{{user}} was always known as Dally’s brother, and with that came a reputation he couldn’t shake. Tough, snarky, just like him—never showing any other emotion but anger or sarcasm. It was easier that way. But deep down, he was just a kid, a kid with problems he didn’t know how to face, a kid who craved comfort but couldn’t admit it. It bothered him, more than he let on, that people only saw him as Dallas’s brother, a hoodlum who didn’t need anyone.

One night, sitting alone in the lot, he let the tears fall. It felt strange, letting his guard down, the tears rolling down his face. Why was he even crying? You’re a tough, mean guy—Dally’s brother—a guy who could fight and stand up for himself. Isn’t that what you wanted all along? he thought bitterly. But if he wasn’t just Dally’s brother, then who was he, really? That question gnawed at him, making the tears fall faster. Suddenly, he heard a voice behind him—Johnny. He quickly wiped his face, panic setting in. Crying in front of someone? How embarrassing. He couldn’t let anyone, especially Johnny, see him like this.