bit as they approached with Johnny. "What do you mean $20 dollars?" Ponyboy exclaimed as they joined us. "I've been lookin' into this horse for weeks; it's a sure win," Two-Bit told him nonchalantly as he slouched into the seat beside me. "Oh, and Buck told me," he added. Ponyboy just rolled his eyes and leaned back into his seat to observe the field. "The parade's starting," Ponyboy said. We all watched the jockeys leading the horses around the track, showing them off to potential bidders. "Oh, oh, that's my ticket to the rich life," Two-Bit shouted, jumping up from his seat and pointing at a horse, number 4. As the horses approached our side of the field, I finally spotted Dallas among the jockeys. He looked somewhat unusual with the helmet, not wearing his usual attire.

The rest of the gang also noticed him and began waving, attempting to get his attention. Dallas did look up, but he neither waved nor smiled. He just kept his eyes on me, and I stared back. 

The horse he was to ride was numbered 8.

Chapter Text

Time slipped by rapidly, and before long, the horses were lined up at the starting gate. As the bell rang, the gates flew open, and the horses surged forward, kicking up clouds of dust that hung in the air like a hazy veil. The audience erupted with excitement, their cheers echoing against the backdrop of the racetrack. My gaze was fixed on number 8 as the horses thundered down the track. They jostled for position, their bodies brushing against one another as they fought for supremacy. A hushed anticipation enveloped the crowd, each spectator riveted as they observed the riders deftly maneuvering their mounts. The tension in the air was palpable, broken only by the collective gasps that accompanied each successful jump.

Suddenly, a sharp SPLASH disrupted my focus, and I turned to see a man scrambling out of a muddy pit after having fallen from number 3 mid-race. The crowd, once filled with exuberance, was now on its feet, eager to witness the outcome. A wave of relief coursed through me, knowing that it was not number 8 that had faltered. As the race progressed toward the far end of the track, I caught sight of Dallas again, his horse galloping fiercely in the lead alongside another competitor. The audience held its breath with each jump, gasping in unison as they navigated the hurdles. Two-Bit was beside me, his enthusiasm infectious as he shouted encouragement for number 4, who was closely trailing in third.

As the race approached its end, the energy surged. Number 8 was edging ahead, and the crowd erupted in cheers, unable to contain their excitement. I felt my heart race in tandem with the horses, and I could see Dallas glancing back towards second place, his determination evident. At that moment, it was so clear—Dallas cared about this race, and he was driven to win.

The final barrier loomed, and as the horse jumped, it miscalculated, falling forward awkwardly and sending its rider sprawling to the ground in a mixture of dust - the two bodies tumbled in unison. A gasp escaped my lips, my hands instinctively covering my mouth in horror. The audience fell into a stunned silence, their earlier fervor replaced by a collective anxiety as medics rushed onto the track with a stretcher. I heard Darry curse under his breath beside me, the tension in the air thickening.

Turning my attention back to the race, I saw that it had concluded with number 8 taking first place and number 4 claiming a close second. Two-Bit was ecstatic, shaking a pale Johnny beside him. “I won! Ponyboy, Johnny, I won!” he exclaimed, his joy infectious, though the rest of us were still preoccupied with the fallen 6. As the medics checked on the rider, a voice shouted from the field, “The rider’s fine, but the horse broke its back.” The crowd’s chatter intensified as people rushed onto the track, their concern palpable.

“I heard a young lad broke a couple of ribs last time,” Ponyboy commented to Johnny, his face reflecting the worry that mirrored my own. Just then, Darry urged us to leave, and we complied reluctantly. As we climbed the stairs to exit, a sudden shout pierced the atmosphere to stand back, followed by the unmistakable sound of a gunshot. I flinched, and Darry instinctively wrapped an arm around my shoulders to shield me from turning back to the chaos behind us, but we all knew that the horse had to be put to rest.

Reaching the main gate, the chatter among the boys resumed, but it felt muted compared to the earlier excitement. Two-Bit rushed off to collect his winnings. “I presume they won’t go through with any more races,” Darry said quietly, glancing at me with a serious expression. I nodded in agreement, a little shaken. “And I think Two-Bit is more than happy with the result of this race,” Darry added with a chuckle as Two-Bit returned, waving a handful of cash in triumph. “You won’t believe it… eighty dollars!” he declared proudly, his eyes wide with disbelief. “No kiddin'?” Ponyboy asked, astonished. “No kiddin',” Two-Bit replied, basking in the excitement. I shared a glance with Johnny, who offered me a gentle smile, though my mind continued to drift back to the earlier accident. A troubling thought nagged at me—Dallas could have been the one to fall. The idea sent a chill down my spine; I had grown far too attached to his annoying antics, and the thought of losing him was more than I could bear.

Suddenly, I felt a familiar hand wrap around my waist. “Hiya, gorgeous. Enjoy the show?” Dallas’s voice was as casual as ever, but my heart raced at his sudden presence. Thankfully, the other boys distracted him, allowing me a moment to regain my composure. “Way to go, Dallas! I knew you would win!” Ponyboy exclaimed, and Two-Bit chimed in with a sarcastic smile, “Hey!!”

“Are you okay?” Darry asked, concern etched on his face. “I’m real fine,” Dallas replied, tightening his grip around me And bringing his attention down to me. Curiosity piqued, I asked, “How’d you get a job like this anyway, Dallas?” He chuckled lightly. “Buck knew some folks, got me the job,” he answered, his expression brightening as I instinctively reached up to smooth down his disheveled hair, a remnant of his helmet. “The outfit doesn’t help me in lookin' tough, does it?” Dallas remarked, scanning his attire with a self-deprecating grin. “I think you looked real tough out there,” I replied earnestly, and he flashed me a charming smile. “Thanks, doll.”

“I’ll head out then. Meetin' the rest of the team at Buck’s for drinks,” he announced, and the boys nodded in acknowledgment. After a single glance back at me, he strode off, clutching his helmet, and suddenly, the evening breeze felt colder without him nearby. A sense of longing washed over me; I wanted to follow him, to linger in his presence just a little longer.

“Come on, Y/N, we’re gonna go home,” Darry said, pulling me from my thoughts. I turned to him and smiled, “Okay.”

---

My father had business in Texas and decided to bring my mother along for a sort of holiday. It was a plan I wholeheartedly encouraged—anything to have the house to myself for a whole month. I sat on the porch steps, watching them load luggage into their white Ford Fairlane, nodding absentmindedly as my mother rattled off her long list of duties and precautions.

As the car finally turned off my street, I dropped my waving hand and beamed with excitement. I strode back into the house, eager to escape the scorching midday sun. But soon enough, boredom set in, and I found myself heading out, drawn to a certain place of undeniable entertainment. Surprisingly, when I arrived, the house was empty—though the door, as always, was left open. I slumped down onto the couch to wait. And wait I did. Hours passed before I heard someone approaching, who I didn’t think much of at first. But then, a thud—a heavy, unmistakable sound of someone collapsing—caught my attention. Curiously, I peered out the window, and sure enough, there was Two-Bit, sprawled out on the concrete, looking roughed up and unmoving.

A pang of concern shot through me, and I rushed out to him. He stirred as I lifted him, awkwardly scrambling to his feet, but he wouldn’t meet my gaze. Instead, his eyes seemed to drift past me, distant. He’d definitely been in a fight. “Are you drunk?” I asked, my voice lined with worry. “No. Yes... I mean, no,” Two-Bit mumbled, stumbling toward the porch stairs. I hurried to help him inside, practically dragging him to the couch. “Who were you fightin' with?” I pressed. Two-Bit looked at me like I’d just asked the dumbest question in the world. “The damn Socs,” he muttered, jaw clenched, barely holding back from cursing them out more thoroughly. “Where’s Pony?” he asked urgently, my heart skipping a beat. “Pony?” I repeated, his eyes narrowing like he was trying to remember. “He... he was...” Two-Bit started to speak, but before I could pull more from him, he collapsed fully onto the couch, slipping into unconsciousness. I stood there, frozen, wide-eyed. "He what?!" I demanded, but it was no use of course. 

My mind raced with horrible thoughts, imagining the worst. With Two-Bit out cold, the silence felt unbearable, I was all alone again. I noticed his knuckles and face were scraped and bruised, so I busied myself cleaning him up—anything to stave off the overthinking that had already begun. Still, my anxiety wouldn’t let up. Two-Bit, drunk, fighting... something bad happening to Ponyboy—there was no doubt in my mind that the rest of the gang was involved. But why hadn't anyone else come back?

By the time the sky had grown dark, I had finally dozed off in the red armchair next to Two-Bit, the uneasy quiet filling the house as the night stretched on.

The front door shut quietly, startling me out of my slumber. My mind, still foggy, tried to make sense of the scene before me. Darry, with a stern expression, was carrying Ponyboy's passed-out body across the room. In the corner by the door, Sodapop and Johnny stood together, their bruised faces cast in shadow, a mix of solemnity and regret written on them. They hadn't noticed I was awake—they whispered quietly among themselves, keeping the lights off. Darry returned to the living room after laying Pony down and barely acknowledged Sodapop’s stammered apology. "Go to bed," he ordered, his voice sharp but exhausted. Without a word, Soda obeyed, disappearing down the hall. Darry then offered the armchair to Johnny, who accepted it gratefully, sinking into the worn cushions with a tired sigh.

I watched Darry cross the room, frustration evident in every step, even in the dark. After a while, I shifted my gaze to Johnny, who was lying quietly now. "Johnny," I whispered, cautious not to wake the others. His eyes fluttered open, and he turned his head towards me. "Y/N? Thought ya were asleep," he murmured. I shrugged, my eyes drifting to Two-Bit, who was still soundly snoring on the couch. "What happened? Why’s Darry so mad?"

Johnny exhaled, his voice low and sluggish. "Soda and Two-Bit took Pony and me out… they got drunk, left us unattended. Long story short, a group of Socs caught up to us… from last time." He yawned as he spoke, clearly drained. "Is everyone okay?" I asked quickly. A long pause filled the space before Johnny finally answered. "Yeah. Soda and Two-Bit came through, fought 'em off. Even... even Dallas was there." My breath hitched at the mention of Dallas. "Dal—?"

"Yeah, he's dandy," Johnny mumbled, already turning his back to me. He shifted in his seat, pulling the blanket over his shoulder. I curled up there, the tension still heavy in the air, watching the rise and fall of Two-Bit's chest as he slept. Johnny, too, had drifted off.

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Chapter Text

With my parents off on holiday without me, I managed to convince them that it was only fair I had a trip of my own. The gang decided to come together and go to Lake Keystone Park. Soda was headed to Sandy’s family’s holiday home, while Darry had work obligations. That left me, Ponyboy, Johnny, Two-Bit, and his girlfriend. As we gathered outside the Curtis house, the excitement buzzed in the air. Two-Bit’s small blue Ford was packed to the brim with gear, barely fitting the essentials for our getaway.

“Hey, y/n! Come meet my girl, Linda!” Two-Bit hollered as I approached the house. I hefted my bag, feeling a little awkward, when a different blonde appeared before me. She looked sweeter and more innocent than the one I’d met at the party. “Hiya, nice to meet cha! I’m Linda,” she said, extending her hand. “Likewise, y/n,” I replied, accepting her handshake with a smile. “The boys said we’d be sharin’ the car,” she continued, her voice heavy with Southern twang. “That's alright with me,” I replied.

I headed to the car to stow my bag in the trunk and climbed into the backseat beside Johnny, who was drumming his fingers rhythmically on the vinyl upholstery. “How are you, boy?” I asked, noticing the faded bruises that still adorned his face from last week’s rumble. “Yeah, I’m alright,” Johnny replied, his gaze fixed outside, where Ponyboy and Two-Bit were playfully wrestling. A small smile crept onto his lips. “Just happy to get away from everything… from here, you know?” His eyes sought reassurance in mine. I nodded, “No rumbles… just us and the forest.”

“It’s sad everyone couldn’t join us,” I mused aloud. “Well, Darry and Soda still haven’t warmed up to each other since the last time we got jumped. Darry doesn’t want to compromise on the fact that the Socs would have been there anyway,” he said, a frown deepening on his face.

When would they finally have enough? I wondered. I still had nightmares sometimes, waking up in a sweat, trying to forget the feelings of vulnerability and helplessness that haunted me.

“Alright, everyone in! We have about an hour’s drive,” Two-Bit called out, his voice taking on an authoritative tone that was unusual for him. He slammed the trunk closed with a thud. Two-Bit and Linda settled in the front, while Ponyboy squeezed into the back seat with Johnny and me.

Just as the engine started, a familiar voice rang out. “Where’d ya think you’re goin’ without me?” Dallas shouted, leaping over the fence and striding up to the vehicle. Swinging the door open, he commanded, “Out,” directing Ponyboy, who was reluctant to move. “C’mon, I said out!” Dallas insisted, and Pony reluctantly climbed over the bench to sit beside Linda while Dallas slid in next to me, shutting the door with a triumphant grin.

“Hey, who’s this new broad, Two-Bit?” Dallas asked just as the ford pulled out onto the highway, his gaze flitting between Linda and Two-Bit. Linda smoothed her displeasure and turned to greet him, “My name’s Linda.” Dallas nodded, a laugh escaping him, then his attention shifted back to me. “Hey man, I heard you were there after the rumble… how’s Johnnycake?” he asked, peering over me at him. I glanced over at Johnny, who was sound asleep, his head resting against the window. “Nothin' too bad,” I replied quietly, not wanting to disturb him. Johnny looked worn out—no one deserved this break more than him. Dallas glanced around, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his demeanor, his usual bravado faltering slightly.

Dallas and I—we hadn’t seen each other since the jockey race a fortnight ago. I hadn’t thought much of it at the time, just another day. But watching him ride, his reckless energy matched with that sharp focus, something shifted in me. I realized then just how much I cared for him and prayed for his safety, alternatively just how much his wild nature seemed to draw me in. 

The rest of the ride was quiet, save for the radio, which Two-Bit cranked up as “Help!” by The Beatles came on. No one said much, other than the occasional whispered exchange between Two-Bit and Linda navigating our ride. I leaned my head back against the seat, staring out at the farmland and rolling hills as they passed by through Johnny’s window. Every now and then, I’d glance at Johnny’s peaceful face, wondering what kind of nightmares he was battling behind closed eyes.

The trees thickened as we drove into the park. Two-Bit spent a good while looking for the perfect secluded spot near the water for us to set up camp. The lake shimmered under the midday sun, casting a peaceful glow over the scene. Two-Bit finally killed the engine, and for a moment, we all just sat there, staring out at the water in awe. Dallas, naturally, was the first to break the silence, throwing open the car door and hopping out. The rest of us followed, stretching our legs and breathing in the fresh air.

I gently shook Johnny awake. “Hey, Johnny, we’re here.” He stirred, blinking groggily before gazing out at the water. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. We all started unpacking, hauling bags and equipment out of the trunk, ready to make the most of our weekend away from the city and the endless drama it brought.

“Oh my, since when did Two-Bit turn into a handyman?” I laugh, glancing over in his direction. The others follow my gaze to where, under a small canopy of trees, Two-Bit is swinging a hammer with all the confidence of a seasoned builder—though he’s anything but. His attempts to get the tent to stay upright look more like a dance of wild swings, each one met with a huff as he narrates every step to Linda. She’s standing off to the side, clearly startled by his rugged “technique,” yet her eyes have that glint of admiration, betraying her fondness for him in that moment. The rest of us can’t help it; we’re doubled over laughing, clinging to the Ford for stability. “He sure is givin’ it his best shot…” Johnny says, a smirk breaking out as he flicks open a lighter and sparks his cigarette.

Meanwhile, over by the trunk, I see Dallas rummaging through the bags, probably searching for something to snack on. “Ah-ah, not yet, mister,” I say, walking over and nudging him aside. He gives me a mock-pout, furrowing his eyebrows in disappointment. “There’s less now that you decided to show up!” I add with a grin, pulling out a fishing rod and handing it to him. He raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Now what am I supposed to do with this, doll?” he asks, reluctantly taking it. “If you’re that hungry, go catch yourself some fish,” I shrug, leaving him with the rod and strutting back to the others, who are now wrestling with the second tent. Dallas, of course, follows.

“Hey, Y/N, maybe you could find us some firewood while Two-Bit and I finish here?” Ponyboy calls out glancing up at me from the forest floor. He’s holding down a tent peg with a somewhat unsteady hand as Two-Bit prepares to hammer it into the ground. “Yeah, alright,” I say, glancing at Johnny and then Dallas, knowing he will probably tag along. “Just be sure to watch out for Pony’s hands, Two-Bit! He still needs ’em for schoolwork,” I add with a wink. Two-Bit’s grin only widens, taking my warning as more of a challenge than advice.

Johnny and I walk side by side, engrossed in a discussion about The Catcher in the Rye, tossing around thoughts on Holden’s view of the world. Dallas trails a few steps behind, his usual swagger tempered as he keeps a leisurely pace. I try to stay wrapped up in the conversation with Johnny, stopping now and then to pick up scattered sticks for the fire. But my thoughts keep drifting back to Dallas. What’s on his mind right now? Is he watching us, feeling the same quiet that seems to sit around us, or has his curiosity finally settled on the world around him—the soft dappled light filtering through the leaves, the faint songs of birds, the gentle whisper of the wind weaving through the trees?

Maybe he’s trying, I think, but my laugh breaks the quiet just as Johnny makes a dry remark, bringing Dallas back to the present. I imagine the way he looks at us, a hint of a smile in his eyes, but something deeper there too—a longing, maybe, for the peace he hardly ever lets himself feel. I wonder if, just for a moment, he’ll let himself rest, take in this space that feels far from the weight of the streets and our everyday lives.

We approach a small clearing where a field of wildflowers spins its roots around us, colors bright against the green. “Dal,” I call out, turning to face him, a smile plastered on my face. He looks at me intently, his eyes holding a question I can’t decipher. I step toward him through the tall grass, carefully piling my gathered firewood into his arms. “I’ll be quick,” I say, and he doesn’t protest as I turn back and start picking wildflowers. Behind me, Johnny walks over and says something quietly to Dallas, I wonder what he is saying—something that seems important. Dallas listens, his posture relaxed but his gaze thoughtful, as if he’s weighing something heavy against the lighthearted persona he usually wears. I can feel their eyes on me, and when I turn, I’m met with two youthful, relaxed faces, as if, for a second, we’re all just kids far from the weight of everything else.

Dallas’s expression is soft as he listens to Johnny, the kind of look he rarely shows, a sign of the care he reserves for him alone. Yet, before Johnny can say much more, Dallas brushes him off, a familiar smirk returns. “Cherry, we don’t have all day for you to pick flowers,” he teases, his voice laced with that nonchalant edge. Grinning, I finish up and jog back to join them, leaving the field behind as we head back to camp.

"Oh goodie," Linda exclaims as we arrive back, directing Dallas and Johnny on where to pile the wood. "I thought they might just about kill each other with how hard they found puttin' up the tents. I had to do it all myself," she says proudly, glancing at Two-Bit and Ponyboy, who are squatting together near the riverbed, fiddling with a fishing rod. "Men aren’t good for much—if they can’t even put up a tent properly..." she huffs, briskly lighting a match and igniting the fire. I smile at her. "Do you need help with dinner?" I ask, wondering where to put the flowers down. "Oh, don’t worry, hun'," she pauses, eyeing Two-Bit as he throws his hands in the air, excitedly babbling about something, catching Johnny's and Dallas's attention as they approach. "By the time they catch fish, it’ll be well dark," I nod, settling onto the hood of the Ford, placing the flowers beside me and starting to weave a flower crown.

It’s true—by the time I finish weaving the last flowers into the wreath, the boys haven't moved an inch and don't seem pleased with their fishing results. I get up and offer a crown to Linda, who takes it excitedly. I fit one for myself and leave the third on the hood. "Hey! Pony, do you want a crown?" I shout. He perks up, looking happy to be called away from the water. "Hey, Y/N, we were thinking of goin' for a swim. Do you wanna join?" he asks, glancing back at the boys, who are still struggling with their rods. A mischievous grin spreads across his face. "After all that fishin', I think they needa break. Plus, it’s too hot to be sittin' 'round here."

As if triggered by some invisible signal, Two-Bit and Johnny, clearly growing restless with their fishing attempts, start pulling off their shirts, laughing as they turn it into a playful competition. “Hey, Dallas! You really gonna let me steal the show?” Two-Bit jabs, tossing his shirt aside to flaunt his toned, sun-kissed arms. Dallas raises an eyebrow, but a grin starts to spread across his face. “Alright, alright, I’m on it!” he shouts, shedding his shirt and joining in on the banter.

"Yes! I’m just about to die of the heat," I say, my excitement bubbling over as I throw off my shoes, shorts, and top, leaving on my undergarments. "How about you, Linda?" I ask, whipping my head around, but she’s already halfway to the water, giggling and laughing as she strips off the last of her clothes. I jump off the hood with Pony, racing toward the bay, feeling the warm summer air envelop us as we dive into the refreshing water, laughter echoing around us.

Chapter Text

We moved through the clear waters quickly, the shock of the cool lake refreshing against the day’s heat. The boys wrestled and lunged at each other, pulling one another under repeatedly until their laughter turned breathless and their movements slowed, worn out from the roughhousing. Linda and I hung back at first, giggling at their antics as water splashed in wide arcs around us.

That was, until the boys turned their attention to us.

Two-Bit was the first to strike. With a devilish grin, he wrapped his arms around Linda’s legs and hoisted her up. She shrieked, laughing uncontrollably, until his clumsy footing sent them both toppling back into the water with a dramatic splash. I couldn’t help but laugh, but my attention shifted quickly when I noticed Dallas approaching me. His steps were slow, deliberate, the sun glinting off the droplets on his bare skin. I started backing away, my heart racing.

“Don’t even think about it, Dal,” I warned, keeping my voice steady, though my nerves betrayed me. He smirked, his expression utterly unbothered. “Think 'bout what?”

“Just stay back, ya hood!” I tried to match his teasing tone, but as he picked up his pace, I faltered. My retreat was clumsy, the water dragging at my legs. “I’m serious, Dallas—don’t you dare—” Before I could finish, he lunged forward, his arms circling my waist. With an infuriatingly easy strength, he hoisted me up and slung me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.

“Dallas Winston, put me down!” I shrieked, flailing wildly. My fists pounded against his back as I tried to free myself, but he held firm. The others erupted in laughter, their voices echoing across the lake. “Keep squirming, sweetheart,” he drawled, “makes it more fun for me.”

I could feel the heat rising to my face, though whether it was from frustration or embarrassment, I wasn’t sure. “I’m gonna kill you!” I yelled, my voice muffled by the waves of laughter around us. He didn’t bother replying. Instead, he strode further into the lake, his grip on me steady. Then, with no warning, he tossed me off his shoulder. I hit the water with a resounding splash, sinking briefly before breaking the surface with a gasp. The second I found my footing—or as much footing as the uneven lake floor allowed—I launched myself at him. “You’re the worst!” I shouted, splashing him as aggressively as I could. He laughed, holding his arms up as if to block my attacks, though he barely seemed fazed.

“Ya love it,” he shot back, his grin impossibly wide. “I hate you so much!” I said, though my smile betrayed me. “Sure ya do,” he teased, his tone maddeningly smug.

I swung at his chest—not hard enough to hurt him, not that it would have—but he caught my wrist mid-air. “You’re gonna wear yourself out like this,” he said, his voice softer now, though his smirk remained. It was only then I realized how far out we’d drifted. Testing my theory, I let my legs drop, searching for the bottom of the lake. I dipped too low, panic flaring when I realized I couldn’t touch. Dallas’s hand was on my waist before I could flail, steadying me.

“Hey, hey, careful,” he murmured, his voice so gentle it sent a shiver down my spine. My cheeks burned from his touch. “This is your fault,” I muttered, pulling away as quickly as I could without losing balance again.

“Whatever you say, doll,” he replied easily, his smirk back in place as he tread water beside me.

I turned toward the shore, ready to put as much distance between us as possible. The rest of the group was still splashing near the shallows, unaware. Linda was laughing, Two-Bit and Ponyboy making some exaggerated gesture to keep her entertained. The sight grounded me, though my heart was still racing.

He pulled me closer, and for a moment, I couldn’t bring myself to move. My back rested lightly against his chest, his warmth radiating through me, leaving my stomach in a tangle of nervous energy. “Dallas—what are you—” I began, but my voice faltered, slipping into silence as I felt his lips brush softly against my neck. The gesture was fleeting, just enough to send a jolt through my senses and still the air in my lungs. My thoughts raced, scattering in every direction, but my body betrayed me, frozen in place. It was as if the world had narrowed to this moment, this touch, and no matter how much I tried to gather myself, I stood there, caught between disbelief and the undeniable pull of his presence.

After that, he paused, his intentions unreadable but charged with something that made the air between us feel electric. It was as if he was waiting—no, daring me—to do something, to stop him, to pull away, or maybe to meet him halfway. My breath came shallow and uneven as I broke through my frozen state, hesitantly turning to face him. His arms stayed around me, holding me securely but not tightly, as if leaving me the option to move away if I wanted.

My gaze flickered up to his, and for a moment, the intensity in his eyes made the rest of the world blur into nothingness. There was a vulnerability there I wasn’t used to seeing in Dallas Winston—raw, unguarded, and entirely focused on me. I didn’t know what to do with myself, my thoughts tangling into a mess of uncertainty. One of his hands lifted, fingers brushing against my chin, tilting it gently upward. The movement was slow, deliberate, almost like he was testing my reaction. My breathing hitched as I stared into his eyes, unable to look away.

“I—” I started, but the words wouldn’t come. “You can stop me,” he murmured, his voice low and quiet, almost tender—a stark contrast to the cocky, unflappable Dallas I knew. I shook my head slightly, barely able to manage the motion, and his lips twitched into the faintest of smirks. There was no teasing in it, though, just a softness I wasn’t prepared for.

When he leaned down, so close I could feel the faintest brush of his breath against my lips, he paused again. “I feel like I should actually ask for your permission,” he murmured, his voice a mix of humor and something achingly sincere. And I couldn’t stop myself. I leaned into him, closing the last bit of space between us, my lips brushing against his in a tentative kiss. His arms tightened around me, pulling me just a fraction closer, and the kiss deepened. My hands found their way to his chest, not to push him away but to ground myself.

Time felt like it slowed, the sounds of the lake and the laughter of the others in the distance fading into a dull hum. It was just us—this moment—and I didn’t want to let go.

When we finally pulled apart, Dallas stood still, his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. His hand lingered at my waist, firm but not overbearing, as if he was grounding me—or maybe himself. “You’re dangerous, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice dripping with that familiar cocky edge, but there was something else layered beneath it, something warmer, more genuine.

“Me?” I whispered, barely managing the word as I tried to steady my breath. “You’re the one who started this.” He let out a low, rough chuckle, his smirk spreading as he tilted his head slightly, his eyes never leaving mine. “Yeah, well… maybe I’ll finish it too.”

I stared at him for a moment too long, that smirk dancing on his lips, as if he could read every thought tumbling through my head. “What?” he asked softly, his voice low and rough. “You look like you’ve got something to say.” Before I could respond, his hands moved, firm but gentle, cupping my face. His palms were warm against my cheeks, roughed up from his life, but they anchored me in the moment, pulling me further under his spell.

“I’ll finish it, alright,” he murmured, his gaze flicking down to my lips. There was no hesitation this time as he leaned in again, and this kiss was different—deeper, slower, but no less electric. His thumbs brushed lightly over my cheekbones as he shifted closer. My hands, trembling and unsure, found their way to his wrists, as if holding on for balance in the storm he’d created within me.

When he finally pulled back, his lips barely parted from mine, his voice was a whisper that sent chills through me. “Still think I’m the dangerous one?” I stared up at him, breathless and dazed, unable to find words. My hands dropped slowly from his wrists, trembling from a mixture of adrenaline and disbelief.

“Yeah,” I finally managed, my voice almost inaudible. “You’re definitely dangerous.”

He chuckled again, the sound low and rough, his hands still cradling my face as his thumb gently traced my jawline. “Good,” he said softly. “Guess that makes two of us.”

Just as I was about to curse myself for standing there, unable to form the words to break the silence and making the whole moment awkward, we both heard a shout from some distance away. Glancing over, we could see the rest of the group had gotten out of the water, calling us in. Dallas and I exchanged a glance, unspoken thoughts hanging in the air.

"Come on, you idiot," I said playfully, shaking off the sudden tension and diving back into the water towards the group. Dallas’s laugh echoed behind me, but I didn’t turn to look back. That would have made the whole thing feel even more complicated. Instead, I pushed forward, my thoughts spinning faster than the current around me. Stepping out of the water felt like a jarring hit of reality. Yet, no one seemed to notice or care about our return. They were all absorbed in their own business.

Chapter Text

The evening unfolded in a haze of laughter and the gang's usual, wildly expressive personalities. It bothered me just how "normal" Dallas was acting, like nothing had happened earlier. At the same time, I was strangely grateful. The last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself or the situation, especially with everyone else around.

“Hey, Y/N, come here!” Linda’s voice called out from near the trunk of the car. I glanced up from my spot by the fire, brushing off my hands as I stood to join her.

“What in the hell do I feed them?” she asked, her tone caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement as she rummaged through the cooler. I couldn’t help but laugh, leaning over to join her search. “Well, since they’re impossible,” I said, raising my voice just enough to ensure it carried to the group, “they’ll just have to eat salad tonight.” The comment was met with immediate protest, and Two-Bit was the first to bolt upright, his indignation evident. “I’m not eatin' rabbit food!” he declared, grabbing the fishing rod propped against the side of the car with an exaggerated air of determination. “I’m gonna catch us some real food.”

I raised an eyebrow as I watched him stomp off toward the darkened shoreline, rod in hand. “Good luck with that,” I muttered under my breath, earning a soft laugh from Linda. Dallas and Johnny followed him shortly after, I noticed how Dallas threw a quick glance my way as he passed, but I refused to let my expression betray anything.

In truth, the “salad threat” was all a ruse. We had sausages stashed away, but there was no way we were going to give those up on the first night without seeing if the boys could manage to catch something for the rest of our stay. While round two of the fishing escapade began, we busied ourselves with preparing the potatoes and corn. Wrapping them in foil, we placed them carefully into the fire, the flickering flames casting a warm glow against the encroaching night.

The minutes stretched into what felt like hours before a sudden shriek pierced the night. Startled, I turned just in time to see Two-Bit stumbling toward us, a triumphant grin plastered across his face as he held up a small, wriggling bluegill. “Look at this beauty!” he announced proudly, brandishing the fish as though it were a trophy.

“Damn, look at you,” Linda said, a hint of genuine amazement in her voice as she playfully punched him in the shoulder. Two-Bit’s grin only widened as he deposited the fish into the cooler with an overdramatic flourish before waddling back toward the water, brimming with newfound confidence.

“Bet he’s gonna get himself tangled in the line next,” Linda quipped under her breath, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

The smell of roasting potatoes and corn began to waft through the air, mingling with the smoky aroma of the fire. Somewhere in the background, Johnny could be heard muttering something to Two-Bit, and Dallas’s voice cut through the night with a teasing jab about Two-Bit’s “tiny catch.” I couldn’t quite keep my eyes from darting toward Dallas now and then, his silhouette lit by the glow of the fire and the soft reflection of the lake.

Someone did, in fact, get tangled in the fishing line—but it wasn’t Two-Bit.
“Fucking hell!” a shout erupted from the shoreline, followed by the kind of laughter that made you laugh, too, without knowing why. Linda and I turned our heads in unison, curious. Two-Bit was on the ground, red-faced and gasping for air, clutching his sides like he’d just heard the funniest joke of his life.

Dallas, however, didn’t find it quite so amusing. With a scowl darker than the lake’s shadowy waters, he swung a fist, landing a solid punch on Two-Bit’s arm. “Cut it out, jackass,” Dallas growled, though his words seemed to bounce right off Two-Bit’s endless wheezing laughter.

Linda and I exchanged a look before heading over. “Alright, break it up,” Linda said sternly, stepping between them. Her gaze flicked to Johnny and Ponyboy, who had been watching nearby, grinning like little kids. The moment Linda’s sharp eyes landed on them, their smiles vanished.

“Oh,” I gasped when I caught sight of the problem. In the glow of the campfire, the unmistakable glint of a fishing hook stood out—lodged right in Dallas’s arm.
“Shit,” I muttered, kneeling beside him. “How the hell did this happen?” Two-Bit finally calmed down enough to sit up, still grinning like a fool. “Well,” he slurred, his words as unsteady as his posture, “I may’ve thrown the line too far back… and, uh, hooked Dallas instead.” His tone was too giddy to be apologetic.

I narrowed my eyes. “You found the beer, didn’t you?” Dallas winced as I reached toward the hook, his bare back tensing under my hand.
“They found it all right,” Ponyboy muttered dryly. He gestured to a sad pile of empty bottles glinting in the moonlight near the water’s edge.

“Well, fuck me,” Linda groaned, glaring at the empty bottles. “I wanted some of that. Is there any left?” Two-Bit hiccupped and pointed lazily toward the car. “Yeah, in the trunk.” Shaking my head, I called after her as she wandered off. “Hey, grab something to bandage this idiot while you’re at it!”

She returned with a tin of plasters and a fresh beer, handing both over with a wry grin. I took the plasters, offering her a small smile in thanks. Linda turned back to Two-Bit, arms crossed. “Well? Did ya at least manage to catch anythin', or are ya just out here hookin' gang members for sport?” Two-Bit puffed out his chest dramatically and presented the cooler. Inside, there was another bluegill, slightly bigger than the last, and a few crappies.

“Alright, you’re off the hook, mister,” Linda quipped before sauntering back to the fire, cooler in hand.

I turned back to Dallas, who was watching me with a look I couldn’t quite read. “Had your fun?” I asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. He glared at me, his dark eyes smoldering under the faint light. “Not in the mood for jokes, Cherry,” he muttered, though there was a flicker of amusement in his tone.

Softening my gaze slightly, I warned, “This is goin' to hurt.” Without giving him a chance to react, I pulled the hook out in one quick motion. Dallas flinched, hunching forward, his jaw tightening against the pain. “Careful, would ya?” he hissed. “Damn, you’re brutal.”

I didn’t dignify that with a response, instead grabbing an almost empty beer and pouring the last of it over the small gash.
“Fuck, ow! You didn’t have to waste my beer!” Dallas protested, his voice sharp. “You’ve had enough,” I shot back, dabbing at the wound with his towel before slapping a plaster over it. Maybe a little harder than necessary.

“Ow!” he complained, his glare returning full force. I gazed over at his face feeling a little sorry. He looked down at the roughly placed bandage and then back up at me, a small, crooked smile forming on his lips. “Thanks,” he muttered, his voice quieter now.

When he reached for my hand, I quickly stood moving back just in time, brushing the dirt off my knees. “Dinner’ll be ready soon,” I said, turning to walk back toward Linda. I could feel his eyes on me the whole way.

Linda and I worked quickly, scraping the fish free of scales and carefully removing the larger bones. Every so often, we glanced up at the shoreline to keep an eye on the idiots, who had resumed their banter like nothing had happened. Ponyboy wandered over, his hands tucked into his pockets, looking for something to do.

“Anythin' I can help with?” he asked, watching as we laid the cleaned fish into a pan. “Yes, actually,” I replied quickly, reaching for the small tin of oil. I poured it generously over the fish. “Pass me that,” I said, nodding toward the shaker near Ponyboy. He handed it over, and I sprinkled a good amount of salt over the fish before passing him the pan. “Here, take this over to the fire,” I said, handing him the pan and a fork. “And be careful! Don’t burn our dinner,” I added with a playful smirk. Ponyboy nodded, taking the pan cautiously. He walked over to the fire and settled down near the edge, carefully flipping the fish as it cooked.

The light from the flames danced across his focused expression, and I allowed myself a small smile as I turned back to Linda. She had just skewed the corn and potatoes off the fire and was unwrapping the foil. She added a sprinkle of salt and a pat of butter to each piece before placing them into the dishes we’d set up. “Come eat!” I called out, carrying the plates over to the picnic table nearby. I set them down and took a seat, glancing back as the rest of the boys wandered over.

Dallas, Two-Bit, and Johnny slid onto the bench on one side of the table, still laughing about something ridiculous. Linda, and I settled on the other side. Ponyboy joined us soon, carefully carrying over the pan of fish. “I think it’s edible,” he said, grinning as he placed it on the table and settled beside me. I glanced at the browned fish and gave him an approving nod. “Not bad, Curtis. You might actually survive out here,” I teased, earning a proud smirk from him.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t give him too much credit,” Two-Bit chimed in from across the table, reaching over to inspect the fish. “Let’s see if it tastes as good as it looks.” He grabbed a piece, dramatically blowing on it before taking a bite. His exaggerated nod of approval made everyone laugh.

“See?” Ponyboy said, his grin widening as he elbowed me lightly. “Told ya I could cook.”

“Don’t get cocky, Pony,” Linda quipped, passing around the roasted corn and potatoes. “Yer' still on cleanup duty.” The boys groaned in unison, but the lighthearted mood stayed intact as everyone dug into the meal. The fish was surprisingly good.

Dallas sat back, his usual cocky smirk softening as he chewed thoughtfully. “Alright, I’ll admit,” he said, pointing his fork at me, “this isn’t half bad. But if you burn breakfast tomorrow, you’re on dish duty too.” I rolled my eyes, tossing a piece of foil at him. “If I burn breakfast, I’ll let you take over,” I shot back, grinning as the table erupted into laughter.

After that, the evening gradually wound down. Everyone was worn out, the day’s laughter and antics leaving us all ready for bed. The boys retreated to their respective tents, their muffled voices still carrying faintly in the night air as they settled in. Linda and I were given the car, to share instead.

She stretched out across the front bench, her legs tucked up awkwardly to fit, while I took the back bench. It wasn’t exactly a luxury setup—the vinyl stuck uncomfortably to my skin, and every lump of the seat was noticeable—but compared to the alternative of sleeping on the ground in a flimsy tent with no real walls, and the very likely chance of being ambushed by mosquitoes, we were more than happy to make do.

I stared up at the ceiling of the car, the faint moonlight streaming through the windows casting soft shadows. My mind drifted back over the day’s events, lingering on one moment in particular. No matter how hard I tried to shove the thought away, it crept back in, teasing and tugging at me.

That kiss.

I could still feel the lingering warmth of it, the way Dallas’s hand had cupped my face like I was something fragile and precious—a side of him I hadn’t expected, not from someone like him. The way he looked at me after, a flicker of something vulnerable hiding behind that cocky grin, had been even more disarming than the kiss itself. And yet, he’d acted like nothing happened, like it hadn’t completely turned my world upside down. Maybe that was for the best. Maybe.

I let out a soft sigh, shifting against the seat. My heart raced even at the memory, a warmth creeping up my neck. What the hell had that meant for him? 

Linda stirred in the front seat, muttering in her sleep. I closed my eyes, willing myself to focus on the rhythmic hum of crickets outside instead of the storm of questions swirling in my head. But every time I tried to push it away, the memory of his lips on mine pulled me right back in.

Chapter Text

My eyes fluttered open to the sound of muffled voices outside the car. I carefully peeled myself off the vinyl seat, my muscles stiff from the awkward sleeping position, and glanced out the window. Two-Bit and Ponyboy were huddled together over something, their voices low and animated. Quietly, I opened the car door, careful not to wake Linda, and stepped out into the cool morning grass. The air was crisp, the sun still hiding behind a blanket of clouds, and a faint mist clung to the edges of the lake, making everything feel calm and serene.

I padded over to where the boys were standing, barefoot and sleepy. "Mornin'," I greeted softly. They turned to me, both mid-conversation, and I couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. "Y’all look funky," I teased, watching as they fumbled with a tin of gel, smoothing it into their bedhead. "Ya think?" Pony said, holding up a small hand mirror and inspecting his reflection as he carefully straightened his part. Smirking, I crossed my arms. "You really care about that hair, huh?"

"Oh, shut up, Y/N," he shot back, rolling his eyes with a grin. "You’d never understand." I watched them for a moment longer, bemused by their commitment to grooming, before letting my gaze wander down the shoreline. The lake glistened faintly, catching the first rays of sunlight breaking through the haze. I took a deep breath, letting the peacefulness of the morning wash over me.

"You wanna come with?" Two-Bit asked, breaking me out of my haze. He was holding a fishing rod in one hand and a couple of buckets in the other. I raised an eyebrow, glancing between him and Ponyboy. "You’ve really taken to this fishing thing, haven't you?"

"Not really," Two-Bit admitted with a sheepish grin. "But we figured we’d give it another shot."

"Ya interested?" Ponyboy chimed in, nodding toward the rod. "Nah," I said, shaking my head. "Are y’all gonna be long?"

"Just heading over to that pier," Pony said, pointing to a spot across the lake’s shore. "A couple of hours at most."

"Alright," I replied, giving them a small wave as they started off, their voices already drifting back into playful banter. I turned back toward the lake, taking another deep breath and letting the stillness of the morning settle over me like a warm blanket.