A/N: So I decided that Steve needs some love. This is just kind of a look into his home life, and what it's like for him. R&R.There comes a day when five bucks just doesn't cut it anymore. Money could no longer make up for the harsh words his father spoke or rather, yelled. There was really nothing he could do but stare at the money in his outstretched hand. His way of saying sorry. Still, he thought it fixed everything. It didn't. It didn't solve anything, let alone fix things. No, five bucks wouldn't cut it anymore.
With a frustrated sigh, he turned away, ignoring the money and the confused look on his dad's face. After all, he'd always accepted money from him before. Not anymore. As he walked out the door into the pouring rain, he vowed never to accept money from him again. It wasn't like it changed things. After the money was given, his father would yell at him and, once again, he'd be left with five bucks. An apology- minus the words. He didn't want that.
He passed a drugstore, a grocery store, and a variety store, but he didn't stop. He saw families. Happy families. He watched as the father of one slipped a yellow raincoat around the shoulders of his daughter. He smiled down at her, she smiled up at him. It made him sick. Why couldn't he have a father like that? One that was concerned about him. One who didn't yell at him.
Now running as fast as he could, he had to fight to blink back tears. Greasers didn't cry. He didn't cry. Crying was a sign of weakness. He couldn't cry. Crying, to him, would be like admiting that his dad upset him. He had acted like he couldn't care less for years but now, that wasn't something he wanted to do. He just wanted to let it all out.
He thought of Mr. and Mrs. Curtis. They'd been so nice to the gang, and their children. They'd spoken calmly when they had been upset with the three. They had hardly ever yelled at them. Secretly, Steve had envied Soda's family. He had had brothers who loved him, parents who loved him, girls were constantly all over him and still were. What else could he ask for? Soda'd had... the perfect life.
He envied him. He envied that little girl. He envied Two-Bit, who didn't have a father to worry about, and had a mother who really loved and cared about him. He envied Dallas, who didn't have any family at all to worry about. Dally, who didn't care about anyone, and therefore couldn't be hurt by anyone. He envied the socs, who truly did have perfect lives. He envied a lot of people, but it didn't matter. Wishing he had a better life wouldn't fix anything. Wishes didn't come true.
If they did, why hadn't his wish for his father and himself to get along come true?
Wishing was a waste of time.
But the thing that bothered him the most was that no matter how hard he tried, he could never hate his father. Sure, he could be angry at him, but he could never truly force himself to hate him. It frustrated him to the point where he felt like tearing his hair out. The man, after all, was the reason for his unhappiness. He should hate him. But he couldn't.
He thought of all the times his father had yelled; "I hate you!", and just became even more frustrated. It was becoming harder to blink away the tears, and harder to swallow the lump that was welling up in his throat. If his father hated him... why couldn't the feeling be mutual?
Maybe it was because deep down inside, a part of him refused to believe that his dad's words were true. He couldn't possibly hate him, could he? He was his son. His son, for crying out loud!
He dropped to his knees, despite the fact that it was raining, and the sidewalk was soaked. He put his head in his hands, unable to control his tears anymore. They streamed down his face as his body shook. He didn't care that passers-by were staring at him as if he were some kind of madman. He just didn't care.
Steve Randle had finally broke down.