This Might Hurt A Little-A Dallas Winston Fanfiction

Catatonic

It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything.-Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club

Dallas had woken up before me but, I didn't know it until I stood up and saw him staring at nothing.

"Dallas?" I asked gently, brushing his brown hair out of his face.

He didn't respond. It was like he didn't even hear me. I looked for a sign in his eyes that he was understanding what I was saying but, I couldn't find one. I walked downt he steps and grabbed a glass of water, filling it up with cool water.  I don't know how I was functioning at that point. I just hadn't hit the wall yet.

"Did you know Johnny well?" Ryders voice startled me from behind.

Ryder was 19 and was more even tempered than I ever learned to be. He just didn't have a wild side. He looked quite a lot like me, with dark hair and light eyes but, while I was only 5'3 he towered over 6 feet.

I nodded, ignoring the shaking in my hands.

"Did he really kill Bob?" Ryder looked away this time.

He knew Bob. They were friends until Ryder went off to college.

I nodded again, not being able to form words. I could tell by the way that Ryders face scrunched up that Tulsa had gotten a lot worse in a few short years.

I took a deep breath before heading back up the steps, "If anyone comes here looking for Dallas or I, just tell them to stay down here."

I left it at that and headed up. Dallas was still laying in bed, looking like he was in a catatonic stupor. I set the water on the nightstand and looked at him. "You don't have to drink it right now."

I laid back in bed, facing him. He stared right through me. We laid there for hours, I watched the sun slowly creep up in the sky through my window. I hummed an endless amount of songs, switching between watching Dallas and watching the clouds. It didn't seem real that Johnny was dead. I was expecting him to be at the Curtis's when I would head over. But, I knew all the traces of him were going to be gone.

Nobody was going to mourn over Johnny's death, except for the gang. Hell, his parents were probably glad he was out of their lives and everyone else just saw him as some dumb punk.

I heard Ryder's muffeled voice through the walls but, I didn't manage to get up until he comes into the bedroom.

"The Curtis's are here." He said and then slipped back out of the room without another word.

"I'm going to go talk to Darry. You stay here, okay?" I told Dallas, giving him a gentle kiss on the side of his face.

Darry was standing at the bottom of the steps, his arms crossed over his chest, muscles tight.

"Where is he?" Darry asked.

I knew he was looking for Dallas. He wanted to talk about what Dallas had told Ponyboy.

"You're not seeing him." I told him, standing purposefully in front of the stairs.

"I'm talking to him."

"No, you're not. Johnny's dead. Give him time, okay? He's dead." As the words left my mouth the wall of grief that I had been pushing through collapsed onto me.

I don't know if it's because Pony and Soda were standing there with red rimmed eyes  or because of Darry staring at me with such anger that I was afraid.

I nearly fell over onto the steps, my vision blurry with the tears falling out of my eyes. An arm wrapped around me and I knew it was Ponyboy. I knew Soda's body and Darry never would have touched me. 

"I'm okay, Darry. Really. Dal's got a lot on his mind." Ponyboy muffled through my hair. 

It was a strange thought, thinking that I was never going to see Johnny blush and give another shy smile or laugh quietly. I was never going to see him again and that blame laid on all of us.

If I would have gone to the movies with Dallas, Ponyboy, and Johnny. If Darry wouldn't have shoved Ponyboy. If Soda would have ran after Pony. If Dallas didn't go and fight Shepard the night of the movie. And most of all, if Ponyboy didn't run into that burning church.

"Dallas didn't mean what he said last night." I sniffled, looking at his steady green eyes.

There's an old soul trapped inside Ponboy's body. You can almost hear the clocks turning when he stares at you with those eyes.

"Yeah, he did." His voice didn't waver, "It's okay. I'm still glad I saved those kids.

"You're a hero, you know that?"

"I ain't no hero." He gave me a shy smile, humble as ever.

"Yeah, you are."

Eventually the Curtis's headed out and told me to wish Dallas their best. When I got to my room Dallas was still laying in my bed, not moving an inch. I wanted to scream at him. To shake him until he did something. 

I had lost Johnny the night before and I could feel myself losing Dallas too.