It almost worked

Chapter 2- memories

                   ୨⎯ Chapter 2- memories ⎯୧

The next day, the apartment felt different. It was quieter than usual, with the soft hum of the TV filling the space. Dallas was sitting on the couch, his legs sprawled out in front of him, a cigarette dangling loosely from his lips.

The smoke curled around him lazily, rising up into the air, but he didn't seem to notice it. His eyes were glued to the screen,

but his mind didn't look entirely engaged. He was more relaxed today, but something in his posture told me he was still on edge, still watching the world like he was waiting for something to happen.

I couldn't blame him. I was feeling the same way.

I pulled on my jacket, deciding to step out and grab a coffee. The cold air hit me as I stepped outside, but it was a welcome jolt—something to distract me from the knot of anxiety that had been growing in my chest ever since yesterday. I needed the quiet of the city's streets to reset, to breathe, to remember what it was like to be in control.

As I walked down the street, I tried to shake off the feeling that everyone was watching me. The crowd seemed louder, the faces in the crowd more threatening.

My palms started to sweat, and I found myself glancing over my shoulder every few seconds. It was like my body was in constant fight-or-flight mode,

and I couldn't escape the feeling that something was wrong. The night the Socs had jumped me in Tulsa played on loop in my head. The way they'd surrounded me, the way they'd laughed as they hurt me.

I felt that fear bubble up again, sharp and unrelenting. It was the kind of fear that didn't just go away after a few days, the kind that made you feel like you were never safe.

I stopped at the coffee shop and ordered two cups—one for me and one for Dallas. The barista gave me a weird look, probably wondering why I was ordering for two, but I didn't care. It was just easier to get him a coffee than deal with the awkward silence when I got back.

I was careful not to linger too long inside the café. The crowd was small, but even the few people in there made me feel exposed.

The buzz of conversations, the clink of cups, the hum of the espresso machine—it all blended together into a sound that made me feel like I couldn't breathe. I just wanted to get the coffee and go back to the apartment. Get somewhere quiet.

By the time I returned, I was shaking a little, though I hoped Dallas wouldn't notice. I pushed the door open, finding him exactly where I'd left him, still sprawled out on the couch, but now with a new cigarette between his fingers. The TV had changed channels a few times, but his gaze was distant, not really watching.

I set the coffee down on the counter and took a deep breath, trying to calm the flutter of panic in my chest. I didn't want to seem weak, didn't want him to see that something was off.

But Dallas, of course, noticed. He always did. He put out his cigarette with a soft tap against the edge of the ashtray, then turned to look at me. His expression softened just a little, that usual smirk replaced with something a little more serious.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice quiet, like he was testing the waters.

I tried to smile, but it didn't quite reach my eyes. "Yeah, just... a little crowded out there. Too many people."

Dallas narrowed his eyes, watching me carefully. He didn't press it right away, but I could tell he was thinking it over. After a long moment of silence, he finally spoke.

"You remind me of someone I used to know. Back in Tulsa."

My heart skipped a beat. I wasn't sure why, but the mention of Tulsa always seemed to hit a little harder than I expected. Maybe because it felt like a lifetime ago. Or maybe because I didn't really talk about Tulsa anymore, not with anyone.

He took another drag off his cigarette before continuing, his voice more thoughtful than usual. "Johnny. He was one of my best friends. Quiet like you. Nervous a lot, but when it came down to it? Kid was tough. Got beat up by the Socs more times than I can count, but he never let it stop him. Always stood back up. I don't know how he did it."

The mention of Johnny made something stir in me. I could picture him—just from the way Dallas talked about him. Johnny was the kind of guy you could never underestimate,

but you might not notice him unless you really paid attention. He was a lot like me in a way. And hearing Dallas talk about him like that, like he understood Johnny's struggle, made me feel like maybe, just maybe, Dallas could understand mine too.

"He sounds like someone who could've been strong in a way that not many people are," I said, keeping my voice steady. "Maybe it's just... the way you've got to survive. You're always fighting something, even if it's just in your head."

Dallas studied me for a long moment, as if weighing my words, before he nodded slowly. "Yeah," he muttered, exhaling a puff of smoke. "Johnny had a lot going on in his head. I don't know if he ever really felt safe anywhere, since of his parents at home...he was like a lost puppy in a crowd of people..."

I looked at him then, trying to piece together the picture he was painting of Johnny. I had a feeling Dallas didn't share much about his past, but he was letting me in—just a little. And maybe that was enough.

"You remind me of him sometimes," Dallas continued, his voice softer now, more reflective. "The way you're always looking over your shoulder, like you're waiting for the next thing to hit. But you're tougher than you let on, I can tell. I know what it's like to be nervous, to feel like you can't trust anyone. Johnny felt that way too."

I felt my throat tighten at his words, like something inside me was unraveling. It wasn't just the pain of the past coming back—it was the feeling that maybe Dallas understood it in a way nobody else did. I didn't have to explain everything. He just knew.

And somehow, that made the whole situation feel less heavy. Maybe I didn't have to fight this alone.

We sat in silence for a while, both of us lost in our own thoughts.

Dallas wasn't one for deep conversations, and neither was I, but for some reason, it felt like we were on the same wavelength in that moment. Maybe it was because, despite all the pain, all the fear, we both had a kind of strength in us, even if we didn't always show it.

I glanced at the coffee I had brought him, but he wasn't looking at it. He was watching me, that familiar intensity in his gaze, but there was something else in his eyes too.

Something I hadn't expected. I wasn't sure what it was—maybe it was just the way he understood the unspoken things—but I felt myself calming, just a little.

"I'll be alright," I said, breaking the silence, though it was as much for myself as it was for him.

Dallas gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, his expression softening just a fraction. "Yeah, you will be," he said. "You're a lot tougher than you think."

And for the first time, I believed him.

Johnny Cade more like....Uh Jenny Cade🤭