The Outsiders imagines

Johnny - 1

The scenery passing outside the car window was nothing but fields, the sun setting in the distance. The leather of the seat under you felt comforting. The wind blew into the car through the open windows, whipping your hair in every direction. And with the wind came the distant smell of a campfire.
       He sat next to you in the drivers seat, one hand on the steering wheel, the other holding your hand. His hands fit perfectly with yours. You smiled down at your hand. His fingers interlocked with yours, his thumb running over the top of your hand.
       You looked back up. There was the tree. That same tree that you always stopped at. The same tree on the hill that would look out over a distant city. That perfect, distant outline against the sunset. He parked the car and got out. He helped you out of the car, you smiled and gave a soft 'thank you' in response. To which he of course smiled and just grabbed the hand he had held before getting out. You didn't want to walk to the tree and see the city in the distance. But your legs took you forward. And so the two of you walked to the tree at the top of the hill. The breathtaking view once again drowned out everything else. He squeezed your hand, bringing you back to reality. You looked up at him, longing to see his comforting features.

       And you woke up. Frustration ate away at you. Of course you wouldn't see who this mystery man was. This was a recurring dream. You only had it every now and then, but when you did have this dream it was always the same. The same car. The same tree. The same hill. The same city. The same sunset. The same hand that held yours. The same warm body that stood with you on that hill. Yet you never saw his face. Never. It seemed that you always woke up right before you saw his face. Sometimes you woke up as soon as you got out of the car.
       You slowly made your way out of bed and to the living room. One month of summer vacation left and you'd have to go back to the pit known as school. Your mom had already left for work. Your father had left when you were young, but you knew it was for the best. He didn't deserve someone as amazing as your mother. She had worked almost endlessly at one point. But after you had convinced her to move to a cheaper area, she relaxed more than she used to.
       The cold air of the refrigerator was not pleasant. Especially considering the hole in your pants that sat several inches above your knee. It allowed the cold air to steal the warmth the pants had once provided. Stupid fridge.
       After cooking yourself a small breakfast and putting away what you hadn't finished so you could eat it later, you walked back to your room and got dressed. You crawled back into bed once dressed, and lay there a little while longer.
       You wanted to sleep again. To go back to that dream. But you weren't tired. And you couldn't dream what you wanted at will. Rolling over, you stared out at the birds hopping around in the trees. Wouldn't it be something. Being able to fly away from everything. Crawling out of bed, you finally made the brave decision to step outside. Once outside, you began walking. You went to town and walked in and out of shops. Then you began to weave in and out of alleyways. Small dirt and concrete paths were the only things to be found.
       Then you walked around the neighborhood. Nothing was incredibly special. Except for the empty lot. It wasn't the lot itself, there really wasn't anything special about the lot. It was what was in the lot. And it wasn't the random trash or the little plants or the broken fence. It was the boy sitting against the fence. His legs were crossed, his arms rested on his knees, his head hung low. He shook violently as if he were cold. He looked oddly familiar. You began to slowly walk closer, watching him. As you neared him, glass crunched beneath your foot. You froze. He looked up at you. And you recognized him.
Johnny Cade. The two of you went to the same school. You shared a few classes and at one point shared the same lunch, but he had stopped attending school lunch and just left with a friend of his. The look in his eyes told you that he recognized you too. You were friends but you weren't incredibly close. He continued to watch you as you stood there. He was a boy you had tutored in school. A boy you liked, and were unable to get over.
"Hey Johnny." You said softly, unaware of the blush that now spread over your face. He nodded in response.
       That was when you noticed the bruise on his cheek and the cut just beneath his hairline, almost hidden by his bangs. Panic flooded through you as you finished the walk to him and sat next to him.
       "What happened to you?" Your voice would've been barely audible to anyone who stood a few feet away. But he was right next to you and heard you perfectly.
"It doesn't matter. It's just my old man." He was avoiding looking at you. You had heard that his dad beat him but you were hesitant to believe it. You shook your head and stood up, offering a hand to him. Johnny looked from your hand to you, quite clearly confused. You smiled softly.
"Come on. I wanna get you cleaned up." Johnny took your hand and you lead him to your house, still holding his hand. Your house was just as you had left it. The curtains were closed and not a thing had been moved. Johnny followed you in, looking around the living room. Having him sit on the couch, you walked to the bathroom where the first aid kit was.
When you walked back into the living room, you found Johnny instead standing near the shelf where your pictures were. Some were of you, some were of you and your mom, some were of other family members.
       "I've got the first aid kit." The sudden sound of your voice made him jump, but he quickly recovered. He was no longer shaking quite as bad.
You sat next to him once he sat on the couch and began to clean and take care of the cut on his forehead. While you were lost in your own thoughts, speaking meaningless things to him, he was lost in the sound of your voice. It was a comfort to him. You had been a tutor for him during school, and when you would help him, he learned to find comfort in your voice because he knew that when he was with you, he was somewhere safe. Somewhere where his dad and Soc's could never hurt him.
So now, in your calm house where the only sound was your voice, he felt safe. Slowly, you moved your hands from the cut on his forehead. It was not as bad as you had thought and only needed a band-aid. You looked from his cut to the bruise on his cheek.
       "Let me get something for that." Closing the first aid kit, you set it aside and stood up to grab an ice pack.
But you were stopped. A hand was now on your hand. You looked down to see Johnny's hand over yours. His hand moved to hold yours. His fingers interlocking with yours. An almost instantaneous feeling of déjà vu hit you. This was the hand that held yours in your dream. It was Johnny who you were with. Johnny who accompanied you to the tree to watch the sunset behind the city.
A small smile appeared on your face, along with a deep blush. You were now sitting back down next to Johnny, much closer than you were before. He didn't mind at all. And neither did you. Resting your head on his shoulder, you closed your eyes, focusing on his even breathing. You were in pure bliss. Nothing could make this moment better.