Fold (Dallypop)

Chapter One: Injuries

(Dally's POV)

The music of the record player was so loud I wanted to rip my eardrums out. It wasn't even good music, it sounded like a bunch of birds dying.

Stupid Buck, with his stupid cowboy boots wouldn't play anything good. So I gave up trying to go to sleep with that pathetic excuse for music blasting.

I found a pool table and a couple guys to play against. Man, they were good at the game, but I was better. We started betting money at some point, around twenty dollars each game. I pocketed all of it, and the other guys got pissed at me. Pussies.

"Ya run a good game, Winston. Almost too good." The guy across from me at the table said almost sarcastically.

"What can I say man, it is my game." I replied with a small smirk.

The man responded with a cheap looking smile. I felt a couple of the other guys walk behind me. I leaned into the pool stick that was standing upright.

"Let's see how yer game is after I punt you like a football." The main guy grumbled, walking up to me.

I smirked slightly since he was a bit shorter than me. But he looked like he'd been in and out of the cooler a couple times so I took him somewhat seriously. The guy had scars along his face and neck from what I could see. And he had some tattoos running along his forearms.

Bet he'll run with his tail between his legs, man.

"Yeah? Take a swing, man."

I bent down slightly, so the guy could at least hit my face or something. With no hesitation he hooked me and I staggered back slightly. I held my jaw and ran up to the guy, kicking him in the gut.

People started to notice and circled around us. They started cheering.

The guy was bent over from the kick in the stomach but still had enough willpower in him to sock me right around my eye.

"Fuck. Little shit..." I muttered under my breath.

I held the side of my face, feeling a bit of blood run down my cheek.

"Aw, did I hurt ya tough guy?" The man mocked me.

My eyes narrowed and the world slowed down. I charged right at him, knocking him to the ground. His head slammed against the wooden floor as my knee pressed into his chest. I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and started beating his head in.

His face was all bloody and bruised when I got pulled back by Buck and his little "bouncer" friends. The guy laid still on the floor, he was still breathing so at least I let him live.

"Alright Dallas, time for you to go." Buck said as him and his hooligans dragged me out of the building.

They threw me out on the street. Now I really thought Buck wouldn't do that to me, man. Whatever, I would have to find another place to hang. Maybe the Curtis', I'll throw Steve off the couch.

I started the walk over to their house. I sighed as I stepped up onto the porch. My bloody hand was on the door knob then I stopped. I just stood there for a couple seconds.

I finally barged into the house and it was quiet. It was pretty dark outside, maybe they were sleeping. I noticed Steve wasn't on the couch yet, hehe mine motherfucker. I smirked and raided the bathroom, looking for the dumb first aid kit.

My mind blanked when I heard the door open again. Was that Steve? Prolly, to steal the couch. I walked out of the bathroom to confront him, forgetting that I looked like shit.

"Hey, don't steal the couch you little-"

I stopped when I realized it wasn't Steve.

"Sodapop?"

He still had his DX uniform on and he looked exhausted. But why was he just walking in? Didn't he get off his shift hours ago? Where had he been? Did he get hurt?

"Dally? What happened to you?" Soda asked as he walked towards me.

I felt him look me up and down. He grabbed my wrist gently and examined my roughed up knuckles. I pulled my arm away, not wanting help from the kid. I was capable of fixing myself up... maybe.

I ignored Soda and went back into the bathroom, still searching for the first aid kit. Man, my knuckles hurt more than I realized. I saw Soda walk out of the bathroom doorway in the corner of my eye.

"It's out here Dallas." Soda mentioned quietly.

I sighed and moved myself to the dining room, where Sodapop was. He had the aid kit opened on the table.

"Knock yourself out."

I stood there, staring at the first aid kit. I grabbed the pair of scissors and Soda immediately ripped them out of my hand.

"Uh- no. You don't need those." He said quietly.

I groaned and went back to staring at the first aid kit. Soda had made a glass of chocolate milk while he was waiting for me to do something. He set the glass on the table and looked at me, then my injured hands.

"Do you need some help, Dally?" Soda asked with that goofy little grin of his.

"No, I don't need help." I muttered.

Soda raised a brow as I continued to stare at the first aid kit.

"Fine, just this once."

I pushed the box towards him. He took out some cotton balls and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. We sat down at the table together.

"Give me your hand Dallas." He said softly, opening his hand.

I gave him my hand. Soda pressed the damped cotton ball on my opened knuckles. I flinched slightly, not expecting it to hurt so badly, it never has before.

"Fuck, man..." I muttered under my breath.

Soda laughed quietly as he put a gauze over my hand. He lifted my hand up to start wrapping the bandage on, when he touched my palm his face turned to surprise.

"What?"

"Your hands are softer than I thought they'd be." Soda chuckled.

"My hands aren't soft..." I mumbled, as Soda wrapped my hand with bandages.

Soda smirked and finished dressing my hand.

"Is your eye alright? You might have to get stitches."

"It's fine, Soda." I grumbled, a bit more rudely than I intended.

I stood up and walked to the couch, flopping myself onto it. I sighed and buried myself in the cushions. The front of my body facing the back of couch.

I could hear Soda picking up the first aid kit and placing it back in the bathroom.

"Goodnight, Dal." He said softly.

I smiled weakly, Dal, it made me laugh quietly. When I was sure Soda left I turned around on the couch, sighed, and dozed off.