meant to be yours | d.w

16

"With masks down, I walk, talking to the moon, to the neutral impersonal force that does not hear, but merely accept my being"

A/N: Sorry for the chapter delay! I had some serious writers block but here it is :)

The element of surprise is one that I despise.

It creeps up on your inner conciseness, putting you into a state of shock that easily spooks anyone.

The outcome of the previous night was anything but what I expected. The element of surprise if you wanted to refer it to the true definition.

Here was Dallas, who was supposed to be in jail, rotting his life away, coming to rescue me and Johnny from the dangers lurking in the shadows. I hate that word. rescue. But mostly for the context it's in. There's a piece of me that wants to acknowledge him in this entirely new light, but if anything I hate him even more.

He saved me. Even just thinking about those details repulse me. I don't want to be saved, but it seems me and Dallas can't stop from this relay race. This repetitive cycle of saving each other, over, and over again.

I saved him in the gas station that other day, he saved me in that alleyway that differed from the other luminous lights on the street.

All this constant saving, and yet they still are too stubborn to admit what they truly feel for one another.

An invisible barricade stood between Dallas and I. That's the best way I can describe it. We were walking to an abandoned playground that Ponyboy was talking about earlier (in other words Darry kicked us out of the house).

Every time I get inflicted with his eyes bearing into mine I see the same statement on repeat.

"Maybe I hate you ten percent less."

What an asshole comment. "Maybe I hate you ten percent less" what is that even supposed to mean?

If there's one thing I hate even more than those deranged words, it's that they stay engraved in my mind, unfortunately.

Me and Ponyboy walked side by side, Dallas, Johnny, and Two Bit behind us. Chatter filled the dry air as we followed Ponyboys directions to the nearby abandoned park. I could hear him, perhaps even see him due to the clear image of him in my mind. But I refused to even glance in his direction.

I don't need any more of these inflicting feelings hurled my way.

"I just think Simon's a real idiot." Ponyboy admitted to me.

"What do you mean?" I questioned, my eyes locked on the cement for a moment before I looked up at the boy with curiosity.

"The way he helps people... its gotta put a target on his back with Jack and all his crew. He's a good character and all, but I don't know why he's being so nice when the boys are almost completely savage."

I reflected for a moment on Ponyboys words. There was a time in my life when all I wanted was to help people, and I still do. But that thirst isn't quite as quenching as before.

"I agree, helping others could put a target on your back but I don't think being a kind person is necessarily a weakness," I began, knowing that my words weren't just mere speculation, but statements that came straight from the heart. "Helping people might just get you farther in life when you think about it..."

I'm still unsure on why I had something to say on the topic. Helping people is this addiction that has always lay within me. But we all know having an addiction can never raise us up on the pedestals.