Work Text:
Johnny felt stranger than he ever recalls feeling before. He had burns all over his body, his back had been broken, and he was pretty sure his heart wasn’t beating at that moment. But he wasn’t in any pain. There was a dull tingling on the burns that tickled his nerves, but he wasn’t hurt. Perhaps he should be panicking about this, but he was feeling an odd sort of calmness and it felt as though nothing could touch him.
He looked down at his arms. There were grotesque, flaking scars, some still oozing blood – only the blood sluggishly rose and floated in red ribbons rather than dripping to the floor. This was something he should probably panic over too, but Johnny was not worried. He felt a peacefulness not even sleep had been able to achieve for him before. His sleep was always plagued with nightmares, anyway, and in the waking world, he was constantly afraid of everyone around him, certain that someone would see him and decide he needed a good beating up. Johnny thinks it had happened before, only he can’t recall when.
But wherever he was now didn’t feel like sleep or wake. Perhaps he was somewhere in between. Perhaps he was nowhere at all.
Johnny took a moment to actually look around. He didn’t know where he was, or what was happening. He seemed to be standing on nothing, mist and clouds being all he could see under himself. If he looked too long, he felt like he would fall right through. There was a stream of water and the most beautiful plants around it, too. There were luscious bushes dotted with elegant and vibrant flowers that hung in soft yellows and blues over the edges of the bushes. Grass poked through the mist around the stream, and little white flowers popped up between the green blades. There was a tree on the other side of the stream with low hanging leaves that created calming shadows between the peaks of sunlight, and there was a wooden swing dangling from a branch. Johnny saw fruit between the leaves, but couldn’t think of what they were called anymore.
He walked to the edge of the stream and cupped his hands, scooping up the water and drinking it from his palms. The water tastes ordinary, but it makes hazy memories resurface in Johnny’s mind the more he drinks. He remembered the faces of boys he might have known. There was a young looking boy with greenish eyes and tuff hair that could pass as brown or red. His name was on the tip of Johnny’s tongue but he just couldn’t place it. He remembered other bits and pieces of people, too; a real handsome guy with similar hair to the first boy, and there was another who had a strong build and a tired look. A smiling boy with sideburns, and a tall one with swirling hair.
And there was also Dally.
Johnny couldn’t think of any names of anyone he’d known except for Dallas Winston. Dally had incredibly light blonde hair, and pale eyes that were cold to anyone but Johnny. He always looked at Johnny like there was something amazing about him. He usually had a mean look on his face and his jaw was always set, but Johnny thought he was the only person who had ever seen Dally without that face. Johnny had seen him smile, had seen him laugh, had seen him cry. Dally acted out like he was all tough and arrogant, but Johnny knew better. He had seen the side of Dally that was soft and sweet, the side that would ask Johnny how he was or if he needed help. The side of Dally that would hold him and kiss him softly in the dead of the night when nobody else would know. That side was truer than his rough outlook would ever be.
For the first time since Johnny was in this place (had that been seconds or days ago?), he felt something: sorrow. He felt sorrow for Dally, and for himself. Being apart was difficult, and he hadn’t any idea how long it had been, but it felt like far too long. Johnny stood up (water droplets didn’t fall either, they floated like the blood) and walked along the stream with the foolish idea that somewhere along it he would find Dally.
There was no knowing how long he was walking for, time didn’t seem to have any meaning to Johnny anymore. How long had he been in this place? How long had it been since he’d seen Dally? You could have told him minutes or months and he would have believed you. He carried on walking.
When Johnny walked, he liked to think. He made guesses about where he was, he built stories, he imagined pieces of old songs he used to know. Sometimes, he would think really hard and try to remember more about the people he knew. He’d come to the conclusion that youngest boy's name started with a P and that he was close to the handsome boy who had similar hair, perhaps they were related. Johnny remembered laughing at things the sideburns boy said a lot.
He also remembered another thing: his home. He lived somewhere in America, he thinks, and somewhere not so nice. He somewhat remembered a man slugging him and a woman screaming at him, and he remembered a constant feeling of unwanted separation, competition that never satisfied either end. But that was about all that his brain could uncover.
Johnny had also been considering the fact that he may be dead.
Like everything else in this God forsaken place, he didn’t feel even a little panicked at such a thought like any ordinary person would. It was going to happen sooner or later, and this place was kinder to him than he remembers home being. So he didn’t find himself caring too much, aside from the fact that he would have to go on being here without Dally until he died too, which would only hurt him more. Dally never deserves to die, so he hopes it’s a long time before he ever comes across him. Despite this, he walks along the stream, hoping to one day see Dally picking the flowers or eating the fruit.
***
It had been either an eternal, unfathomable amount of time or but a few hours until Johnny saw Dally again. He had never been able to tell here.
When Johnny saw Dally again, it didn’t go how he had imagined it might. In his mind, he pictured seeing Dally and having that instant recognition like in movies, and that Dally would run to him instantly and maybe it would be awkward but it would be sweet. Johnny would stand there shocked and Dally would hold his hand and Johnny would kiss his knuckles like he used to after Dally was in a fight.
Instead, he didn’t even recognise the man on the edge of the river for a moment. He was holding a flower, ripping off the petals one by one, repeating “he loves me, he loves me not” with each tear. His hair wasn’t the blonde Johnny remembered, it was caked now with a dark crimson.
“Hello?” Johnny said, and Dally had looked up at him with the most horrible face. His eyes were deep with emotions, rage and fear and grief and such a strong hopelessness that Johnny felt it too. Then Johnny could see that this was Dallas. This was Dallas, not some random hurt ghost. This was his Dally, who used to plait his hair and hold his hand and when Johnny had just gotten beaten he would tend to him with the gentlest touches, afraid to hurt him any further. Fuck, did he really think anything he ever did could hurt Johnny? He must have been insane, truly, incredibly insane, if he thought there was anything he wasn’t willing to do for him. And now he was here.
Johnny leaped across the stream which seemed impossibly longer than it was before, falling into the water and splashing it all over his nice jeans, but he couldn’t give two shits because Dally was here and there was nothing stopping Johnny from jumping onto him and hugging him with no intention to ever let go again.
Dally had seemed to get up at some point and met him halfway across the stream. He was standing there, the water current stronger than it had ever been, with tears building in his eyes.
“Johnny?” This was all he needed to leap into Dally’s arms. The two of them went down and fell into the river, all wet, but Johnny couldn’t find it in himself to care. Dally was crying now.
“Dally!” Johnny was crying too, he realised. He was basically sitting on Dally, not that the latter seemed to care, and cupping his face lovingly. Dally brought up shaking hands and brought them towards Johnny’s face before changing his mind and letting them hover around his face, unsure whether or not to touch him.
“Is this real?” Dally whispered, his voice shaking slightly. Johnny felt his heart clench at the question, tears slipping out of his eyes like a broken faucet. He nodded and brushed Dally’s sopping hair aside with his fingers, trying to bring him a sense of reality and comfort. Dally’s hands slowly brush against Johnny’s cheeks, twirling his shaggy hair between his fingers. Suddenly, Dally makes a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh, and he pulls Dally’s face to his, sharing a bittersweet kiss. The kiss is sloppy and desperate but it feels like the first kiss of all time and it’s perfect. The kiss releases all the longing they’ve been holding in for God knows how long and they’re both crying and honestly it’s kind of gross, but neither boy could possibly be thinking about that right now when they’re together for what seems like the first time.
“Dally, shit, Dally.” Johnny whispers when they break apart, their foreheads still pressed together and their lips still an inch apart. “I missed you so much, I thought I’d go nutty without you.”
“You’ve always been nutty, Johnny.” Dally responds wetly. They both laugh and kiss again before Johnny suddenly breaks away, sitting up.
“Wait, does this mean…” he trails off. Dally shouldn’t be here, he should be back in the world of living. Johnny looks more closely and sees the blood leaking lazily from the holes in his chest. He gasps sharply, instinctively pressing his hands against the holes to try and stop the blood. Johnny isn’t completely stupid, he can see that they’re bullet wounds.
“Johnny, man, it’s alright. I’m okay.” Johnny jerks his head from side to side. Dally’s got bullets lodged inside his chest, how could he be okay? Johnny keeps on applying pressure to the wounds, he’s not going to let Dally be here instead of alive, he’s still got so much to do! And now he’s prying Johnny’s hands away which is cruel and self-deprecating but he can do it so easily because let’s be honest he’s the strong one of the pair and Johnny’s nothing more than a thorn in his side and Dally’d be better off if Johnny just—
“Hey, look at me.” Johnny’s eyes flick up to meet Dally’s. “I died, Johnnycakes. It doesn’t hurt no more, and I ain’t gonna be able to go back. It’s okay. We’re together now, that’s what matters.”
“But Dal, you can’t! There’s still so much you gotta do-“
“Same as you.” Dally says sincerely. Dally had always been so confident that Johnny was gonna grow up and lead a life that would be ‘better than his’. That was why he was always doing all he could to protect Johnny from the horrors of the living world. Johnny finally got it through his thick skull that Dally’s loss of him hurt just as much as his own loss of Dally; probably even more so. His broken faucet started up again.
“I’m sorry, Dally, I— you know I don’ mean to say some’ve the stuff I say.” Johnny averts his eyes. He hears Dally breathe out a laugh.
“Shoot, kid, you ain’t done nothin’ wrong. Don’ you worry your pretty head. I’m just glad you’re here.” Dally moves his hand up to Johnny’s forehead, pushing is bangs away from his face and kissing him on the forehead. Johnny lets himself smile, because Dally was here. And Dally could protect him.
“I’m glad you’re here, too, Dally.” Johnny hesitates. “I love you.”
Dally looks surprised for a split second before a stunning smile graces his face. Johnny’s heart melts.
“Heck, I love you too, Johnnycakes. And now I’ve got all eternity to do it!” Dally smirks. Johnny laughs and punches him softly on the shoulder.
Maybe all eternity won’t be so bad.