Hey y'all. I'm having a good time working on Love Ain't So Easy right now, (which should be updated soon), but I wanted to do a story showing the best of Dally's and Johnny's relationship. There's gonna be a lot of chapters of little, fluffy friendship stories, as well as dramatic major events. This first chapter is half and half. Please review and enjoy!

Part 1: Soda's only a major in the first part of this chapter because he'll introduce Johnny to the gang later. I'm making Johnny meet the gang when he's 9 years old in this one. This part is based around innocence.

Part 2: I added more details to Dally's life using hints from the book. This part…well, I think you can guess what it shows.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders or Royal Tailor's song title "Hold Me Together," but I do own this story.

Hold Me Together

"Alright, boys and girls, get into pairs to work on the warm-up."

Sodapop Curtis hated the warm-ups. He always relied on whoever his partner was that day to do most of the work. Because of that fact, many of the other 9-year-olds began switching up their partners and working with new people. That was hard for Soda; he didn't have any friends in the classroom he was stuck in all day anyway, and the ones he seemed to be making began working with other kids when they caught onto Soda's warm-up style. They were the kids that always finished their warm-ups first. They were the kids in the expensive-looking clothes.

Sodapop surveyed the scene for somebody else to work with instead. All of the students had partners and were busy doing the math problems on the sheet. Ms. Carson came up and tapped Soda on his shoulder. He immediately turned to face her.

"Why don't you work with Johnny, Sodapop?" She pointed to a boy in the back of the room that Sodapop had never talked to before. The boy with the shaggy, black hair and the biggest eyes Soda had ever seen.

He nodded and shuffled to the back desk, taking a seat next to the black-eyed boy. Soda looked at him inquisitively, and the boy looked back at him timidly, not saying a word.

This went on for a few minutes until Soda finally cracked a grin and giggled, "You sure are good at 'staring contests'." Soda never really realized that Johnny was never actually staring at him.

Johnny smiled shyly, thinking that he finally got to participate in one of those 'staring games' he'd always seen other kids his age playing. He was pleased that the first one he thought he took a part in ended in him winning.

Sodapop smiled back. "I'm Sodapop Patrick Curtis," he introduced himself fearlessly, using his middle name because it made him feel grown-up, "but you can call me Soda. Who are you?" Soda had already forgotten that Ms. Carson had told him the boy's name.

"Johnny Cade," Johnny replied quietly, trying to make eye contact with the talkative boy. Besides being naturally shy, Johnny had always been self-conscious of his eyes. He never saw anybody with eyes as dark as his. Was that why the other kids ignored him? Because his eyes were different? Johnny's father usually ignored him, which made Johnny, being a child and not knowing any better, think that it was because of his uncommon eyes, which were so different from his father's blue ones. Johnny longed for blue eyes to make his father happy.

"Ain't you quiet? What's your whole name? I like to know everybody's." Soda wanted to know as much as he could about somebody, so he could sound smart and show off to the other boys.

"Johnathon Timothy Cade," Johnny replied, a little shocked that anybody cared. Johnny would never ask a personal question like that when he had just met somebody. He probably wouldn't ask a close friend that either. Not that he'd ever experienced a close friend.

"Never heard that one yet. I know lots of people's names. Darrel Shaynne Curtis Jr. Ponyboy Michael Curtis…" Soda flaunted.

Johnny hardly believed that Sodapop actually knew anybody with those names. Oblivious to the fact that Soda shared the same last name with the two names he'd mentioned, Johnny confronted Soda about it, "You're makin' those up, ain't you?" Johnny was amazed that Sodapop could come up with such original names so quick.

"No, I ain't. Those're my brothers' names. For real," Soda nodded his head seriously. He was surprised that Johnny didn't believe the names he'd heard for as long as he could remember were real. Were they strange?

"Oh," Johnny said, curiosity sparkling in his dark eyes.

"How many brothers and sisters do you have?" Sodapop asked, trying to get as much information out of this boy as possible.

"Ummm…zero," Johnny answered.

"Whoa, that's not many at all! I have two," Soda accidentally held up three fingers, but he quickly glanced at his hand and put the other one down.

Johnny laughed at his mistake, thinking he did it on purpose to be funny, (even though Soda didn't).

"Do you wanna come over and play with me after school?" Soda asked happily.

"Okay."

"Will your mom and dad be okay with that?" Sodapop remembered that his parents would be upset if he went anywhere without telling them, and he assumed this was the case for any other kids his age.

"Ummm…yeah," Johnny said hesitantly, a little embarrassed to tell Soda that they never cared where he was.

"Okay," Soda said cheerfully.

The boys decided to work on the math problems, but Sodapop kept chatting away about his horse as Johnny struggled through the work. Ms. Carson checked their warm-up and impatiently announced that the boys only got one out of the five problems right. The boys blushed in humiliation when she said this, but even after that, they still wanted to be partners everyday.

After much tedious work in the classroom, Soda ran up to Johnny before he left to go home, "Wanna walk to my house with me?"

Johnny nodded contentedly and both boys started off to Soda's house, kicking stones along the gravel path in front of Soda's front yard.

"Boy," Sodapop smiled optimistically, "I don't mind warm-ups so much anymore." Soda was glad to have somebody who liked him to talk to in place of doing the work he hated so much.

"Me either," Johnny agreed innocently, delighted to have a friend as well.

New York, 2:00 a.m.

"Hey kid! Get back here!"

The towheaded boy flew along the New York sidewalk as fast as his legs would take him. The sirens and flashing lights shrieked behind him as one of the policemen yelled at him out of the window.

"Blasted fuzz," Dallas muttered as the cop car inched further towards him. The paper bag he clutched was filled with money to the rim, while his six-inch switchblade he used for threatening was jammed deep into his back pocket.

The blond boy had spent his early years living in a low-class neighborhood in Tulsa with a father who worked non-stop and didn't care about his son's safety at all. After his father moved to New York for work and dragged Dally along, the situation was still the same. Being left alone all the time gave Dally the freedom to travel the town and cause trouble anywhere he could. Dallas wasn't stupid, he knew he wasn't wanted at home, and no matter how often he denied the lonely feelings that came with it, it was eating away at him. The violent emotions he always carried had him growing up on the streets, breaking laws right and left, but never getting caught. This time was different.

He ran many blocks, unaware of where he was going, but he knew he had to lose the police. Dally was a lot farther ahead than the cops were and he smiled at his rebellion of running from the law. But he was still a kid. And that childish instinct told him to stop in his tracks and tease the police. He couldn't control the temptation to do it; he'd never gotten caught and this little stunt surely wouldn't be the one to get him arrested.

Dallas suddenly skidded to a halt and spun around to face the oncoming car that was many feet from him. He stuck out his tongue and made faces at the police, laughing and mocking their helplessness in the situation. "Suckers!"

Before Dally could move, another police car came screeching around the back of him and the first one pulled up next to it. A couple cops came out and cornered Dally against the wall. Dally gulped nervously, this being the first time he'd experienced being under arrest. A dark-haired policeman pulled out the handcuffs and threatened him with all of that, "put your hands up" and "anything you say can and will be used against you" stuff that Dally knew from all of the crime movies he'd ever seen. But he didn't think it would actually happen to him. And he was scared. Scared stiff.

Before he knew it, the police were taking the handcuffs off him, confiscating the money and weapon from him, and locking him into a big, dark cell. A big, dark cell with no cellmate. Just a little, blond boy who never thought he'd actually end up there. Dallas heard the dark-haired cop mutter to the other, "I hate to do it; he's only ten years old."

Dally realized what he was in for then. He was locked in a cell all by himself and wouldn't do anything he liked to do or leave the jail site for months. The thought struck him as the worst thing that could happen to a kid his age. Dally sat in the dark, crying quietly, feeling a little bit of regret for what he did. Nobody could save him. Daddy couldn't save him, and probably wouldn't even if he got the chance.

He briskly wiped off the tears that streamed down his cheeks, but new ones took the others' places. He was the helpless one now. He was afraid to think about what his future would be and he was terrified to be sitting there alone in the dark, with nobody to save him. Nobody could rescue him, and that was when Dallas made the most life-altering decision of his life. He didn't need anyone to save him. He could save himself.

Dallas remembered the tough guys in the crime movies he loved. They never needed to survive on others' affection. They had their street-smarts, and they never got hurt. If you hardened yourself beyond caring, you'd never get hurt, was the motto they seemed to base their lives around. And Dally would do the same. He wanted to emanate toughness and become hard to protect himself from the hurt he'd been exposed to for so long.

"If you get tough, nothin' can touch you…" he muttered to himself, with a dangerous smile others would become very familiar with. The tears stopped flowing and that's exactly what he did. Got tough and cold.

Dallas didn't know it then, but somebody could melt away the ice. Somebody could hold his wounds together.

And that somebody was closer than he thought.