Chapter Fourteen: Messenger

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(Soda's POV)

The air felt heavy with worry as I made my way to Buck Merril's place, where Dallas Winston had set up a temporary residence. Ponyboy and Johnny had been missing for days, and the tension in our gang, the Greasers, was palpable.

But as I raised my hand to knock on the door, my heart pounded erratically, not just from the fear of what lay ahead, but from the memory of the confession I had made to Dally days ago.

I had spilled my heart out to him, confessing feelings I never thought I'd dare to acknowledge. But Dallas, tough as nails, had brushed off my words like they were nothing more than a passing breeze. His rejection stung, leaving behind a bitter taste in my mouth, and now, facing him again, the awkwardness suffocated me.

I knocked, the sound echoing through the empty hallway, and moments later, the door creaked open, revealing Dallas's weary face, his eyes clouded with shadows of grief and exhaustion.

"Soda," he greeted me gruffly, his voice hoarse.

"Dally," I replied, my own voice faltering. I thrust my letter forward, avoiding Dallas's piercing gaze. "Give this to them, please."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Soda."

I rolled my eyes. Yes you do, don't lie to me. You've already shot me once this week.

"Dallas, give it to Ponyboy. Please and thank you." I pushed, holding out the letter for Dally.

Dallas took the letter with a nod, his fingers brushing against mine briefly, sending a jolt of electricity through me. I tried to ignore the sensation, focusing instead on the letter in his hand.

"Thanks," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. "How are they doing?"

"Soda..."

"I just want to know they're okay. Okay? I've been freaking out and Darry's blaming himself and I'm scared something will happen to them and I don't know what to do anymore!!"

Dallas's jaw clenched, his gaze falling to the floor as he processed my ranting. Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating, until I couldn't bear it any longer.

I could feel more tears shedding through. No, no. Not in front of him. Anyone but him. It was no use, my vision got blurry and I lowered my head. I didn't want Dallas to see me cry, he didn't need to see me cry.

"Don't cry... no, don't cry," Dallas spoke up, not in a rude way, but not in a friendly way either. Oh no, I was annoying him, "Oh Christ Soda, c'mon."

"Dally," I blurted out, the words tumbling from my lips before I could stop them. "I know I said it before, but... I meant it. I... I care about you. More than I should, maybe."

His eyes snapped up to meet mine, the intensity of his gaze making my heart race. "Soda," he began, his voice rough. "I told you before, I ain't the type for that kinda thing. I can't... I can't give you what you're looking for."

His words cut deeper than any knife, reopening wounds I thought had begun to heal. I forced a tight smile, nodding as if his rejection meant nothing to me. "I understand, Dally. I just... needed you to know."

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