Everything was in black and white, like in those old movies that he used to watch when he was younger. The sky was a lovely shade of grey and the clouds were dull white smears on its being. He couldn't see it properly, but the sun looked like a hole in the sky; a perfect white disk with razor sharp edges. Only half of it was visible though due to the inky black figure above him. It was beyond blurry with no recognizable features. Despite this it was speaking to him, so it must have at least had a mouth. He let his eyes softly shut but realized it was a bad idea because the figure began talking more rapidly. It made the pounding in his head even worse to try and distinguish what it was saying. Why did his head hurt so badly? On top of that, it felt like his spine had been soaked in gasoline and set ablaze. The pain was becoming unbearable. He just wanted it to stop.


This couldn't be happening to him. Dallas had hoped and prayed that he'd never witness the day that Johnny Cade found a gun. But pinned by the shoulders underneath him was the boy in question, and in his tiny fist was a sleek looking revolver. He felt physically ill at the sight of it.

"Johnny? Johnny! Fucking answer me!" he yelled anxiously. The bullet hadn't hit him, had it? No; he'd practically tackled Johnny the second he put pressure on the trigger, leaving the bullet to spin and ricochet off of the nearby fence. With that being the case, Johnny should've been answering him. Big brown eyes were squeezed shut and the only way Dallas could tell that his friend was still alive was from the weak groans he emitted. His blunt finger nails dug further into Johnny's bony shoulders. "Goddamnit Johnny!"

"Hurts…"

Dallas froze. "What?"

"Back…hurts…get…off…"

A grin spread of Dally's face at that. He was on his feet in a hot second, clutching the younger boy like that was all that mattered. "Praise the lord, Johnnycakes, I thought you were dead! Not sure what I'd do if I lost you again-"

"Lemme go, Dal." Johnny murmured in a quiet but firm voice, thin hands pushing against his chest. Those hands may as well have broken his bones because it was like his ribs were collapsing.

"What?"

The darker haired boy wriggled out of that vice like grip. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve before staring up at what he may have once called his idol. Johnny's bottom lip was trembling as he stood a good distance away.

"I told ya to let go. I don't want you huggin' on me like that anymore."

Dallas furrowed his brow in confusion. "What the hell are you talking about? You always-"

"Yeah, well not anymore, okay Dal?" Johnny snapped, taking the other hood by surprise. It wasn't how loud he said it that shocked him but more the way those words were delivered. There was venom there and more pain than Dallas would like to take note of. "I'm done."

"But-"

"Why does it matter? I'm a queer, ain't I?"

If Johnny would just stop interrupting him maybe he'd get a chance to say why it did in fact matter. Dallas made to argue with the kid on that point until he processed everything he said.

All the color drained from his face, and his fingers felt colder than they had a few seconds ago. Neither of them spoke for a good while.

"You heard that?" Dallas asked, snapping the tension like a rubber band, only knowing that this whiplash would hurt far worse.

"Yeah, I heard it."

Johnny wasn't looking at him anymore. He stooped to the ground to pick up his backpack, dragging the zipper back into place with one hand. The movement made his spine crackle and burn, but he wasn't about to stop for anything, let alone a little pain. Next to his feet the gun lay forgotten.

"Johnny, come on, you know I didn't mean it."

Dallas didn't get a response. Johnny just kept gathering his belongings until they were all packed tightly into his bag again.

"I don't get what you're so upset about."

That was most definitely the wrong choice of words, Dally found, because not a second after he spoke them did Johnny take off. He screamed his name once, twice, but didn't move from where he stood. No, Dallas Winston didn't even try to follow him.


The screen door slammed with a crack and clang as the young boy barreled into the house. He let himself fall flat onto the couch with his face smothered by an overly plush pillow. Odd little noises of sorrow resounded in his throat but he'd be damned if he started crying again.

From around the corner a poked out, eyes wide and curious.

"Johnnycakes? You okay, buddy?" Soda ventured quietly. He knew the boy was skittish and didn't want to risk him bolting.

" 'M fine," was the muffled reply.

With a slice of cake in hand, Sodapop sat down on the armrest nearest Johnny's head.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"What happened?"

For a few seconds, neither spoke. Soda was starting to get the feeling that this was a lost cause, that he should leave this to Ponyboy, but then he heard the little wraith talk.

"I hate Dallas."

That just about sent the older of the two toppling off the side of the couch. In all of his years he had never heard Johnny say anything negative about their friend, and to hear him declare hatred for him was more than startling. The boy followed Dallas like a lost puppy. Soda decided it'd be best to soothe him instead of coaxing the story out of him.

"You don't hate him, Johnny, you're just a little mad at him right now."

"N-No I h-hate him!" Johnny sat up, holding that backpack like it was his anchor to reality. He was on the brink of tears too by the way his was sniffling.

Sodapop slid down so he could sit and wrap an arm around the littler teen's shoulders.

"Really?"

Again, things got quiet between them.

"No…he just…I…"

Sodapop laughed quietly, though there wasn't much joy to it. "Yeah, I know. Did you think you were the only one awake when he decided to make a total ass out of himself? I heard, Pony heard, and so did Steve. Two-Bit was fast asleep. Just…didn't really know what to say, you dig?"

Johnny let his head hang so his bangs blocked his eyes just like they would before his whole incident with Bob.

"I dig."

"Good," Soda said with a small smile, tousling those dark locks as if Johnny was still a kid.
"You alright now?"

"I guess so…hey Soda?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you take me to the doctor?"

"Sure thing Johnnycake, sure thing."


Wow! Late update on my part, but I've got a valid reason this time!

I have recently sustained second degree burns on the entirety of the back of my left hand, and have been out of commission for a while. I'm just now able to move it again without any major pain, but it still it quite difficult to move, thus the short length of this chapter. It seems I'm unable to hit some of the keys correctly. Derp derp.

Anyways, I hope y'all didn't give up on me! I'm here!

Love and snuggles for everyone.

~Chickadee