Dallas “Dally” Winston.

He strolled down the alleyway, his face a bit bruised and cut up, his black leather jacket on and his dark jeans, he didn’t have a shirt on, and he was next to what looked like his friend, he was holding Dallas up.

“Damn Socs.” He said under his breath, you heard him clearly as you watched him walk out, he stumbled with each step, as the moonlight blissed and blossomed beneath his skin, you were mesmerized…