Just Fandom Things [The Outsiders]

Mama's Boy [headcanon]

A/N: Hi everyone! Two things:

1) I'm back at writing on here! It feels so good and nostalgic :')

2) I know this book is usually funny, but this story is going to be a sad one. I actually wrote this for my high school creative writing class. Being a few years into college now, I totally forgot this was on my computer, but I stumbled upon it and wanted to share it here with you all! I hope you enjoy!

Also, TW: child abuse & domestic violence.

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Mama's Boy

(In which Dallas Winston writes a letter to the mother he lost.)

I was your Mama's boy.

I was cheerful and adventurous. I loved playing with toy trucks on the living room floor and floating boats in the bathtub. I loved the smell of your hair. I jumped over mud puddles like they were lava and sometimes fell into them. I loved it when you took care of my wounds. I liked to camp outdoors. I sprayed you with a squirt gun once. I always made you smile. I tasted every meal you made, making sure it was just right before Anthony came home. I was afraid of spiders. I was a lover of life and had many friends. I was your little Mama's boy, your pride and joy. 

Eventually, it was all thrown away.

Now I am reckless. I am known as a JD and a hood, and I don't care about anyone or anything. I lie, smoke, drink, cheat, steal, get arrested, repeat. I've beaten up and I've been beat up. I'm fearless and don't put up with anyone's shit. I barely come home anymore. I've been with more girls than the amount of times Anthony had hit you—and that's a lot. I am a member of a gang. I never sleep in the same bed at night. I am a menace to society, and I already know I'm going to Hell for all the things I've done. I know I have let you down, Mama, but I am not your Mama's boy anymore.

I remember the way you would look at me. You had the prettiest smile. Your lips were as red as a poppy, and I loved it when you would kiss me goodnight. You never yelled at me. Of course you would scorn, but never yelled. You would always hold me in your soft, delicate arms when I was hurt or couldn't sleep at night. Your hair was a rare combination of soft and curly, and I loved it when you would hug me tight, because it was only then that I could smell my favorite fragrance of strawberries, or whatever you used to shampoo your hair.

People said I had your eyes. Your eyes were a nice bright blue, and were always sparkling with pride and joy whenever I was around. They also said I had your personality with a little hint of recklessness and adventure. You were an angel, and I always tried to follow in your footsteps. I hated disappointing you. In school I was friendly and smart and athletic. I had a lot going for me. You would have been proud. Would have.

I miss the way you would look at me. Nowadays people look at me in disgust or in fear or in both. I always get yelled at by the police. Nobody kisses me goodnight except for one of my constant hookups. I don't let anybody touch me or else I pull a blade on them. I don't even like strawberries anymore. I've lost the niceness, the friendliness, the adventure in my bright blue eyes that were once compared to yours. They're still bright, but they've turned icy and cold over the years, and are probably as hard as Anthony's now. I am the spitting image of that bastard and I hate myself. I hate that I have followed in his footsteps instead of yours. I'm not friendly anymore and I dropped out of school. I have nothing going for me anymore. The only person that has kept me alive is you—the memory of you, at least.

I know that you would want me to be happy. You would want me to get away from Anthony somehow. You would want me to find a nice girl and marry her, and treat her exactly like you should have been treated. You would want me to have kids and raise them to be better. You would want me to spend the rest of my life loving my wife and growing old with her, instead of rotting in a jail cell from time to time. Just the thought of your boy having a record with the police would immediately break your heart, and I know it has, Mama.