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Dallas’ breathing became more and more ragged as he trudged past each streetlamp on the sidewalk. A faint trail of blood followed him behind the crosswalk and onto the lot. He pressed his back against the bark of the first tree that he saw and slid down onto the cool, wet grass. He could see that his hair had bits of dried blood in it when the moon shone on it.
Dallas let out a deep sigh and continued stumbling on. Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to pick fights with every other person in the bar. How was he supposed to know that some scrawny guy had a whole gang of nine with him? A couple of the fuckers had him pinned while the rest kept punching at his body and face.
‘Whatever’, Dallas thought to himself as he leaned his head further back against the tree. A sharp streak of pain shot through his body every time he did so much as move a limb. He knew laying out here in the open was an invitation to get jumped, but he didn’t care, he was Dallas fucking Winston, it’s not like he ever cares about anything anymore.
Soon, his vision started getting all blurry and fading in and out, and exhaustion seeped into his bones before someone shook him wide awake. Dallas tilted his head up to get a good look of whoever it was only to find a familiar face, Tim Shepard. Dallas could recognize that guy anywhere, with his stupid torn-up cowboy hat and coat.
“Hey, Winston! The hell yer doin’ out here man?” Tim spoke up while taking a drag of his cigarette.
“Nothin’ much, just bleeding out in the middle of the night.” Dallas shot back in a defensive tone before lightly kicking the other boy in the leg.
Tim quickly whipped out a pack of kools from his pocket and lit it another up and took a long drag of it. The two of them both sat there in the middle of the lot in comfortable silence for a few minutes.
Eventually, Tim got up and gave a hand to Dallas.
“C’mon, let’s go to my house. Can’t have you dyin’ out on me now, you owe me too much.” He joked.
“Mm…” Dallas hummed back.
The older boy helped the other up and guided him to the passenger seat of his truck. Once he was sure the other was safe, he got in the driver’s seat and started driving them to his house.
Tim would never admit it over his dead body, but he cared for Dallas. More than he let on, honestly. The two had been friends ever since Dallas moved to Tulsa from New York. He first met him at some sketchy, old gas station one winter with a couple of other greasers one night. The two got into a fight and had to be pulled apart by the others to make sure they didn’t kill each other right then and there. Next time they met, Tim tried to act a bit more “civilized” but Dallas was just as much of an asshole as he was the first time, acting like a rabid dog and all. After a few more confrontations, they became somewhat calmer with each other and even started riding together at rodeos and hung out at Buck’s every once in a while.
"You can… drop me ‘ere, I can– can just walk back over to the Curtis’ and spend the night there.” Dallas stammered back. Tim gave Dallas a look like he was crazy. Have him walk in the condition he was in? Tim would probably find Dallas dead on the road the next morning.
“Like hell I’m just gon’ leave you right here in the middle of the night lookin’ like how you are right now. I said I’m gon’ take you to my house and that’s exactly what I’m gon’ do.” Tim barked back.
“I’ll just go to Buck’s then–’
“Listen, Dal… I ain’t gon’ leave you here. That’s that.”
The blonde went quiet after that and the rest of the ride was filled with silence. Tim pulled onto the side of the road and parked the car. He hopped out and carefully helped Dallas out as well before leading him towards the front door and inside. Dallas laid down on the couch while Tim searched through the bathroom cabinets for the first aid kit. After a few minutes he came back and sat down on his knees beside Dallas. He pressed a cloth against the several cuts on his arms before cleaning them off.
“So what happened anyway? Did they pull a blade on you or something?” Tim asked while wrapping a roll of bandages on Dallas.
“Yeah– yeah one of them. A bunch had me pinned down while two or three kept slugging me across.” He shifted around on the coach, “Stupid bastards…”
“What I think is stupid is the fact that you got yourself into this situation–”
“Oh shut up, Tim.”
Tim took the same cloth and pressed it onto Dallas’ forehead. The boy let out a small wince of pain and shifted around right after that.
“Quit squirmin’ I gotta clean this up, alright?” Tim told Dallas before cleaning it up and fixing up his head and walking over to the kitchen to get something cool from the freezer to put against his head. Dallas soon caught a bag of vegetables and looked at it before speaking.
“Man, I don’t like peas.” He fake threw the bag back to Tim before putting it up to his forehead.
“You wan’ me to throw you up ‘n the freezer instead? That cool enough for you Dal?” Tim mocked back. The two started joking back and forth for a few minutes before deciding they were tired and headed to bed.
The second Dally saw Tim’s bed he immediately plopped right on it and tried to take up as much space as he could. Tim, who now had an annoyed expression on his face, kicked the other to one side of the bed while he himself took up the other. Both hoods shoved each other around for a while before finally laying back on the soft mattress. Tim shifted onto his side while Dallas hogged up half of the blanket.
“G’night, Tim.”
“Night, Dal.”
The two eventually drifted off to sleep and the night continued on. The next day, Dallas would steal half of Tim’s food and run off to the Curtis’ or Buck’s, but right now he couldn't care less. Just allowing himself to accept this comfort for tonight.