Rated T for swearing and violence.
Dally's POV from the Johnny's death to his own final moment.
I would not be able to write or function without the wonderful Emily (psychopath-convention). Thank you for everything bby 3
Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, do NOT own Dallas or Johnny or any of the wonderful characters or quotes used. All rights to their owners. :)
Johnny.
He was dead.
Dead.
No more of the tough, yet insecure boy.
No more giving him shit for his hair.
No more time to under-appreciate him.
He was dead.
The worst part was that it could have been stopped. I could have saved him.
I was his protector. I was more family than his blood.
Our group is close. That's the way it was and the way it would always be. But, what Johnny and I had was different. We got more shit from our parents. They didn't care about us. We were nothing to them.
We became close because of that. Before I was in jail every weekend, we'd camp out together in the vacant lot and tell stories of how we thought our lives would be. How everything would change when we were grown up. Johnny was the only one who knew my sensitive side. It would be wrong to show it to the rest of the greasers. I'm Dallas Winston. I'm fuckin' tough.
But now? Now I'm not so tough. Johnnycake is dead.
I could have gone to the cops and admitted to the crime. I can handle jail. He couldn't have. Which is why he and Ponyboy ran. And running doesn't get you nowhere. They learned that the hard way.
I did the best I could. Getting them cash and a gun. But I know now that I shouldn't have even done that. I should have told them to go home. That I'll deal with the mess.
I'll never be able to live with what happened to him.
Not to my little brother.
My rock.
His final words were, "stay gold".
They made no sense.
And so I bolted.
Running dulled the ache. Not much, but enough for my thoughts to stop scrambling.
I had a plan.
Continuing on without Johnny would be wrong. Unfair.
I still had the gun.
It wasn't loaded, but that don't matter. When a grease pulled a gun on you, you jumped. You knew they were up to no good.
That was perfect.
I didn't need cash.
The reason I went into the store was beyond that.
I knew I looked rough, flipping through the magazines. My hair and jacket gave me away. I was no good. Scum.
So, when I started ripping pages out of the magazines, hell broke loose.
"Hey!" The shop owner yelled. "You gotta pay for those, punk!"
I smirked. Then I laughed. It was fake with no real emotion but pain. I whipped out the gun. I pretended to cock it. "Give me your money."
He looked at me. Shocked.
I repeated myself. I wasn't calm. I was screaming. Shaking. A mess.
He threw cash at me. I grabbed it, growled at him and ran.
He called the cops.
Perfect.
Again, running.
I stopped to make a phone call. To call Darry and let him know what I've done.
I never told him what I was about to do.
He told me him and the gang would meet me.
The lot was the destination.
I only hoped I could make it there before the sirens grew louder.
The pavement pounded beneath my feet. Once every couple of steps, I'd slip on loose gravel. I was clumsy, unfocused.
The only thing that was clear was that I was coming to an end.
The cops closed in.
The gang closed in.
I was in the middle.
Who do I pick?
What do I pick?
Family?
Or reality?
Neither.
I raised the gun, aiming it at the cops.
They never knew it wasn't loaded.
I was a greaser. I was Dallas Winston. I was a threat. And I had a gun.
They raised theirs and cried warnings.
The gang cried out too.
One shot spit the night that. It should've been loud. It should've blasted my ear drums. It was as if I had gone deaf. Noise had become meaningless.
The impact jerked me around.
Another shot. And another, until I was doing circles. An interpretive dance.
I was leaving behind my family. They weren't blood, but I loved them with everything I had in me.
They had to know why I did this.
They were strong. Stronger than me and Johnnycake.
They'd remember us as heroes.
Two greasers. Two heroes. A bad combination, but the truth.
It was over for me.
I felt myself drifting off. I was drowning in darkness and silence.
I was off to see Johnny.
We'd stick together.
We were brothers.
I would never be an Outsider again. Not now. Not ever.
I was only Dallas Winston. Tough, Dally, who had a heart of gold.
But you know how it is. Nothing gold can stay.