𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐎. ( 𝘫𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 )

chapter three

Johnny didn't talk to Dallas for a few days after sleeping in his bed. Sure, they had slept together like that plenty of time. The ravenette just felt bad about imposing on him like he did. But he couldn't apologize. Dallas wouldn't take it.

The ravenette spent his days at the Curtis, rarely going back to his house for anything. He was content with sleeping on the couch and sharing clothes with the redhead who was a similar size. Although, he did have to return Dallas' clothes that he had borrowed nights before.

The blonde hadn't been around much either. He assumed that Dallas was at Buck's or trudging around time looking for action. Sometimes doing things like that helped the blonde relax.

And Johnny would never judge Dallas for coping.

After all, Johnny was terrible at coping too.

Smoking like a chimney, picking at his skin, refusing to sleep or eat sometimes, even when he knew that he needed to. Just to feel something. And he assumed Dallas did it for the same reason. Just to feel something.

The teen shifts on the Curtis' couch, looking at the television. It was on some scary movie since it was nearing Halloween. It was getting colder and colder with every passing day. Soon enough, it would snow. And Johnny would be shit out of luck for sleeping in the lot.

"You alright there?" Soda asks, leaning over the back of the couch to look at Johnny. "You've been staring at the wall behind the TV for nearly 20 minutes."

Johnny snaps out of it and he tilts his head to look at the golden blonde boy talking to him. He just nods his head, giving Sodapop a small grin. Too busy thinking, he guessed. But he wasn't sure why Dallas was the thing he was thinking about.

"Yeah, guess I was thinking," Johnny replies. "It's getting colder."

Soda nods his head and gives Johnny a big grin. He was always smiling so wide, no matter what. It wasn't very often that he could find Soda frowning. Even in his sleep he's noticed a small smile.

"Yeah, its cold," Soda says. "Be lucky if Ponyboy can keep a jacket on. He's never been good at that. He's gonna get himself sick."

Johnny snickers softly. He nods his head. Ponyboy was terrible about wearing jackets. And whenever he got sick, it was pretty bad. His immune system was good, so it wasn't often he got sick. Usually once or twice a year. Once in the winter. And once in the summer.

"Yeah, kid's gonna get sick and then we gotta look after him for a week," the ravenette says playfully, smiling a little more. "He's whiny when he's sick. Lucky he's the baby."

Soda laughs and he nods.

And that was the end of the conversation before the blonde walked back into the kitchen. The ravenette was left to watch what was left of the movie. It was a slow day.

Ponyboy was doing homework, Darry was still at work, Soda was making dinner, Two and Steve were out somewhere, and Dallas was still MIA.

Everyone was busy.

Soon enough, someone opened the door. No one really knocked. Only Johnny did, but only when it was daytime. In the middle of the night, he did his best to keep quiet. It wasn't hard though. The ravenette was light on his feet. Quiet breaths and hesitant steps.

Johnny turns his head, assuming that it was Darry coming home from work finally. But instead he was met with a battered up Dallas Winston. His eyes widen a little and he could only watch Dallas close the door behind him and head straight for the bathroom.

It was after he heard the door click that he stood up to go after him. He waits a few seconds of hearing nothing before knocking on the door. The teen was curious to what Dallas was going through. Maybe another fight with Tim.

"Occupied," Dallas grumbles, going underneath the bathroom sink to get the first aid kit. "Gimme a minute."

"Dal, you alright?" Johnny queries, staring at the oak wood door blocking his vision of the blonde behind it. He was worried about him. "I seen you were hurt... Do you need help?"

"I don't need your damn help," The blonde spits. "Fuckin' beat it, kid!"

Johnny flinches as Dallas raises his voice. The teen had never had the blonde yell at him before. It made him feel sick to his stomach, to be yelled at like that. But, Dallas was upset, and he knew it. No use crying over it.

The ravenette steps away from the door and he scurries off back to the living room. He sits back down on the couch and he swallows thickly, biting at his fingernails. It hurt when he got to the edge of his fingers. He had bitten too far down. But that was a problem for another time.

Soda peeks out of the kitchen and looks at Johnny on the couch. He frowns softly but leaves it alone, going back to cooking. Dallas never yelled at him like that before. It was new but he didn't know what was happening. If anything had really happened at all.

It took about 10 minutes for Dallas to come out of the bathroom. And even then, he didn't sit and talk. He didn't even stay for dinner. The blonde left just as quickly as he came in.

Johnny watches him leave, his heart pounding against his chest. It was pathetic to be so nervous about something like that. Getting yelled at. But it was whatever. Things happen. People move on.

Johnny could move on.

And even as dinner went on, the ravenette felt his stomach knot up and his throat tighten whenever he swallowed anything. He was sick feeling. Like he had caught the flu and was struggling to eat.

The ravenette simply sits his fork next to his full plate and pushes his chair away from the table.

He hadn't even returned Dallas' clothes.