Chapter Text
Johnny was a quiet kid. A Soc who didn't act like a Soc. He wasn't loud or violent or get into beer bashes or party to no end. No, he usually behaved. He was quiet and obedient. He never expected to catch the eye of a Greaser, especially with all he'd been told about them from his friends who'd had fights and encounters with them. Johnny was always told that greasers were nasty and that they loved picking on people like him. He was told that they'd hurt him if he was ever caught by himself, so he usually never traveled without one of his friends. But one night he did and he didn't fully regret it. Keyword, 'fully'. Johnny was supposed to be with his boyfriend, Bob, but he'd gotten drunk beforehand so he decided to go on his own. He hated drinking, and even more when Bob drank. They were supposed to be on a date and yet Bob chose to drink before and ruin it. He didn't hate Bob though, it's just how he was. He always drank, it was just one of those things he did. Johnny just.. learned to accept it. He wished Bob was there though, the walk through the East side was scary. He was afraid that he'd get spotted by a greaser and that he'd not return home. He rubbed his hands on his arms, it was sort of cold out too.
His boots thudded against the dirt road, his gaze flicking everywhere at once. He hadn't seen a greaser the whole time, so maybe he was being too paranoid. Or maybe not paranoid enough, cause when he turned his head to look behind him, he ran right into someone. It felt like he hit a wall. A wall made of muscle. He stumbled back, clutching his satchel tight in his grasp as he looked up at who he'd bumped into. It was a boy, maybe about seventeen, with bright blonde hair that shun in the moonlight with grease. Just his luck, he had to run into one of the meanest greasers he'd been told about. Dallas Winston. He stepped back, his grip tight on his bag as he looked at the blonde greaser. Dallas turned to look at the smaller soc, brow furrowed as he glanced him up and down. A grin appeared on his face as he realized that Johnny was a soc. Johnny gulped as he bowed his head, "I'm sorry! I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."
Dallas seemed surprised, a Soc was apologizing to him just for running into him? Johnny kept his head down as he waited for the inevitable hits, but they never came, rather the Greaser was laughing at him. His laugh was deep, strong, dark. This was the greaser of all greasers after all. Why wouldn't he have a laugh to match. Johnny felt fear surge through him, this would be how he died. He knew it. No Soc escaped Dallas Winston without some severe injury. Yet he still hadn't been hit by the much larger boy.
"What's a kid like you doing out in the East?" Dallas asked, head cocked to the side and arms folded.
Johnny needed a second to register, wondering if he was going to be beat or not, "G.. going to the Drive In, sir."
The greaser gave a laugh at that. He's probably never been properly spoken to before, he remembered Randy telling him how hoods like Dallas Winston talk bad and hit each other as greetings. And Johnny believed it, why wouldn't he? He's never met a greaser so up close and personal before until now. He was so afraid he'd do something. Would he die that day? Maybe. He wished Bob was here, he was always so brave. His hand slowly reached inside his satchel, grasping the folding knife in the front pocket. A safety measure he'd taken after he'd been jumped by a group of greasers, it had been a nightmare to deal with. The greasers who did it were never caught, they were good at avoiding the police after all. He'd been so deathly afraid of facing a greaser again after that day, which is why he begged his parents to let him carry something for self defense. And so he bought a folding knife and carried it with him at all times in his satchel.
Dallas cleared his throat as his laughter died down, his grin still there. His teeth were sharp, and he had a gold tooth in place of his right canine. He looked exactly like a greaser by textbook definition. He wondered how long this hoods criminal record was. How many nights he'd spent in jail. How well he knew the police. Johnny's mind swirled with questions as he raised his head to look at Dallas.
"Awfully brave to be walking to the Drive In on your lonesome." Dallas stepped closer, Johnny stepped back. "Got a death wish, Soc? Huh? Thought you could just walk through our territory with no problem?"
Johnny shook his head, his black eyes wide with fear, "N-no, I just wanted to watch a movie." He clutched the knife in his satchel, reading to use it if Dallas got any closer. "Honest!"
Dallas got real close, and that's when he flicked out his knife, pointing it at the greaser with shaky hands. He wasn't going to use it, no never. He'd never hurt anyone, at least not on purpose. That seemed to make that hood back up though, startled that a Soc like him would even carry a weapon. Or, at least someone small like him. But who would willingly go into dangerous territory and NOT bring some sort of defensive item? That was just asking to end up as an obituary in the morning paper. He held the blade up, using both hands now to try and steady his shaking hands, which wasn't going too well. The greaser seeed to regain himself as he stood up tall over Johnny, he sure was.. big. Johnny thought him to possibly be bigger than his father, which was scary to imagine. His father was the tallest, and beefiest, person he knew of and to think someone could outclass him was utterly terrifying. Even worse, he'd just pulled a knife on that person. Johnny felt like he was going to pass out, clutching the knife tight in his hands as he took several steps back.
No one on the East side would bat an eye if a Soc like him was found dead in a ditch, and the culprit would no doubt get away with it. Greasers would get into jail and then get out almost immediately the next day. There was no pure justice in Tulsa. Only the well off being punished for having it good. No one on the East side was fair. Dallas got closer, the knife practically stuck against his gut.
"Ya' got killer in ya', kid?" He taunted, his grin as wide as ever. He showed no fear to the situation, as if he's had this happen before.
He had no killer instinct in him, he only ever played killers on stage. And even then he was terrible at that. He lowered the knife, fear in his eyes as it was yanked then from his grip by the hood. He braced his arms over his face with a yelp, fully ready to be stabbed with his own tool. But like the punches, that never came either. Just an amused snort from the greaser. Johnny never felt so pathetic. He was no soc, just a sniveling coward in nice clothing.
"Didn't think so." Dallas sneered, flipping the pocket knife in his hands. "This is nice, I'm keeping this."
Johnny watched in dismay as he closed the blade and stuffed it into his filthy jeans pockets. Oh well, Johnny could always buy another. Honestly he was now sort of glad Bob didn't come with him, he couldn't imagine what'd happen if this grease appeared with Bob in one of his moods. Only bad things could come of it. Dallas moved suddenly and Johnny flinched, staring up at him with those big black eyes of his. He looked like a terrified dame to Dallas. It was so freaking funny. Johnny held onto the strap of his satchel as he took steps away from Dallas.
"I-i'm sorry for causing you trouble. I-i'll be on my way now.." Johnny muttered, attempting to swerve around Dallas and continue on his way to the Nightly Double.
Unfortunately for him, life was a bitch with blonde, greasy hair. He was yanked back by the back of his vest, nearly thrown to the ground by the sheer force acted upon him. He stumbled as he planted his boots back firmly on the ground. He looked at Dallas once more, his anxiety at its peak at this point. He was fully ready to never see daylight ever again, which is why he took a break for it and pushed past the hood and towards the Nightly Double. Surely there'd be someone there that could help him. The sound of boots behind him spiked his adrenaline, soon the light of the projector coming into sight. There he saw Sherri, one of his classmates. He waved and called to her, pushing himself to go as fast as he possibly could. He was panting heavily by the time he got to the red haired girl. He felt like he was going to throw up. Sherri looked so concerned, asking him what happened. Johnny explained that he got cornered by the blonde greaser and that he didn't feel safe being out by himself anymore.
She helped him settle for the movie, his heart rate slowly going back to normal. If only that had lasted when he heard that blondes voice from the seats behind him. He didn't seem to notice Johnny though, focusing on harassing Sherri. He sank down in his seat and everything seemed to go better than it had in the dark. The greaser didn't notice he was there. good. He wanted it to stay that way. He hoped he never meets that hood again.