A/N: This fanfic was inspired slightly by Whitney Houston's Dance With Somebody (RIP Whitney) and Frank Ocean's Voodoo/Orion. I am interested in continuing this fic and I would like some assistance from a Beta. If anyone is interested or knows someone who is extremely patient let me know. As always I do not own anything and all characters/information belongs to S.E. Hinton.
"Anyone have any final words?"
Darry looked around the small living room at the various Greasers and Socs who had gathered to pay their final respects to Dally. They had buried him earlier that day in the cemetery that lies on the boundary between Soc and Greaser territory.
Unlike Johnny's service, no tears had been shed for Dally, and the chilling shock towards his death was colder than both Dally's demeanor and eyes combined. I could feel the tears forming in my eyes as I realized that Dally was truly gone, but fought to hold them back. I would save my tears for my pillow at home, where no one but me and Dally will be able to hear.
Someone, a Soc was coughing in an attempt to fill the silence in the room. It seemed like I could hear nothing else but his annoying coughing and my own heartbeat, now beating alone without the accompaniment of Dally's. I stared at the dirt that had formed on the front of my black stockings over the course of the day and tried to savor the last moment that I had shared with Dally.
Contrary to popular belief about our chaotic relationship, my last few hours with Dally had been deliciously tender and I found it harder to let Dally go with these moments still so fresh in my mind. I closed my eyes and took in a heavy breath as I struggled to recreate the scene in my mind in an attempt to find one small beacon of happiness in the drowning sea of dingy black clothes and sympathetic faces that surrounded me in the Curtis' living room.
Heart to heart. I could feel his warmth as we danced to one of the few slow songs played at Buck's party. It wasn't the first time Dally had held me so close, but I appreciated the closeness more when it was like this. Dally had been away for a few days, "running some errands in Windrixville" he had said and-despite my attempts not to— I had missed him terribly. He wasn't the best boyfriend, and the kisses of some unnamed stranger behind a dumpster down by the river far surpassed any that the two of us had shared. Nevertheless, I clung to him and inhaled the smell of soap, cigarettes, and barbecue sauce that assaulted my nostrils as I buried my face into his chest. The last smell was new, and I wondered idly if he had shared some sandwiches with another girl while he was running his "errands." I couldn't bring myself to care about another possible infidelity though as I listened to his heart beating in time with my own as we swayed under a dense fog of smoke in Buck's living room.
It was moments like this, when I could hear our hearts beating together in unison that I truly believed that Dally and I were meant for each other. That someone created the two of us to fit together perfectly; to be still with each other under the lights in dark rooms like this. During moments like this I liked to believe that had we been anywhere else—perhaps in another era even—we would have children and live in a small house and raise a family. As our children slept we would dance under the stars, heart to heart, and we would move together as our hearts beat in unison. Dancing with Dally, although rare, made me remember the time when I first realized that I wanted to feel him; I wanted to know him and smell him and claim as my very own. Even though I was dating his best friend Tim at the time his magnetism, his swagger, and the fact that he ignored me completely was enough to drive me crazy with wanting to be with him. His gaze was hypnotizing, and his eyes pierced me from the moment he first turned his gaze to me.
Even now as the two of us danced together, the sound of our hearts and the heat of the crowded room was slowly lulling me back to that night when I first met Dally; the night when I realized that he was what I wanted. The road to this moment, this dance was one that was both rocky and rewarding. The tumultuous love that drove our relationship was well-known throughout Tulsa, but few realized the hopes and dreams that I placed within Dally. The beloved family, the desire for nightly dances under the stars, and the possibility of finally claiming Dally I believe defines me more so than my perceived whorish behavior and gum-popping Greaser-girl attitude.
It was time to let people know, to allow all of them in to see the truth about her, Dally, and the love that they shared through these dances. It would be the way that Sylvia would honor the memory of Dally and the child that she was carrying inside of her; the child they created together. She inhaled sharply, drawing the attention of the small crowd to her. She stood slowly and looked around the room at all of the faces, and fixed her gaze on the ceiling of the house, and said—loud enough for Dally to hear, "I have something that I would like to say." And thus, she began her heart to heart.