Real life is kicking my ass. Between work, school, activities and college apps I'm just gvkjdfkd. But I turned in this crazy big essay I've been working on since last year, and so I thought I'd celebrate. Hopefully I can crank this thing out in one go… I haven't done anything remotely creative in ages.

I don't own anything.

The screen door closed with a bang that sent Dallas Winston tumbling to the floor as he awoke. The action itself was not so startling as the sound, having broken the relatively silent and (therefore) uneventful day. At one point Soda had turned on the television, but the slew of news reports regarding the now silent city were far too depressing, and nothing had been watched for the rest of the day.

With nothing better to do, each individual retreated to their bed of choice. Dallas, not feeling up to making his way back to his own home, claimed the couch and had been enjoying a particularly good dream when he had been rudely awakened.

After trying to wake himself up a bit more, he got up, preparing to beat the untimely door-slammer to little more than a quivering, bloody mess. However, what he saw made him stop short.

Johnny was standing in front of the door. His back was pressed against the screen, arms splayed wide as if preventing some entity from entering the home. Dallas saw the rapid rise and fall of the younger boy's chest, although there was no breathing to be heard. Still attempting to wake himself up, Dallas hesitated before taking a few steps toward his friend.

If Johnny noticed Dallas' advance, he didn't show it. Instead, he turned and peeked out of the small window in the door then, as if seeing that the coast was clear, he turned the lock quickly and shut the screen door once more, making sure to lock it behind him.

The touch must have been unexpected. Johnny jumped when Dallas tapped his shoulder and, had the occasion been any different, such a reaction may have been amusing to witness. At that moment, however, it was worrisome. It was true that Johnny had a tendency to be jumpy, but that level of fright was not one that had been witnessed by Dallas for quite some time.

To hell with it, Dallas thought angrily as he forced Johnny around to face him. Stupid kid… probably went home. Had a run in with his old man… if there was one man Dallas would like to get his hands on… truthfully, that list was quite extensive, but rest assured Mr. Cade was close to the top of that list.

When Johnny finally caugh sight of who it was that had touched him, he relaxed slightly. Dallas felt some of the tension leave the smaller frame, but the frightened, cornered look failed to leave Johnny's eyes.

Dallas' first instinct was to ask the kid what was going on or, more appropriately, whose ass he would have to kick to fix whatever was bothering him. However, he was reminded of the odd case of what was now being referred to as "citywide laryngitis" when nothing came out of his mouth when he began to talk.

Well fuck. Dallas grabbed the kid's arm and dragged him to the couch, pointing at it forcibly as if to say sit yer ass down and don't move. When he was certain that Johnny was going to do as he was instructed, Dallas made his way as quietly as possible to Ponyboy's room…

Johnny could talk to Dallas about what he had seen if Dallas had given him the opportunity. Ponyboy was another person Johnny felt totally at ease around. However, Ponyboy, Dallas, Sodapop, and Darry proved to be a problem. He slouched back against the couch and cast his eyes downward, feeling incredibly guilty for even thinking of barging into the Curtis' house at such a late hour and then waking them up.

The piece of paper still hadn't moved from under his nose. Dallas shook it again, almost threateningly, and jabbed Johnny's shoulder with the eraser end of a pencil. At long last, Johnny took the items and, unable to find the right words to express what he had seen, he began to draw.

To say that Johnny was a good artist was an exaggeration. His drawings were more or less stick figures with grotesque faces drawn in the style of a child just learning to hold a pencil. When he had finished, the others stared at the drawing in confusion.

Suddenly, Ponyboy's face lit up and he reached for the pencil and paper. He moved over to the wall, pressing the paper against it as he scribbled and drew pictures to illustrate his idea. The others watched; Darry and Sodapop looking as if they were ready to go to sleep where they stood.

Just as Ponyboy made his way back to the group, there was a knock on the door.