Unloaded Guns ~ Dallas Winston X Reader

Buck Merrill

"You wanna explain your little breakdown last night?"

My back ached as I sat up. Apparently, I'd fallen asleep against the tall oak last night without realizing it. But when I woke up I wasn't alone. 

"Well, finally." The voice spoke. "It's like ten in the morning, wake up."

"Fuck you." I spat as I sat up, realizing there was a blanket over me. 

I peeled the blanket off of me and was met with Dallas's eyes. "You're lucky I found you last night on my way home. You would've frozen to death."

"How chivalrous." I groaned sarcastically as I stood up, cracking my knuckles and joints after being stuck in that uncomfortable position all night. 

He tsked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "You wanna explain your little breakdown last night?"

"Nope."

"Soda hasn't come out of his room since it happened." He jeered. 

I turned back at him. "Did you really make sure I 'didn't freeze' just to see why Soda's decided to stuff himself in his room?"

"You want the truth?"

"No, I already know it." I scoffed. I took the gun out of the waistband of my dark green pants and handed it to him, my palm facing down. "Goodbye, Dallas."

He stuffed the gun in the empty holster around his waist. "Where do you expect to go?" He said, stopping me in my tracks. "Can't go home, cops are all around. Do you really wanna spend your life sleeping under trees ignoring the only people that have cared about you since however long you've lived in that shack alone?"

"I'm flattered that you care about me."

"I wasn't talking about myself." He dismissed, grabbing the blanket and rolling it in a ball. "I was talking about literally everyone else in that house."

I mumbled 'right' under my breath before turning to walk away from him and the house of people who 'care about me'. "Do I need to repeat myself?" Dallas called after me.

"No, I ignored you just fine the first time you said it." Then I was gone, walking away and no words, especially from Dallas, were going to stop me. 

The sun was almost in the middle of the sky, probably close to noon. My stomach rumbled a bit. My mind went back to the option I always had. Just go back to the house for a snack. But I can't, not anymore.

I seriously didn't know where I was going to go. I ended up walking aimlessly around the town. The weather was already starting to warm up, edging into spring. My hands were sweating in the pockets of my jacket even though it wasn't that hot. The stress was getting to me and my hands had started to shake. 

If I did have a sliver of a chance to go back to the Curtis's, I just blew it when I stormed away from Dallas. 

The other outcome of today was seared into my brain even though it didn't happen. The cops not taking my deal, putting me in cuffs, and dragging me to the station. They'd search up my name in the systems and underneath status would be the word deceased. Aunts and Uncles would be contacted, but they wouldn't want me, so I'd be tossed into some girl's home. 

Torn away from this place.

I couldn't tell which was worse. Being ripped away from the only place I felt at home since the fire or being here but not being able to see the only people who have cared. 

"Hey," A soft voice swept away the thoughts. "You look lost." For the first time, I noticed the music playing in the background. The girl had slicked back blonde hair in a high ponytail and a big red leather jacket. 

"Oh, no. I'm not-" My voice trailed off as I looked around. I hadn't been to these parts before. I had no idea where the hell I was. "Yeah, maybe I am."

The girl chuckled a bit. "What's your name?"

"Y/N," I said.

A wave of recognition swept over her heavily outlined features. "I'd heard of ya. You're the one going 'round kickin' Bob Sheldon in the balls." The way she said it made me laugh a bit. But then I saw Johnny's torn-up face staring back at me. I felt a pang of guilt that I wasn't there helping the wound anymore. 

I looked across the sidewalk to the left and saw where the music was coming from. A large house with red lights streaming from every crack and corner of the place. The girl followed my gaze. "That's Buck Merrill's house. He throws parties all the damn time. I'm his girlfriend, Jo." She stuck out a hand, her nails covered in dirt. I shook it anyway. "Came out here to smoke for a bit." That's when I noticed the burning cigarette in her hand. "Now, I ain't stupid, and I know you're lost. Wanna tell me where you're from?"

"Cops overtook my house and my friends are pissed at me so can't go to any of their houses," I explained as quickly as I could without giving too much detail. 

"You a greaser?" She said taking in my appearance.

I shook my head. "I know I look like one. But I ain't a greaser. Ain't a soc either. Kind of in the grey area in the middle."

A smile spread across her thin chapped lips. "Don't fool yourself, kid. You're a greaser." The blow kind of passed through me. Half of me wanted to scream no but the other half was happy. Being a greaser meant that I belonged somewhere. Or at least I could say I belonged somewhere. "Buck's got a huge house. Four bedrooms when the two of us only need one. Already got another person living in one of the rooms. He comes and goes but that's where he stays most nights. You could do the same thing if you wanted." She brought the cigarette up to her lips and blew out a puff of smoke. 

Decision-making was never something I was good at. Instead of looking at the pros and cons, I only looked at the pros. Safe (at least safer than the streets), a decent room, and new allies so if I get murdered in a ditch at least one person might cry a bit. 

"Sounds good to me. I don't got any money, though. Couldn't pay ya." Jo shook her head.

"It's all good. Every now and again you might need to go to the store and get a pack of joints or some food but other than that, you're free to stay as long as you need." The charity made me want to cry but that would be the worst possible thing to do in this situation. 

And then we started heading towards the house, red with lights. Pictures of my old house flashing in my head. Eaten up by red. Eaten up by fire.