A/N: Okay people, I know a lot of you are going to hate this little fic of mine, go ahead, but some of you might actually enjoy it...possibly. But I want you all to know that I'm writing this because I want to and have a passion for it right now...and I'm posting it because some people might find a little enjoyment. If you don't like it, that's nice. Go ahead and tell me so, flame me till you turn blue...but know now that I'm not changing it and I'm just doing this because I want to, there is no other reason, period.

Basically, I don't think there are many Steve fics, and I want to give my take on him. He is human, has to be or he wouldn't cry over Dal, wouldn't feel pain. So here's my little something that goes out to Steve Randle...a character I truly love...but maybe that's just me.

I don't personally think Steve's parents are OCs...but I do have to develop them how I see them. Sorry people, but there is no way around it in this.

Regarding the title, if it bothers you a ton...what it's supposed to mean is sad eyes...blue as in sad. Now, in the book, it does not say what color Steve's eyes really are, and I see them being blue...but that's a personal thing. In any case, if you don't agree, think sad.

Disclaimer: I own none of the outsiders and do not know SE Hinton. I am not affiliated with her in anyway. I only own OC's if there turns out to be any. I also don't own any lyrics or the rights to Behind Blue Eyes.



I didn't know if I was getting crazier by the day or if things were really changing, but it didn't seem that things had ever been this bad before. I avoided going home at all costs, and no matter what, there was always fault in something. I had never had the best relationship with my dad, that is we never even talked but to yell at each other, but I had never not wanted to go home. I wasn't excited to get home, and I didn't really care, but now I just hated to go home. Things were a lot worse, and I didn't know why. Nothing had changed that I knew of, nothing at all. It was same as it had always been, except worse.

Soda was starting to catch on, to ask questions. Now, he is my best friend, and I expected him to catch on and not ignore it. But it would have been much easier to deal with if I had answers to his questions myself. His questions only brought more to the surface, more I didn't want to handle, couldn't handle. What was I supposed to do? Ask what was going on? Not in my house, nope, no way.

But I was good at hiding it, I found ways. I stayed out later, or left the Curtis' just to go out drinking with Dal in the early hours of the night. I went and stayed at my girlfriend's house, I stayed the night in my car. But I went home a few nights a week to, I couldn't completely avoid things. If I stayed away too long, things would get ugly, and I knew that, so it didn't happen. All the same though, I never got out of anything by staying out. The times I went home were just worse. Worse than ever, each time increasingly bad, each time paying back all the nights I wasn't there to blame things on.