That night, I had a nightmare.
It wasn't like the nightmare I'd had before where Dally was screaming. It didn't feel real like that one, it felt like any other nightmare would. But it was scary, and it was about Dally.
Dally was hitting me. Not just poking at me, or shoving me a little, he was beating me.
'LEAVE ME ALONE!' He was screaming. 'LEAVE ME ALONE!' His voice echoed in my mind just like it had a few nights before. I was thrown on the ground and I was kicked. But I didn't do anything, I barely flinched. I lay there like a doll, taking it, my face unchanging.
I woke up hot and uncomfortable. It was late into the morning, and I was pretty sure Steve, Soda, and Darry were already gone.
"Hey, Johnny." Two-Bit said. "Someone slept in."
I groaned. I felt lightheaded, and still hot. I started struggling to take off my jacket as I lay there.
"You alright Johnny?" Dally was saying. I didn't know he was in the room.
"Hot." I said, finally tossing my jacket on the floor. I groaned again and rolled over, as best I could on the couch. A hand felt my four head and I looked up to see Ponyboy.
"You're awful feverish." Pony said. "Do you wanna lay down in my room instead of the couch?"
I replied with a sigh. I felt awful. I didn't even want to talk. The next thing you know, Two-Bit was scooping me off the couch and carrying me into the hall.
"Careful!" Ponyboy was trailing after us. Two-Bit dropped me off onto the bed, and I quickly relaxed into the comfort of pillows and the quilt.
"That'll be two dollars, sir!" Two said. I rolled over the opposite direction of him.
"Alright, leave him be." Pony was ushering Two-Bit out of the room. Pony left behind him, and I nauseously started to doze off when Pony came back.
"Here you go, Johnny." He was putting a warm, wet rag on my four head. I startled, not expecting it. I hated the smell of wet rag. Ponyboy closed the blinds as best he could to darken the room.
"Try and get some more sleep, it'll help." Pony said. I think I fell asleep before he even left the room. I didn't sleep good, though. I quickly started having fever dreams and was in and out of sleep. The kind that make you not completely sure whether you're awake or dreaming. I woke up to Pony bringing me some water, and then I fell asleep and dreamed Soda came in, bringing me a puppy as a present.
Then I woke up, and Soda was still at work. This went on and off for what felt like hours, someone would come in and interact with me, and I wasn't always sure if it was real or not. I saw half the gang there, and my mother at one point. Sometimes I couldn't tell who was there, but they were trying to feed me crackers or ask if I needed the washroom. They'd stroke my hair or readjust my rag. I'm sure most of those were probably Ponyboy.
I didn't come around fully conscious again until Soda came home for real.
"Hey, Johnnycakes." Soda said, opening the dresser. "What are you doing in here?" It was a question of pure curiosity, I know he didn't mind.
"He's running a fever." Pony explained from the doorway. "I thought he'd be more comfortable here than on the sofa."
"Aww, Johnny." Soda was undoing the buttons on his work shirt. "Try and feel better, okay?"
"What happens when Soda gets sick after Johnny slept there?" Steve was remarking from behind Pony. "Are you going to get a job, kid?"
"Don't worry about it Steve, I'll be fine." Soda said. "If he's still not better by tonight, we'll let him stay there. Pony and I can crash in the living room, right Pony?"
"Sure." Pony said. Steve rolled his eyes and wondered into the kitchen. Soda put on a T-Shirt and ruffled my hair. He gave me a smile before him and Pony left the room. I was feeling a bit better at the moment, but I knew rolling over wrong could change that, and I ended up falling back asleep, this time sleeping thoroughly.
When I woke up next, the sun was mostly set. I immediately took note of how much better I felt. I was still a little shaky, and I had a pain behind my eyes, but most of the grossness and headache had gone away. I rolled over. Dally was sitting in Pony's desk chair, facing out into the room. He fiddled with a stack of books on the desk, bored.
"Hey." I said. My throat was dry and I realized it was the first thing I'd said all day besides "Hot." Dally looked at me and quit fiddling with the books.
"Oh, hey Johnny." He said casually. I sat up stiffly and eagerly grabbed the glass of water I found on Soda's side table. I drank probably about half of it.
"What are you doing?" I said, once I had finally set the water down. Dally shrugged.
"Soda, Steve, and Two-Bit all had plans, and Soda convinced Steve to let Pony tag along." Dally said. "Darry called this afternoon. Said he was covering for someone and would be home late. So I offered to babysit."
I didn't like that he used the word babysit, but I ignored it.
"Are you still sick?" He asked. Most people would have asked, 'Feeling any better?' or, 'How are you feeling, Johnny?' but Dally just wasn't soft like that. I shook my head.
"I'm better. Hungry, though." I admitted. I hadn't eaten all day, or gone to the washroom, and I'd just chugged a lot of water.
"I think there's some boloney in the other room, and I don't really think I should cook Darry's food." Dally said. I shrugged.
"Baloney is fine." I said. Dally nodded, biting his lip and sitting there for a moment.
"Well, okay." He said finally, getting up slowly and heading for the kitchen. I got up and went to the washroom. When I came into the kitchen, there was a plate with a sandwich, and a glass of milk waiting for me. Dally sat on the counter, even though there were five empty chairs.
"Did you not want a sandwich?" I asked, adjusting the plate in front of me.
"No, man, I'm not hungry." Dally said, leaning back until his head rested on the cabinet behind him. He closed his eyes. I quickly looked away, and started eating my sandwich. I ate the whole thing in silence, and me and Dally didn't speak until I was done. I'd been thinking about what I'd say, and I'd come up with something.
"You're having bad dreams still, aren't you?" I said. Dally looked at me, surprise lighting his eyes. "Like the one you told me about."
Dally scoffed, almost in a stubborn manner, giving a cocky smile. "No." He said. Then his face softened and he sighed heavily. "Yeah, I guess." He murmured.
"I had one kinda like that too, the night before Two-Bit's birthday." I said, tracing my finger over the ring of my glass. "You know, because you were like... I dunno, hurt or whatever, I guess."
It was quiet for a long moment before Dally sighed. "They feel pretty real. I don't know how to explain it." He said. I looked at him and he was looking out of the window at the sink.
"Yeah, well I know that's why you've been acting weird." I said quietly. "Like hanging around, and stuff like that. A-And the other night."
My face grew hot, mentioning the night I found Dally at Buck's. It was really quiet again for a long moment before I spoke up again.
"But anyway, I'm not bothered by any of it. I think I'd do the same thing if I kept having those dreams every night."
"Mmk." Was all Dally said. We sat for a long few minutes I silence, and in that time I finished my glass of milk.
"Here, let me..." Dally was muttering something as he got up and came around the table. He collected my plate, and I couldn't help but notice the smell of his soap as his arm went past my face. He had to lean in more to reach the empty glass, and his torso was turned towards me. He collected the dishes and then paused to look at me. We were close. Too close.
Our eyes met, and he held my gaze briefly, before pulling away. My stomach flipped in disappointment and I immediately started scolding myself in my head. Dally carried the dishes to the sink and started washing, and I watched the back of his head. I found myself zoning out into his white-blonde hair.
When Dally turned around, I was met with his eyes again. I swallowed, and Dally leaned into the counter, wiping his hands into his jeans. He sighed, looking into the ceiling light, before his eyes met mine again. He didn't look tough then, he looked gentle. He bit his lip again, cramming his hands into his pockets. He pushed off the counter and walked past me, out of the room.
I didn't want him to leave to room. I wanted him to sit next to me, and I wanted him to start talking about some random party or some time he'd almost gotten caught stealing. He'd grin, cocky, and he'd look at me as he talked. Both of our arms would rest on the table, and they'd occasionally brush together when we started laughing.
I stood up, forcing myself away from the table. What is wrong with me?