"Look into his angeleyes one look and your hypnotized, he'll take your heart and you must pay the price"- Angeleyes, ABBA
It was a cold and cloudy Sunday afternoon, and despite the many people that believed that sunshine was so much better than gloomy, dark days, Maeve thought differently. She liked the rain and clouds, and would argue that it made the world seem so much more quiet and peaceful. Well, she would argue that if it wasn't so dreadfully cold outside, that she was almost glad to be confined to her room, instead of outside wishing for the sun's rays.
After the "incident" at school last Tuesday, she was grounded for an indefinite amount of time. Despite Maeve's protests to her mom that it wasn't her fault and she wasn't the one who pulled the fire alarm, it didn't work. Actually it backfired on her in a way, sparking the topic of 'the people she associates with,'and how 'she really needs to get new friends'.
Of course, she defended her "perfectly fine" friends, and her mom responded by reading off the headlines the gang, (mainly Dally), had made in the past. If she wasn't so angry, she may have been impressed her mom had recalled all of that from memory.
All of that led to Maeve being as she was now, laying in bed, reading a cheap romance novel with a very suggestive cover she had gotten from the drugstore. The window was closed due to the frigid winds, so the comforting smell of cigarette smoke and flowery candles was stronger than usual in her bedroom.
Finally getting tired of the Duke and his fair maiden's love story, she put her book down, feeling as though she would die of boredom if she had to spend one more second in the house.
She worked up the courage to test her luck with her mom, figuring her situation couldn't get much worse.
As she walked out of her bedroom and into her moms', the radio filled the room with quiet music as her mom folded clothes on her bed.
"Hey mom, whatcha doing?" she asked.
"Just folding clothes," her mom replied.
"Nice," she said awkwardly, "so I was wondering if maybe I could go to Bernard's? I wanted to talk to Mrs. Norris about a book I was reading."
Her mom looked a bit annoyed.
"Yeah, just be back before dinner," her mom relented, still folding clothes. At the mention of dinner, it reminded her of Curtis' house. On Sundays it was Soda's turn to cook, meaning there would probably be some mashed potatoes dyed a fun color. Sunday was also the day the gang usually got together to play football in the backyard and sometimes stay for dinner.
"Also could I maybe... go to the Curtis' for dinner?" Maeve said, bracing for what her mom would say. She finally stopped folding clothes, turning to look at her.
"Maeve, you're grounded. That means you can't go over to your friends houses,"
"I know, but it would just be for dinner, and I really need to talk to Ponyboy about school stuff," she reasoned, the last part not being entirely true. She gave her mom puppy dog eyes, her mom shooting back an annoyed mom look.
Finally she sighed. "Fine. You can go. But I want you back by 9:00, you hear me?"
"Yes, I won't be late, thank you!" she said excitedly, before running back to her room to get ready.
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The bell chimed as Maeve walked into the warm bookstore, taking in the soft orange light, and the smell of old books, dust, and lavender perfume, which seemed to be a universal scent for grandmas.
"Oh, hello Maeve!" Mrs. Norris greeted, putting down her book and standing up from the big plush chair she was sitting in. "I haven't seen you in a while."
"Sorry about that, I got into some trouble at school—that wasn't my fault!" she added, "and I was grounded"
"Wasn't your fault huh? So what did you do?" Mrs. Norris asked, seeming skeptical.
"Nothing! I just happened to be with the people who pulled the fire alarm," said Maeve, feeling like she was lying although it was the truth.
Mrs. Norris let out a disapproving "hmph", walking over to pet Phoebe who somehow fit her orange, furry mass in between the books and the shelf. "I bet it was those boys you're always with, bunch of troublemakers," she muttered.
Maeve was surprised, she didn't know that Ms. Norris knew much about the gang other than what she told her. And after seeing her shocked expression, Mrs. Norris said, "I do have a life outside of this bookshop you know."
She didn't say anything because she was ashamed to admit that she didn't believe she had a life outside of the bookstore.
Maeve talked to Mrs. Norris more about the books she was reading and she told her about her children coming to visit for Thanksgiving, and how her Wednesday night book club was going.
"You're a young girl Maeve, you got your whole life ahead of you. Make the most of it, because before you know it you'll end up like me—a widow in an empty bookshop," Mrs. Norris said, smiling wistfully.
"Aw don't say that Mrs. Norris, you got an exciting life ahead of you. You got all of your customers here," she said, trying to cheer her up."
Mrs. Norris chuckled softly, "I don't know—hardly anyone comes through here anymore, I don't know how long I'll be able to keep the place running like this."
Maeve was shocked at her words. I mean sure, not many people came through Bernard's anymore, but she never thought of the place having to close down. It was the only truly quiet and comfortable place in this loud and busy town, she always loved curling up on the old couch and reading.
After exchanging goodbyes she walked out the door, wanting to have extra time at the Curtis' and not wanting to walk alone in the dark.
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As she hurried up the front steps and towards the bustling house full of activity, she spotted Johnny smoking a cigarette in the darkness of the porch.
"Hey Johnnycakes, whatcha doin' out here all by yourself?" she asked, leaning on the pillar next to him.
"Just came out for a smoke, that's all," he said, shrugging. "So you're finally off house arrest?"
"Well not exactly, took a good bit of convincing for my mom to let me come here. Say, what's Soda cooking tonight?"
"Green beans, mashed potatoes, not sure what else, I think Steve's staying for dinner too," he said. Maeve was happy to hear he was making something good tonight.
"Are you staying?"
"Nah, probably not," he said, glancing at the ground. Maeve knew Johnny never liked to accept help out of not wanting to be a burden. It pained her to know that if he didn't eat here, then he probably wouldn't. Either that or he would have to go back home, which could often end badly for him.
"You're staying," she said simply.
"No, really it's-"
"I said you're staying," she said more firmly, "now come on, I'm hungry."
Although it had only been less than a week, as the two of them walked in the house Maeve couldn't help but feel that she missed being there every other day amidst the chaos. She knew the Curtis house would always be open to her, and feel like a second home.
Darry was helping a very stressed and irritated Ponyboy with his homework, and Steve and Sodapop were in the kitchen loudly arguing about what needed to be done.
"Look, if you're not going to help me then get out," said Soda. At his request, out walked Steve with red food dye stains on his shirt.
"Oh, hey Maeve, you finally got let out of the house?" said Steve, taking a seat in the recliner. Greetings from the rest of the group followed upon noticing her.
"For the meantime," said Maeve. After hearing some commotion going on in the kitchen, she decided to help Soda with dinner. She walked into the kitchen to see him trying to mash potatoes and cook meatloaf at the same time. She took the masher and bowl of potatoes from him and got to work.
"Thanks, you staying for dinner?" he asked.
"Yeah, if that's alright."
"Of course. You know we make enough for eight."
"Yeah, well you and Darry eat for three," she joked.
After helping finish dinner, and trying to keep Sodapop from burning the green beans or lighting the rag on fire, the six of them finally sat down to eat. Like anything else that had to do with the gang, dinner was not a quiet event. Darry repeatedly had to get on to Ponyboy and Maeve for throwing green beans at Steve, and for kicking each other under the table.
"Soda," said Darry pointing his fork in his direction, "hows you and that girl Sandy doing?"
"It's going good, we've only been going steady for a few months. It's nothing serious," replied Soda, going back to eating his red potatoes.
"Serious enough for her to come to the DX and makeout with you in the garage every other day," teased Steve. A second later, Steve let out a pained noise that Maeve assumed was a result of Soda kicking him from under the table.
The dinner was full of laughter and half-hearted scoldings, sharing the events of the day and what was planned for next week. The atmosphere was brimming with radiance and joy. At least, until the front door slammed open.
The people at the table went silent immediately, looking up towards the door to see what the interruption was. Tim Shephard stumbled in, holding up his brother who was white as a sheet and covered in blood. Tim didn't look too good himself, blood running down his arm and lip, but unlike Curly, his eyes were open and he could walk on his own.
Once Tim and Curly had gotten into the house, Dally stumbled in after them. The side of his shirt was soaked with blood. Maeve's heart dropped when she saw it.
Everyone launched into action, and the house was once again filled with noise, only now it was the opposite of the joyous laughter heard just seconds ago. The plates were left abandoned as Darry started shouting orders for Pony to get the first aid kit and towels. Soda ran over towards the two of them, helping Tim get Curly onto the couch. Maeve and Johnny ran over to Dally to make sure that he was okay.
"Tim, what happened?!" yelled Darry, running towards him. Tim, who was usually composed, seemed stressed and more concerned about his brother than answering his questions.
Dally answered for him, clutching his side. "It was Dave and his boys, came to Buck's looking for trouble, Curly ended up taking the brunt of it."
"What happened to him—is he going to be okay?" Asked Maeve, her voice panicked. Darry and Soda had towels pressed against him to try and stop the bleeding while Ponyboy ran back with the first aid kit. Johnny, like her, was standing in the middle of the chaos, not exactly sure what to do.
"He was stabbed," said Tim, in a cold voice, "my brother was stabbed." The lack of emotion in his voice chilled Maeve.
Oh god. Is he going to die?
Maeve never had much of a friendship with Curly, not like she did with the other boys. But she'd been around him enough to know that, like any of the other boys, he would stand up for her. For any of them.
"He needs to go to a hospital, Tim," Darry said, still trying to soak up all the blood coming from Curly.
"No," Tim said in a stern voice, "they'll ask questions, if they find out he's been in a gang fight they'll put him in jail for who knows how long." Darry reluctantly accepted this, focusing his attention back to Curly.
Angela. Oh god Angela, did she know that her brother was bleeding out on the couch?
"Where's Angela? Should I call her?" Maeve spoke up. She knew that if her friend was aware of her brother's condition, she would've been with him.
"I don't—I don't know where she is," said Tim, still sitting next to Curly, whose eyes were barely open. Darry and Sodapop kept trying to keep him awake, to get him to talk to them.
Maeve then recalled how Angela had called her yesterday, going on about how she was planning on meeting up with the blond greaser who was at the drag race over a month ago. God, what was his name?
She racked her brain trying to think of this kid's name—she knew it was one of the ones who hung around Curly, but he wasn't in the right state to answer something like that. When it finally came to her she ran over towards the shelf near the recliner, grabbing the phone book.
"Matcher, Matcher," she whispered to herself, scanning the names. Once she finally found the name she was looking for she ran over towards the phone trying to dial the numbers right with her hands shaking.
"Hello?" said the voice of Pete Matcher.
"Is this Pete? Is Angela there?" said Maeve.
"Maybe. Who's this?"
She didn't have time for this. "Look I know she's there, put her on the phone it's an emergency." Pete sighed, irritated, before Angela's laughing voice could be heard over the receiver.
"Hello?" said Angela's cheerful voice.
"Angela, it's Maeve. You have to come over to the Curtis' right now," she said in an urgent voice. It was as though Maeve could hear her smile drop through the phone.
"Why? What happened?"
"It's Curly. Your brothers—they got into a fight and Curly...he was stabbed."
Silence. She couldn't hear anything from Angela's side of the call.
"I'll be there." Was all she said before hanging up.
Maeve slowly hung the phone back up, turning over towards the group.
"She's on her way," she said to Tim. He barely looked up, his eyes still glued to Curly, his face a stoney expression.
Maeve didn't know what to do now. The people who weren't helping were just standing there. Watching. She didn't want to just watch someone she knew and saw nearly everyday bleed out on the couch. She had to do something.
The only something she could come up with was to get a glass of water. She turned around and started towards the kitchen before stopping in front of the half open door to the bathroom. Dally was standing in front of the mirror with his shirt pulled up, haphazardly trying to wrap some gauze around his abdomen.
Maeve walked in, pushing the door open. He froze, stopping to look up at her.
He clearly didn't know what he was doing, and she'd spent enough time fixing up her friends to know basic first aid.
"Stop, stop, you're not doing it right," she said, walking in.
He looked up at her, annoyed, and continued doing a shitty job of dressing the wound. "I don't need help," he mumbled.
"Yeah, you do. Do you want it to get infected?" she said, giving him the look of an annoyed parent.
He sighed and dropped the gauze. She closed the door and started rummaging through the cabinet for the first aid kit. Once she found it she turned towards Dally, who had not moved. He's going to make this difficult.
"Sit," she said, gesturing to the counter. He hopped up on the counter, but made no move to do anything else. Maeve sighed in annoyance. Do I have to tell you to do everything?
"Take off your shirt," she ordered, trying her best to look him in the eye and not show how embarrassed she was. At the request his expression went from irritated to cocky.
"Eager, aren't we?" he said, giving her a smirk. Maeve tried to ignore the butterflies that fluttered through her chest, instead deciding to clap back at him.
"Infection, death, remember?" she said. He rolled his eyes and took off his shirt, throwing it on the bathroom floor.
Jesus Christ.
Maeve wished she could say that the first thing that she noticed was the bleeding gash going across his stomach, but she'd be lying. No, the first thing she noticed was his abs. Sure, he had worn his leather jacket without a shirt and she had gotten a glance at his toned stomach, but this was different. Now they were right in front of her face, staring at her.
"Like what you see?" he said, giving her that same mischievous look that made her feel like he could hear her thoughts. She looked back up at his face, not realizing she was staring before turning back to the first aid kit trying to hide the redness flowing through her cheeks.
"You're so full of yourself," she said, trying to make it seem like this wasn't affecting her. He chuckled at her response, making her worried that he saw through her words.
She slowly walked towards him, her body colliding with his knees. The cut had stopped bleeding for the most part, so she started with just getting a wet washcloth to clean the excess. She hesitated before touching him, slowly starting to clean the cut. She could see his chest rise and fall with each breath he took. She avoided eye contact with him the entire time, almost afraid to look at him.
Maeve squeezed out the bloodied water into the sink before grabbing the bottle of rubbing alcohol and putting a generous amount on the washcloth. As she pressed it to his skin, Dally flinched from the sting.
"Hold still," she ordered, voice full of concern, accidentally looking up at him, meeting his dark brown eyes. She kept telling herself that she should stop staring and look away, but she couldn't. They both froze, unable to move during this trance, neither one able to look away from the other. Maeve felt like if she took a breath it would break this moment between them, and she wanted nothing less.
It was Dally who looked away first, followed by her. If she hadn't known better she would say that he looked almost embarrassed, she knew without looking that she did.
She put the washcloth back to the gash, not quite as careful as before. In response Dally tilted his head back, looking at the ceiling and groaned in pain.
"Sorry, sorry," she kept repeating, trying to make quick work of it. His knuckles turned white from gripping the counter.
When she was done he sighed, briefly meeting her eyes before they both looked away, afraid that whatever happened before would happen again were they to look at each other for too long.
"You know, one could argue it was you trying to seduce me," she said, trying to break the tension. "I mean you're the one who stripped in front of me."
"If I wanted you Doll, I'd have you," he said simply. She looked up at him in shock. His serious expression never wavered. She thought about clapping back that he was arrogant, but she got the unsettling feeling that he was serious.
Maeve grabbed the gauze that was previously left on the floor, rolling it back up before turning towards him. Really a bandage would've been better, but she didn't see any in the kit. She unraveled the gauze properly, unlike whatever he was doing before. She felt like she was measuring him while trying to get the gauze around him.
Don't look at him, don't look at his abs. Don't pay too much attention to the butterflies in your stomach, or the burning heat in your face.
When Dally noticed that she couldn't get her arms around him with his knees in the way, he abruptly moved them apart. She was previously leaning on them, so her body fell forward, colliding with the counter.
She froze. Was she supposed to move away? She didn't want to. As uncomfortable as she felt, part of her didn't want to move apart, but to get even closer. She shut those confusing words out of her mind and continued wrapping the gauze around him, her knuckles briefly brushing his abdomen. She could feel his burning gaze on her the entire time.
When she was done, she finally stepped back, ignoring that tiny part of her that begged for them to stay exactly where they were.
Dally hopped off of the counter. "So, I'm not going to die?" he said, giving her the same inconvenienced look he did when she walked into the bathroom.
"Unfortunately not," she joked, trying to break the tension. It didn't work. He put his shirt back on, making his way towards the door before stopping.
"Thanks, Maeve," he said, the nickname used earlier gone.
Maeve hid her surprise and simply nodded, not trusting her words at the moment. He walked out the door and closed it behind him. She finally felt like she could breathe again, looking at herself in the mirror silently before walking out of the door.
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When she walked out of the bathroom the chaotic scene resumed, only now Angela had arrived.
What the hell is wrong with you? Making eyes at Dally while Curly is dying, Maeve thought to herself when she saw Angela's fearful expression.
The blood seemed to have stopped flowing out of Curly, and Darry had moved on to trying to stitch him up. Curly was clearly in pain, cursing to no one in particular as the needle passed through his skin. She assumed it was better than him being unconscious. He was going to make it.
She walked over to Angela who was hovering over Curly, pacing along the couch. Maeve placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, not wanting to interfere, but for her friend to know that she was there. She turned around to look at Maeve, and upon seeing her face enveloped her in a hug, putting her head on her shoulder and starting to cry. She held her there, quietly whispering "I'll be okay" and, "he's going to be okay."
It was hard to believe that less than half an hour ago they were sitting happily at the dinner table, laughing without a care in the world.
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It was a quarter to midnight and Maeve was laying in bed, engulfed in darkness. She'd told her mom that she was going to bed over an hour ago, but so far she made no move to tear her eyes away from the ceiling. She couldn't stop recalling the events of the night, mulling over the emotions felt and the words said.
Curly was going to be alright. After they finished patching him up, the color had begun returning to his face, and he could string together coherent sentences again. Despite Darry's argument that he needed to go to the hospital, Tim still refused, saying that after some time spent resting at home he would be good as new. He'd given Darry a pat on the back and thanked him for saving his brother, promising to repay the debt someday. Darry of course said there was no need, that this was what you do for family.
Dally didn't even so much as look her way the rest of the night, hurting Maeve a little more than she'd care to admit. When everything was taken care of, someone made sure to call Two-bit, knowing he'd be worried about his friend and not wanting to be kept out of the loop of things, everyone left.
Soda borrowed Darry's work truck and made rounds dropping everyone off, including Maeve. By that time she was over half an hour past curfew, but once she got her mom to stop yelling at her, she was able to explain the situation. She obviously understood and had many questions but Maeve said that she was tired and just wanted to go to bed.
This brought her to where she was now, unable to sleep, mulling over all that took place in the bathroom with Dally. The way she felt when she touched his skin, looked into his eyes, the both of them stuck in a trance, unable to tear their eyes away from the other. He was her friend, he was in a relationship (if you could call whatever he had with Sylvia a relationship).
Maeve always knew that she wanted love. Maybe it was hearing so much about Becca's relationships or reading too many romance novels, but she always wanted the adventurous, head over heels, swept off your feet love. She wanted to get married surrounded by all of her friends, and live in a cottage with cats, to go on adventures and see the world with her husband.
"If I wanted you Doll, I'd have you"
When he said those words they sent shivers down her spine. But now that the shock had worn off, and she had time to overthink, she kept picking out the word "if". "If I wanted you." He didn't want her.
But Maeve now knew that she wanted him.
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Hello! Ahhh I've been wanting to write this chapter for so long and I think it turned out pretty good
Since this chapter was very dramatic and tensiony the next one is going to be pretty fun and fluffy. I hope you guys liked it!
-Lilly :)