A/N: This is from Ponyboy's POV...Thank you to my reviewers :)
I remember that night well. "Stay gold, Ponyboy" What the hell was that supposed to mean? I didn't have the time to ask because he died...Just died, and left us all, broken and confused. He didn't look like himself, just like a wax figure, a cheap substitute for Johnny. But he wasn't Johnny. Whoever it was that was lying in that hospital bed,cold and lifeless, it wasn't Johnny.I lied to myself, thinking in my insanity, that if I was convinced Johnny was living, he would suddenly get out of the hospital bed and walk home with me. But I never was very good at lying to anybody, much less myself. And so I fought back tears that I knew would come, looking out the window, and saw grey clouds gathering outside. So the clouds, too, mourned the loss of an angel on earth. My best friend, the angel, the gang's pet, gone.
Then I looked at Dally. Boy, was he shook up. He walked over to Johnny and pushed his hair out of his face. Dally called Johnny a punk, but we both knew he didn't mean it. He looked wistfully at Johnny's face, as if there were words left unsaid between them. But he wouldn't let himself say those words, whatever they were. He always had put up a front of a tough guy, cold-blooded and angry, but now, that was gone. For a split second, Dally appeared to have let down his guard, on the verge of tears. But then the flash of emotion was gone, his stoic mask back on his face. He suddenly whirled about and started pounding the wall, face contorted in agony. It was then that I realized that Johnny was Dally's only real tie to this life. Without him, Dally could keep on getting into fights, slashing tires, jumping bums, but none of it would be the same. I knew Dally would always remember this night.
Without warning, Dally just ran out of the room. I looked after him, and he ran, ran like a madman through the hospital. I didn't know where he was going, or why, but I knew he took the car. If I didn't have a way to get home, I thought I would stay with Johnny for a while. So I did. I just looked at him, and his glassy, dead eyes stared right through me with a hollow look. I didn't know what time it was, but I knew I had to get home, had to break the news to Darry and Soda, before Dally got there, so he wouldn't look like he had abandoned me. Dally. That's when I remembered. Who knew what he would do in this state? Was he capable of killing himself? I didn't know, but I had to do something.
So I ran too. Running was like a base instinct to me. Whenever things got bad, I ran. So I kept running, in the rain that was now coming down like a flood. I don't remember how long, and I don't really think even I knew why. It was as if my mind had blanked. Eventually I slowed down, my thin sweatshirt drenched through with rain. I shivered for a while, sitting in the gutter. Until finally, a man asked me if I needed a ride and took me home. Usually, I would have kept walking home, but tonight-I don't know, it was like everything had flipped upside down. Dally had taken off and Johnny was dead, nothing would ever go back to normal, even if Dally came back.
I staggered out of the car, feeling oddly lightheaded. When I got inside, what was left of the gang was lying about in the living room. They were pretty cut up from the rumble, especially Two-Bit, who would go on to get 4 stitches in his cheek and 7 in his hand. Although they looked like they had been through hell, they were just smoking, and lying there as if nothing had happened. But they were oddly silent. I noticed Dally wasn't there and I knew there was something wrong.
I said the first words that came to me, "Johnny's...dead"
Nobody said anything. We had all thought Johnny would live, deluded ourselves into 'knowing' he would be alright. For our sake, he would live, he was like glue that hold us together. We would fall apart without him, and we all knew it in the back of our minds. Soda looked on the verge of tears and Two-Bit just gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. I could tell it pained the entire gang, but not as much as it hurt Dally.
"Dally..Ran like the devil," I gasped, as my breath was coming in short, uneven, breaths. Nobody seemed to notice, even me. I started to shake, and Darry asked me if there was anything wrong. I felt my head throbbing, and in my stupidity, thought that they could hear it throbbing. I backed away, towards the door frame, when the phone call came.
If it hadn't been for that phone call, we might have never known what had become of Dallas Winston. We would have thought he had left town, still alive. Sometimes, I think pretending he were still alive would be happier for us. The rest of the gang might think he werea traitor, but he would be living.
Darry hung up and told us quickly, "It's Dally. He robbed a store and the fuzz is after him. He said he'll be at the lot in a minute."
Without a second thought, all of us left the house at a run. By then, I knew there was something wrong with me. I stumbled down the stairs and wasn't able to run in a straight line. Our feet pounded the pavement, and we were all silent, except for the sounds of heavy breathing. It wasn't like a few hours earlier when we were going to the rumble, whooping and laughing at the top of our lungs.
When we reached the lot, we saw Dally, running as fast as he could. The cops' sirens wailed and the policemen lept out of their cars, all pulling out guns that I knew were loaded. Dally skidded to a halt underneath a streetlight. He looked up at the light, as if he was trying to prove something to the light. Then he whipped out his heater from his waistband, and I knew what he was going to do. I couldn't even shout, to tell the cops that the gun was unloaded and Dally didn't know what he was doing. Didn't know he was throwing his life away.I wanted to scream as the bullets pierced his body. I knew he had wanted this though. I knew.
Through it all, Dally had a triumphant smirk on his face, and as the bullets jerked him around, I could almost picture him telling me, "I told you so."
Glory, I was dizzy. I staggered backwards a bit, and my vision blurred. What was happening? I crumpled to the floor, and the last think I remembered seeing that night was the downfall of the infamous Dallas Winston.
A/N: Who's POV do you think I should do next?
