Chapter Text
*BEEP!* *BEEP!* *BEEP!* *BE-*
Steven’s hand slammed down on the alarm clock, turning off that grating sound. He looked over and read the time. 8 AM. Grumbling, he wiped away the crust from his eyes. Man, did he just want to curl up under the covers and sleep forever. He didn’t want to get up. He didn’t want to go to work. He didn’t want to do online classes. He didn’t want to do anything at all.
How could he, when he felt like complete and utter garbage?
“Damn it,” he groaned, wiping a hand over his face. Begrudgingly, Steven swung the covers off of him. He got up, yanked off his boxers, threw on some clothes, and began trudging towards his kitchen.
As he walked through the hallway, various framed pictures surrounded him. They were all memories of his exploits from traveling across the country: snapshots of scenic areas and other places he found beautiful, photos of people he befriended along the way, like that group of road nomads, and images of him engaging in human things, like fishing in the Mississippi. He stopped at one that caught his eye. It was a picture of Connie, standing flush beside him against the backdrop of the beautiful Florida Islands.
His frown deepened. Steven forced himself to continue on.
He made his way down the flight of stairs. The first floor of his townhome was nice enough. It housed the kitchen, a comfy living room, and an extra bathroom, all with ample enough space. Pouring himself a bowl of cereal (which thankfully wasn’t sugar-free, yet), he plopped down onto his couch.
Soon enough he finished, and made the long march up to his upstairs bathroom. Once inside, he got a look at himself in the mirror. Ouch. Steven usually didn’t look this bad. At six foot, he had a strong, stocky body with broad shoulders. Right now, all that was overshadowed by how unkempt he looked. He figured that a week of barely giving so much as a thought towards shaving or combing his hair could explain how disheveled he looked.
Whatever. What was even the point?
~~~
Work, thankfully, went by pretty swimmingly. Steven was only working from nine to four, and he didn’t have to work register. Normally, interacting with customers was something he liked doing at work. Chatting it up with strangers, asking how their day was going. Now, it just felt like a chore. And he hated that. He hated how he felt about that. Heck, he hated how miserable he was feeling in general.
God, how long was this all going to last?
Steven slogged through his online classes once he got home. And boy, was this particular session tedious. Nothing but confusing, frustrating math. He could see why that was Connie’s least favorite subject when -
Stop. Just . . . stop.
After an hour of that, he finally, finally, had the rest of the day to himself. Still, that was barely anything to cheer for. Steven hadn’t been doing anything else for the past crummy week. At least, nothing particularly constructive. What was he doing instead? Sitting on his ass, and wallowing in self-loathing. He should really listen to his therapist. He ought to get up and play his guitar, or read a book, or call any of his loved ones, or do something. Steven knew fully well that they would be at the door, ready to comfort him, and that it wouldn’t be wrong of them to do so.
And yet…
…he still threw himself down onto the couch, and turned on the T.V.
Staring at the mind-numbing haze coming from the screen, the nineteen-year-old was ready to let the rest of the afternoon waste away into nothingness.
Then he heard the doorbell ring.
Spinel stared up at Steven’s house from the sidewalk. It was a really nice place: a two-story townhome with a snazzy modern design. It even had a sheltered balcony, where she and Steven had hung out before on more than one occasion.
Right now, though, she wasn’t here for some simple get-together. A friend needed her help.
Walking up the pathway, she rang the buzzer on Steven’s door. A part of her wondered if she looked presentable enough, dressed only in jean shorts and a baggy red tee. Spinel hadn’t physically changed a whole lot during the past several years. Her hair was still fashioned into twintails that hanged just below her shoulders. She still had a pretty svelte body, interrupted only by the curves from her very slight hourglass figure. Although, if you showed her a picture of her from three years ago, she’d easily be able to tell that she now had a slightly more developed figure and stood a bit taller as well, at a whopping five foot four. She guessed she wore more makeup now also, as she currently had on a bit of blush and some eyeliner.
Before she could contemplate on her appearance any further, the door opened. There stood Steven, looking like a tornado done tossed him around.
“Heya, Steven!” she greeted with the appropriate amount of pep, given the circumstance.
His eyes widened. “Ooh! Hey, uh, Spinel,” he responded sheepishly, immediately combing his fingers through his hair in an effort to make himself look not as awful. “W-What brings you here?”
She smirked. Time to get this thing rolling. “It’s Friday, ya goof! Ya think you can just forget our weekly video game sesh?”
He balked. “Oh, crap! That was today?” Steven huffed in disgrace. “Damn it, I’m sorry, Spinel, really. It’s just - my whole mind’s been out of whack lately, and I’ve been -”
“Whoa, Steven,” Spinel interrupted, adopting a more gentle smile. “It’s okay. We don’t haveta play games if ya don’t want to. I just thought we could talk.” She folded her hands behind her back, rocking back and forth on her heels. “Can I come in?”
The young man stared at her. “…Yeah, alright,” he submitted, sounding tired.
Taking note of that, Spinel stepped inside. Oof. It looked like the whole place was actively trying to match Steven’s appearance. In the living room, bags of empty takeout were strewn around the coffee table and beside the couch. The kitchen didn’t look much better, with all the dirty plates cluttering the sink and whatnot.
“Sorry, let me clean this up,” he said after closing the door.
“No, no, don’t worry,” she stated, just wanting to get straight to the reason for her arrival. “It’s not too bad. Really, you should see Lapis's room. Place looks like a bomb went off there.”
Before Steven could protest, Spinel sat down on the couch. Reluctantly he joined her, giving a healthy bit of space between them.
She looked up at his downtrodden face. Hopefully this wouldn’t be too awkward, considering, well, her past feelings for him. They’ve stayed close friends since then, obviously, but there was still all that to remember. “Sooo… how’re you holding up?”
“…Mm,” he mumbled after a moment. “Not too good.”
“Yeah, I get it. Ya feel like - like you did somethin’ wrong, or that you -”
“It’s not what you think.”
Her eyebrows crinkled in confusion. “What?”
Swallowing, he peered over at her. There was an odd layer of guilt behind his eyes. “I just . . . I feel bad about... not feeling bad.”
“Whaddya mean?” she said, raising an eyebrow.
He appeared queasy. “I mean, we’ve been - we were dating for years! And now, after she called it off, I just feel, okay?? I mean, I'm sad, of course I feel sad. But like, I don't feel like the world is ending. And that just makes me wonder… what kind of person does that make me?” There was a genuine sense of confusion mixed with frustration in his voice. “Shouldn’t I be devastated? We - we had something!” He paused. “Right?”
It took Spinel a moment for her to reply. “…I mean…” She stopped, tucking in her lips. Oh, man. How was she supposed to respond to this? Sure, Connie and Steven never appeared to be the most lovey-dovey couple per se, so she could understand part of what he was saying. But she had always assumed that there was still a spark between them, no matter how tacit it could’ve seemed. Was he really putting all of that into doubt?
Steven’s apology prevented her from speaking further. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to unload all of that onto you.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” she reassured. “You needed to get that offa your chest. It just, wasn’t what I was expecting. That’s all.”
“Yeah,” he said, glumly. “I wasn’t expecting it either.”
Spinel thought. “Has anyone besides me, the Gems, and Greg helped you out on this?”
He nodded. “My therapist has been pretty helpful about this, giving me advice and all. And Marc, my coworker, gave me his condolences.”
“You make it sound like somebody died.”
“Shouldn’t it kind of feel like that?”
She didn’t have a perfect answer. “Are you mad at both yourself ‘n Connie? Or just you?”
“I’m not mad at her.” He folded his hands together. “I don’t blame her, honestly. We never really…,” Steven paused, flushing a bit in the cheeks, “made much progress. Our dates really just felt like we were kids; two friends, just hanging around. And when she said she wanted to break up, she was really respectful about it, and said she really wanted us to stay friends.”
“Will you?”
“Of course!”
“Then why are you still beating yourself up about it?”
He shook his head in an I don’t know manner. “I… I guess . . . it just felt nice, knowing that somebody cared about me in that way. I mean, I felt the same way. But now,” he frowned, “that’s gone. And I’m cursing myself over thinking so selfishly, and how it all just felt… pointless, in retrospect.”
Spinel took a moment to think. “Steven, I’m no love guru or anything, but ya shouldn’t give yourself such a hard time. Did you love her?”
“I thought I did,” Steven admitted.
“Romantic love doesn’t haveta be something… sexual. You told me that,” she reminded. “But if ya really just felt like friends the whole time - well, technically friends with benefits, kinda - then it probably wasn’t love.”
“I… I don’t know,” he sighed. “Maybe you’re right.”
Spinel twiddled her thumbs. “But, hey! You’re still gonna be friends! And who knows? Maybe you’ll soon might find a lady friend that’ll help ya get to second base.”
Despite himself, he snickered. “Spinel, c’mon,” he chuckled, giving her a playful shove on the shoulder.
Man, Steven’s gotten stronger, Spinel thought after feeling the force behind it, before absentmindedly shooing that comment out of her head.
“Um, thanks. I'll… I'll think about that,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. If Spinel wasn't mistaken, she swore she could see the smallest of smiles grace his lips as he said that.
“Glad I could help,” she said, grinning widely. “And, hey: you're not gonna feel one-hundred percent again overnight. If ya ever need to vent some more, or talk about anything, then just give me a call - I'll be there.”
That almost stunned Steven, hearing those words come from Spinel. It still surprised him at times, seeing the person Spinel became when compared to how they first met. “Thank you, Spinel. That really means a lot.” After a moment, he glanced over to his gaming console. “Do you still wanna play some games?”
“I wouldn’ta came over if that wasn’t gonna happen,” she joked. They both got a laugh out of that.
“You have anything in mind?” Steven asked as he approached the console and began rummaging through a box full of game cases.
“Hmm… gimme some Snakes: WMD.”
“You really like that game, huh?”
“I’m playin’ as a tiny lil’ snake dude with a rocket launcher, fightin’ other tiny lil’ snake dudes with rocket launchers. Of course I love it!”
He smirked. “Suit yourself.”
Steven tossed Spinel a controller as he got the game started up. Soon enough, they started playing. Snakes got beaten, shot, burned, and blown up by sheep in the most spectacularly cartoony ways imaginable. Out of the corner of her eye, Spinel noticed Steven’s attitude growing a bit brighter as the fun of the game flowed through him. Man, was she was itching for another hour or so of this.
Unfortunately, this session would have to be cut short. Her gal pals had other plans.
Feeling a buzzing in her pocket, Spinel fished out her phone. On the lockscreen sat a text message.
oompa loompa: hey sorry for the short notice but Emmanuel wants us to show up early to help prep the stage
It was Penelope. Instantly Spinel’s peepers blew open. “Aw, jeez!”
“What?” Steven asked, pausing the game.
“One of my friends from work texted ‘n said I gotta show up early,” she explained. The young adult looked at Steven apologetically. “I’m really sorry. We gotta cut this short.”
“Hey, don’t worry. Duty calls.”
Spinel met his understanding eyes with her own ashamed ones. She knew she wouldn’t - couldn’t - flake out on her buddies like that. She had a job to do. One that she absolutely loved doing, no less. Yet leaving Steven like this just felt plain wrong. Disrespectful. Like abandoning a friend in need. Man… if there was only a way that she could combine these issues into one, easy to solve package.
Oh, wait. Duh.
“Steven!”
“What?”
“You should totally come with me to my night gig!”
His face twisted into surprise. “Wait, really?”
She bobbled her head up and down. “Yeah! Think about it: you’ll get to come hang with me at work, get some fresh air, and watch me ‘n my pals sing!”
“I’ve seen you sing before. At your work, too.”
“That was, what, a couple months ago?” she countered. “Don’tcha think it’d be good to get outta the house for a little bit ‘n do something fun? Just unwind a lil’?”
Steven grumbled. “Mmm….”
“S’not like you got anything else better to do,” she reminded.
After a couple moments of deliberation, Steven nodded. She was right after all. This would be good for him. “Alright, alright. I’ll come.”
Spinel sprung up, clapping her hands. “Yippee! We’re gonna have so much fun!”
He couldn’t hold back a smile. “Hold your horses. I gotta go shave,” he stated, getting up off the couch and beginning to make his way towards the upstairs bathroom.
“Aw, c’mon Stevie. I heard caveman fashion is makin’ a comeback,” Spinel snarked.
Her quip got Steven to stop walking, as he turned around and looked at her with a wry, joking grin. “From what? Ice Age Monthly?”
She giggled. “Hey, I think you could pull it off!”
Steven grasped at his stubble, grinning subtly at the thought. “You really think so?”
“For sure.” She stepped towards the door, giving him a playful wink. “Meet me back down when you’re done!”
The slightest bit of red dusted his cheeks. “Gotcha.”