The Outsiders: Tally

Scarred

How Tim got his infamous scar.

-

Tim Shepard is not the type to be easily hurt; emotionally nor physically. He has built up an immunity to pain over the years from the numerous rumbles and betrayals he had to endure. However, there was a rare moment of pure pain he felt. A night where both his heart and face were permanently scarred.

It was a fall evening. The wind wasn't too cold, but there was still a faint chill in the air. Tim was walking to Buck's, as usual. The dark-haired greaser had nowhere else to go other than his house, which he hated. Buck's was unusually crowded that evening, however, Tim did not mind. More people meant less attention on him. He entered Buck's place, making sure not to make eye contact with anyone there. He didn't feel like socializing that night. He had too much going on in his head.

-

A new boy was prowling the streets. He arrived a few months prior. Rumors claim that he was a hot-headed New Yorker. A true outsider. Tim had the pleasure of meeting him a couple of days after his arrival. The blond was being hunted by a big group of Socs and they were right on his tail. He tripped on a broken piece of the sidewalk, causing him to be surrounded by the troublesome lot of upper-class jerks. One of them dropped down to the blond's level and grabbed his head by the hair, the metal of a switchblade dangerously close to his neck.

"Since you're new," the Soc sneered, "Lemme give you a little taste of what we do to your kind around here."

His blade pressed further into the blond's neck, causing him to let out a frustrated grunt. Suddenly, the blond could feel the switchblade release some pressure from his neck. He looked up and his eyes widened. A gun was placed on the Soc's head, causing the one holding the blade to gulp nervously.

"Step away from him," the one holding the gun bellowed. The Soc slowly stood up and backed away from the blond, blending into the rest of the frightful Socs.

"Y'all better get outta here before I blow one of your heads off," the gun user spoke, "You got ten seconds. Ten..."

The group suddenly split, the boys sprinting away in all sorts of directions. The blond flinched when the gun user lended him his hand, but took it nonetheless. That's when both the blond and the gun user got a good look at each other. The blond's hair was almost white, resembling sun-bleached wheat. His icy blue eyes stared up at his savior with uncertainty. His pale skin was scraped up and bruised, especially the skin on his face. He was tall and slim with bony hands and a prominent facial structure.

The gun user was tall and had blue eyes, as well. However, they were much more calm and collected while possessing a warm tint. His long, curly hair was brushed back and put into a low ponytail. He had a much more square build and was slightly bulky. His face was fairly clean and his jaw was sharp. Despite being different, the two men had the word "handsome" in the back of their minds as they stared at each other.

"Is it real?" the blond said. The gun user raised his eyebrows at the sound of his voice. He didn't expect it to sound deep.

"Yes, but..." the gun user said with a small smirk, "It's not loaded. It always does the trick."

The blond observed the gun before saying something again.

"I could've helped myself, y'know," he rolled his eyes.

"Really? It looked to me like you were pretty stuck," the gun user raised an eyebrow.

"Whatever," the blond said under his breath, "You got a name?"

"Tim," the gun user said, "But everyone calls me Shepard 'round here."

The blond rubbed his lips together. Shepard, he thought to himself. His body shuddered from the sound of it.