[happily] dallyboy

[three]

PLEASE READ!

hi readers,
I decided to re-write this chapter, because I just didn't like the first one I wrote.

This chapter gives more detail if you would like to read it, I recommend reading it because it's different than the other one.

[pony pov]

"Pony! What happened!" Soda exclaims as Dallas walks through the front door to our house, me still on his back. I don't even have time to answer before Dallas is speaking for me. "Socs." He says shortly, going down the short hallway to the bathroom. He sets me carefully on the counter before opening the cabinet, pulling out stuff to dress my wounds.

He takes a towel, softly wiping the dried blood from my nose and tending to my gashed lip, as well as a few cuts and bruises along my stomach.  And as he does so, I simply stare, and watch his every movement. The way he pokes out his tongue ever so slightly when he's trying to be careful. Or the horrified undertone of his usual hardened exterior when he lifts my shirt to see black and blue marks everywhere, accompanied by a few deep scratches. He reaches his hand out and touches one of the bruises, as delicately as he possibly can.

This surprises me more than anything; because Dallas is never gentle; not with anyone or anything. And as far as I know, there's never been anyone for him to be gentle to in the first place. But it's not like I mind very much, to be treated like this, by Dallas of all people, even though it's kind of freaking me out... just a little bit.

As I continue to watch him, I see his usually cold grey eyes now soft and heart-filled, glance at each and every bruise, cut or scrape on my stomach. As he dabs them all with alcohol, I flinch just a tiny bit, hoping he doesn't notice. But, luck was not on my side today, as it would seem it wasn't on any other day. "Does it hurt?" He asks in voice so soft I wouldn't have ever guessed he could make. I nod slightly, "Just stings a little bit." my voice sounding just above a whisper. "I'll be done soon." he replies quietly.

And it's not a lie. After another few minutes he finishes cleaning the cuts along my stomach. When he's done he pulls my shirt back down, and only now does he look me directly in the eyes. A stare back, not knowing exactly what to say. "Th-thanks Dally," I mumble out, just staring into his soft grey eyes; his light brown hair messed just slightly, making it look more natural.

I don't know when I started to notice the little things, but I don't think I can remember i time when I wouldn't. It's not like I do it consciously, it's not like I want to notice all the things about Dallas that I can never seem to forget. Thinking about him makes me anxious, hearing his voice makes my heart beat abnormally. I hate it sometimes, I wish it would all just stop.