Dalbit drabble??? Okay sure..... takes place around after windricksville. Dallas is in the hospital. Two-bit believes that he almost died. He's worried,l and glad to see him unscathed. But angry? Maybe he's angry
Ponyboy is upstairs with Johnny. He asked me ta get some book from the cornerstore but before I do that I go to Dally's room. He barely looked at me earlier when I gave him my blade. The nurse is busy talkin' to someone's mom or grandmother and I sneak in. He's sitting there, when I come in. His back to the door. Hunched over like a dog with it's hackles raised.
He hears me come in and turns in an instant. Raising my switchblade in front of him. "Cool it Dal. It's just me" the tough look on his face drops like it always seems ta do when he realizes he ain't in any immediate danger. I move slowly and sit down on the bed next to him. It's softer than I'd expected it ta be.
"Where's the kid?" Theres still some uneasyness in his voice as he puts the blade down on the table next to the bed.
"He's up there with Johnnycakes." I motion absentmindedly at the ceiling.
"So why're ya down here?" Theres a meanness in Dally's voice that I haven't heard directed at myself in a long while. I flinch at it, not meaning to.
āI just wanted to check on you. Ya almost died Dalā I donāt add what Iām thinking. That I like him more than Iāve liked any of the greaser girls or socs Iāve picked on or picked up at the drive in. Itās always been Dallas.
āMan, Iām alright. Johnnys in worse conditionā heās deflecting. He does this. When his feelings come up. Someone else always has it worse than he does. ļæ¼
āThis aināt about Johnny. I read in the paper that you were a savior.ā
āYeah and so what?ā The gruffness is back in his voice. I donāt know why. Heās performing but there is no audience. I can see through it all.
āYou got hurt. You couldāve died but you saved those kids.ā
āI didnāt save āem. Ponyboy and Johnny Cade didā
But heās still a hero. From what Iāve heard the flames licked the sky and hell rained down inside. Yet he stayed and helped.
āYou still stayed there. Even thoughā¦ā he knows what Iām reffering to. I wonāt say it. Heād mentioned it once when he was blackout drunk. He doesnāt remember. He doesnāt remember what else happened that night.
Dallyās eyes go wide and he stares at me for a long while before he looks away, fidgeting with the sheets on the bed.
āDarrel wouldāa had me killed.ā Excuses.
āCanāt ya just admit you care about Johnny, Ponyboy too. We all know it.ā
Dally shakes his head fervently.
āWhen ya get like meā¦ā the same thing. Growing up in New York, Chicago, wherever had changed him. He was tough beyond caring. at least thatās what Dallas Winston told himself.
āI donāt. I canāt. Everyone I care about gets taken away. I almostā¦ I almost lost Johnny. Damn idiotsā he shakes his head.
It dawns on me. This is why. This is why heās been like this. He remembers the kiss. I remember the way he looked at me the next morning. Like he was restraining himself.
āIām not a faggot Keith.ā
That shocks me. I didnāt think Dally cared about stuff like that. The whole gang knows about Steve and Soda, how could they not? The two arenāt exactly good at hiding it. And Dally and me at least know about Darrelās situation with his old soc friend Paul.
āYou kissed meā¦ā I mutter. It was true. Heād been smoking in some filthy corner at Buck Merrillās place, it was late, most of the usual patrons had left. both of us had a few drinks in our system.
āHey Two-bits, cāmereā
When I approached him the stench of kools hung in the stale air between us. The corner was secluded. He pulled me closer by my leather jacket.
Dal hadnāt said anything. Just stubbed his ciggarette out on the wall and kissed me.
āI- I didnāt mean toā¦ I was drunk, so were you.ā
āIt didnātā¦ it didnāt mean anything?ā
āOf course not,ā Dally turns away, glancing at the blade, my switchblade, āSylvia.ā
āSylvia. Right. Yeah, ām sorry Dalā
He purses his lips into a thin line. Itās quiet. A nurse comes through the door to tell me visiting time is over. But I was just leaving anyway.
I see Dallas again at the rumble. His fiery eyes. His flying fists.
And I see him once more that night. Under the streetlight. I swear he says something as he crawls across the asphalt but I donāt hear it. He doesnāt have any words for me. For anyone.
