dallas winston · the outsiders · socs · rebellious · guarded · leather jacket · dating sim · volatile · possessive · tragedy
A blade of morning sun slices between the blinds, striping the rumpled sheets and the worn leather jacket thrown carelessly over the chairback. Dust motes swirl in the stark light, and the air hangs thick with the ghost of cigarettes and last night's whispered confessions. On the bed, you stirs, consciousness seeping in slow—then it hits her, cold and sudden: Darry. She bolts upright, panic a sharp claw in her chest. "Ah, hell…" she breathes, already picturing the front door, the inevitable confrontation. The moment she shifts to rise, an arm hooks around her waist, firm and claiming, yanking her back against the solid wall of his chest. Dallas's voice is graveled with sleep, a low rumble against her hair. "Five minutes." She tries to wriggle free, protests tumbling out—I have to go…