Chapter Text
Two-Bit realized something was wrong halfway through the walk to his house.
At first, it was just little things. Dallas wasn’t mouthing off as much as usual. He blinked slowly, as if his eyes struggled to stay open. Every few steps, he drifted sideways, bumping his shoulder against Two-Bit’s. Normally, Dallas moved like a stray cat — sharp, quick, and restless. Now he simply looked worn out.
“You 'kay?” Two-Bit asked.
“Fine.”
“You look like you just got run over by a freight train .”
“Thanks.”
“No seriously, your face is really pale.”
“My face is always pale.”
Two-Bit snorted, but someting tightened in his stomach. They reached the corner by the block before Two-bit's house and Dallas suddenly stopped walking.
Two-Bit turned. “Dal?”
Dallas had one hand pressed against the brick wall beside him, breathing hard as if they had just run ten miles instead of walked three blocks.
“Whoa.” Two-Bit stepped closer. “Hey.”
“I’m fine,” Dallas insisted again, but this time his words slurred together a bit.
“You’re definitely not fine.”
Dallas pushed off the wall as if determined to keep moving, but when he took another step, his knees buckled.
“Dallas!”
Two-Bit barely caught him. Dallas felt heavier than he looked, all lean muscle and dead weight collapsing into him. Two-Bit staggered backward with his arms wrapping around Dallas’ chest. They both fell onto the pavement.
“Hey, c’mon.” Panic shot through his chest. “Dallas?”
Dally’s head rested against his shoulder. No response.
“Oh, fuck no.”
Two-Bit shook him gently. “Dal. Dallas.”
Nothing. His heart raced.
For one awful second, Two-Bit thought about how Dallas always seemed invincible until he wasn’t.
“Pony!” he shouted toward the Curtis house. “PONYBOY!”
Pony’s head snapped up immediately from thehouse. As soon as he saw them on the sidewalk, he ran over.
“What happened?”
“I think he passed out.”
“You think?”
“Well, I’m not exactly a doctor, genius!”
Pony dropped beside them, breathing hard. “Dally? Hey, Dally!”
Dallas groaned faintly at the sound of Ponyboy’s voice, but his eyes stayed closed.
“He’s burnin' up,” Ponyboy muttered.
“Probably because this idiot hasn’t eaten in four days.”
Ponyboy looked horrified. “Four days?!”
“That’s what I said!”
Dallas stirred weakly, frowning. “Quit yellin'…”
“Oh, good,” Two-Bit said immediately, relief flooding through him so hard his hands shook. “He’s not dead.”
“Shut up,” Dallas mumbled.
“You passed out!”
“I was thinkin' about it first.”
Ponyboy rolled his eyes so far it probably hurt. “Can he even stand?”
“Probably not.”
“I can stand,” Dallas protested without moving.
“Sure you can.”
Together, they managed to get Dallas upright. He swayed unsteadily as soon as he was on his feet, his eyes half-closed. Two-Bit firmed his grip around Dallas’ waist. And Dallas— Dallas leaned into him. Not fighting it. Not snapping back. Just tired enough to let someone hold him up. That scared Two-Bit more than the fainting did.
“You’re taking him to your house," Ponyboy said firmly.
“Yeah, no kiddin'.”
“And feedin' him.”
“I know how food works, Pony.”
“Maybe explain it to him.”
Dallas weakly lifted a hand. “I hate both of you.”
“Good,” Two-Bit muttered. “Means you’re awake.”
The walk back to Two-bit's house felt endless because Dallas could barely keep his eyes open. Half the time, he was practically asleep on his feet, his head drooping onto Two-Bit’s shoulder.
“You gotta stay awake,” Two-Bit kept telling him quietly.
“Why?”
“So you don’t die.”
“That sounds fake.”
“Dallas.”
“Alright, alright.”
By the time they got inside Two-bit’s house, Dally looked ready to collapse again.
Two-Bit shoved him down onto the couch. “Don’t move.”
“Bossy,” Dallas mumbled.
“You like it,” Two-Bit shot back.
Dallas cracked a tired grin before his eyes drifted shut again.
Two-Bit stood there for a second, just staring at him.
At the bruises under his eyes.
At how sharp his ribs and collarbones looked beneath his shirt.
At how exhausted he had to be to let himself fall asleep around someone else.
Something inside Two-Bit twisted painfully.
Pony touched his arm gently. “He’s okay.”
“Yeah,” Two-Bit said quietly.
But he stayed sitting on the edge of the couch, one hand wrapped around Dallas’ wrist, as if letting go would make Dallas disappear.