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Dally couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. The echo of the door slamming played over and over, the voice crack in the last few words said playing on repeat.
He wanted to beg. God, it was pathetic, but he wanted to get on his knees and apologize and say everything he never said.
But it was too late. The footsteps down the stairs were faded and the only thing Dally was left with was lungs that didn’t work and echos in his head.
…
(A/N: Every full line that's italicized from here is Dally's reflection of what happened)
Dally's day was shitty. Shitty and long. He started the day off getting pissed at Darry, then got into an argument with Steve, cussed out some random blonde, then Buck gave him crap for…something. Dally doesn’t care enough to remember what.
Not that that's an excuse.
Of course, though, it was the one day Johnny had a great day. Dally was only at his place for 10 minutes before Johnny opened the door, smiling more widely than Dally had ever seen.
“Dal, I got somethin’ for you.”
Dally rolled his eyes, then motioned for Johnny to come in. “That so?” It was said so flatly it didn’t even sound like a question.
Johnny's face fell a little, but he was used to Dally being like this, so he came in. He stood in front of the bed, arms behind his back, smile still wide.
Dally looked up at him, gesturing with his hand. “Go on.”
Johnny finally puts his hands in front of Dally, revealing a silver chain necklace with a bullet looped on. “I bought it myself.”
Dally grabbed the necklace, then set it on his nightstand. “Neat, man.”
Why did I sound so dry? He was being sweet.
Johnny's face fell a little more. “...do you not like it?”
I loved it.
Dally shrugged. “It’s fine.”
“If you don’t like it, I can-”
Dally snapped. “I said it’s neat. Sorry I’m not jumpin’ for joy over a shitty necklace.”
It wasn’t shitty.
Johnny paused, then let his face go to the guarded expression he saved for strangers and his parents.
However, his eyes must’ve held a little more hurt, because Dally scoffed and rolled his eyes.
“You’re so fuckin.’ sensitive. It’s a necklace-”
“I’m not sensitive,” Johnny cut in.
“Don’t cut me off,” Dally snapped. “And you’re about to cry over me not gettin’ as excited as you for a shitty gift. Besides, there’s always somethin’ wrong with you. Parents, injuries, someone said shit that ‘hurt your feelings’. I can never catch a break when it comes to your whining, for god's sake.”
For fucks sake, why did I say that?
“Lay off.”
Dally stood up, and Johnny took a step back. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
“I said lay off, man.”
“Aw, sorry, did that hurt your feelings?” Dally’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “Someone had to tell the truth.”
It wasn’t the truth.
“Y’know, from what I’ve heard, you're acting just like your dad.”
Fair point.
Before either of them could process what was going on, Dally smacked Johnny across the face, causing him to stumble.
Once Johnny was stable on his feet, he started at Dally. Dally stared back in silence, mouth parted open, glancing between his hand and the red handprint across Johnny's face.
“Shit, man, I didn’t-”
“Don’t talk to me.” Johnny’s voice cracked as he said ‘talk’.
Dally barely even processed Johnny storming out the door, slamming it behind him.
He felt sick as he slowly walked backwards, sitting down on the bed with a thud.
That was the one thing Johnny couldn’t stand: getting hit and yelled at. It made him feel helpless, trapped, like he was at home. The one place he couldn't stand.
And Dally promised he’d never do it. Would never hit him. Johnny didn’t trust anyone, Dally knew that, so it was a miracle he even got that comfortable around him. That he believed the promise.
God, did Dally fuck up.
He couldn’t breathe.