Chapter Text
you softly raked your hands through dallas winston’s hair as the smell of alcohol, sweat, and weed stung your nose. music boomed throughout the house and echoed in your ears as you peered down at the boy in your lap, wondering how he could possibly sleep through all the noise.
the lights reflected against his eye, allowing you to the see the bruise he had gotten from an earlier fight. a trail of dried blood led from his lips and into his hair, making the blonde strands look like they were painted red.
dallas was a drinker–everyone knew it. he was drunk at least three times a week or more. it took a lot of alcohol to actually get him drunk, but you’d never seen him so wasted as you did that night.
the last time you had seen him that day was when he left buck’s with two packs of beers, so you were somewhat thankful when you had found him lying unconscious at the top of the stairs. there were several bruises and cuts up along his arms, and you couldn’t imagine all the trouble he had gotten into throughout the day. at first, it was pretty funny to see dallas winston knocked out cold at the top of a flight of stairs. but when you saw the pool of blood underneath him, you realized you had to do something.
after cleaning him up in the bathroom, you tried to find an empty bedroom to dump him in, but every room was occupied. you decided to take him back downstairs and to set him on the couch. he woke up from his grogginess long enough to ask you a few mumbled questions, but luckily, he fell back asleep before you could answer them.
you couldn’t remember how dallas winston’s head wound up in your lap, but you didn’t mind. he wasn’t your boyfriend or anything special, , but you had lost track of the amount of times you had made out with him. he didn’t mean much to you, though, and you wouldn’t’ve thought twice about helping him if he had not been so drunk and bloody.
he suddenly stirred around, causing you to hastily rip your fingers out of his hair. you sucked in your breath, and stared into his blue eyes. you didn’t know what kind of reaction you would get from someone like dallas winston, especially a sleepy, drunk one, so you decided to humor yourself.
“you’re awake, you filthy drunk.” you teased, a smile on your face. he kept staring at you, so you figured he couldn’t hear you over the loud music. either that or he was too drunk to understand.
“you know what today is?” dallas asked, closing his eyes. his mouth pulled into a smirk, causing his cracked lip to open. blood ran down his mouth and into his hair once again. you were just waiting for him to say some inappropriate joke when he mumbled, “my ma’s birthday.”
everyone in town knew dallas had a bad relationship with his parents. he hated his father with a passion and his mother was absent. no one but his close friends knew whether she was dead or not, and anyone who wasn’t close didn’t ask. his mother’s birthday was possibly the reason why he had gotten so drunk, in attempt to either drink away the bitter years without her, or to drink his mother away completely.
“well, i hope she had a happy birthday.” you replied. you gazed up the stairs, praying for a giggling couple to come teetering down so you could leave, but none came.
“she doesn’t deserve it.” he said bitterly, an angry glare replacing his smile. “she doesn’t deserve it and i don’t love'er.”
his words were slurring and you figured sleep was slowly pulling him away again. shrugging, you slid your fingers back through his long, untamed hair.
“yeah but does dallas winston love anybody but himself?” you asked, thinking about all the girls who had crawled under the covers with him, the girls who slumped down the stairs with mascara running down their cheeks and hickeys on their necks. the girls who thought, ‘maybe this time he will say he loves me’, but he never did. the boys who lost teeth from fights with dallas, boys who started hiding behind cars and alleyways whenever they saw him pass by on the streets. it was all the same story for anyone who had encountered him, and he was the only one who wasn’t hurting from any of it.
dallas was still conscious, and he sure as hell heard you. he scoffed loudly, making his head bounce in your lap. you knew how scary he was when he was angry, but you didn’t move, no matter how much your conscience screamed at you.
“how can ya love yourself when ya don’t love nobody and nobody loves you?” he hissed, his white eyebrows knitting together in anger. “for god’s sake, i just want my old man for once to care that i ain’t home for weeks at a time.”
he cursed as he sat up from your lap and positioned himself over the couch, looking as if he was going to get up and walk away. you watched his angry blue eyes glare at the ground as the dim lights reflected against the blood running down his chin. your legs felt bare without his head resting against them and you wanted him to just fall back asleep.
“i wished that i had someone there f'me besides a pack of cigarettes, but i learn'ta stop wishin’ for that a long time ago.” he mumbled, standing up.
no one cared about dallas winston. he wasn’t shown any sign of love or affection from his father, nor did he show any in return. his buddies wouldn’t give a damn if he was beat to a pulp or crashed in his car while recklessly driving. no one stopped him when he decided to rob a drug store, and no one was surprised when he was hauled into jail. he received a bad name on the streets, and he liked it that way. it made it easier for no one to know how he really felt and no one knew what he really needed. and what he really needed was for someone to care about him.
he squinted down at you, as if he was trying to match a name to your face. you just gave him a soft smile when he gave up and wobbled away. you considered telling everyone in town that if they wanted to get something out of dallas winston, the trick was to get him wasted. you decided against it, though, and quickly made your way out the door. the things he had said while he was drunk ran through your mind the whole walk home.