the outsiders imagines

lose you - dallas

pairing: dallas x reader

warning: none

summary: you left. you came back. you loved.

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You hadn't told anyone you were going to leave. You couldn't. Because how do you tell people you've known your whole life, the people you depended on, the people you loved, that you're leaving and never coming back?

The truth was, you were scared. You were scared to see their faces when you sad goodbye and so you avoided it. But reality slapped you in the face once you had arrived in New York, once you had set your suitcase down in your father's ratty apartment. That's when you knew you had made a mistake in not saying anything. That's when you vowed to yourself that you would return one day, to apologize.

And now...now you're back in Tulsa, standing in front of a familiar front door with a knot of anxiety in your stomach. You don't know how the boys on the other side are going to react once they open the door and see a face they haven't seen in three years. Your hand moves involuntarily, rapping on the peeling wood three times before falling back to your side. Beads of sweat start to form along your hairline; your heart is racing. The door suddenly opens, revealing a tall, muscular man wearing a tight black shirt.

"Y/N," Darry breathes, immediately pulling you into a hug. Tears threaten to spill over as you hug him for the first time in a very, very long time. A few moments pass and you feel two more pairs of arms snake around you, squeezing you tight. When you finally let go, you look at the Curtis brothers, all staring at you with wet eyes.

You can't believe how much older Darry looks. He's twenty three now, only three years older than the last time you saw him but he looks like he's aged decades. He has a scar on his cheek, probably from a rumble or a fight, and his once-icy blue eyes have mellowed into a dull gray. It's obvious that life and time have taken their toll on him.

Your eyes wander over to Sodapop and Ponyboy. Ponyboy, seventeen years old, has passed nineteen year old Sodapop in height. His cheekbones and jawline are defined; he's lost his baby face. Sodapop's hair has darkened a bit, now more of a chestnut brown than a wheat gold, but he still has that Hollywood smile. Nevertheless, no matter how much they had changed, these were the same boys you had called brothers before you moved.

"You have a lot of explaining to do, missy," Darry says, pulling you in through the front door and into the foyer of their house. As you open your mouth to respond to him, your eyes catch sight of a dark figure sitting on the Curtis' couch. Your blood runs cold as the figure's glance meets yours.

Dallas.

Unlike the Curtis brothers, Dally hasn't changed much. He still has that messy head of dark hair, and dark brown eyes that look almost black. The mark left on his collarbone from a rumble too many. Those thick eyebrows that are borderline unruly. He has not changed a single bit, and looking at him, you could almost forget that you haven't seen him in three years.

When you left, you knew Dallas would be upset. Part of the reason why you left without saying anything was because you knew Dallas would try to talk you out of it...and you didn't want that. You knew he'd be able to, too.

Here he is, in all of his glory, sitting on the couch with a glare - not an angry glare, not a sad glare. A glare of absolute hatred.

"D-Dal," you manage to sputter out. You can only watch as Dallas slowly stands from the couch, not breaking eye contact. Your mouth opens and closes in an attempt to say something, but you can't. Not with him staring like that.

"I'd like a few words with Y/N, if ya guys don't mind," Dallas speaks in a low voice. Darry and Sodapop nod and begin backing out of the room. "Alone," Dallas growls, side eyeing an unmoving Pony. All three of the Curtis brothers beeline towards the kitchen, almost as if seeking cover from an explosion that is about to happen.

The silence is deafening. No longer able to withstand Dally's killer stare, you drop your eyes to the ground to look at your shoes: a pair of gray Converse. The pair that happened to have been a gift from Dally before you left.

"So are ya gonna explain yourself or what." You slowly raised your head to look at him, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

"My father wanted to me to go live with him. In New York," you whispered. "I...I didn't have a choice."

"But you had a choice to say goodbye," Dally snarled.

"D-Dal, I couldn't...It was too painful. I didn't..."

"Too painful? That's bulls.hit." Dally kicked the side of the couch, making you flinch. "Pain? You don't know pain, doll. Pain is your girlfriend leaving you. Pain is the love of your life packing up and going somewhere without telling you. Pain is wondering everyday if she ran away because you weren't enough. Pain is crying yourself to sleep every f.ucking night because you miss the one person who made you happy." Your eyes are locked onto your shoes; you don't dare look up. You can hear the hurt in his voice. You bite your lip and shut your eyes tightly, trying not to burst into sobs in front of him.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry? Sorry ain't gonna cut it." Dally takes a deep breath before continuing. "I was never prepared for the worst. I was never prepared to lose you. Because I never expected to."

Your chest constricts, as if trying to stop your heart from breaking into a million pieces. "Dallas..."

"Can you even imagine how I felt, Y/N? Falling asleep with you in my arms at that room up in Buck's, waking up alone with my Saint Christopher lying on the bedsheets next to me? You broke me," Dallas said, growling the last words. "How dare y-"

"Dallas Winston," you interrupt. Dallas stops mid-word and raises an eyebrow. "You listen to me and you listen to me good. I didn't want to leave, alright? I didn't want to leave you, and the gang, and Tulsa. I didn't. But you gotta do what you gotta do. And I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye. I just...I just thought it would be easier to leave without saying anything. And I realize that it wasn't. It just made things a helluva lot more complicated and painful for everyone involved."

"D-"

"I'm not finished. I could have stayed in New York. I'm nineteen years old now, Dal, same as you. I could have stayed, worked in my father's business for a couple of years, gotten married, settled down. But I didn't. I came back to Tulsa. I came back because you're here and the only future I can imagine for myself is one with you," you spoke. "Please, Dal. I know I've made a mistake. I know. And I can't expect you to forgive me. But please...I loved you, I love you, and I will always love you."

You watch as Dally purses his lips,staring straight into your eyes. You can tell that he's trying to look tough, despite his emotional outburst earlier.

His eyes soften, and before you can say anything, he has you wrapped in his arms, his face buried in your neck. It's the most un-Dallas-like thing you've ever witnessed, but you can't help but feel safe and loved in his arms.

"Don't you ever leave me again. Don't you dare," he mumbles into your neck. "I swear to God, I will kill you if you do," he adds, making you laugh.

"Dallas Winston, I promise that I will never leave you," you say.

It's good to be home.