Work Text:
Skies no brighter than a dimly lit candle provided nothing but struggle for anybody who wished to make their way through it. Wet remains of rain on the concrete smelt strong and sour, the small sputtering of water droplets only having come to a halt moments prior. Elongated clouds swarmed the streetlights with a grasp that originated from somewhere more suffocating. Something sweet had been stripped from the air that night. Johnny could feel it under his skin.
A meshed blur of colours soon formed its shape into the entrance of the rodeo as Johnny made his way across the sidewalk. Denim clung to his skin through glues of sweat, the humidity of the air clashing against the coldness of the wind to create an unsettling combination that the boy couldn’t seem to shake off. It caused a blockage of nausea in his throat, but he swallowed.
Soon enough, though, his eyes refocused and Johnny found himself next to a familiar row of benches. People shoved past him as he stood stiff, throwing him around as they shuffled to find their seats. A girl with blonde hair scratched his hand with her nails as she squeezed past. It burned and seeped an uncomfortable poison into his blood.
Once the crowd had simmered down to a dead halt, Johnny found somewhere to sit himself- an empty seat on the end of the last row. It was clear as to why it was free, since the metal was corroding on the corners and the creak that erupted when Johnny sat was an indication of a future disaster. After getting as comfortable as he could, the boy also noticed the dripping of sliding water that leaked from the janky material of an attempted shelter.
It wasn’t long before the show seemed to start, and the sudden uproar of volume washed over Johnny like chlorine, or sharp sea salt he couldn't gargle. It was an easy escape to relax and focus, but the door to said heaven was locked, and Johnny had thrown the key on the ground when his mind escorted him to the more perilous exit. Still, he pursued to concentrate.
He recognised Dallas instantly, and for a minute or two everything was perfect. Dally was good at what he did, and Johnny damn did know it. A show like this would be nothing without him, just a lifeless attempt at living expressed through the only thing folks like Dallas knew. They weren’t Dal, though; that’s what made his appearance so special.
The little things like this were all Dally had. Johnny knew. From the way the blonde smiled ecstatically, to the thrilling scrunching of his nose and clenching of his fists, Johnny recognised it all and warmed himself within it. When you have so little to start with, you only crave the small flicks of joy you can only find in the little places. Even if participating in such a thing wasn’t Johnny’s idea of a good evening, he had his own tiny flames of fire he sought in the cracks of something bigger.
Johnny’s eyes were quickly dragged away from the scene when the girl sitting closest to him slipped and spilled some of her coke onto his jeans. She apologised frantically- “I’m ever so sorry!” she had said- but the other shot up and began to dry the denim with his shirt before he could respond. Sticky residue from the soda turned cold and slimy in the frozen February breeze; the cold felt like fire and the fire felt bad.
Despite still being in the early portion of the performance, Johnny made his way down the steps of the benches and around the back of the exit to clear his head. Nobody seemed to be around, and the sky had grown dark with a poor excuse of a moon that night. The silence eased the boy’s previously wandering mind, and the iced air coated his throat in an instant relief of refreshment. A soothing chill encased him tightly, and he allowed himself to sink to the floor as he leaned against a building he didn’t know the purpose of.
More time seemed to pass than Johnny had realised, since when he finally unfocused his eyes and glanced away from his worn down shoes, Dally stood still in front of the moon.
“I didn’t see you.” He lit a cigarette, and Johnny itched for one so badly he would’ve snatched it if he didn’t already feel sick as a dog.
“I had to leave early.”
Dally raised his eyebrows; although they were too fair to see, the crinkle of his eyes said enough. “Did you piss yourself or something?”
Johnny stood back up and brushed off the dirt. “No.” He huffed, not impressed with Dal’s smirk, “It's coke.”
“That’s supposed to go in your mouth.”
“I know.”
Dallas winced ever so slightly, Johnny was aware the other boy could sense the tension in the air. It could’ve been sliced with a knife or shot with a gun. He wished somebody could hurry up and do it.
Just as Dally began to wipe the coat of sweat off his forehead, the shorter of the two noticed a dark, nasty purple coated by a crimson that smothered his boyfriend’s knuckles.
“What is that?” He snatched the other's hand, his cigarette falling onto the floor before being crushed by Johnny’s shoe.
This encouraged an irritated mutter from Dallas, who shook his head. “It looks worse than it is. I’ve not broken anythin’, it’s fine.”
“No!” Johnny yelled, shoving Dally away and burying his hands in his hair. “None of this is fine. You can’t- you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Do you not think about me, huh? You ever thought about that?”
Dally stood stiff, stumped. He opened his mouth to talk, but closed it again instantly. Johnny slowed his breathing and moved his hands back down to cross them tightly. Things fell quiet for a long few minutes, and Dally only spoke again once hot, steamy tears were streaming down Johnny’s face and he was sniffling as if he was sick.
“Do you want to go for a drive?” He asked. Johnny nodded.
The drive was long and uncomfortable. The radio was full of jank neither of them cared about, and every now and then it would cut out to an unsettling fuzz of static that wouldn’t be solved by the slam of Dally’s fist that usually seemed to work. The air in the car was warm and sticky, but rolling down the windows let in a breeze that made Dallas hiss in annoyance, so he kept himself trapped in the humidity.
Dally broke the silence, “Are you ready to talk?”
Johnny just hummed.
“M’sorry I wasn’t bein’ careful.” He sighed, coughing out a small pool of smoke from his cigarette. “Nothin’ bad, I promise.”
“Okay.”
“What happened today?” Despite their piercing blue nature, Dally’s eyes showed something dark and vulnerable. He frowned, wiping his face before focusing back on the road. Not that there was all that much commotion apart from Buck’s T-Bird.
Johnny sighed, finally reaching for the cigarette he’d been craving all night. He lit it, gave a weak smile, and started to talk.
“I don't know, Dal. Woke up all wrong or somethin’.” Johnny turned away, instead focusing on the way the trees and the clouds blurred together to create an indistinguishable painting. “Pony and I spent the day at his house, but it all felt real wrong.”
“What did?”
“Said I don’t know.”
Dally nodded. “Hmn.” He grumbled, thinking.
Taking a long, deep drag from his cigarette, Johnny picked at the scratch on his hand from earlier. He was soon cut short by Dally’s hand, now free after throwing his cigarette butt out of the window, clasping over his. Blood from earlier had dried onto his boyfriend’s rough skin, dark and cracking. It made Johnny wince, but he held it back anyway.
“I think this helped.” Johnny spoke up.
“The cigarette?” Dallas questioned, pausing for a second. “The drive?”
“No,” Johnny huffed a laugh, rubbing his thumb delicately over the other’s knuckles. “You.”