Tim woke up early the day after the rumble. The house was quiet so he knew no one else was awake yet and he was glad. He was a little banged up from fighting and a little hung over from the victory celebration that followed at Buck's. It would be nice to just have some peace and quiet even for a little bit.
He walked out onto the front stoop and gingerly bent down to pick up the paper feeling the pain in his side from freshly bruised ribs. He then went into the kitchen to make himself some coffee. He sat down at the table and read the headlines then proceeded to peruse the rest of the paper. He may have quit school young but he liked to keep up with what was going on in the world.
Opening to the second page he began reading the local news. The first story told of that kid, Johnny's death. Once again, mentioning him having stabbed that Soc and then saving those kids from the burning church. He would always be remembered for all those things. Tim knew the Curtis gang must really be feeling the loss of that quiet boy they all seemed to be protecting.
The second story down made Tim's breath catch in his throat. 'Robbery Leaves Second Hero Dead.' He read and re-read the brief four times not believing the name the story held. Dallas Winston. Dally. His buddy. Dead.
Tim leaned backwards into his chair in shock. How the hell could Dally have been shot 5 times by police? He was too slick for that.
Tim's mind began remembering. Eating his words for rubbing it in to him about missing the rumble when he visited him in the hospital just yesterday. Fighting next to him. Years of fighting with him or against him. The war stories and sexual escapades they shared. The laughs they had over beers.
Tim and Dally could fight one minute then finish with a beer and smoke the next. Like a week earlier after Dally had slashed his tires. Yeah, he beat the crap out of the kid but Dally knew he deserved it. When Dally felt sufficiently beaten he looked up at Tim and simply asked, "Done?"
Tim nodded and reached out his hand to help the kid to his feet. They dusted themselves off and went to Buck's for a couple beers.
That was their relationship. Neither one of them was any good in most people's eyes. They both were violent, mean, cold and bitter. What they lacked in 'good' they made up for in understanding. They got each other. They were two of a kind and they had a mutual respect. They were constantly at each other and fought like wild animals. When push came to shove, though, they had each others' backs. They were friends. Now Tim's friend was gone.
He got up slowly from the table and made his way upstairs to the bathroom. He turned the water on hot and let the steam fill up the room. He got in and relished the sting of the water on his battle wounds. Physical pain was so much easier than the emotional pain he was too collected to ever let himself feel.
Tim let the water run over his face and he broke down. He choked and sobbed in the only place he could find the privacy to do it.
"Goddamit, Dallas!"