❝ THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THINGS CAN'T STAY BEAUTIFUL FOREVER ❞
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Dallas' room was dreary – dark, with bits of sunshine from the scant amount left in the sky filtering through the stark blinds. It created a sort of pink tone that looked real nice on Dallas, who appeared as if he were in his own little world. The room was minimal, just as he was.
We went back to Buck's after the graveyard to find a house full of people, and a room with bright red lights and music blasting wall to wall. We decided we were much too tired and drawn to join everybody downstairs so we made our way upstairs instead. I crawled into Dallas' bed as soon as I entered his room and closed my eyes, covering my face in the pit of my arm. I'd had a long day, quite emotional and all I wanted to do was let my thoughts rest. I held the rose he gave me between my fingers and let it rest by my face, the slight fresh smell drifting around me. I let the smallest of smiles creep onto my lips, so small barely I even noticed it was there before Dallas had said anything.
"What's with the grin?"
He sat in the chair near his desk and kicked his legs, tilting his chin upward.
I peeked out at him from the side of my arm. "Can a girl not just be happy?"
He shrugged. "Didn't think you'd be too happy after visiting Hanson's grave, is all."
I removed my arm from my face and frowned. "Yeah, neither did I."
There were a few moments of silence where Dallas stared off into the distance from his window and I let the copious amounts of thoughts run through my mind. As hard as I tried to stop them, they kept coming. I wasn't sure why I felt so warm. Maybe it was being around Dallas after not seeing him for a while, or maybe it was the smallest bit of closure after seeing Hanson buried in the ground, next to his wife who he lived to be reconnected with. They were side by side. Finally.
Dallas' eyes flickered toward mine. We shared a smile.
He leaned over to his dresser, grabbing the Polaroid that sat atop it. It was the gift he had gotten me, I left it at his place before he went to jail.
"Stay still," he said, adjusting the camera and squinting with one eye.
"What are you doing?" I asked. He ignored me. The camera flashed so brightly I almost had to cover my face.
He waved the photo on the air, blowing on it with pursed lips once it slid out of the camera. A fond look washed over his face. He held it up so I could glance at it. It didn't seem special to me, just a photo of myself sprawled across the bed with his rose by my side and a minuscule smile pressed to my lips.
"I want to remember how you look right now."
a redness flushed over my cheeks, before letting out a gentle laugh and slapping his knee. I pursed my lips. "You're so cheesy."
As much of a joke I could make out of it, I knew Dallas would never be cheesy with anyone unless he knew it was worth it. And at that moment, to myself and likely to him, it was worth it. We were worth it.
"I could be a poet or something, huh? Then you'd really have the hots for me." He bit his bottom lip and leaned back in his chair, letting out a grumbling laugh.
"Oh yeah, you're a real Robert Frost."
"Who the hell is that?"
I gave him a long, dead stare before shaking my head. "He wrote some amazing poems, Dallas. You know? The Road not Taken? Nothing Gold Can Stay?"
"Doesn't ring a bell."
I hummed under my breath and nodded my head. "Didn't think it would." I tapped my fingers against my stomach. "His favorite of mine is Nothing Gold Can Stay. It's the idea that innocence is fleeting and nothing can stay new and fresh forever. It's essentially saying that life is ephemeral and can't stay good for very long – that perfection is only temporary."
Dallas nodded his head, his gaze falling out the window, but his eyes seemed more like a void and I assumed he wasn't listening to what I was saying, so I leaned back in the bed and closed my eyes. There was a long, drawn-out moment of silence, where I listened to our soft breaths complement each other in the quiet, serene room. Dallas got up from his chair, and although I didn't open my eyes to look at him, I could feel his weight on the mattress as he sunk down beside me. His hand fell on top of mine, and our fingers linked together.
"I want you to be my girlfriend."
My eyes shot open. I gripped his hand and felt my chest tighten up. "You do?"
"I wouldn't say something if I didn't mean it."
That, I knew, was true. He was a man of his word. And what Dallas wanted, he worked to make it happen.
"There's nothing I want more, Dallas."
That was the end of that. There was no more conversation, no more nothing. We didn't need it. I gave the tiniest kiss to the back of his hand, then shut my eyes to take a few deep breaths. Truthfully, as much as I could let the butterflies in my stomach and the warmness I felt for the boy beside me take over the way I acted, and the decisions I made, I knew that deep down there a tentativeness inside me that I couldn't shake away no matter how hard I tried. Just like Robert Frost had written, even the most beautiful things can't stay beautiful forever. There were two ways something so divine could come to an end: wilt away with time or go out with a bang. The question came down to which one it would be.
It didn't take very long to come.
Only five minutes later, there was a knock on the door, with an unimpressed Buck sauntering into the room.
"Two little boys at the door looking for you, said it was real important." Buck turned around to leave, then shot an annoyed look over his shoulder. "Hey, tell them to scram, could ya? I got a reputation to uphold here, don't want some kids comin' in and everyone thinking I'm handin' out drinks to children."
"Yeah yeah, get back to your party man. Geez." Dallas groaned and ushered him out of the room. Buck left and Dallas shot me a look of confusion mixed with concern. "You stay here."
So I did. I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands on my lap, and my heart picking up speed. I wasn't sure why I was so nervous. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. Maybe it was the thoughts racing around my mind after Dallas had asked me to be his girlfriend. But I knew that wasn't it. I knew it was something more sinister.
When a wet and shaken Johnny and Ponyboy cross the threshold of the room, my suspicions were confirmed. They wouldn't have shown up unless something had gone bad.
But the thing that put the biggest wrench in my stomach, gave me the worst feeling in my gut, was the concern in Dallas' eyes. It was more fear disguised as concern. He was scared. I could tell by the way he walked into the room, avoiding eye contact with the three of us, and shuffling through the items in his drawer as if he were giving himself time to think. There was one thing I was sure of: when Dallas got scared, something real terrible had happened.
When I saw him pull out the silver handgun in his drawer by the hilt, and hand it to Johnny, I went into shock. He finally met my gaze and inched closer to me, his head hung low. He barely spoke when he whispered to me, as if he didn't want to believe it himself.
"They killed a soc."
There it was. All that was good, gone with a bang.
