~Previously~
As Darry put the last of the plates and glasses away in the cupboards, he heard a pained and quiet groan from the living room. Curiosity took advantage of his senses as he walked through the house and into the living room. Thoughts were racing faster than light with each step he took through the small house and in the direction of the living room.
~Now~
Darry walked through the house, stopping dead in his tracks when he reached the doorway of the living room. There sat none other than Dally, stationed on the couch. His limp body was covered in his own blood and bruises, from what he assumed, was the other opponent.
Dally shifted in his shirt and jacket, which were cut to smithereens. In Darry's eyes, he looked like shit. The left side of his face varied in deep shades of black and blue while his right eye had swollen shut, not to mention both of his perfect lips had been busted open. 'Jesus...'
The sight didn't faze Darry, it only surprised him that Dally could get so beat up. It didn't seem like any other fight he would've gotten into. Everyone knew Dally could handle himself easily, so it was rare for him to be that beat.
"Jesus, Dallas! What the Hell happened to you?!" Darry said, all while looking the blonde over. Dally looked like he was in pain, and by the way he was holding his side, Darry could tell at least two ribs had been cracked during Dally's little brawl.
It wasn't anything Darry hadn't dealt with before. He only hoped they weren't too bad, none of them need someone in the gang to be in the hospital. Even Darry can't fix everything.
"Fought off my old man..." Dally groaned, cutting himself off with a wince. "...he...he got me pretty good, didn't he?" He was smirking that sexy smirk of his, somehow blinding Darry from the fact that Dally was hurt.
It was anyone's guess that he won, at least Darry hoped so. He shook his head and sighed in response before walking through the hallway and into the bathroom. Might as well clean him up.
******Dally's POV******
I stumbled down the sidewalk and through the front door to the Curtis house. I was lucky that I didn't face plant in the process.
All I could think about was how the fight went down. I didn't even do anything! Coward was drunk, and when he's drunk, he'll sock just about anything that moves.
That's what got me me pissed off. When Darry left the room I simply closed my eyes and replayed the fight in my head. It wasn't the first fight I've been in with my old man and it won't be the last either.
That guy is not what I'd describe as a low-life. He's lower, way lower. If people thought I was low than they don't ever want to meet my old man. He's that one guy who literally can't survive without some sort of booze and can't hold a job to save his pathetic life.
I hate him. Hate's a strong word, it's the right word but still. What did people expect?
~Flashback~
It was early in the morning and Dallas had no choice but to walk into that Hell hole called "home". He slowly opened the front door and prayed the creaking wouldn't wake Mark up.
To his luck, he was still passed out drunk on the recliner in front of the static Tv when he walked by.
YOU ARE READING
Love Who You Love
Fanfiction" It was an average day in Tulsa. The dogs barking, cars passing by old and weathered or new and expensive houses. An occasional person would walk down the sidewalk in clothing determining their social status. Just any other day to a normal per...
