losing sleep ➵ dallas winston

four

July 9, 1968

My leg bounced, and I rubbed my knuckles together, looking around at the sterile environment. I'd been sitting in the emergency room ever since the phone call ended.

When I got here, I berated the lady at the desk with questions. I asked if she had any young men come in. I gave her Dallas' height and looks, but she replied no. I asked about gunshots, and I even asked specifically for Dallas Winston, but she still shook her head at me.

So, I waited. He'd have to come through here eventually. I watched the activity buzz. People rolled by on stretchers and concerned families cried around me. I couldn't focus on anything, I had to keep my eyes moving around, or else I would think about Dally being dead, and tears would spill out of my eyes. I barely noticed when they did, silently crying in the lobby.

I can't believe I care this much.

Someone waved their hands in front of my glossy eyes, and I looked up to see Johnny, from the diner yesterday.

"Johnny?" I said, looking up. Before I could stop him, he enveloped me in a hug. my hands hung awkwardly at my sides. He released me, and I saw tears pooling up in his eyes.

He sat down, prompting me to follow. He sighed, dropping his head back. "I found him." My head shot up. So many questions ran through my head, but I couldn't decide which one to ask. He caught on, and just began explaining. "He hadn't come by the Curtis' in awhile, that's Soda and Pony's house. It's not unlike him to disappear every once in awhile, but I just had this awful feelin'."

I listened expectantly, hoping this story didn't end with a death.

Johnny continued, "Me an' Soda went out lookin' for him, in Soda's truck. And-" A sob escaped him. I grabbed his hand in support. After a few quiet moments, he resumed. "We saw him. He had been left in an empty lot, by those fuckin' socs. He was laid by a payphone. I don't really remember what happened after that, but we drove him here."

I immediately got up, rushing over to the reception desk that sat in the corner of the room. "Dallas. Winston?" I looked at the nurse eagerly.

"Uh," she paused, looking around me, back at where Johnny was sitting. "Come in with him?" I nodded. She flipped through a few folders, "He's with the doctors right now. I'll direct them to you when we have news."

I nodded again, feeling helpless. I couldn't do anything to help. All I could do was sit, and wait, and hope. Hope he'd be ok.

--

Hours passed. There was no news. Sodapop and Ponyboy came in, with their big brother. They didn't talk to me, just to Johnny. I think Johnny told them to not talk to me, but I was unresponsive either way.

There were at least 6 empty cups of coffee that surrounded the floor around me. Johnny would bring me them whenever he went to the cafeteria, or to ask for updates. I would drink them, but I felt too weak to get up to discard the cups. All I could do was sit in the rickety hospital chair and stare at the ground.

After handing me the 7th cup, Johnny didn't leave, like he had the other times. Instead he sat in the chair next to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "He's ok."

I looked up at him, which was the first time I had looked up in hours. I glanced at a window, it wasn't dark outside, like it had been the last time I saw the windows. "What time is it?"

Johnny glanced at a clock that hung above a doorway. "Seven A.M."

I laughed, almost hysterically. "I haven't been awake this early in years."

Johnny nodded, rubbing my back. "He's awake if you want to see him."

Feeling the tears pool in my eyes, I got up. I covered my mouth with my hand, an attempt to stop the sobs from coming out.

He was alive.

We passed through countless hallways, following the doctor who had been watching Dallas. This place was easily the biggest building I'd ever been in.

I looked attentively at my surroundings, watching people rush through the hallways. There was commotion everywhere, I didn't even know there were this many people in Tulsa. We walked past a room, and I saw a nurse pulling a curtain closed. Her face was somber. I shivered, quickening my pace. I was glad it wasn't Dallas' curtain they were closing.

The doctor stopped beside a closed door. He knocked on it, and a gruff voice was heard on the other side. "What?"

He shook his head, opening the door. I peeked past the doctor, into the room. Dallas was sitting on his bed, facing away from the door. "You have visitors, Dallas."

As Dallas stood, he revealed his side, which was wrapped tightly with gauze. Seeing him in such a state made me strangely emotional. He turned, and his eyes immediately fixed on Johnny. Johnny was already halfway into the room, walking toward Dallas. I still remained in the doorway, with the doctor.

"I thought you died, man," Johnny choked out, tears falling from his eyes. Dallas never seemed like the type to hug, but an exception was made that day. After Dallas pulled away from the hug, he saw me.

I took a few steps into the room, and Dallas spoke. "Brookie," was all he said, so soft I barely heard it. I couldn't decide if I wanted to punch him, for being so reckless, or hug him because I was so glad he was alive. I settled on a mix of both. I hugged him, putting all of my force into the hug.

"You're an idiot," I said, smiling into his chest.

He broke the embrace, stepping back. He looked at me, up and down. Slowly grinning, he spoke, "You look like shit."

I smacked him on the arm, which only made him grin harder.

Johnny had been quietly talking to the doctor, and the doctor had handed him a bottle and left. "They said there was paperwork to do, and after you sign some stuff you can leave," Johnny said, handing the bottle to me. "Pills you have to take Dallas, so you don't die again."

Dallas shrugged, and I responded with a glare. He smiled at me, and I rolled my eyes. "I'm joking," he said, while walking across the room, back to the bed. His stuff was in a clear bag next to it. He picked up the bag, holding it up for me to see. "Fuck, that's so much blood."

"Yeah, no kidding," I responded. He didn't have a clean shirt, and it felt wrong for him to wear a bloody shirt in a hospital, so I took off my jacket that I still had on from the previous night and handed it to him.

He looked at it for a moment, narrowing his eyes. It was very obviously not the right size for him, so instead of putting it on, he held it to his chest, so he wasn't completely shirtless.

I rubbed my forehead, and walked out of the room, with Dallas trailing me. We found a nurse, who was able to guide us to the lobby, to sign papers for discharge.

I spaced out as Dallas signed the papers, and eventually he shook my shoulder. "We can go now," he said, nodding toward the door. It was then that I realized the lack of sleep was catching up to me. We walked out, and I slumped onto Dallas. "Did you walk?"

I shook my head, reaching into my pocket. "I took Buck's car."

He took the keys from my hands, and led me over toward the parking lot. I was slipping in and out of consciousness on the ride over, and once we arrived at Buck's, Dallas had to carry me out of the car. Dallas spoke softly to Buck for a moment, before heading up to his room. He laid me on the bed, sighing. After a minute or two, I felt him climb into bed next to me. He wrapped his arms around me, having my head lay on his chest. I was awake, but still too tired to open my eyes. So I just took in the moment, hearing his heartbeat and feeling his hand running through my hair.

Dallas exhaled, and he let his hand fall on my stomach. I felt him kiss my forehead. "I'm sorry."