I wanna be drunk when I wake up
On the right side of the wrong bed
-Drunk, Ed Sheeran-
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The machines all red-lined, and Dally staggered out of the hospital room, ignoring Ponyboy's calls to stop. He ran like hell, tearing down the stairs and into the parking lot, reaching his car in record time. He jammed his keys into the ignition and the car roared to life. Dally gripped the steering wheel so hard he thought it would come apart in his hands.
He screeched out of the parking lot and careened down the road. Speed limit signs were a blur- they didn't matter. Johnny was gone.
Dally slammed his fist against the dashboard and lost control of the car for a moment before straightening it out again. He fishtailed across the asphalt, and cars swerved to avoid him. He didn't care. Those cars didn't matter. Johnny was gone.
He could hardly think straight, so he gave an agonizing yell, not to anyone or anything in particular, so the sound only caught in the windshield and went nowhere. He slammed his palm on the dashboard, and it made a satisfying smack. Dally became vaguely aware of a dull ache in his chest. It hurt to breathe.
He fumbled with the glove compartment, until he brought out a cigarette and a lighter. He let go of the wheel with both hands to light his cigarette, not giving a damn if he crashed. A wreck wouldn't matter. Johnny was gone.
He took a long drag on the cigarette, not noticing where he was driving until he parked in front of the club.
Dally looked up at the neon sign, not comprehending, for a long minute. The ache in his chest became more intense, and he rubbed his face with his free hand. He didn't notice his cigarette had burned down until it singed his fingertips. He cursed loudly and tossed the offending cigarette out the window.
He couldn't think straight. He shoved the car door open and staggered out and into the club.
The music was pounding, which was good. It somehow lessened the pain in his chest, but it made his head ache.
"Hey, handsome," a strange voice said from somewhere on his left. He slowly turned to see a pretty young college student, and she was smiling flirtatiously at him.
"Let me buy you a drink, baby," she purred, stepping up to him and tracing his cheek. "You look like you need to loosen up."
That's when the blur started. After a few shots, the girl left Dally when another young man caught her eye. He must've been boring her anyway, he hadn't said a word yet.
"You need a drinking partner?" An obviously drunk guy asked, staggering up to the bar and plopping down on one of the seats. Dally didn't mind him, until a bright glint caught his eye. He did a double take and looked down at the drunk guy's hand.
Rings.
At least six of them on each hand. Dally's stomach turned, and he quickly downed his shot before moving to another seat.
"Where're ya goin'?" the man called out, but he was already gone.
Rings. Johnny got cut up by a guy with rings. The rings remind him of Johnny.
But Johnny was gone.
Oh god, Dally thought to himself as he ordered an eighth shot. Is everything gonna remind me of the damn kid?
Around his tenth shot, his brain started to get fuzzy. A pretty brunette led him onto the dance floor, and he almost started to have a good time until he realized her dark brown hair color was strangely familiar.
Johnny used to have dark hair.
Johnny was gone.
Dally's chest started aching again, and he staggered back to the bar for another couple of shots. When he got back to the dance floor, he only danced with the blondes.
Again, he had just started to loosen up when he made the mistake of looking into his dance partner's eyes. He gasped.
Johnny used to have brown eyes.
Johnny was gone.
He felt like he had been punched in the gut as he drifted away.
"Baby, what's the matter?" the girl pouted, but he didn't answer her.
Dally was starting to get tired. He grabbed someone's beer off of a table, but no one seemed to notice. He gave up on dancing and headed over to the buffet table.
Dally had just about decided to go back to his car and sleep, when a waiter walked out with a tray of sandwiches. That in itself wasn't bad, but then the waiter started cutting the sandwiches in half.
A wave of pain shot through Dally.
Johnny used to have a knife.
Johnny was gone.
Dally decided he'd had enough. He found the brown-eyed girl he had been dancing with, and she was delighted when he paid the bartender for a room.
The two locked the door of the cheap, dinghy room behind them and got tangled up in the sheets.
Dally still couldn't get rid of the ache in his chest. It was like a hole, like someone had made him forget how to breathe.
The girl had fallen asleep beside him, but Dally was sure he wouldn't be able to sleep that night.
He sighed and lay quietly in the darkness, until he noticed a sound. It was a sound that went in the same category as the rings, the brown hair, the brown eyes, and the knife. It reminded him of Johnny.
Confused, he turned his head to see the brown-eyes girl peacefully sleeping, until he realized what it was. She was breathing.
Johnny used to breathe.
Johnny was gone.
The ache in Dally's chest became too much to bear, and a sob ripped through him. Tears leaked out of his eyes in a steady stream, and he cursed himself for caring. He was supposed to be untouchable, nothing mattered to him, nothing.
Still, he cried.
Johnny used to breathe.
I wanna be drunk when I wake up, on the right side of the wrong bed.
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A/N
Thanks for reading!:) I just randomely thought of this. I hope I broke your heart. Haha.
Please review and tell me what you think:)
Xoxoxo,
EmMarie