Faltering Smiles.

Day Three.

Sodapop's POV

We went to bed really late yesterday without dinner. After Dallas unzipped my jumper, he shoved his hands inside and started rubbing me all over. It gave me goosebumps and chills and I got scared. I don't know how anyone tells Dallas Winston no, but I did. I told him no and he looked at me like I was challenging him to something. He didn't quite stop at first. Not until the word 'please' escaped my lips did he realize I was being serious. He pulled the zipper up on me and pinned me under him. What followed was a long two hours of his tongue exploring every inch of my mouth along with some noises I didn't know I could make. It only stopped when I said I wanted to go to sleep, followed by a quiet and embarrassed 'please'. He seems to cool off a little when I talk to him the same way I do Darry. Maybe it makes him feel like he's in charge? I don't know but I'm glad it works. He's a handful. We haven't really spoken since last night. After he fell asleep, I laid awake and just snuggled against him. It's hard to get warm in this place and he gives off a lot of heat. It's morning now, neither of us have spoken but we're still laying in bed. Well...if you can really call this a bed. Being gay isn't normal around here. Especially in jail. Being gay is the same as being weak. Being gay isn't good at all. But it felt right. Kissing Dallas, as scary as it was, felt so right. Looking at him and admiring his figure feels right. Feeling him pin me down under him and take control felt so right. But I don't know how he feels about all of this and that bothers me. He can't be too mad or he'd have already told me to get away from him. My cheek is bruised and swollen from where he hit me. Occasionally I catch him staring at it out of the corner of my eye. I don't think he really meant to leave a mark. He was trying to scare me and took it a little too far. Our morning goes on and we go to breakfast. We don't talk there either. He eats slowly and I eat fast and when I'm done I wait for him. I wait and I tap my tray and I bite my lip and think about how rough his lips are. He ignores my stares.

"Dal..."

"What?"

"Are we okay?"

"We're fine, Soda."

"You're not mad?"

"No."

He answers me quietly and without much effort. He doesn't seem to care. Hes not concerned about what I'm talking about. Hes not worried about what's coming out of my mouth. Hes just speaking from the truth. He doesn't need time to think about what he's going to say because he means every word easily.

Dallas' POV

Soda is staring at me with pleading eyes. Hes been like this all morning. I can tell he's really worried about where we stand. As far as I'm concerned, we're fine. Soda's hot and I can't help but be attracted to him. If that's gay then I guess I'm gay. It's not a big deal. When he kissed me last night I was pretty surprised and a little mad. I wanted to tear him a new one. But after I calmed down and the adrenaline sunk in, I got excited. He wouldn't let me- He asked me not to undress him. So I really only ended up making out with him for a few hours. It felt good to pin him down and hold him under me. It felt good to hear him whimper and squeeze my shoulders. It felt good to taste him. I won't regret something that felt so good. No one has ever made me feel so alive. It was like pure ecstasy. I finish my food and we dump our trays into the disposal bins before we head to the recreation room. Soda walks over to a table with some board games and of course I follow him. We play scrabble. He puts down LOVE, and I put down LESSON from his L. The game lasts nearly an hour before we talk again. I don't like the silence so I sigh lightly.

"So...am I a good kisser?"

"Shh..there's people Dal..."

Soda looks worried and he looks around to make sure no one heard me. I made sure to whisper and I'm just making some fun anyways. He doesn't seem to like it because now he looks all worked up.

"No ones listening Soda. Just you and me."

"You're a good kisser."

He murmurs out his answer like a defiant child and pouts. It makes me smile and he pouts even more. I take my turn and I wish this room was empty so that I could lay one on him. Those lips look so good.

"You're an even better kisser."

"Lower your voice...please.."

He gives me those eyes and whimpers out a please and I melt. I can't help but turn to melting wax at the touch of his flame. When he talks like that it does something to me. It's like he turns into this innocent little angel and I don't know how to tell him no. But it's also because when he talks like that, I know he's scared or uncomfortable. He doesn't make that voice or beg like that for just anything. His pleading eyes don't leave my face and the longer I take to answer, the more vulnerable they become.

"It's okay, Soda..."

I whisper much quieter and take my turn. His stare grows calmer and he sighs still looking unsure. He takes his turn and I try not to be too obnoxious with my comments. I try to be quiet so that he doesn't get worked up. Soda isn't used to jail. Soda is scared here. And no matter how good he hides it from everyone else, I can see it.

"You don't have to be scared."

"Of them...or of you?"

"...neither...."

I little pain shoots through me when I realize Sodapop's still uneasy around me. We're friends and we're close but I still scare him. Maybe that's why he wouldn't let me undress him last night. He was probably scared I'd hurt him. I don't like that he's afraid of me. I'd never intentionally hurt him.

"I'm so tired..."

Soda yawns and I yawn right after him. Our game is close to being over as the board is practically full and the pieces are few to none left. It's nearing lunch hour and then yard time. I barely want to go out.

"Me too."

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about what's going on?"

"Soda, don't even start."

"I won't tell anyone...promise.."

"Drop it."

"I want to help.."

"You can 'help' by keeping quiet about it. Mind your buisness. I can handle it on my own."

"I just...I hate to see you hurt.."

I narrow my eyes at him and he shifts uncomfortably in his chair while staring at the table. I know he means what he just said because his eyes are sad and bothered. It's the look he gets some mornings after Ponyboy has a nightmare, or when his parents passed away, or when Darry is really mad about something and won't stop yelling. It's a look of pain that is mostly unspoken. He rarely speaks up when he sad.

"I'll come find you if I need to talk. But for now I got it, Soda. Don't worry about me."

"It's not that easy..."