This Might Hurt A Little-A Dallas Winston Fanfiction

Something To Talk About

Every human walks around with a certain type of sadness. They may not wear it on their sleeves, but it's there if you look deep.-Taraji P. Henson

"Pony okay?" Darry asked when I walked down the notoriously creaky steps.

I nodded, the last person I would tell is Darry out of all people. Ponyboy always talks about how much Darry hates him and Soda always tells him that Darry really does love him. I knew that Darry did love Pony, but he was awfully lousy at showing it. I couldn't blame Ponyboy for thinking that he didn't.

"He's just sleeping." I lied

I headed into the kitchen, passing all of them. I needed time to think, alone. I rocked back on my feet, leaning against the counter and shutting my eyes temporarily. My silence didn't last long as I heard the kitchen door open up.

"Can you just go, Soda?" I sighed. 

"I would, if I was Soda." 

My eyes snapped open and I saw Dallas leaning against the opposite wall.

"Why are you hiding out in the kitchen?" He asked, cutting away some of the already peeling paint with his switch blade.

I rolled my eyes at him, "I'm thinking."

"The kids freaking out upstairs, ain't he?" His tone was half serious, half mocking.

"Don't be mean about it." I narrowed my eyes at him.

The last thing I need was Dallas making fun of Pony. He could be crueler than anyone in the gang when he wanted to be. Lucky for Ponyboy, Dallas seemed to have a bit of  soft spot for him.

He gave me a wave of his hand, "Relax. I'm not poking fun. What was he talking about?"

"He just wants to get out of Tulsa." I replied, not revealing anything else.

"So does every other greaser here." Dallas snorted.

I shook my head, "Not Soda."

Dallas laughed, "He's a damn fool for that, and you know it. I'm getting out of here."

I let the comment about Soda slide. He wouldn't have apologized even if I had a gun to his head. The only thing that surprised me was him talking about the future. He'd never done it before. You could never ask him anything without him telling you to shut up.

"Why do you want out?" I asked, cautiously.

"It's so damn boring. I get that we have rodeos and parties but, hell this place isn't anything like New York." He kicked his foot against the table, rattling the dishes.

For someone who grew up on the wild side of New York, I could see how exhausting Tulsa would be. But I didn't think there was anywhere in the world that was meant for a guy like him.

"You could leave." I said, resisting the urge to comfort him.

He shook his head, his dark hair falling in front of his brooding eyes, "I can't just skip town."

"You could." 

I wasn't urging him to go or anything. I liked having him around. He added fire to the gang and worked to keep everyone together.  I'm just one of those people who lays all the cards on the table.

"You don't get it. You socs never get it.'" He muttered, stalking out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

So much for having a nice conversation.