#greasers

he DEF stalks your house like a creep. he’ll “stroll” pass your house atleast five times a day hoping he’ll catch a glimpse of you.

when he finally sees you again, after two days of stalking, he doesn’t really say anything. just flicks a cigarette away and stares at you like he wasn’t just tweaking out last night.

“you done bein’ mad?” he asks, voice rough, arms crossed. but his eyes gave him away, the way he looks at your hands, your lips, your wrists— like it’s been years and he almost forgot how you looked. dramaticcc

“cause i cant do that again. the.. not talking shit. alright?” he doesn’t apologize, not exactly. but he looks at you like he wants to. like the words are caught somewhere between his throat and pride.

and when you don’t answer, instead taking one step closer— he doesn’t stop you.

he lets you fix the collar of his jacket, tuck the strand of hair behind his ear without flinching, lets you look at him. really look.

so maybe dallas winston isn’t sweet.. but he lets you touch the softest parts of him. sometimes! ☺️

𝗗𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗬 𝗖𝗨𝗥𝗧𝗜𝗦

you guys don’t usually fight, you two are really mature. but on the rare occasions you do. it hurts so bad☹️

you got up early today, cut the crust off his sandwich because you knew as much as he said he liked it, you knew better. you ironed his coat with care and even laid everything out for him.

you just wanted to lighten the weight on his shoulders, give him a peaceful morning where he wasn’t racing time.

oh were you wrong!

“why does it smell like pickles? you know i can’t stand them.”

then a second later, his voice sharp and short—

“did you use steam on my coat? it’s wrinkled as hell.”

“christ— cant you do anything right?”

your heart immediately ached .and you didn’t say a word. you folded the sandwich in wax paper, into the brown bag and handed him his coat.

“sorry,” is all you say, “just go.”

and he does.

but who tf? 🤨 you leave too. you didn’t answer his calls for about six days, and somehow managed to avoid seeing him too.

“i was wrong.” he spoke on your front porch suddenly, “i…i took it out on you. and you didn’t deserve that.”

I KNOW THATS RIGHTTTTTT

darry had spiraled. he reorganized the kitchen cabinets. snapped at soda. started lifting at midnight. told himself you’d come back— trying to get his mind off you.

but on day seven, he showed up on your porch. hands shaking with flowers from the store that he could barely afford.

𝗦𝗢𝗗𝗔𝗣𝗢𝗣 𝗖𝗨𝗥𝗧𝗜𝗦

he would forget your guys date i’m sorry😭. but ofc not on purpose!!

your ballet pumps dug into the sidewalk, the small cardigan you wore barely clung shut in the cold. because you thought he’d come and warm you up. like always.

but he didn’t. he stood you up.

you stood there till your curls fell and your perfume started to fade. then you walked home in silence. you were so hurt.

you didn’t answer his calls, didn’t open the door when he came knocking. so he opened the window 🤗 like a literal criminal breaking in.

“i’m so stupid,” he blurted, standing outside with flattened tulips he’d rip out of his neighbors front yard. “like actually. i swear i was just talking to steve and then it was dark out and i remembered and i—”

bro didn’t even last a couple hours😭. he was crashing out realizing he messed up and IMMEDIATELY ran to your place.

he cut himself off. you looked into his eyes and they were so glossy. “you got all dressed up for me,” he whispered staring at your makeup. “i’m so sorry.”

then he held out the flowers, palms trembling and sweaty.

“can you atleast be mad at me with the tulips in your hand? please? they’re stolen and.. crushed. but they’re for you.”

FORGIVE THE POOR MAN PLEASE.😔🙏🏻

𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗬𝗕𝗢𝗬 𝗖𝗨𝗥𝗧𝗜𝗦

you told him you finished the book he recommended you, unfortunately it wasn’t your taste. you said it was okay—just not your style.

but ofc you caught him on a bad day, ever since you guys left the school grounds he’d been moody. deriods.😒

he scoffed, “yeah well people like you never really get it anways.”

EXCUSE MEE??!?! he still walked you home, but it was quiet— and awkward.

you kicked a stone down the sidewalk while your chest burned. and when you got to your porch— no kiss, no goodbye. just a mumble under his breath and the soft crunch of his sneakers walking away.

you didn’t call. he didn’t either.

but he went crazy in that quiet, weird way.

would stay for at least 10 minutes just scrubbing at his hands, darry would have to PEEL him away from the sink. would also sit on the couch and recite quotes from that same book while spacing out.

then, steve caught him infront of the bathroom mirror, hollering apologies but throwing hands.

“i shouldn’t have said that,” right hook. “i really—truly didn’t mean it.” jab to the jaw.

“man are you apologizing or knocking her out??”

ponys face was red. he left mid-apology-roundhouse

but the next day, fallen out your locker— was a little folded note.

“i rewrote this three times. i’m sorry, i said something stupid and mean. and its not true at all.”

𝗝𝗢𝗛𝗡𝗡𝗬 𝗖𝗔𝗗𝗘

you called. once. twice. five times. you even left voicemails after each one. but maybe the last one came off a bit aggressive.

“its fine. really. maybe you’re just too busy ignoring me.”

it was not fine. 😐

you knew his parents weren’t home. his mom was off at her family’s. his dad hadn’t been seen since wednesday. he was home and you were sure of it. but still— nothing.

you went to sleep dramatically, but mostly with your pride hurt cause why did you leave so many voicemails jeez.😓

turns out he wasn’t ignoring you! haha. he’d actually gotten a migraine so bad it made even the light in the room unbearable

johnny curled up with a damp cloth over his forehead, your voicemails playing faintly in his room while he drifted in and out.

and the next early morning, you heard your window click open. you slightly panicked for a second cause whattt before he climbed in with crushed wild flowers he ALSO stole from someone’s yard. cough. soda.

“i didn’t mean to ignore you. swear. i couldn’t look at anything. my head was pounding. but i kept your voicemails on loop. it helped me fall asleep. that last one kind of hurt my feelings though.”

you smiled in spite of yourself.

𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗩𝗘 𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗟𝗘

you were sitting on the curb while he fixed his truck for the millionth time. squinting your eyes from the sun and trying to keep your linen skirt from lifting with the breeze.

you giggled and teased,

“if you spent half as much time on fixing my bike as you do on that greaser hair, i might actually be able to come see you.”

DAMN GIRL.

he laughed— but short.

“yeah well, maybe if you focused on your chain instead of my hair, you wouldn’t be walking it everywhere.”

oh!

you didn’t say much after that—like at all. just walked your bike home when it came time. quiet, wheel clicking out of rhythm.

you didn’t hear from him after that. no calls at all. but two days later, you heard metal clicking in your driveway.

steve.

with his toolbox and a cigarette tucked behind his ear, already halfway through fixing your chain.

“can’t have you riding around on a broken chain. might not like my hair, but at least let me keep you safe.”

you smiled—soft. fixing the cigarette that threaten to fall.

𝗧𝗪𝗢-𝗕𝗜𝗧 𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗪𝗦

he always joked— but this time it wasn’t funny. 😔

you didn’t even remember what he said exactly, just that it hurt. and when your eyes started to gloss, he laughed.

what you didn’t know was that it wasn’t because it was funny— but he didn’t know what else to do. and so you left— face wet and rose-glossed lips pressed shut. and for once in forever, you ignored him.

the next day, you were mid-bite in a chocolate-covered strawberry, legs curled up on the linen couch in your pajama shorts. you heard the front door creak.

then two-bit suddenly sat beside you, like he hadn’t made you cry the night before.

“i’m sorry,” he said, holding up a plastic bag from the corner store. “i hate when you’re upset with me. even more when you don’t laugh at me.”

you stared, until he nudged your elbow to take the bag—and you did. “okay, ..now blink twice if you still love me.”

you didn’t blink.