Chapter Text
Dally walked back to Buck’s bar as he help his hand up to face to stop the blood from dripping.
It didn’t work.
He felt his eyes brimming with unshed tears as he finally stumbled through the door, ignoring the bartender’s rude comment something about “seeing the other guy.” He stomped up the stairs like some spoiled little kid, and slammed his bedroom door behind him.
The room he slept in wasn’t really a bedroom, though. He sat on the edge of his bed, feeling stupid. He balled the sheets in his fists as he looked around at the carpeted floors and barren walls, decorated with punches in inconvenient places.
He banged his head against the wall until the throbbing pain blinded him and he couldn’t see what was right in front of him. His tear ducts emptied themselves as his vision went black and his hands held his head tightly.
When he finally came back to, the sun was nearly setting and he felt like he’d slept for years, but also like he hadn’t slept at all. He sat up groggily and took his head in his hands, feeling something dried into his hair.
He forced himself to stand up, tumbling into the bathroom and turning on the water. He stepped into the water before it got warm, wincing as the cold water bit into the apparent wound on the back of his head.
He ran his fingers through his dark brown locks in an attempt to get the dried blood out of it. He felt pathetic. His eyes welled with tears and mixed with the water pouring down from the shower head.
Meanwhile, Tim was still at his house. Making food for the twins, he was thinking about all the times when Dally had stayed over for dinner and eaten his food without even so much as a thanks. He also remembered, though, the small acts of gratitude he showed.
Dallas never did anything too outwardly caring or loving. He knew that if he did, they’d become expected.
At just the thought of that, Tim scrambled the eggs in the pan in front of him angrily.
He hated that he was so shaken up about this. Considering the type of man he was, it shouldn’t matter to him. Nothing really mattered to him, except his two kid siblings. Considering the fact that Dally was an exception as well made him feel sick.
Even still, underneath the veil of anger that had been consuming him all day, guilt bubbled up. He couldn’t help himself from feeling bad.
Over the course of the next few weeks, Dally and Tim hardly see each other. This was the first time in a long time (Curly thought it was the first time ever) that they had actually separated for this long.
Pony told Curly not to use the word seperated, he said it made them seem like they were dating, or something. Curly just stared at Pony.
Later that same day, Curly came home to the sight of his older brother standing in the kitchen, clearly angry, and none other than Dallas Winston, in his living room, apologizing to Tim.
(Or, the closest thing to an apology that a man like Dallas Winston could give.)
“Look, Timmy—“ Dally began.
“That’s not my name, Dallas.”
If he was hurt, the younger boy recover
ed quickly. He cleared his throat and started again. “Tim,” he tried again, albeit begrudgingly. “You know I didn’t mean nun’ by it. You know it ain’t like that! And s’not like I see ya any different, just…”
Tim narrowed his eyes. “Just what?”
“C’mon! Don’t be like that…” Dallas looked almost childish. He was squirming slightly and shifting his weight between both of his feet. It was hard to watch.
Curly awkwardly squeezed past both of them, but he didn’t think they even noticed he was there. If they did, nobody said anything.
Dally walked closer to him, and in an attempt to seem tuffer, leaned against the doorframe. “I mean, who don’t wanna mess around with a pretty boy?” He spoke quietly, as if he hardly wanted Tim to hear his words at all.
Tim watched him slowly, nodding slightly. He knew what that meant. Dally knew that Tim knew.
Nobody said anything for a long moment, until Tim finally spoke up. “Okay, yeah. What’d you really come over for?”
Dally tried to gauge Tim’s expression. “We’re cool?”
“Yeah, we’re cool.”
Dally looked around, biting the inside of the cheek to stop himself from breaking into a smile. “Yeah? Cool. You got any pot?”