I hate myself for writing this very, very short one-shot, but it was a definite possibility. Please tell me what you think, 'cause I'm pretty sure angsty-fics are not my forte.
I do not, and will never, own the Outsiders.
If I lived to be a hundred, I'd never forget either of them. They weren't just friends... They were closer than brothers to all of us. Johnny and Dallas both had a good heart, better than the thousands of people who thought they were superior to us just because they had money and we didn't.
But no one else would remember them as anything but dirty, worthless greasers. It wasn't fair... But life was never fair, was it? They deserved something better.
These were the thoughts that went through my head as I scribbled furiously on a blank sheet of paper. Words wouldn't be enough, pictures wouldn't suffice, nothing would replace these guys that never knew what it was like to be respected and loved.
It's been a while, and everyone seems to have gotten over it... on the outside at least. They try to put up their usual personalities from before what happened, probably to make me feel better. But I know I'll never be the same again.
Books are just paper and ink to me now. Every picture has lost its colour, all its energy, all its vitality. Every sunset looks the same, and the stars are all just specks in the sky. I felt like my imagination was a soap bubble that just got popped by the needle of harsh reality.
I'm pretty sure this is what Johnny wanted me never to lose. But it's impossible. When you have to go through things like that, you don't appreciate stuff like clouds and sunsets anymore, as much as you would like to. This is what Robert Frost really meant in his poem. After all, nothing gold can stay. Everything has to turn green eventually. Even me. Especially me.
This was the very last thing I could do for them. I had to let people know that Johnny and Dallas weren't worthless. None of us were. I poured my soul into that theme, but when I finally finished it, I felt empty. Hollow. I felt like I had nothing left to say, no more reasons to why I should ever dream again.
Because at the end of the day, dreams don't ever come true, do they?
Yes, I know, it's so short it could be a drabble. So I guess that'll be what it is. Review... But only if you want to.