Chapter Text
Johnny
I reached my dark hand out to touch Dallas’s features again. I didn't know why, but it sent a ripple of butterflies over my back. Dally stirred under my touch, grunting an’ mumbling softly. Cautiously, as though not to wake the sleepin’ beauty up, I started to traced his sharp features. High cheekbones defined by the small cut of silver moonlight, a sharp nose that cast an equally sharp shadow on his dreaming face, and lips that looked as soft as cotton.
I pulled away, embarrassed. I’m not a faggot. I know I would never kiss a guy-- probably not a girl, either. I have to admit it-- Sylvia was a two-timin’ whore who would flirt with any guy she saw, and Sandy was pretty, sure, but she was no good. According to Pony, Sodapop was devastated. I’d rather be alone than deal with a girl like that.
Dally stirred from his spot by me, ‘n’ I flinched. “Shut the fuck up, man,” Dal mumbled. “I ain’t no horse.”
“Yes, Dally. I know,” I noticed my hand over Dally’s face again, lingerin’ on his lips.
Lingering? I’ve gotta tell Pony how I used that word soon! I bet he’ll be proud of me! Pony is gonna be so excited when I tell him about the words I’ve been using to describe Dally- but I’ll say it was a pretty and Socy girl at a drive in. Pony would think I’m a dirty queer. He already thinks Soda and Steve are for each other. Gross.
“Johnnycakes,” Oh shit.
“D-D-Dally?”
“Johnnycakes, man, you do know you’re spazzin’ out and staring at me while dickin’ around with my mouth, right?” I could hear the smirk in his voice hiding disgust.
“Dallas, I-I-”
Could I stop being such a moron for once? My vision was going fuzzy, my heart was pounding in my head. What would he think of me? I can’t be queer. I just can’t! It’s disgusting and- and- I need to calm down. I could see Dallas’ expression had changed, but it didn’t look any better. I’m weak and useless. Weak and useless and stupid. What was that thing Sodapop told me to try whenever I felt the world under me waiting for my fall? What was it? Dallas, oh, Dally please don’t look at me like that- I promise I can be better…
“Five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, an’ one thing you can taste. It’s called groundin’,” Soda’s silky voice murmured into my muted ear, his gentle and kind face smiling down at me. I can see Dallas, his mussed hair falling over his icy eyes. I can see the moonlight hitting the sheets we were sittin’ on. I can touch those sheets, maybe the wall-- th’ cold might help me. The window might be colder, and maybe Dallas could keep me from fallin’. I hear Soda’s voice, my heart racin’ and empty breaths echoing through my chest. I can smell Dallas’ shirt on me, the old fabric softener and the musty smell of my greasy hair. What can I taste?
What can I taste?
The world went black, the ground stopping its rockin. I could feel something new now. Something rough, something with a familiar smell, and a less familiar gasp.
I found something I could taste, but not something good. That’s a lie. It was good. It tasted like Cherry Cola and cigarettes.
I force myself off, panting, feeling my face burn.
I can’t believe I did that. I just kissed Dallas Winston.
“I’m sorry,” I tried to say.
“I love you,” I choked out instead.
Why haven’t I killed myself yet?
~❀❁❀~