Cadaverous Love

Chapter Twenty-Five

I stand up behind Dallas when another song begins to play- I didn't catch who it was dedicated to.

I automatically recognize the song, "Don't" by Elvis. Butterflies dance in my stomach, pushing me to do the same. I grab Dallas by his worn out, brown leather jacket. As he is turning to me I wrap my arms around him. He stiffens for a moment, confused, then he relaxes and puts his arms over mine.

We sway to the music, and in my head I dedicate the song to him.

"Don't, don't, that's what you say

Each time that I hold you this way.

When I feel like this,

and I want to hold you

baby, don't say don't."

I look up into Dallas's eyes, which takes more courage than you think. They are brown, and a blurred sheet of anger and hate hangs over them, making them cold. I search for something else in his eyes, and for a split second I think I do find something, maybe a glimmer of hope or happiness. But no, it's just my reflection.

"Don't, don't leave my embrace.

For here in my arms is your place.

When the night grows cold

and I want to hold you, baby don't say don't.

If you think that this is just a game

I'm playing.

If you think that I don't mean

every word I'm saying

don't, don't, don't, don't

don't feel that way.

I'm your love and

yours I will stay.

This you can believe

I will never leave you,

heaven knows I won't.

Baby, don't say don't."

I debate staying like this, to just stay here- to be able to feel his heart beat and the smell of cologne and cigarettes drifting around me like a haze.

Against what every inch of my body longs for, wishes for... we seperate and head back to the picnic tables to find the rest of the gang.

Everyone is here except Ponyboy and Morgan. As I expected, although I do recall them saying they would be here when the fair is closing.

"Where are the kids?" Dallas asks.

"They aren't kids, they are just about the same age as you." Steve says, annoyed.

"And you." Dallas retorts.

That really hits me hard. Dallas seems so much older than he actually is- grew up too fast. But not like Darry did, Darry's stressed, and his eyes are hard with not being able to comprehend his emotions, and how he cares too much and too quick to try understanding.

Dallas, on the other hand, has all the room to breathe he wants. Yet he is suffocating under the pressure of caring about so little. Maybe Dallas wants to care, wants to love, and wants to show it too. But there is always a constant fear in the back of his mind; that if he's not tough, cold and mean, he'll lose the ones he does care about. Like he has to stay tough for them too.

I wish I could tell him- tell him that he doesn't have to up walls. I wish I could tell him that it's okay to be soft.

Maybe, that would save him, maybe.

I zone back to the world around me, and I notice that Pony and Morgan are here and Darry is trying to separate them from a tender, unexpected kiss. I laugh to myself, but that feeling of happiness is soon replaced with nervousness.

"What's on your finger, Dally?" Sodapop asks in a smooth, sweet tone.

Dallas looks around, as if searching the night for something to say, "a reminder," he finally heaves out.

"What for?"

"It's more to remind someone else."

My heart beats wildly in my chest, like a lion trying to break free from its cage. It beats with a feeling I cannot describe, for I have not felt it before. .