Eyes Are The Window To The Soul

The First Glance

Dallas Winston finally got out of jail. Finally, finally, he was out of that damn place. It was tough there. Not the kind of tough you'd be proud of, no. The kind of tough that made you think of the people in the world who were picked on because people thought of 'em as weak. Naturally, Dally thought the same.
One fateful day, Dallas Winston's friends dragged him out to a coffee shop on the far side of town. A waste of gas, so he said, but he had to admit the local gas station didn't compare. He wasn't the type for any fancy, spotless establishments; the mysterious drink stained corners of the gas station did just fine for him.
Still, his friends had insisted they try somewhere new. They typically kept to their own territory, but apparently they were feeling adventurous today. Two-bit (it isn't his real name, but none of the gang hardly ever used it) especially. He always had to get his two cents in. Unfortunately, they worth quite a bit, because he was like the group's wise guy. He didn't ever gloat though.

"What's this place all about anyway?"
Dally asked. Two-Bit gave him an unamused glare, to which Dally only shrugged his shoulders.
Ponyboy, the youngest of them, piped up.
"Coffee, duh." A bold move from the kid, Dally would give him that. He only stuck around them because he was Darry and Soda's kid brother.
        The Curtis brothers were definitely quite the lot. From time to time, he would overhear Soda or Pony talking about things in their life: school (only Pony), girls, and their close buddies that didn't often hang out with the main bunch: Steve and Johnny.
   Apparently, they were going to meet Johnny now. Steve hung out with them from time to time but Johnny was usually too busy (some could read: too scared).

Just then, the entrance of the coffee shop came into sight. It was a cozy place. Nothing special, to Dally at least, but there might be some nice girls there. He wasn't too interested in them—he often scared them off anyway. And he certainly didn't like guys. It wasn't that he cared, or that the gang would care, he'd simply never been interested.
Two-Bit held the door open for them as they filed in. Soda made a comment about him being 'courteous,' to which he snorted.
"Don't be usin' words you don't know the meaning of."
Soda only gave him a playful punch in the shoulder.

The group tailed Ponyboy up to the counter, Dally being the closest to his right. The younger was immediately noticed by a boy working behind the counter. With a beaming smile, the worker came to greet him.
"Hey Pony!" He paused. "These your friends you've been talking about?"
Pony gave a firm nod. He stepped aside; a gesture for them to introduce themselves. Despite being toward the back of the group Two-bit went first.
"Keith Matthews, just call me Two-Bit."
Then it was Soda.
"Soda-pop. You know me, Johnnycake."
And then it was Dally's turn. He found that he was unnaturally hesitant in this situation. The worker waited patiently, eyeing him with an intent gaze.
"Dally Winston." He said simply, with a wide grin. It was the kind of grin that would make you think of a big scary guy with tattoos. Fresh outta jail and lookin' for more trouble. One of those things were true about Dally, though unless you knew him it would be hard to tell.
Dally hardly ever looks for trouble. It finds him and lures him in. Something about this boy at the counter—Johnny—gave him the impression that trouble would be after him soon enough.
Johnny took a careful mental note of everyone's names. You could see it in his eyes, the way he focused to get it right. Dally had never really been the poetic type, but he could remember one thing he'd read. It went something along the lines of: eyes are the window to the soul. Bullshit if he'd ever heard it, but now it made him wonder why Johnny's eyes were filled with something Dally would never expect from someone like him.
Pain, and strength. Both at once; a balance.

It was something he'd never seen before. Captivating in the sense of boundless resilience, but also empathy. Dally only knew the violent and grim reality he lived every day. He was either in jail, or trying not to get caught by the fuzz,
and as a result, get tossed back IN jail.
The Socs—heartless beasts, beatin' on the greasers for the hell of it—didn't have that kind of look in their eyes. Neither did any of the other greasers. Something about this Johnny kid was different, though it was difficult to catch at first glance.

A/N: I actually don't know bro. I was bored, just read the outsiders, and lowkey loved it.