-“hey where’s dal?”
-“cannnn I get sommme chips”
-sleeps the whole next day…
-doesn’t want his dad to know
-it’s caused my dally making him go to s party
-probably gets laid by a girl he’s liked for s long time
AN: thanks to@damhan-does-art I wrote this. thanks for the idea? I hate myself. Also! This isn’t intended to be a shipping thing, but if you ship them that’s alright.
Your name is Keith Matthews and you consider yourself to be all around a cool guy. Totally! You have a cool nickname you go by, Two Bit, and you pal around with what you would consider some of the tuffest bloakes on your side of town. While most perceive you as a hoodlum and a bit-for lack of a better word, stupid, that doesn’t bring down your spirits in the slightest.
One of those friends, which is called Dally, has a letter that needs to be delivered to him. The (rather polite) lady who assigned you to be the messenger said that it was from a close relative. You dismissed this as a lie, but decided to dish back some of the kindness that she has given you previously. That was six and a half hours ago and it was getting dark. Why didn’t you give it to him sooner? You have absolutely no clue as you find it almost crumpled down in the pocket of your jeans.
You woke up on the Curtis’ couch moments before you reached out for the letter. Johnny Cade, another friend, was on the opposite end of the sofa. To let the kid rest a bit better, even while he seems pretty dang small already, you sit up and create the least amount of space possible so more of it could go to him. That’s why you hop up and start for their kitchen. His legs sprawl out instinctively after you rise.
Inside the kitchen is another kid, you know him pretty well if you say so yourself. Only fourteen, but you consider him to be a tad too bright to be this poor. Almost like his oldest brother, who seems to be at work already even if it is this late. Attention shifting back to the boy in the kitchen who’s called Ponyboy, you greet him with a smile and grab yourself a Pepsi Cola.
When paying more attention you can see he’s sketching some little pictures on a piece of paper. For his sake you don’t look too long, but when he even gets a hint that you are his notebook lunges closer to his chest in order to shield your eyes from it.
The thought makes you want to chuckle, making you remember when you were like that the first time you were in the ninth grade. He was about to go to the same year in school actually, after the summer was over.
“What'cha doin’ up so late there, Pone?”
“Drawing,” he murmurs. Pony doesn’t have as much as a drawl as the others when he wants to. You think it’s because he wants to appear more dignified than the rest, even when he still clowns around with them. “And what are you doing up so late, Two? Know you just woke up and it’s ‘bout midnight.”
Laughing his accusations off, you claim it’s been a long day. You’re not exactly lying in this case, but you know you could have thought of something better to say if you were given more time to think. With that thought, you haven’t even opened your Pepsi. It was just getting your palm wet and cold. Gross. When you put it back into the ice box, you can half-hear the kid behind you holding back a scoff.
Telling him you’re going to take a little walk, you suggest he keeps the door unlocked. That request was more of a formality thing because of Dallas; He always barges in as he pleases. Ponyboy gives a nod, leading you out. Mostly this was because he wanted to make sure Johnny stay asleep and that you wouldn’t make too much noise as you see yourself out. Before you go, you manage to bum a cig off the boy, lighting it as you abscond.
After you take a drag on it, everything feels warm. Mostly it’s your throat that burns, but because it’s late July the streets aren’t exactly cold. Your left hand gravitating to your pocket, you feel around for the letter and settle yourself for a rather time consuming walk.
It’s not like you’re slow, of course not! More than anything it’s caused by ignorance of where Dally is. Why couldn’t he stay in one place at night like a normal lad? Fuck if you know.
Some smoke escapes your lips while you draw near most of the places that he likes to visit besides this certain bar that you think you’ve never been inside. When you think about it, you kind of do deserve a drink. After all, you didn’t get that Pepsi from earlier and a beer or two isn’t really a poor idea. What could go wrong?
With a completely blank mind and a cigarette butt in hand, you allow the door to fly open in front of you while you toss the finished product on the doorstep. Music was blaring and you almost felt the urge to cover your ears, but you don’t as you ease into the chaotic sound.
Not really to your surprise, as you lurk deeper you’re able to see partially dressed women dancing for the entertainment of some men who have arrived earlier. They were prepared for a show, even when they have their eyes widened for no particular reason. What really had you puzzled was a group of greaser girls on the other end of the room, snickering and just spreading overall gossip. You make your way over there to see what was going on. Dal could wait.
Before you could poke fun at some of the men staring down the stripping women like raw meat, they leave the room and enter another. Of course you follow, wanting to get a good joke in.
Upon entering, you proceed to laugh your ass off. What you observe upon entering is a man, one alone, dancing in a rather erotic fashion. What he’s dressed in leaves little to the imagination, and from looking around you can see that you’re the only other male in the room besides him. You can admit, he’s pretty beefy for dancing in a way that’s so…girly?
With his back turned to everyone, his hands rest on his knees while he’s bent over and pumping himself to be back into a standing position. The purpose of the move was to show off his ass as he shook it rhythmically with the song playing, but you don’t pay that much attention until he turns back to the women to collect any money they had. Your jaw drops.
While the muscular man struts into the group of women, your eyes wander to his face and you recognize him in a split second with horror. Darrel Curtis. His gaze doesn’t reach yours until he slips the change into the front of his tight, leather thong. At this instant, you knew you were dead.
As he walks to you his business jiggles, but he wears the brand of confidence and pure rage that advertises that he either doesn’t know or that he doesn’t care. Without a second thought, you make a break for it before he can scold you. Just to be safe, you sleep at your house tonight. No one has ever spoken of this again.
“Suddenly it wasn’t only a personal thing to me […] And it was too late to tell them that there was still good in it, and they wouldn’t believe you if you did. It was too much of a problem to be just a personal thing.”
my mind: You know, some guys my age man… they forget about drinking milk. I don’t know why, maybe they forget how good milk is. Milk’s great. It’s natural, uh… it’s satisfying. I like it when it tastes cold. You just can’t beat it. So don’t you forget it. I’m drinking milk for good.