You'd gotten the scare of your life, it wasn't easy dealing with taking Dallas out of the cooler over and over again. But you finally lost it when he went to visit Johnny and Ponyboy where they were hiding from the cops and he came back in a fucking ambulance.

You see, Dallas was no stranger to bruised cheeks and black eyes —nor blades being pulled on him. He was tough, born and raised in the low-life streets of New York, the Tusla rumbles were child's play to him.

And, as his girlfriend ~the only one he had mansged to keep for more than a week~, you knew that very well. Still, you were completely unconsolable when you found out he had been in a fire.

That's why you were accompanying Ponyboy and Two-Bit to visit him at the hospital.

"How you doin'?" were the first words Two-Bit said, holding out his hand for the half-naked greaser on the hospital bed.

Dallas laughed, a wide grin on his face, as he shook his hand. "Hey! It's great to see you guys, this place gives me the creeps" He replied, his NY accent thick on his tongue. "i want out!"

He was only wearing his boxers, a small gauze on his cheek and his right arm bandaged. However, at your three's downcast gazes he realized something wasn't alright.

"How's Johnny?" He asked, knowing he'd regret it. Two-Bit sighed, shaking his head "look, I ain't no medic, but it's not looking good, man.." he answered.

Dallas laid back on the bed, a frown on his face, before he asked for Two-Bits blade. He turned around then, his back to you three, as he used the knife to 'stab the pillow' in anger.

However, when he turned around, there were two angry slices on his wrist.

He was about to say something, his dark brunette hair was messy and falling over his ~glassy~ eyes. But when he caught your gaze locked on the raw skin of his wrist, he sat up on the bed. "No, doll, dolly" he quickly tried to explain, his NY accent thick. "You know I didn' mean it like that, c'mon, y'know I didn' mean it like that"