Title from The Fray. Updated as of 7/11/15. (I know, I can't seem to let this story go. But as long as you guys keep reading, I'll keep editing this to try and make it better.)
"Who the hell's the runt?" Dally asks, his eyes boring into the kid's skull. A deep scowl is etched on his face.
"This is Johnny," Sodapop says, a cheesy grin swallowing his face. "He goes to school with Pony. Johnny, this is Dallas Winston. Well, we call him Dally."
Johnny looks up slowly, obviously trembling. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself, before meeting Dally's eyes. "H-hey Dallas," he near whimpers, his voice shaking.
Dally's gaze rakes over the kid's emaciated body. He has bowlegs, and Dally's positive he can snap the kid's arms with a flick of the finger. Johnny's black hair flops in his face – dirty and ragged. His damn eyes are too big for his face.
Dally takes a long drag on his cigarette, smirking slightly. This kid will get killed within days, running around with their group.
He gives Johnny one last, piercing stare, before slowly exhaling a cloud of smoke and walking away.
Behind him, Dally hears Sodapop's words of comfort: "Don't be shaken, Johnny, that's just Dally. You'll see, he'll warm up to you real fast. Aw, come on, Johnny, don't be like that. Dally hates everyone, it's just part of his personality. The other guys will like you just fine. Say, Johnny, how 'bout we go to the gas station and – Johnny! Johnny, come back! Hey kid, where are ya going?"
Dally needs a beer.
A few weeks later, the gang has a party at Dally's place. Of course, some others show up. Tim Shepard and his boys. Buck Merril and Hank Williams. Some of their friends. And a couple good-looking broads and nice skirts, all wearing clothes that leave little to the imagination. Of course, Dally wouldn't have them any other way.
A few hours in, Dally has a beer in his hand and a girl on each leg. He's whispering suggestions into the crooks of their necks that make their cheeks flush bright red with embarrassment or arousal. Dally doesn't care much either way. They're both nice looking enough – but maybe that's just the booze talking.
While Skirt #1 is grinding on his lap, Dally realizes that he has some business that needs attending. Regretfully, he whispers, "Gotta take a leak, be right back," to the girls, and heads off to the bathroom.
When Dally opens the door, the last thing he expects to find is the runt. He's all curled up against Dally's wall, his knees to his chest. The kid flinches audibly at the sound of the door banging open, and his face freezes in a mask of terror when he spots Dally.
He opens his mouth to talk, but Dally cuts him off. "The hell are you doing here, runt?" Dally slurs.
The kid blinks his huge eyes. Opens his mouth.
"Get out of my damn bathroom. Gotta take a leak," Dally growls, suddenly pissed that this fucking kid is sitting in his bathroom, in his goddamn house.
Johnny scrambles to his feet, mutters a shaky apology, and runs out.
After Dally takes his leak, he sets off to find Two-Bit.
It shouldn't take as long as it does, considering Dally's place is about as large as a prison cell. He eventually tracks Two-Bit down – he's in the yard, sticking his tongue down some broad's throat.
"Two-Bit," Dally calls, his tone brimming with anger.
Two-Bit is either too drunk to notice or doesn't care, just continues moaning and grinding against the girl.
Dally curses and rips the pair apart.
Two-Bit wipes his mouth, furrows his brow. "Look Dally, I gotta nice girl with me, and things are just getting good, so whatever you gotta tell me can wait. Savvy?"
Dally growls. Two-Bit sighs.
"You have damn horrible timing, you know that?" Two-Bit complains, but he shifts his attention to Dally. The girl huffs and leaves.
"Did you invite the runt?"
"…Who?"
"Did you invite the fucking runt?"
"Oh, you mean Johnny? Yeah, I did, why?"
Dally's eyes burn with intensity. "Why the fuck would you do that?!"
Two-Bit frowns. "Come on, Dally, Johnny's one of us now. I thought he deserved to have some fun, so I gave him the invite."
Dally's seeing red. "What the hell were you thinking? Two-Bit, that runt's a fucking kid! How old is he? Like eleven? Twelve? You think inviting him to this would be fun for him?"
"Dally, he's fourteen. Calm down. He's only one year younger than you."
"Yeah, well, until he can man up and act fucking fourteen, you don't invite him to any parties. You don't invite him to any events. Any hang-outs. You keep him out of all this, you hear?"
"What's wrong with you? What've you got against Johnny? I mean, sure he's a little quiet, but he's a good kid, and –"
"That's just it, Two-Bit. He's a good kid. He doesn't need this kind of shit in his life… I can't believe… Never again, you hear?" Dally's voice is final, and Two-Bit's Adam's apple bobs nervously as he swallows.
"Yeah, man. I hear you," Two-Bit says finally. "No more."
Dally gives a satisfied grunt, then back heads inside to find those two girls.
Knocking rouses Dally from his sleep. He curses and opens his eyes. It's pitch-black outside. Dally groans, and flops over, closing his eyes once again.
Someone knocks again, hesitantly.
"Goddammit, I'm coming! Jesus Christ!" He yells, and blearily stumbles to the door, rubbing away the sleep from his eyes.
He opens the door, and his mind goes blank.
The kid is shivering on his porch, his head ducked and body tense – as if he's expecting a beating. He's wearing a flimsy shirt and shorts. It's the middle of November, it's freezing outside. The kid is sniveling and sobbing and Dally's about to close the door because he doesn't need this kind of shit in his life right now.
But then the kid starts babbling, something about "So sorry" and "Didn't have anywhere else to go, everyone else lives too far away" and "Remembered your address from the party" and "I'll leave, just close the door and I'll leave, I'm so sorry for bothering you, never mind".
And then, because Dally's fucking curious, so sue him, he leaves the door open. Against his better judgment, he asks, "Why're you here?"
The kid finally meets Dally's eyes, and Dally lets out a low whistle, unable to control himself. The kid's face is a wreck. One of his eyes is swollen shut, and the other one isn't that much better off. His lip is split and fat. Bruises litter his neck, and there's a huge cut going down one side of his cheek. As Dally blinks away the sleep in his eyes, he can see that the kid's bleeding pretty badly – lines of red are streaking down his arms.
For anyone else, Dally would have closed the door. He would have told them to go see the fucking Curtis's or something. He would have left anyone else alone in the cold, in the middle of the night. He would have gone to bed and fallen to sleep without a second thought.
But this fucking kid looks at Dally with his too-big eyes that make Dally want to scream or cry or punch something. Those eyes scream pain and loneliness and abandonment and something about looking into them makes Dally feel like he's looking into a mirror.
Dally tries to shut the door in the kid's face, he really does, but his arms aren't cooperating, and he opens the door a bit wider instead.
Dally's not sure who's more surprised at the action: him, or the kid.
The kid stands frozen on his porch, his mouth gaping open in a perfect 'O'.
Dally scowls. "Are you coming in or not? You're letting in the cold air."
Johnny swallows, closes his mouth, and moves stiffly inside. Dally closes the door after him. "What the hell happened to you?" Dally asks, feigning disinterest.
The kid clears his throat. Opens his mouth. Nothing comes out. He tries again. Still no words. Finally, after a couple tries, the kid finds his voice. "Fell down the stairs," he grunts.
Even Johnny seems to realize how weak his answer is, and he winces, either because of the obvious lie or the sting from the peroxide Dally's pouring into his wounds.
"You honestly think I buy that?" Dally demands, feeling insulted.
Johnny shrugs meekly. "Some do."
Dally finishes tending to Johnny's wounds in silence.
All bandaged up, Johnny stands up, wincing slightly. "I, uh," he clears his throat. "Thanks a lot, Dally. I know you're not – I know you don't… I'll leave now."
Dally nods. After Johnny lets himself out, Dally washes the blood off his hands. Then he goes to bed.
Dally doesn't get much sleep after that.
The next morning, Dally finds a piece of paper on his doormat.
He picks it up and examines it. It's been hastily colored a light shade of blue. It's folded in half, and Dally opens the paper up. Inside it, there's writing.
It's a card.
Dally's never received a card before. Not for holidays, not for his birthday, not for greetings and goodbyes.
He puts it on his table, fully intending to trash it when he comes home. Stupid piece of paper.
When Dally comes home that evening, he stares at the card. Stares at the writing.
He wishes he could read.
Dally's always been a fast learner.
When you've lived on the streets for most of your life, you have to be. You either learn, or you die.
So it only takes a few months for Darry to teach Dally to read. Of course, they only have lessons at night, when Pony and Soda have gone to bed, and Darry's positive no one will come knocking at his door.
If it was anyone else but Darry, Dally would've given up, swore that he didn't have to fucking read anyways, he's made it fifteen years without reading and he's been fine. But Darry doesn't ask questions, doesn't pry and ask Dally, Why? Why do you suddenly want to learn? like anyone else would have. What happens is, Darry's patient and encouraging enough and Dally trusts him more than anyone else (which isn't much, but it's enough), and so they manage to push through.
Dally finally masters the art of reading a few weeks after he turns sixteen. He waits to read the card, though.
He's afraid of what it says. He's afraid of who it's from. He's afraid that after all this hard work, the card will mean nothing.
Dear Dally,
I'm sorry for bothering you with this card. I just wanted to say thanks a lot for…last night. Thanks for helping me. I'm sorry for being such a bother, and I promise it won't happen again. But you helped. A lot. And I want you to know that I'm really grateful.
I know you'll probably throw this away without reading it, or hate me even more for writing this, but I really do feel like you did me a huge favor, and, uh, yeah.
I'm sorry that you don't like me, and I'm sorry I was in your bathroom at the party that one night. Sorry. I'll try and be less…pathetic.
So, uh, thanks.
I'll stay out of your way.
Johnny Cade
….
The gang is hanging out at the Curtis's house.
Dally takes a drag on his cigarette and asks casually, "Hey, kid, wanna go catch a movie tonight?"
The whole room falls silent. Johnny's eyes are so bugged out they look like they might pop out of their head. "Uh… me?" he squeaks.
Dally rolls his eyes. "No, the other kid."
"Uh… sure," Johnny breathes. "Um, yeah. Sounds…good?"
"Good. Let's see if we can pick up some nice skirts, yeah?" Dally asks casually.
"Yeah," Johnny says hesitantly.
Dally nods, apparently satisfied, and says nothing more.
"Jesus Christ," mutters Two-Bit, wide-eyed. "What the hell just happened?"
At the movie, Dally learns Johnny doesn't talk much. Around anyone. Dally likes that. The kid doesn't feel the need to fill up silence with meaningless chatter. He's smarter than most.
However, Dally still gives Johnny some tips on picking up girls. And, at the end of the movie, they both have their arm around a nice broad, although Johnny's arm is trembling slightly, and his face is clammy with sweat.
Dally notices fresh bruises on Johnny's neck.
"Johnny, let's go, Soda's waiting," Dally ushers Johnny out of the house.
Johnny agrees with a smile on his face, and when they walk to the car, there's a spring in his step. Inside the car, Johnny's practically radiating happiness.
"What's up?" Dally asks suspiciously.
"Huh?"
"You're acting like the damn sunshine is shining out of your ass."
Johnny fidgets a little, then smiles even brighter. "That was the first time you've called me by my name. Johnny. Before, you always called me 'kid' or 'runt'. But today's the first time you've called me Johnny."
Dally grunts, then turns up the radio.
When Johnny turns fifteen, Dally gets him a book of poetry. Dally doesn't know shit about it himself, but Johnny seems like the type to enjoy that deep stuff.
Johnny finally gains enough courage to tell Dally about his abusive parents.
Dally breaks Johnny's dad's nose, and would have done more if he hadn't heard Johnny screaming in the corner for him to stop, Dally, please stop, Oh-God-Dally-What're-You-Doing-You're-A-Monster STOP!
After that, Johnny doesn't talk to Dally for a few weeks.
Dally drinks away his problems and has a girl in his bed almost every night.
And when Johnny finally shows up with a black eye and bloody nose on Dally's porch, Dally lets him in.
"Hey, Dally, you wanna drive around?"
"Where to, Johnnycake?"
"I dunno… We could just drive around."
"Kid, you're practically begging to get jumped by some Socs."
"…We could watch the sunset."
Dally nearly pisses himself laughing.
Dally gets in a fight. It's not his first one, not by a long shot. Some stupid Soc tried to jump him, and Dally simply defended himself. He smashed the boy's nose into his face and knocked him out.
Unfortunately, the Soc broke Dally's rib, and gave him a nasty black eye. When Johnny finds out, he flips out. Johnny starts lecturing Dally about being safe and fussing over him – fluffing his goddamn pillows of all things.
Dally should really throw Johnny out or tell him to shut up or something, but instead, he lets it happen.
It's a nice feeling, having someone take care of you.
Dally has a dream. Not a 'Martin Luther King Jr.' dream, but a fucking nightmare.
See, Dally doesn't get nightmares. He's not scared of anything. Or, at least, he wasn't scared of anything. He just hated everything with cold indifference.
In his dream, Johnny sees Dally for who he truly is.
Johnny sees Dally as a hoodlum. A kid who's getting nowhere in life. Johnny sees Dally as a murderer. Johnny realizes how fucked-up Dally is. How absolutely screwed up Dally's whole life has been. And Johnny realizes that he doesn't want anything to do with Dally anymore.
Johnny leaves.
When Dally wakes up, his heart is pounding and his pillow is damp. To calm himself, he lights a cigarette with shaking hands, and takes a long drag.
He reminds himself that everything in your life will leave you.
Dally avoids Johnny for a while.
Johnny shows up at Dally's front step at 2 in the afternoon.
"Hey, Dally," Johnny says, but it's not the carefree way he used to say it. Johnny's voice is laced with sadness and pain and longing, and Dally hates himself for causing that.
"Uh, I'm sorry that you… You probably don't want to see me, but… I just… I can't take it anymore! Why are you avoiding me? Did I do something wrong? I'm so sorry if I did, Dally, cause you, well, you mean a lot to me, and I still want us to be friends. Please, just tell me why we're not talking anymore."
Dally stares at Johnny for a while. Johnny's eyes are still too big for his face. Dally doesn't think he'll ever grow into them.
"I'm a murderer," Dally says quietly.
Johnny blinks with surprise, then says "I know."
"I've done more illegal things than I can count."
"Okay."
Dally feels a bit like laughing hysterically and a lot like throwing up. "I'm fucked up."
"I don't," Johnny takes a deep breath and something in his gaze changes. His back straightens out and his chin raises, if only by a fraction. "I don't care about that. You know I've never cared about that."
Dally doesn't really smile. He hasn't smiled since he was a tiny kid, hasn't genuinely smiled for as long as he remembers. But right then, looking at Johnny, he comes pretty close.
Johnny gets Dally some cigarettes and beer for his seventeenth birthday. Dally couldn't have asked for anything better. He was running low, anyways.
Johnny also gives Dally a birthday card.
Dally stows it away with the other one.
He doesn't open it. Dally doesn't want to taint the pureness and innocence of the card with himself.
He just keeps it in a drawer. And touches it every now and then.
After Johnny gets jumped, things get a little blurry.
Dally swears he'll kill the Soc that did it, and he's barely held back from doing it by Darry, Two-Bit and Steve. Dally only stops struggling when Soda tells him, "Dally, if you kill that boy, you're going to jail. And going to jail means you won't see Johnny again. For a very long time."
Dally remembers feeling so helpless whenever he looks at Johnny. Johnny's become a shell of himself. He looks defeated, and flinches whenever someone tries to touch him. He mumbles quiet words of reassurance to himself. Johnny's broken.
And Dally can't fix him. How can he save Johnny when he needs to be saved, too?
Johnny recovers.
In a way.
He starts greasing his hair, instead of leaving it natural like he did before. Johnny's a bit more quiet now, a bit more reserved. Johnny's taken up smoking. And drinking. And most important, Johnny never leaves his house without a blade or two on him.
Dally watches, and quietly mourns for the loss of Johnny's innocence.
Ponyboy and Johnny get into some deep shit.
Dally spews off some instructions, some address he pulls out from the recesses of his mind. He gives them some money and clothes.
Ponyboy and Johnny leave.
Dally can't believe that Johnny, his Johnny, killed someone. He can't believe Johnny was dragged into this mess. Johnny could have gone far in life. He was a smart kid.
Now he's a criminal, hiding from the fuzz.
Fucking Johnny.
Fucking kids.
Fucking church.
Fucking fire.
Fuck people. All they ever do is leave you. Hurt you. Break you.
Life isn't fucking fair.
Johnny's a fucking idiot. He's too fucking soft and too fucking nice and too fucking stupid. You'd think that being jumped that badly would make Johnny toughen up, but he's too damn innocent, still. He makes Dally want to tear his hair out. He makes Dally want to tear his heart out.
Now Johnny's in critical condition and Dally's forced to stand by and watch. Dally can't do anything to help.
Dally can never do anything when it comes to Johnny.
So he just drinks beer and smokes cigarettes and closes his eyes and prays, "Please God, Satan, whoever's listening, whoever's out there, pleasemaking Johnny better. You have to. You have to. You have to. He doesn't deserve this. Johnny's a good kid. Give all of his shit to me instead. I promise, if you fix him, I'll be good. I'll never fight anyone anymore, I'll stop drinking, I'll stop smoking and sleeping around. I'll do anything. I'll do everything."
This is what Dally gets for finally caring about someone.
Fuzz are stupid. They buy Dally's weak lie, and escort Dally and Ponyboy to the hospital.
On the way, Dally breaks. Johnny's getting worse, Johnny's getting worse, Johnny's getting worse.
To distract himself from his thoughts, Dally talks. He talks more to Pony in that car ride than he's ever talked to Pony in his entire life.
"I was crazy, you know that, kid? Crazy for wantin' Johnny to stay outa trouble, for not wantin' him to get hard. If he'd been like me he'd never been in this mess. If he's got smart like me he'd never have run into that church. That's what you get for helpin' people. Editorials in the paper and a lot of trouble… You'd better wise up, Pony… you get tough like me and you don't get hurt. You look out for yourself and nothin' can touch you."
Dally keeps talking, because he can't stop, because stopping would mean thinking, and Dally can't think at all. He just keeps driving, because that's all Dally's good for. Dally just drives and drives and drives away from all his problems, and he's going full-speed down the highway to insanity.
When the doctor says Johnny is dying, Dally's world collapses.
Dally pulls out Two-Bits switchblade, and demands to see Johnny. The doctor says something Dally doesn't quite catch, but they're let through. Johnny's lying on the bed, except it's not Johnny because Johnny is healthy and happy and not gaunt and stuck full of tubes.
Dally tells Johnny that they won, that they beat the Socs. Maybe that will make Johnny stay with Dally. Maybe once Johnny knows that Dally can be a winner, too, he'll have incentive to stay with Dally.
Dally tries to stay calm, tries to think rationally. He talks on about everything and nothing at the same time, and tells Johnny he's proud of him. That everyone's proud of Johnny.
Johnny's eyes glow. They're too damn big.
"Stay gold, Ponyboy. Stay gold…" Johnny manages.
He's still.
Dally's still.
He's not dead, he's not dead, he's not dead, he's not dead, he's not dead, he'snotdead, he'snotdead, he'snotdead, he'snotdead,he'snotdead,he'snotdead,hesnotdeadhesn otdeadhesnotdeadhesnotdead, he can't be dead, he's fucking Johnnycake.
Dally swallows and pushes Johnny's hair back. "Never could keep that hair back… that's what you get for tryin' to help people, you little punk, that's what you get…"
Johnny's hair, limp and grimy, flops back into his eyes. Dally snaps.
He slams against the wall, sweat and tears pouring down his face. "Dammit, Johnny… Oh, dammit Johnny, don't die, please don't die…" If he says it enough times, someone has to listen. He pounds the wall, again and again and again and again and again.
Dally runs out of the room. He runs out of the hospital. He gets in the car and he drives. Dally drives and drives and drives. They're gonna go somewhere far away, him and Johnny. They're gonna leave and go to a place with no churches or fires or Socs or Greasers. Johnny's gonna get an education and be smart and be a doctor and Dally gets to be proud and happy and they can get there if only they drive far enough.
He just needs to drive faster…
Dally loves Johnny. Dally loves Johnny, and only Johnny, and he's never loved anyone else the way he loves Johnny. Johnny's the only person Dally truly cares about, the only person Dally would set his life on the line for, and Johnny's dead and it's Dally's fault for not looking after the fucking kid, the fucking runt, the fucking idiot.
If Johnny could come back, Dally would buy him a million books. Dally would buy Johnny a million books and a million gourmet meals. Dally would give Johnny better parents and better friends and a better life.
Dally would give Johnny the world.
Johnny's eyes are firmly imprinted in Dally's brain, those too-big eyes that reveal too much emotion, and they're killing Dally.
Dally gave Johnny everything. Dally cleaned Johnny's wounds that first night, risked his life to help Johnny escape, gave Johnny a part of himself no one else has had. Dally spent his nights learning how to fucking read just for Johnny.
And Johnny didn't care enough about Dally to give Dally his last words. Johnny's last words weren't directed towards Dally, even after everything Dally gave him.
Dally needs Johnny, needs the fucking kid like he needs air, and he's not going to go on without him. Johnny's the only person who actually cares about Dally, who actually spent the time to try to get to know him and made him feel cared for. Johnny's the only one who tried to get through Dally's defenses, and Johnny's the only one who ever will.
Johnny's the only one, and Dally realizes that he's not living without Johnny.
It's about at that point that Dally pulls out the gun.
The police shoot immediately, and Dally's body is jerked and snapped around in midair like a ragdoll. Dally notes, with detachment, that it happens much quicker than he expected. One minute he's standing and the next he's down. It barely hurts – it feels like it's all happening to someone else. Maybe if he closes his eyes and wishes hard enough, he'll wake up as his previous self, as the Dally from a year ago, with a quiet and brilliant boy by his side that made him feel like he could do anything.
Before Dally slips away, he realizes that the sun is setting.
Dear Dally,
Happy seventeenth birthday!
Glory Dally, I can't believe it. Two years have gone by since I first met you. Anyways, the following paragraph will probably be real sappy, so I suggest you skip over it. Here we go:
I just wanted to say you're the best friend I ever had, and I don't think you know that. You truly do care about me, and you understand me like no one else. Even though I know you disagree, I think you're an incredible person. You're real gallant, Dally. Kind of like a southern gentleman. I'm so lucky to have you in my life, so, uh… thanks.
I'm not real good with words, so I'll just say… Don't drink too much this year, and stay out of trouble. Ha! Like that's possible with you!
Finally, we should watch a sunset one day. Together. I'd like that a lot, and I think you would too. What do you say?
Love,
Johnnycake