Chapter Text
The rest of the hospital visit was a blur. Later, Steven could only remember fragments, snapshots. It was probably better that way.
Fragment: Dr. Maheswaran asking if he was all right, asking if she had his permission to talk to Greg. Steven didn’t understand why she was bringing it up. Couldn’t she just tell his dad? Why did she need to ask? He mumbled yes. Signed a paper, no star over the i in Universe, just a scribble. He thanked her, he thought, he hoped.
Fragment: getting dressed alone in the exam room, hoping his clothes would hold him, hoping he could get home before any of this happened again. Maybe it won’t, he tried telling himself, but his skin flared pink at the thought, and it took what seemed an endless minute of breathing hard with his eyes closed before his gem quieted and he seemed human again.
Fragment: saying goodbye to Connie, ashamed of everything he’d done, every way he was messing up She hugged him for only a second before she asked if she should stay. His skin felt electrified near her, zipping and sparking, the jolts sinking into muscle and bone and gem. He was so glad she still cared about him. He was so agonized to be near her.
“I don’t know,” he whispered. “Maybe it’ll be better tomorrow. I’m sorry.” She kissed him on the top of his head ( where the fractures are, he thought dazedly), and electricity arced through him. He shuddered, and she held him, and haltingly he asked her to go.
Fragment: Greg bundling him out of the hospital room, tugging his jacket straight over his shoulders, leading him out through the front lobby. “Where’d you park, kiddo?” Steven gesturing, Greg walking him step by step to his car. “I’ll drive. Sadie and Shep are dropping off the van for me.”
Fragment: the streets of Beach City passing by, washed out blurs and houses in stark relief, the window open, the wind on his face. His eyes watered. The wind pulled the tears away, dried them from his cheeks. Sadie Killer in the tape deck, his dad humming along, touching Steven’s shoulder at stoplights to check in.
At least somebody knows , he thought, and he tried to breathe deeply through the blurring tears.
The car stopped, and Steven blinked in surprise. “We’re home,” said Greg simply, giving him a small, worried smile. His eyes looked puffy, dark circles under them.
“Dad, are you okay?”
Greg went still. Then his smile bloomed, a bigger brighter thing, and he chuckled warmly. “Steven, don’t worry about me. I’m here for you. ” Steven closed his eyes, guilt shifting into something gentler. Relief. Gratitude.
“If you say so,” he said jerkily, trying to remember how to be normal. They got out of the Dondai and Greg handed the keys back to Steven.
“Here ya go. Thanks for letting me take her for a spin again.”
“Heh. Right,” said Steven, the laugh forced. They both looked away.
They took the path to the house, but as they strode into view of the front windows, Steven remembered the last few miserable days with a burst of horror. “Oh, Dad — I’m sorry. The place is a mess. I just… I didn’t feel like cleaning up. You don’t have to come in --”
“Nice try, Steven,” said Greg, pushing the door open. The open doorway revealed a living room full of empty ice cream containers, discarded food packages, and the freezer door still on the floor in the kitchen where he’d dropped it. Everything inside was thawing. A puddle spilled out onto the kitchen floor, and with a stab he saw the red glow bracelet still nestled amongst expired Cookie Cats, its color dimming.
That sensation, now all too familiar. He shivered, hands flashing pink, a foot swelling up and shrinking back down just as quickly. He kicked off his shoes.
“Steven, it’s okay!” Greg said sharply. He took Steven by the elbow and led him to the couch, and Steven sagged against his father, letting him guide him. “Come on. Take a seat.”
Numbly Steven followed him, sitting down hard enough on the couch he felt the cushion deform under his enhanced weight. He took a deep breath, struggling. “I can’t do anything right,” he whispered. “I messed up the fridge -- I messed up the house -- I messed up things with Connie --”
Greg hugged him, hard. The pink beneath his skin faded, leaving something that looked like human hands again. He gulped, his breathing ragged.
“Listen to me,” said Greg, still holding him. Steven remembered when he was little, when a hug from his dad seemed to guard him against everything scary. The hug still felt good. But it was a thinner shield than it used to be.
“I know it feels like the end of the world,” Greg said softly. “But it’s okay to make mistakes. No one gets life right on the first try... I certainly didn’t. But that doesn’t make you a bad person.”
“Really?” His voice was small, quiet enough that Greg seemed to strain to hear him.
“It just makes you human, Schtu-ball.”
“Human,” Steven croaked. “Huh.” The word felt foreign, fuzzy, wrong in his mouth. Like it didn’t apply to him anymore.
“Yeah. You might be a Crystal Gem, but you’re also still a Universe.”
“DeMayo Universe,” said Steven tiredly, and this time he smiled. It was small and clumsy, but it was better than the tensed expression his face had seemed stuck in. He leaned against his dad, trying to focus on how heavy Greg’s arm was on his shoulders, how warm he was, how he was solid enough to lean on. It helped.
“See? Spoken like a true human,” said Greg. He gave Steven’s shoulders a squeeze, and lifted his arm away. “Now... you need to rest. Things have been really hard for you, and I need you to take it easy. Are you hungry?”
“I dunno,” said Steven, trying to think of when the last time he had eaten was. His face burned, remembering ice cream spilled on the floor.
“Well, let me know when you are, I’ll make something. And then I’ll just do a little tidying up in the meantime. No big deal. Want me to bring the TV down here? We can hang.”
“Don’t go up there!” Steven pleaded. “I’m sorry, it’s such a mess --”
Greg swallowed, looking Steven in the eyes. “There’s nothing up there that could make me think less of you, Steven. Let me give you a hand.”
Steven gulped. If his dad insisted… “Okay. But let me carry the TV for you. It’s really heavy.”
“Deal.”
They walked up the stairs together, Steven’s stomach twisting. If Greg was disappointed in him for the mess he’d left, he didn’t show it. He just cheerfully gathered some of Steven’s movie collection while Steven unplugged the TV and carried it downstairs. He set it up on the coffee table while Greg laid out the videos.
“Anything sound good in particular? We can put something on while I clean up a little. There’s always Dogcopter --”
Steven winced, remembering what he’d watched that morning. Everyone’s getting married but me! It sounded so childish, looking back. What had he been thinking? Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes again. He was getting sick of them.
“No, I don’t feel like Dogcopter,” he managed. “Maybe Koala Princess. It’s been a while.” He rummaged in the tapes and DVDs until he found a season of Koala Princess. He never did wind up giving it back to Ronaldo. He loaded it up and it sparkled cheerfully from the screen in pink and sparkles and giggles. Fine.
Steven pulled up his legs and curled up on the couch. He crossed his arms over his middle and rested his head on a pillow, burrowing into the couch cushions. He was almost comfortable, like that.
“Steven?” Greg asked, but he’d already fallen asleep.