All for Myself {dallyboy}

Help You

{Pony's POV}

All afternoon the only thing I could think of was what I just saw. It freaked me out, but not for the reason you'd think. When I saw that little scared boy on the side of the bus station, it scared me to see someone so obviously worn out. He's obviously homeless, on something, and been hurt. And it was him.

I know I should be happy. This is what he deserves, right? After everything that happened, everything he did? But I don't. Nothing about seeing someone in a horrible situation makes me happy, no matter what they've done to me. I realized I have to get it off my mind, someway, somehow.

Dallas and Johnny rushed me into the house, acting like I was really hurt. I was fine really, just spooked and a little shaken up. Dallas is sitting against the headboard of my bed, with me draped across his chest and my legs beside his. He pets and runs his firm but gentle fingers through my hair. I'm comfortable in his warm presence, but my mind is elsewhere.

"You okay ponybug? I'm so sorry about earlier..."

"Yeah, i'm alright." I say, still in thought.

"I don't think you are, babe. You can tell me, alright?" He says in a concerned voice. He removes his hand from my head and starts to trace spirals into my back. My one weakness.

"okay... Its just... I should be happy, right? After all of those nightmares and going through that whole situation, you'd think I would be glad to see him like that... but i'm not. It just reminds me how unfair it is for everyone."

"Pone, he woulda ended up somewhere like that regardless, he wasn't on the right path. Don't even worry about that trash." It disgusted Dally to even speak his name.

"But, you've seen what it's done to Tim, right? It's just... I don't know, Dallas. I feel so bad. I never want to see people hurt. Especially when they're already at a disadvantage."

When Curly ran off, it wrecked Tim. The once energetic and wild gang leader retired himself to endless working at his two jobs to keep his brothers memory off of his mind. For all Tim knew, Curly was dead. Dallas basically lost one of his best friends.

"I- I don't know, babe. If he wants help, he'll help himself. Don't worry yourself about him." Dallas shrugged and ended the conversation there, returning his hand to my head. I closed my eyes and relaxed further into his chest, dropping the conversation as well. I knew there was no getting through to Dally. I'll just have to do it myself.

•••

I waited for night to come, knowing what I was gonna do. I get in bed with Dallas after saying goodnight to Johnny, Soda, and Darry downstairs. I let him fall asleep until I hear his light snoring, then I decide to slip from under his hold around my waist.

Carefully, I raise his arm up, and squeeze against the mattress, rolling to the floor quickly. I stand up, tiptoeing quickly to the door.

"p-pone...?" a raspy, tired voice calls out to me. shit.

"it's me, dal. I'm gonna get some water. Go to sleep, love."

"mm'kay." He mumbles. whew.

I slip out the door and to the hall bathroom, sliding into my jeans and shirt, putting on Dally's leather jacket, too. I knew i'd feel safer with it on.
In the pocket is Dallas's switchblade. I was fully aware of how bad this could go, but I have to do it. I don't know why.

I slink past Johnny conked out on the living room couch, closing the door gently behind me. When I reach the porch, alone in the cool air, I start to rethink my choice. I decide to push forward, shoving my hands down into the pockets of Dallas's leather jacket.