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tulsa oklahoma looks different, ten years later. johnny wonders if they even still use the old labels anymore. socs and greasers and the like. he thinks not, because that’s what they are. old labels for an old generation of old people. it doesn’t matter anyway, he thinks. johnny pulls dally’s jacket further around him and breathes in the smell of leather and cheap cologne.
“hey johnny,” dally says, and johnny looks up. “it’s your old house.” johnny looks out the window and there it is. his old, decrepit house. it wasn’t home, he can’t call it home. he slides out of the car and picks a rock off the ground, throwing it at the house. the sound of the glass window shattering is a satisfying one.
“take that old man.” johnny mumbles as dally sidles up behind him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “jesus, this place really was a piece of shit.” dally’s laugh is warm, warm like it has been for the past ten years since they ran off.
“yeah, it is.” dally agrees, and he squeezes johnny in a one armed hug. “you wanna go see if the dx is still around?” johnny nods, leaning into dally’s side for a second before pulling away and climbing back into the truck. the engine is loud and johnny can smell gasoline over the stench of stale cigarettes.
the dx is in fact still there, although it’s been years since sodapop and steve have worked there. the curtis’s left town soon after ponyboy went off to college, soda in vietnam and then new jersey, dragging steve with him. two-bit ran off somewhere and no one has heard from him since, but darry sends letters and phone calls every so often.
they get out of the truck and meander their way down to the gas station. dally buys a couple of beers and avoids making eye contact with the lady at the counter. he makes sure to keep his sticky fingers in check.
the sun is setting when they drive down to the creek. it’s not very big, mostly just run off water from the last rain, but it’s the first place they think of where no one will find them. the old lot, the one johnny used to sleep in when no one could take him in, was demolished years ago. there’s a playground there now.
dally throws an old scratchy blanket around both their shoulders. it smells like cigarette smoke, and the beer that dally spilled on it last week. dally still smells like his cheap cologne, and he’s slowing looping his arm around johnny’s waist. johnny looks over at him. he’s got that look in his eye, like he still can’t believe johnny’s here, even after fifteen years of knowing each other, even after a decade of knowing each other. johnny leans up at the same time that dally leans down, their lips meeting chastely in the middle. dally smiles into the kiss, bringing his hands to rest on johnny’s shoulders. johnny pushes at dally’s chest so he can break off the kiss momentarily. dally pouts and johnny laughs at him and then dally is laughing too, loud and warm and open. it should be jarring, a contrast to the soft chirps of the crickets and the stars above them but it works somehow.
“sometimes, i wonder why we ever left tulsa.” johnny says some time later, his words muffled by the fabric of dally’s shirt.
“sometimes i wonder how i made it past twenty.” dally admits, a seemingly unrelated statement, but johnny nods to show he gets his point.
“i never said i wasn’t glad we left.” johnny mumbles, and he pulls his face out of dally’s shirt to look at him. he doesn’t look twenty-eight, not really. not physically. but he’s wiser, in a way. more mellow, if a grease like him can be mellow. he’s happier, johnny knows he is. he knows because he tells him every day, tells him without words. tells him in the way his eyes are kinder, in the way his hands are gentler and the fact that they shake less. “besides,” johnny says, a smile tugging at his lips, “you look good for twenty-eight.”
dally lets out a shocked bark of laughter, shoving johnny’s shoulder halfheartedly. “you got mean with age!” he says good-naturedly which is a way johnny never thought he’d be able to describe anything dally does. “it’s a good thing i love you, otherwise-” johnny cuts him off with a kiss square on the lips.
“love you too.” he says quietly and then steals the blanket and lays his head in dally’s lap.
the next morning finds dally and johnny stale mouthed and morning-breathed. johnny laughs at dally’s bed hair, just like he always does. they bicker jokingly over the comb, and they’re on their way out of town by nine. johnny watches their old town shrink and disappear as they get farther away. he remembers the last time he watched it disappear, in this same truck. he smiles to himself.
“so,” dally asks through a mouthful of pancakes. “where to now?” johnny stares out the window, unanswering. he snatches a piece of dally’s bacon and ignores his protests as he chews thoughtfully. he swallows.
“i guess we could go visit ponyboy? last time he called he said his dog had puppies.” he pauses. “you know,” i always wanted to go to san francisco.”
dally snorts. then he looks up. “you’re serious?” johnny nods. “san francisco is almost two thousand miles away, johnny.”
johnny raises an eyebrow. “did you have plans?” then he backtracks. “we don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” dally takes a sip of johnny’s coffee.
“i didn’t say that. you’re right, anyway. it’s not like we have anywhere to be. always thought of going to the sea, anyway.” johnny smiles.
“so we’re going to san francisco?” he asks.
dally’s fingers brush against his. “i guess so.” his crystal blue eyes look soft, and johnny links their fingers together. he squeezes once, twice and dally squeezes back. sometimes johnny is hesitant to name what it is they’ve been doing all these years. nameless or not, though, it’s good. that much he knows.