Dallas, he can't really figure out why he's here.
Here as in at a bus stop in the freezing rain, the sky dark and void only being lit when a spark of lighting coloured it in shades of navy and grey, 8 o'clock on a Wednesday night bringing him nothing but a headache.
He can't figure out why he'd be doing this for the dumb sixteen year old kid next to him, poor boy shaking like a leaf, face a mess of blood and broken glass. Dallas could be at the bar, could be asleep, could be getting laid. But no, poor little Johnny Cade had to come to him and whimper and tremble, beg for 'Dally's' attention. Ask him for help. Maybe he was exaggerating, about the begging, but no matter what, when this broken kid showed up at his door he couldn't force a no out of his chapped lips.
Dumb fucking kid, didn't even realize this wasn't anything a night on a borrowed couch could fix. Jesus Christ, a fucking beer bottle had exploded on his face.
And the dumb fucking kid had ran out of his house so fast, too fast, forgot his fucking jacket during a lightning storm, like a fucking idiot. So here was Dallas, patron saint of useless children everywhere, out in the rain with his own jacket wrapped around the kid that fell asleep leaning against him.
Why was he even out here? He drew a fucking blank.
Dallas sure as hell didn't want to be out in the pelting rain, he didn't want to be up before noon, he didn't want to have this bleeding mess of a kid dead weight on his shoulder. And he certainly didn't want to scrap up every dollar he could find to pay for the trip to the Emergency Room. But he had, even when the boy he was doing this for begged him not to, shit, the only thing the kid asked for was to sleep on his floor. There was a lot he asked him not to do though, not to get out of bed, not to yell, not to take him to the hospital. The only fucking thing he managed not to do when asked was to not hijack a car to drive the boy there himself, and how the kid had convinced him of that he was still clueless.
Johnny fucking Cade, dumbest little fuck, he titled him as an involuntarily shudder crept across his spine, the fabric of his shirt soaked completely, clinging to his frame. Stupid boy, he couldn't keep from thinking, with greasy hair falling into his eyes and bruises across his face, still innocent enough to blush like a virgin when Dallas talked dirty to girls. Why he wanted to protect that, he didn't fucking know. Johnny was everything he didn't like, awfully quiet, so sweet and pure, he hated it. Well, as sweet and pure as some greasy thug could be.
Only idiots were like that, and he would've swore up and down that he had never been like that, that he was just as dirty as a kid as he was now. The brat made him think hard, feel something red hot in his gut, but Dallas had still gave him his jacket and let him fall asleep and shushed him when he bled and cried. Dallas Winston had been gentle with him for Christ's sake, and when the sky cracked again with a jagged bolt of lightning, he pulled the younger boy tighter under his arm.
It wouldn't process, and he still had no clue why. Guys like him never do things like this, never contribute to the good in humanity, wouldn't even rescue a damsel in distress. But he was here, and it sickened him more than the bits of flesh hanging from Johnny's face. He wanted to believe that he cared for this kid selfishly, took care of him because he was reminded of himself when he stared into the black holes the boy had for eyes. Yet, Dallas had never been him, and the 'kid' was only a year younger and could never be the blonde, and he knew the need to take care of the piece of shit was a selfless act he never knew himself capable of.
He had never been selfless before, and he had no idea why Johnny had put faith in him, trusted him to help his bleeding carcass when there were no signs he cared for him for more than a buddy to go cruise around town with. Maybe that's why Dallas cared. Johnny trusted him, admittedly to a fault, but that seemed to crack the ice. This was the one boy who still had faith in him even after witnessing him perform the inhumane, and it was quite possible that was reason enough to help, though it was far fetched.
Dallas blamed it on his buzz and the weather. And when a clap of thunder caused the sleeping boy to jolt, he tried to quell the worry that ran through him.
The thick ink like pools of blood on his shirt saturated against the grey fabric with the pouring rain, brown bottle glass flaking off Johnny's skin and hitting the sidewalk with a passing glimmer, a sickening display of a night that soon would be drank away. Dallas wanted to drop his dead weight in nothing but in a desperate act of self preservation, but when his grip faltered for a moment without a single moment of though his white knuckle grip was tearing the seams of the boy's shirt and slicing his skin.
The blonde had never been as relieved as when that rusted bus rolled up to the curb, the display of affection he gave when holding this sixteen year old fuck and dragging him up the few steps being hidden under the pretense of an undignified rescue.
Rain slathered, pale hair sticking to his face now dripping with sweat and fresh water, a frown pulled tight across his lips as realization peaked. He was being selfless, and as selfish as he wanted to be he couldn't claim this as an attempt at salvation. The only thing he was trying to save was this pathetic piece of shit.
The fluorescent lights toned his skin an ugly colour and he prayed this pile of junk would go fast enough to end this act of depravity and take this boy off his hands before he grew attached.