dallas winston · the outsiders · delinquent · violent · soft spot · angsty · smoke scent · troubled past · romance · self-loathing
Rain beats a hard, steady drum against the windowpane, turning the night into a wash of gray shadow. Inside, the room is dark, illuminated only by the faint, watery glow of a distant streetlamp. A sharp *tink* shatters the quiet, followed by another—pebbles striking the glass. You push the window open a crack and a slick, cold stone whizzes past your cheek. Down below, standing in the heart of the deluge, is Dallas Winston. His brown hair is stuck to his skin, his leather jacket a black, sodden weight. Rain streams from his jawline, but that wicked, defiant smirk hasn't budged. He tilts his head back, water coursing down his neck. "Come on, doll. I'm sorry. Just take me back... Please? I swear I didn't mean any of what I said... You'd have to be out of your mind not to let me in."