Hello guys!! I am back yet again with a second songfic. :) It's based on a great song called "Miss You Love" by a band called Silverchair. I really like this song so I hope this fic does it justice. Hopefully it doesn't suck, I just did it as a kind of "sideproject" because I like the song so much.
If you find the story confusing while reading it, keep on reading because I think you'll understand it if you read the whole thing. If you still find it too confusing, go ahead and tell me. Like I said in my other songfic, I find songfics much harder to do than regular fics, and I want to know what people think of the fic and its relation to the song and stuff.
Just as a note, flashback sequences are in italics (I love doing those darn flashback sequences...hehehe).
BTW anyone who wants me to send you the song, go ahead and e-mail me, and I'll find a way to send it to you.
*Okay...I forgot to add a disclaimer, so.....song isn't mine, Dally is courtesy of se hinton.



Millionaire say
Got a big shot deal
And thrown it all away but
But I'm not too sure
How I'm supposed to feel
Or what I'm supposed to say


"Hey man, she was a good one. What the hell happened to you guys?" He said to Dally's face what nobody else would. Normally the towhead would have punched him without hesitation. How dare someone tell Dallas Winston how to live his life!
But Dally just stood there, unable to move his lips. He knew he was supposed to feel something dramatic with their breakup, but he didn't. His life was just a jumbled mess of contradictions and confusion. Although Dally didn't miss the actual person at all, there was something that didn't feel so good about her being gone. There was an absence of something that she was able to bring along. His lips peeled open, an angered response pouring out of him.
"Yeah well life is full of fucking contradictions."


But I'm not, not sure
Not too sure how it feels
To handle every day
And I miss you love


"Dally! Come here sweetie." The blond woman bent down and wiped some applesauce off his face with her thumb. "There you go! That's much better." She patted her son's untamed hair. The boy looked up into his mother's light blue eyes; eyes that held real love. Dally smiled at her. He wasn't afraid to show her that he...well, that he loved her too. Nothing could ever equal that feeling.
She wasn't the perfect woman. She didn't have the looks or the brains; his mother was just a simple country girl. But she was a caring woman who loved her husband and child.
The door slammed.

Everything back then was so fast and so clear. That was before it all got so screwed up. Back then he could actually feel it. He could take it in and he could return it. But that was a long time ago for Dallas. A time when nothing was wrong, a time when it was bearable, hell, even easy to make it through the day.
Now he wasn't so certain if he could handle life anymore. It was too much effort making it through the day.
But had it really been like that? He knew his life in the past wasn't easy. But at least he was still hopeful back then. He wasn't afraid to open up back then.

It always changed when he came home. She always gave it to him, but he never returned it. He was always angry.
Dally placed his tiny body in a seat at the brown table near the kitchen.
"Hello honey!" She wrapped her arms around him, and Dally could see it in her eyes. She wanted him to respond, she needed his emotional support so bad. He didn't hug her. She went into the kitchen to start dinner. The phone started ringing.
"Addy," his father commented from the couch, "answer the phone." The noise continued to pierce through the small household. She was too lost in her own thoughts to even hear her husband. That was happening a lot lately. Dally started tapping the salt shaker on the table top, his head sinking lower as he felt his heart rate speed up. He would have answered the phone, but for some reason he didn't want to. Maybe he didn't feel like giving in to his father this time. Maybe he wanted to see his father do something for himself for once. Maybe he was just scared. "Addy! Answer the goddamn phone!" The shrill continued. The couch scraped along the floor as his father ejected himself from a sitting position.
"Didn't I tell you to answer the goddamn telephone!" The man screamed as he stormed through the den, making his way into the kitchen.

Dallas remembers how his father tore the phone from the wall, and threw it at his mother while she was busy handling the chicken. While she was busy making dinner just for him. Always giving to him, and always receiving nothing in return.
The thing that sickened Dally the most was the pain on his mother's face. No wonder she became unstable after that, under all that stress. Nobody can stay stable when they don't have any support.

Dally threw his backpack on the floor after he got home from school.
"Mommy!" he exclaimed as he skipped through the den. He stopped in the kitchen and gazed around confusedly. This time she wasn't there fixing the usual afternoon snack of milk and applesauce. "Mommy?" Dally repeated as he roamed down the hall. She was in the bedroom, sitting on top of the bed. "When are you going to fix the applesauce?" Her eyes were so lifeless.
"Not today honey."

He trudged down the street, not so happy anymore to be leaving school and going home. Now he hated going home. As he reached the house he realized there was something terribly wrong.
"Mom?" Her head was down. It took a lot to get her to respond nowadays. "Mommy!" Dally shouted in attempt to get her attention. She raised her head slowly, the wrinkles around her eyes a testament to the stress that had impounded her. "Tell me Mommy, why is the furniture in the yard?" She traced the design on the mattress lying on the ground, which she was sitting atop of. She didn't respond.

They lived in a shithole. His dad was often violent. His mom: she just wasn't his mom anymore. She was often agitated and distraught. The only thing she did all day was pop those goddamned pills.
Dallas had changed a lot in three years. He had always given her love without any effort in the past. But as time went on it became harder and his energy ceased. It hurt too much to leave himself so open and so willing for affection and not receive any. That's when he started to shut it off. It was easier that way; it helped him get through the day. Who needed love anyway? Strange conclusion for a nine year old kid, huh? Well, how else would he have survived?


Make room for the prey
'Cause I'm coming in
With what I wanna say but
It's gonna hurt
And I love the pain
A breeding ground for hate but...

I'm not, not sure,
Not too sure how it feels
To handle everyday
Like the one that just past
In the crowds of all the people


There was no reason to stay. If he left his parents wouldn't notice anyway.
"Hey kid, you ready or what?"
"Hell yeah I'm ready for New York! Let's leave this fucking place." Tulsa contained too many memories. Of the twelve years he had lived there, some were good, but most were bad. His life was hopeless. He was fearless.

The masses of New York were becoming too much for him. How do you get through the day when you feel so insignificant, when you are only one tiny dot in a gigantic mass of lifeless people? He wanted to stop in the crowd and tell some obscure person on the street what he really wanted to say. Dallas wanted someone to help him untangle the mess that was his life. He wanted to scream. He wanted to take one of the lifeless robots crowding the streets and push them aside so they would wake up and notice him. Maybe, sometimes, he kind of felt like crying too.
But he just pushed it down. It twisted up inside of him, tearing at his vulnerable emotions. For some reason he liked the torture. Dally liked feeling sorry for himself. It gave him fuel for his anger, which made the day go by faster. It helped keep his mind off what hurt so badly, what he missed so much.

She had an overwhelming presence, and that's what Dallas liked about her. He wanted to be surrounded by the love that she felt towards life. If she could get through each day, then maybe, just maybe, he could make it through the day too. Dally needed something to get through the piss that he swam in every second of his life. If he was near that security she felt, he could get through the obscurity of being on the streets, being one in thousands of nameless people that infiltrated the area.
He was fearless...for the most part.

Her fingers traced the damage along his jawline.
"When Dally, when?" It was a direct question, with lots of conviction behind it. But the way she said, it was so...soft, for lack of a better word. Dallas peeled her hand away from his face. He avoided eye contact with her.
"When what?" he questioned impatiently. She took her hand that had been tracing his jawline seconds before and ran her fingers through her dark hair.
"You know what I mean. When is it going to stop? The fighting, all this stuff. You don't need it!" She reached up to his chin and turned it until she could look into his eyes.
"Yeah? And why should I stop?"
"Because if you continue this way you're going to end up dead. And if you died....Well, I..."
"Who the hell cares if I die anyway, huh?"
"I love you."
He didn't know what to say.

Hate was just easier. It was so rapid and intense. It would be too painful peeling open a scab that covered reality.


Remember today I've no respect for you
And I miss you love
And I miss use love

I love the way you love
But I hate the way I'm supposed to love you back
It's just a fad
Part of the teenage angst brigade and


Dallas hated the fact that love existed because if it didn't, he wouldn't have to miss it like he did, right? He wouldn't have to be jealous of everyone who has someone who loves them, and who are able to give love in return. Maybe he wouldn't have to feel hate anymore, because without love to counteract it, how would it be able to last? Dallas didn't need anyone; he didn't need anything anyway.
Maybe that wasn't the truth. Twisted emotions give off the wrong message.

He never actually digested the love she gave him, but it helped him remember what it was like. It helped him remember what it felt like to not be afraid. But it frustrated her because he couldn't do it. He couldn't give himself to her.

He was caught off guard with Winston's answer. But then again, this was Dallas Winston, who was known for being unpredictable. He dropped his cigarette and grinded it with his boot, thinking about the comment Dallas had made. "Yeah man, I guess I can see where you're coming from. That's true, life is full of contradictions." He chuckled. "Females are too complex anyway. Really looked like something serious was going on there, though. Guess she was just a passing phase, huh?"
"Sure was," Dally replied.


I'm not, not sure,
Not too sure how it feels
To handle everyday
Like the one that just past
In the crowds of all the people

Remember today I've no respect for you
And I miss you love
And I miss use love


She brought her hand up to a swollen jawline, but this time it wasn't his.
"Why are you doing this to me?" she asked. She was always so honest. Dallas couldn't reply because he didn't know the answer. Why was he? He could see it; he could see the pain in her face. But he didn't care. Why didn't he care? Why did he hurt her like that? Why? "You need to open up. I know you feel like you're going to fall apart."
"I can do just fine by myself. I don't need all this." Dallas wanted a taste of it, but he couldn't take it all in at once.
She turned her head away. How could she last in this relationship where she gave so much and got nothing in return? Nobody wants to be an object.

It wasn't a nasty breakup. The worst thing about it is there wasn't any emotion involved. She knew he didn't feel anything towards her. Neglect can hurt just as much.


Remember two days I've no respect for you
And I miss you love
And I miss you

I love the way you love
But I hate the way
I'm supposed to love you back
That was enough; Dallas ended the conversation with him right then and there. He didn't want to talk about it anymore.
The towhead found himself treading through the crowds on the streets, noticing everybody who had somebody. His lungs couldn't take in any deep breaths. Why was he feeling this way? Because he wanted it; and maybe he needed it too. Dally was starting to realize how much he depended on her. He was afraid that now because he wasn't around her anymore, the day would get slower until it would come to a complete stop. His pain would become concrete, its hurt magnified. He would become trapped in this inescapable moment.
Watching people who allowed themselves to experience true emotion made his breathing shorter, it made the steel inside his flesh twist just a little more. These people exposed him to the pain of loneliness; it was like being stabbed repeatedly. It was reminder of what he couldn't have.
Dallas knew what he was going to do. He had to leave New York; he couldn't handle it anymore. Sure, Tulsa was full of bad memories, but this city and its anonymous faces were too much. His emotions were starting to waver, and he knew that if he didn't escape the confusion he would fall apart. He was becoming even more uncertain of his existing life, his deadened ability of reciprocation of emotion.
The more he questioned things the less he knew. Is this what life is all about?
He didn't know. He just couldn't figure anything out.
He couldn't figure himself out.