❛ The Fifth Wall ❜ - A Dallas Winston Fanfiction

-ˋˏ Chapter 2 ˎˊ-

"Hey, Johnny. Pass me that shirt, will ya?" Called Dallas, pointing over to Johnny's right.

Johnny tossed the gray shirt over to his new roommate. "I still can't believe I left."

Pulling the shirt over his head, Dallas replied, "Hey, I knew pretty well that you weren't gonna leave unless someone pushed you. And we both know you probably would've-"

"Yeah...yeah I know, Dal. Thanks...again," Johnny sighed a breath of relief. Relief: something the boy was so foreign to, yet fought tooth and nail to get. Funny how we can want something we are pretty much alien to, he thought.

"Look, kid. I know it ain't much. Took me awhile to get used to this dump too. But, it's a safe place for the most part," Dally reasoned, mumbling that last part under his breath for Johnny's sake.

Johnny studied his new current home. The walls were run down and filled with stains of all colors, none of which are on the rainbow. You couldn't even tell what the original color of the wall was anymore. If inanimate objects could have beauty marks, this small apartment would take the cake. Although, it was up to you to decide of they were truly beauty marks or not. Like how Dallas had to decide if the red splotches in the kitchen were from tomato sauce or blood from the previous resident when he first moved in.

"It's not that, Dally," Johnny stated. He was currently facing the wall, slowly unloading some of his clothes in a spare drawer he had in Dally's room. He hoped his friend couldn't sense his little bit gloominess in his tone from having left his parents. But that hope when straight out the window when Dal shuffled over to him and patted Johnny's shoulder.

"They're fine. And I don't blame you for thinking about them, kid. If I'm being real frank with ya, I sometimes still think about my old man. If he's wondering where in the world I'm at or what I'm doing with my life..." he paused, noticing he was getting tangled in his words and began to recollect himself. Was his father even alive? Or even remembered who Dallas was, or that he even has a son somewhere out there?

Clearing his throat, he continued, "Johnnycake, I know it's hard. Look, I left New York when I was thirteen. You know the story."

Johnny hummed. "Yeah...yeah I do."

"Exactly. You do. And I'm still here. If I can accept that my old man don't give a care in the world about me, then you can too."

Although Dally's words stung more than a bee dipped in peroxide, Johnny couldn't help but chuckle and little at Dally's attempt to be comforting. Johnny knew it was the truth after all. His parents barely even looked at him half the time he was in that house unless they were taking their own faults out on him. But oh how he knew Dally meant well. And boy did he appreciate that. Because the tough hood Dallas Winston has no love, has no heart, has no sense of compassion - or so everyone thought.

"I'm okay, Dal, really. Don't you worry about me. I'm just glad....im just glad I'm here now," Johnny responded with finality.

He began to feel the same way he did when Ponyboy and him ran away to hide in that abandoned old church a couple years ago. They cried an ocean, and yet it created a refreshing wave of assurance and relief that everything will be okay, at least to some degree. Johnny remembered that feeling. And in that moment, he welcomed it back like an old friend.