The Faults of a Broken Man
Before we get started I want everyone to know before they click to the page that this is going to heavy. It's not going to be your usual sad story that mentions depression. There will be topics of drugs, violence, possible sex but I don't know yet but I just want to mention some possibilities about what you may read.
If you are sensitive around these topics especially anything depressing, relating to death or loss, drugs, and touches of self harm please exit this story. I'm aware this story may be listed as "M" for mature, however I'm going to be publishing this story on other sites so more people can read it if they wish. This is just a little project for me and writing from a person who has been through some things that may be mentioned.
I don't think it's going to be a love story for those that like the romantic type of Dallas x reader stories, it's mainly about him however most of it may be placed in your POV. This will probably be more of a friendship thing, but anyways.
I hope you guys enjoy and if you wanna read it elsewhere let me know, I'll send you a link :) Words:3k+
You couldn’t quite grasp the way the man before you had changed. Though, it wasn’t just him- everyone had changed. Even the atmosphere of the house that the gang had adored had changed.
It was unnerving. There was no noise. No hollering, feet stomping, beer-bottle clinking, or the sound of furniture being toppled over when the guys got too rowdy and couldn’t contain their energy.
It had the same type of feeling like- you know how you’re the first person to be awake in the house in the early morning? You knew there were others in the house, but you were just focused on yourself and what you needed to get done and how you felt.
The way the morning made the house slightly chilly and the sound of birds could be heard faintly. It was like that, but heavy. Heartbreaking. And no one was asleep, everyone was awake. And it wasn’t early in the morning.
The main positive thing that had happened was everyone was around each other more often and no one thought that was possible. How can you be more involved with each other when you were already spending every day together?
Maybe it was the fact that no one else is town could understand. Maybe the sheer horror that there was a chance another member could be gone.
The everyday routine was still there, but something as simple as brushing your teeth became an inconvenient chore. Everything did. You felt as though it may have been harder for Darry, seeing as he’s the caretaker of the group. The one who cooks for everyone, makes sure everyone is well taken care of, but how do you do that when no one wants to eat and doesn’t care if they shower or wear the same clothes for days?
To the outside world- it may have been pathetic and disgusting to think of someone not being keen on their hygiene and not caring how they smelled, but they just didn’t get it. But you and your group of family did.
But Dallas, the one who was laying on the sofa it was a hard thing to place about him but the way he looks and the vibe about him seems different than the rest. It wasn’t a secret to the gang that he had gone through some of the toughest shit in life but never wanted to speak about it, but everyone knew. He had faults and some already broken pieces.
And in an odd way; you felt lucky. Not about a man being down but the fact you had people to share the pain with, maybe theirs were deeper than yours but in the end, you were all grieving. It didn't matter if someone knew Johnny by more minutes, hours, days, months,.etc.
You were all very gratefully to know Johnny Cade.
You just wished he had gotten to know a bit more about life outside of the neighborhood and as silly as it seems, maybe some love and not just from the gang.
All his life he had only known hate- by his parents and the Socs. It wasn't fair.
You take a moment to look around the room. Everyone was still. It was so out of character. It looks as though time froze and you were the one granted to move and look at your friends before you. But they weren't frozen, they just weren't there. Everyone was in their heads and maybe now- everyone could understand what it was like to be Pony.
Behind the scenes everyone was dealing with their grief in different ways. Steve turned to stealing hubcaps and selling them, missing work, and avoiding home all together with a drink constantly in his hand. Sodapop spent most of his time crying in the bathroom or staring at a blank wall looking like any second he could break.
Two-bit barely spent any time watching Mickey Mouse anymore. The show could be on but his eyes thought the old carpet below his feet deserved his attention more. No one would believe it in a million years but, Darry he just let everyone do what they wanted. He still cared, but this time he wasn't going to fight Pony if he decided to stay out longer or if his grades were slipping or he didn't eat. He didn't get angry when someone would slam the door. Shit, sometimes he would forget to make dinner but like mentioned before, no one really wanted to eat. He even missed some shifts at work, spending some time on his dads recliner with a drink in hand.
Dallas well, he was very quiet. But at any moment was waiting to blow. No one knew what he was thinking as his eyes always held that kind of look like he was thinking but wore a poker face. He just needed to look mean and he would be left alone. He was the one to eat the least, smoke and drink the most.
And then, there is you. Your role is very difficult. You basically pick up the slack around the Curtis's house and didn't mind. It took your mind off Johnny's death even if for a few minutes. You would cry when you felt like it, but if Darry wasn't going to make a meal or Pony or Soda were not gonna clean, you felt obligated too. You felt as though if no one pitched in the house it may look like Two's.
At the moment Soda's head feels heavy thinking about a letter that was waiting to be opened in his nightstand. It's a letter from the army. He was scared to death. he had seen enough death and it was messing with his head already and he didn't feel like he could be one of those that can take a life. Especially someone that may be a sibling or loved dearly by their folks. He didn't wanna take that away.
No one knew about the letter, not yet and he didn't know when the right time would be and he didn't wanna leave his best friend behind. He didn't know what he would do without Steve.
"I need a smoke." Dallas spoke after what seemed like hours of silence, pushing himself up from the couch and walks outside letting the door slam behind him. It was surprising that Darry hadn't bothered to unscrew the screen door and stash it somewhere else yet because the sound of it smacking as it returned was really annoying.
You get up from the chair and bend over slightly, your palm resting against the back of the couch as you slightly open the blinds to check on Dallas. His back was slightly turned but you knew that he was looking at the lawn in front of him his hirsute eyebrows furrowed together, the wrinkles on his forehead bulging in folds as he would think. Smoke went up from in front of him as he leans against the wall.
"He'll be fine- It's Dallas for Christ sake." Two-bit says as he watches you watch Dallas. And maybe he was right, but it was still abnormal for Dallas to be quiet and not suggest the boys to tag along with him for some semi criminal activity.
You push yourself off the couch and walks towards the kitchen, "He's not acting right." You say, swinging the fridge open and look inside. It was mostly liquids. Someone was gonna have to go shopping again and guess who it would be? You.
Breathing out through your nose you hear Sodapop say, "None of us are acting right."
He was speaking the truth but you felt like no one was getting or seeing Dallas like you did. Maybe Pony notices it or maybe his head is still keeping him busy with remembering the good times with his friend. The only person who seemed to get him and didn't judge.
"I need a Pepsi." Pony pushes himself off the floor as he makes his way over to you. "I don't think there's any left." You told him since you had just looked in the fridge, making him groan and kick the corner of the fridge, "Dammit!"
You sling your arm around his shoulders and guide him away from the fridge, "C'mon, let's go get you one. It'd be good to get out of the house for a bit." You knew it was going to be hard to get him away from the comfort the house provided; being shielded from prying eyes and the fact that no one wanted to accept that the  rest of the world was going on with another day.
Opening the door it makes a noise that makes Dally look over at you two. You give him a nod, "You wanna come with us to the DX?"
He shrugs, flinging the rest of the cigarette in front of him and licks his chapped lips. "Yeah, I need to get some things anyways." He takes the lead and opens the gate. You let Pony go then yourself, closing and locking the gate behind you.
"I might not have enough money on me to get one." Pony pats around in his pockets, digging just a few pennies and you offer a smile, "Don't worry about it- my treat."
He smiles back and oh how much it took him to just do that. His face had remained vacant for days on end so it felt strange for his lips to curl a bit.
The rest of the walk to the DX was quiet except for the sound of Dallas's boots dragging across the gravel roads and Pony kicking random rocks- every once in a while someone would clear their throat. Cars would go by and you could hear their engine and people talking off in the distance.
It was a good thing that the walk to the gas station wasn't that long. Maybe about five minutes and you were grateful. The silence was killing you and you weren't use to being the one to do the most talking. Usually Dallas couldn't keep his mouth shut and would rant about girls, crime, Buck's, shit back at home, or whatever else there was to mention plus, a little bit of teasing towards you and Pony....there would be some for Johnny too..but.
Pony walks past you two and you guessed he was just in a rush to get his favorite drink and head out. You take a second to glance at the back of Dally's head and you wondered what kind of things he needed. And you thought about how weird that felt, you normally just minded your own business because like who cares what someone gets from a corner store? But with his behavior lately you couldn't help it.
It was probably just gonna be a pack of smokes and maybe he'd steal some individual alcoholic drinks, but you just never knew.
He swings the door open and you both stroll in. The familiar smell of the DX welcomed you. You glance down to see a mop and bucket. It looked like someone had spilled something and you reach your leg to the other side where the puddle ends so you could get to the coolers and get yourself a drink. The place smelled musty and a faint smell came from the cooler in the back as you opened the door, selecting your favorite drink.
You look over your shoulder and sure enough, Dallas was by the alcohol taking his time eyeing what was there, probably looking for one with the highest alcohol content that didn't taste like shit. And you wondered how you had enough money all the time for all the times he drank, maybe he was gambling and hustling others at pool again. Who knows, it was Dallas.
"3 okay?" Pony's voice broke your gaze on you other friend and you look over to him as he carried three cans of Pepsi in his arms and you nod with a smile. "Yeah, sure. Anything else you want? Snacks? Candy?" You offered and a part of you felt like if you let him get whatever he wanted maybe just maybe he would feel better and that would make you feel better, but realistically speaking food wasn't going to get someone through the stages of grief. Food was just there for a moment not a lifetime.
He shakes his head, "No, this is just fine." You weren't going to push and Dallas shows up to your side, "Put your stuff up there you two, I'll pay." He nods his head towards the counter and you both just let him pay, it wasn't worth arguing over who would pay even though you hated for people to pay for you. But maybe letting Dallas pay for things would help him feel better just like the thought of you getting Pony extra snacks did.
"6.87." The clerk says and he eyes Pony, flapping a bag open before placing the items inside. Dallas opens his wallet, digging around for the money before throwing the bills on the counter. You could see Pony was feeling uncomfortable as the clerk kept eyeing him. You look between him and Pony before speaking, "Got a problem?"
His eyes move from the boy to you but back to him, "Your brother needs to make it to work at some point or he'll be fired. I'm surprised I haven't done so already." He gathers the money, putting it in the till and licks his fingers like old people do before grabbing the change.
You scoff and furrow your eyebrows and you could see from the corner of your eye that Dally's knuckles were turning white as he gripped the side of the counter and Pony stiffen on the opposite side of you. "Our friend died. He can find another job, asshole." You grab the bag and let yourself be the first to exit, holding the door open for the two to come out.
"Where's his car?" Dallas spoke roughly and his eyes darted around the parking lot, trying to locate a lonesome car that most likely belonged to the guy and you had no doubt in your mind he probably wanted to either slash his tires, break his windshield and key the sides. You had to take control even though the sight of him fucking up the car would be entertaining, but you couldn't let him get dragged to jail again. No, you had lost enough people.
"Let's just go home, Dal." Pony spoke, brushing past him and Dal took a minute, looking down at the pavement licking his lips then sneers at the man in the building before turning on his heel to follow Pony. You were thankful and was the last to leave.
It was oddly comforting that no one besides the brothers lived there at the house and everyone had had their own, but the Curtis's house felt like a real home and it was funny how everyone knew what 'going home' meant. It was always that house.
Dallas wasted no time in digging into the bag that was in your hand and takes out a bottle, twisting the cap off with his shirt before taking a swig. It was broad daylight and he was underage, but Dallas didn't care. He wanted to drown his depression and grief he felt for the one person he loved. And maybe that was wrong he loved everyone in the gang though he wouldn't say so, but Johnny was Johnny. Dallas was ready to kill himself over the kid. No one knew if he would do the same if it was anyone else in the gang.
You watch as he chugs down the rest of the bottle before chucking it to the side on a fence the bottle breaking against impact and he wipes his lips free from the beer that dripped.
"You might wanna slow down there, Tex." You lightly joke and your lips curl upwards, but he shrugs and digs into the bag once more repeating the actions of earlier. "I'm good."
You sigh, letting him be and look ahead to the back of Pony's head. He hadn't opened a can yet, probably waiting to just sit down and drink it instead. And you noticed how his drinks weren't in the bag like the clerk didn't bother putting them in, man that whole situation pissed you off to no end but with how often you went there you didn't want to get banned because you cracked the guys head open.
No, just following Pony to the house was better.
The gate swings open and slams behind him before you and Dal catch up and walk on the lawn to the front of the house. When the door opened you look around. No one had moved. It was like they were super glued to their places. You run a hand through your hair - a habit you have been doing an awful lot lately.
You look over at the clock that was hung up on the wall. 4:25, someone ought to make some dinner soon even if the food wasn't going to be consumed you just needed one thing to still be the same and somewhat normal. You place the bag down on the couch and walk over to the kitchen. You grab some pans and some random ingredients out of the fridge and cabinet. You felt nervous cooking for what seemed like a whole family because that's what they were. Normally you would just cook for yourself and maybe your mom, so you didn't understand how Darry did it. His meals were always perfect and he carried so much confidence when he was in the kitchen, right now you felt like a loose mouse searching for food and hoping not to catch the kitchen on fire.
One fire was enough and maybe that was what made you nervous to cook. You didn't want to stare at the flame as you turn on the gas to the stove, you didn't wanna smell it. You didn't wanna work with it, but the boys need to eat.
Sighing, you turn it on hearing a click before the flames rise and you turn the temp down a bit. "Dinner will be ready soon."
God, please let my boys eat.
















