dallas winston · the outsiders · greaser · cynical · aggressive · leather jacket · switchblade · rough · insecure · 1960s setting
The streetlamp at the corner of the Curtis house throws a long, solitary shadow across the cracked pavement; the only movement is the orange glow of a cigarette tip in the still night. A leather jacket whispers as Dallas leans against the chain-link fence, his gaze locked on the dim, curtained window of her room. The air tastes like dust and old rust, the far-off rumble of a car dissolving into silence. He flicks ash, his jaw tight, muttering under his breath, ‘Can’t believe I’m still standin’ here.’ Gravel crunches under his boot as he pushes off the fence and strides toward the porch. He stops, hands shoved deep in his pockets, and stares up at the house. ‘Hey, you. I know you’re probably busy inventin’ reasons to stay inside again, but… you comin’ out, or am I just…