The rest of the party went on without incident. Sodapop and Steve started a game of Texas Hold 'Em, which was then joined by Two-Bit and Pony. With some urging from the rest of the group even little Johnny got in on the game and won a couple of rounds even though he didn't move from his armchair. Dallas mostly reclined and watched the TV while trying to ignore a seething Darrel Curtis at his side. He was giving off and air of 'you're going to have your ass handed to you don't even try to stop it'.

It was almost midnight when the gang decided to turn it in. Bodies occupied every inch of free space in the already cramped living room as they settled down for sleep. Some had cards hidden in their sleeves, stuck in their slicked back hair, or tucked into their shirts after a rousing game of 52 card pick-up gone wrong. All of them would be covered in glitter when they awoke as well, but that would just serve as a reason to tease one another. By twelve-thirty they were all asleep. All of them save for a very edgy Dallas Winston and a monumentally pissed off Darrel Curtis.

The younger of the two was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, illuminated by the dim overhead light and nothing else. His fists were jammed in his pockets in a way that most greasers used when they wanted to look dangerous enough to avoid a fight. Sadly, this tactic was doing nothing for him. Darry clocked him in the jaw hard enough for him to stumble back against the fridge.

With a hand over his newly discolored face, Dally glared up at the Curtis boy. "What the hell, Superman?" he hissed, using the nickname as a jab.

"What the fuck were you thinking, Dallas? Walking in here drunk off your ass and smelling like some hooker's perfume? It's Johnny's first day back and that's how you show up?! You said you'd be back in the morning, early enough to help!" This all was said in a tone somewhere between a yell and a whisper, just loud enough for Dally to hear but quiet enough that the others could sleep through it. "You can fuck up your life however you want but don't you dare hurt the kid in the process."

Dallas' eyes narrowed at the last comment. "I haven't done a damn thing to hurt him."

There was he had planned on saying but Darry wasn't going to hear it. "You almost skipped out on his party just so you could roll around in the sheets with some broad! Not to mention it's the same broad whose ex-boyfriend tried to kill him and Ponyboy."

"So what?! I showed up, didn't I?! And it's none of his business who I sleep with!" Technically, he had only slept with Cherry, but he was on the defensive right now and didn't really care about the fine details.

Something changed in Darry's expression, the eruption of anger subsiding into calm and collected rage; Dally wasn't sure which scared him more.

"You don't get it do you, Dallas?" His voice was quieter now, but held even more of a bite to it. "That kid out there loves you. And I'm not talking that platonic bullshit, no, this is the real deal. He respects you, admires you, wants to be around you all the time. I may not like all that gay romance stuff but Johnny is like a part of the family, and he's been through enough without you stomping on his feelings."

This new information didn't repulse Dallas like he thought it should. His stomach twisted in a way that could only be described as pleasant until he remembered he was in the middle of an argument. An argument that he needed to win. The only way he could think of ending this was with flat out denial and pushing it away.

"Yeah? Well I don't give a damn. I'm not a fucking queer."

The words sounded harsh even to his own ears. It was a low blow and a cheap shot, but he didn't know what else to do. Dallas Winston didn't like guys, or at least he thought he didn't, until Johnny came back to life. This was all just so wrong.

In this situation, he felt like a cornered animal, thrashing and biting and just wanting to get away.

"Go to sleep, Winston." Darry only called him by his last name when he was royally ticked off. "I want you out of my house by the time I wake up. You don't have to leave now, but if I see your sorry ass in the morning you'll have more than just a bruise on your face."

Dallas grumbled and walked out, taking up residence on the recliner and quickly falling asleep. Darry washed a dish or two before clicking off the kitchen light and retiring to his own room.

Neither of them saw the little wraith of a boy standing near the kitchen door, paralyzed in fear, and shaking like a leaf. His large brown eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

All he had wanted was a glass of water.

The air was tense when everyone got up in the morning; the bright sun seemed out of place to them.

Darry made a quick breakfast for everyone before leaving to work, reminding Soda and Steve that they needed to do the same. He allowed Ponyboy to skip school so he could help Johnny get a few things from his house. He'd be living with the Curtis' until further notice and would need more than Ponyboy's hand-me-down clothes.

Two-Bit just smoked a cigarette and munched on his eggs.

Dallas was nowhere to be found.

Ponyboy asked his oldest brother about this but only got an evasive shrug in response. He eyed Johnny and chewed at his lip some more, hoping the other boy wouldn't notice Dallas' absence. But he had, and he knew the exact reason for it.

After everything was cleaned up and the boys had carried out their morning rituals, Johnny and Ponyboy left for what the prior used to call home.

It was a small apartment that was furnished in various shades of brown, faded greens, and grey. There were some water marks on the ceiling and the wallpaper was in desperate need of changing. Ponyboy tried to ignore the rust colored stains scattered about the carpet. He didn't want to think about it too much.

"Just wait in the kitchen, I'll be right back," Johnny muttered, fiddling nervously with the sleeves of his denim jacket as he slipped away. He padded down the hall and left Ponyboy to stand alone in the declining room. They'd picked a good time to come over; Johnny's mother was already at the bar and his father was at work.

The dark haired teen ran grabbed a backpack that he used to use for school before he simply stopped going, shoving clothing and other necessities inside of it. Quickly, he ran down a mental list of things he needed and decided he had gotten everything when an unwanted thought reared its ugly head. There was a revolver on the top shelf of his father's closet with a couple rounds of ammunition. At the moment he didn't have a plan for the weapon. All he knew was that the stainless steel was calling his name.

"Johnny? You okay in there?" Ponyboy called, voice echoing slightly off of the linoleum and cabinets. The silence was starting to worry him.

"Yeah, I've just got to grab one more thing," he said. Backpack slung over one shoulder, he walked into his parents' bedroom. It looked uninhabited. Apparently his parents hated each other as much as they hated him. Johnny shrugged and dropped the bag on the floor in front of the closet. The door was open enough for him to slide through, flipping the switch so the single bulb could light up the small space. And there it was: a beige shoe box with a black lid. The edges of it were worn for reasons unknown to him. Johnny had to get on his tiptoes just to reach it. But once he did, he hid the handgun under his rumpled clothes and dumped all of the bullets in with it. Secured under a heavy sweatshirt, the shiny casings made little noise as they bumped, rattled, and clinked against each other.

Walking back out, Johnny forced a smile for his friend. "Alright, I got everything."

Gosh. This chapter was like a sucker-punch to the feel-box. Angst, depression, then some more angst.

I know a lot of you are saying Cherry is out of character, and I basically did that on purpose, because I just cannot stand her. I'm sorry if that irritates some of you.

Anywho, I'd like to know what you think of this update, so let me know!

Love and hugs for everyone.

~Chickadee