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Ponyboy had wanted to drag everyone down to the lot. Someone had smuggled in a box of fireworks, cheap ones, but bright enough, and the younger kids from around the block were running around lighting sparklers, scribbling light in the humid air. Johnny was sitting on the hood of a car, knees pulled up, arms resting on them. He was trying to pretend he was fine.
Pony kept bouncing near him, talking a mile a minute about color bursts, the way the sparks looked like “city lights falling outta the sky.” The first firework went off,
sharp, sudden, like a slap of thunder. Johnny flinched so hard he nearly slid off the hood. Pony noticed. Pony always noticed.
“You good, Johnny?” he asked, soft but worried.
“Yeah,” Johnny murmured. But his hands were already shaking.
Second firework. BOOM. Kids cheered in what felt like a far distance. Johnny blinked fast, like he was trying to keep the world from doubling. Third firework: BOOM—crack—whistle—pop. That one did him in. Johnny’s breath stuttered, quiet little quick gulps he tried to swallow down.
He slid off the car and muttered something no one heard, heading toward the shadows behind the abandoned lot. He wrapped his arms around himself, pressing against the brick wall like he could hold himself together if he just stayed still enough. He hated that he was like this. Hated how noise shook him right down to the bone.
Hated how fireworks sounded too much like shouting, like slamming doors, like something breaking that ain’t ever getting fixed. Behind him, the gang kept laughing.
Except for one.
Dally found him five minutes later. Johnny didn’t hear his footsteps, Dally moved quieter than most, but he felt him before he saw him. A shift in the air. A presence. Protective, but prickly, like electricity before a storm.
“Hey,” Dally said. Not rough. Not soft. Just… there. “Figured you might be back here.”
Johnny didn’t answer. His body was tight, shoulders near his ears. Another firework went off, muffled by distance but still enough to make Johnny wince and duck his head. Dallas cursed under his breath.
Without asking, he sat down next to him. Shoulder-to-shoulder, warm, steady, like he was deliberately blocking the noise with his presence alone.
“They’re just fireworks, kid,” Dally said after a moment. Not dismissive, more like he was trying the words out, seeing if they helped.
Johnny’s voice shook. “I know. I just- I don’t like it when it gets loud.”
Another crack split the sky. Johnny’s breath hitched sharply. Dally didn’t flinch. Instead, he shifted slightly closer, almost subtle, like he didn’t want Johnny to notice he was doing something kind.
“Yeah. Loud ain’t good,” Dally said. “Never liked it myself.”
Johnny looked at him, eyes a little dazed. “You don’t?”
“Nah,” Dally said, picking at a thread on his jacket. “Loud stuff puts people on edge. Makes you think something’s ‘bout to go down. Gets you remembering things you don’t wanna.”
Johnny swallowed. Hard.
He didn’t know Dally had things he didn’t wanna remember. He guessed he should have, it was Dally, after all, but hearing it made him feel a little less stupid.
“So,” Dally continued, “you ain’t the only one who don’t like fireworks.”
Johnny breathed out shakily. “Feels like my head’s in a tin can getting kicked.”
Dally snorted. Not at him, never at Johnny, but like yeah, kid, I get it. “C’mere,” Dal said.
Johnny blinked. “What?”
Dally rolled his eyes, not unkind. “Just- move closer, alright? Don’t make me spell it out. And do it before I change my mind Or. Something.” It clicks that Dally wouldn’t change his mind when it came to Johnny.
Johnny scooted a little, hesitant, until their knees touched. Then Dally reached out and hooked a hand around the back of Johnny’s neck, thumb brushing the hairline, steady, grounding, something Johnny could lean into without thinking too hard.
When the next firework exploded, Johnny didn’t jump quite as hard. Dally’s grip tightened just a fraction. Not enough to trap him, just enough to say I’m here and ground Johnny to the present. As if saying, “Don’t go anywhere.”
They sat like that for a long time. Johnny’s breathing evened out, slow and shaky but still progress. Dally didn’t talk much. Dally never talked much unless he was riled up, but tonight he was strangely calm, focused entirely on the kid beside him.
“You wanna head back?” Dally asked finally. “I’ll walk you.”
Johnny shook his head. “Don’t wanna ruin it for Pony.”
“You ain’t ruining nothin’,” Dally said immediately. “Kid’s got a brain, he can have fun without you watchin’ his every move.”
Johnny almost smiled. Almost. Another boom sounded, smaller this time. He only flinched a little. It doesn’t seem to please Dally, however.
“You’re shakin’ again,” Dally murmured.
Johnny started to apologize, but Dally cut him off. “Quit sayin’ sorry every time you breathe wrong.”
Johnny bit the inside of his cheek. “I can’t help it.”
“Yeah, well.” Dally shrugged. “Don’t gotta apologize to me.”
That, those few words, did something to Johnny’s chest. Something warm and confusing. The fireworks slowed down. The cheers faded. The night settled into a hum instead of an explosion.
Dally let go of Johnny’s neck but nudged him with his shoulder. “Better?”
“A little,” Johnny whispered.
“Mhm. Thought so.”
They didn’t move. Johnny wondered if Dally ever got scared of loud things. Really scared. The kind that made your hands shake without your permission. But he knew better than to ask.
Dally was opening up just by being here. Sometimes comfort came in the shape of a quiet presence and a gruff voice that didn’t make you feel small. It wasn’t until Pony stuck his head around the corner, eyes wide and worried, that either of them moved.
“Johnny? Dal? You guys okay?” Pony panted. “I couldn’t find you, thought maybe-”
Johnny stood quickly, trying to look normal. “Yeah, Ponyboy. I’m fine.”
Dally snorted. “No you ain’t.”
Johnny shot Dally a look, embarrassed, but Dally ignored him. Pony eyed Johnny’s face, then the way Dally hovered close like a guard dog. Understanding clicked. Pony didn’t say anything. He just nodded, slow and soft.
“You wanna head back to the house?” Pony offered.
Johnny looked at Dally first. Dally raised a brow, like, “Your call, kid.”
“Yeah,” Johnny said. “Let’s go.”
Dally walked on Johnny’s left side the whole way, between him and the noise, between him and the world, pretending he wasn’t doing anything at all. Johnny pretended not to notice. But he did. He noticed everything. Dally ends up leaving once he dropped the two off at the Curtis house despite Ponyboy offering for the older to stay.
That night, when the world finally went quiet, Johnny lay on his mattress at the Curtis house, staring at the ceiling. He could still feel the warmth of Dally’s hand on the back of his neck, steady and real. Johnny didn’t like loud noise. Didn’t know if he ever would.
But he liked that someone noticed. He liked that someone came looking. And out of everyone, it was Dally. Dally, who didn’t do soft things. Dally, who didn’t care, except he clearly did. Johnny smiled into the dark.
Maybe next year wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe with Dally around, the noise wouldn’t seem so loud.