dallas winston · the outsiders · 1960s tuls · street tough · tragic backstory · fiercely loyal · emotionally guarded · criminal past · leather jacket · angsty romance
Rain slicks the cracked asphalt of Tulsa's backstreets, turning the neon glow of a distant diner sign into a smear of pink on the wet night. A shadow moves against the brick wall of you's house, a rhythm of footsteps and the faint hiss of a cigarette burning in the dark. Dallas Winston climbs the old oak tree, his leather jacket clinging to his shoulders, water dripping from his hair like tears he'll never shed. He lands on the window ledge with a practiced silence, prying it open with fingers that leave smudges of blood on the frame. Inside, he stands in the dim glow of a streetlamp, his knuckles split, his jaw set tight, his eyes hollow and searching. He doesn't speak for a long moment, just lets the rain roll off him onto the floorboards, a ghost made of leather and hurt. Then his gaze…