Note: All I can really say is that I'm sorry. All I can do is beg for your forgiveness.

Cutting Trees: Chapter Eight

"You know this is illogical?"

Steve looked down at her. The way she was looking at him, was it really that illogical? Of course it was illogical, but did she really believe that they couldn't make illogical work? Would he have to convince her? He didn't know how good at convincing he'd be, considering he flunked out of school. Mostly for work, but that was beside the point.

The whites of her eyes, and the creases said that she didn't believe her own statement. She wanted him to tell her she was wrong, she wanted to argue with him – give her an excuse right? No way in Hell. He wasn't giving this up; he couldn't give this up now that he'd tasted it. Felt it.

"Yes," he pursed his lips. "But nothing is impossible."

Those pearly reds, now slightly dulled unlike her face which had pinkened, opened as if to protest, but nearly as quickly as she'd opened them – she shut them again. Once again, her lips parted, but instead of watching her close them again, Steve pulled her up for another kiss. It was a bad idea. How could it not be? But on the same token, how could it not be a good idea?

As with Cedar, Steve was beginning to think there was no clear cut right and wrong. There was no good and evil – all of it was relative. Relative truth, right? He'd fallen asleep that day in English class.

Of course, she didn't object – in fact, if anything her body and gut reaction agreed to pull herself closer to him. Her soul wouldn't let her deny herself this privilege, this pleasure; after all, the devil's advocate – or was it the angel? – drilled her. Didn't she deserve after her hell? This Hell that had been created for her on Earth, wasn't it enough to at least qualify for a few indulgent kisses?

"Cedar," he murmured quietly on her lips. Miniscule waves that reverberated in massive vibrations down her spine; how could he do that to her? Nonetheless, her bones shook their approval. "You're not pushing me away."

"I know," her cast down eyes looked up to him and he smiled.

The door slammed open and they both jumped. "Apologies to ruin your perfectly romantic liaison, Romeo and Juliet," Ponyboy snickered in a quite bitter, and fake, French accent. As he proceeded to thunder into the room he shared with Soda, he not only managed to askew every loose object on the counters of the house – he also managed to grab a beer out of the refrigerator. Not a Ponyboy thing to do. "I'm gonna kill that sonbitch," he grumbled, and capped it off before slamming his door with a definitive bang. "Maybe I'll take to smoking fuckin' weed! That'll piss 'im off! Fucker..."

The two stared at each other and Steve raised his eyebrows, but Cedar's eyes were conflicted. "If you want to go see what's up, go see what's wrong with Pony," he sighed and backed away.

She grabbed his shirt. "I-I-I don't! I mean, I do, but I'd rather... Oh of course this is coming out wrong... Of course, of course, of course!" She stamped her foot, irately, and looked at him again. And furthermore, she was intent at looking him –and- seeing him

'If you really want to get into Steve's layered armor... he's in a similar predicament as you.'

When had Steve's eyes become so tortured? She'd never seen them any differently; it was as if they longed for something they couldn't have and the fact that couldn't have that nearly drove them mad. Steve's eyes. Maybe Steve himself too. Wasn't Steve how she was able to find refuge in this house? The caring eyes, more like empathetic when she tried to fly out of her house that night, but seemed inevitably chained to unhappiness; weren't those his? A weighted brown.

He needed a vacation.

"You hurtin', sugar?" he asked softly, referring to the swelling on her skin. What was it about the damn grease, cigarette smoke, car oil, and cheap cologne that made her want to dive off a cliff and not be able to feel a thing? The whiff of just the right combination, she let it seep into her nose... her skin... every pore and orifice of her body until she could feel him running through her like a tide washing in and out. She hoped to God it never was a low tide, nor that the water just up and dried up.

"A little. Not so much as I will tomorrow," Cedar shook her head shyly, playing with the hem. They should be talking about Ponyboy – Ponyboy, who despite his rather traumatically dramatic experiences did not do the things they had just witnessed. Especially not after meeting Louise Summers. Did that visionary blow his boat, Cedar remarked. A complete feminist.

Steve leaned back on the counter, his mouth twitching for more. "You thinkin' we should investigate this whole Pony business too?" Steve didn't really ask that many questions of her, he did not ask a question that he didn't know the answer to. That wasn't to say he wasn't completely clueless sometimes, but most times he was just proving his points. Most of the time it annoyed the piss out of Cedar, but not today. Cedar's lips didn't feel like they should be doing so much talking. "Who's the chick?"

"Louise Summers," Cedar told him and leaned up against the counter beside Steve.

"Oh yes? And who is this Louise Summers?"

"When'd you start taking such an interest in Ponyboy's life?"

Steve grinned, mischievously. She should have guessed the next thing to come from his mouth, "You know the last time I got into a conversation about who got interested in who's life, I ended up kissing the opposing party. Do you really want me to go find Ponyboy?" His wink, on any other day, would have made her throw something at him, but today – her lips fell into an easy smile. "Oh, hell, I thought it was pretty funny."

She shook her head with a gentle snort, "Of course you did. You made the joke."

-Wipe the grin off your face, - Steve ordered of himself but it was no use. Looking down to the side of him wasn't much use either. Ignoring the noise of Pony slamming around in his room like he was winning the Cold War, he pulled her up again. "I think I'd better stop kissing you, Cedar."

"Oh?" she sounded worried, her eyes sad. "Why?"

"The more I kiss you, the more I want to keep kissing you," he mumbled and tipped her chin up for her lips.

Once again, the door creaked open on its hinges and there staring at the two of them and then at the door of the room was Darren Curtis. "I go away for a few hours for a job. I come back and I miss a helluva lot...

"What in God's name is going on here?"

.--.

Author's Note

1)st off, anybody who is still reading this fic deserves a medal for a marathon.

2) I hope you'll excuse typos, etc. I felt inspired (I hadn't felt inspired for about a year...) and so I figured it was better to punch out another chapter while I was inspired than try to do it tomorrow. (For this I'll be sleeping 2 hrs, and getting up at 4 am to do homework. Groan. My own fault...)

3) I beg your mercy for such a long period between updates.

4) Reviews please! I finally think I remembered my idea! (muwahahaha)

::grovels at your feet::