Chapter Text
ending his life is a joint effort. it’s just a side effect of being who he is, the way he is; nothing is ever easy for the halfling prince of the stars. end the body, end the gem, and it’ll all be over.
he goes to sleep a hybrid, mumbles a small request before falling slump in the bathtub. seventeen years of, quite frankly, misery. seventeen years of traumatic event after traumatic event, countless assassination attempts one after the other, a million secrets his mother kept from the universe; they all stack up and choke at him, drive his body towards the cabinet in the bathroom and lead his hands, carefully, to the clear orange bottle of sleeping pills. it’s late at night when he pops them in, and then another, and another; he doesn’t realize what he’s doing, even, until it’s far too late.
he thinks he dreams of nothing. mask island, splitting in half. the garden, pristine and beautiful — and his own garden, forgotten and dying. the stars, up there, and the reminder that he can never truly save everyone, because that includes himself and he’s beyond repair.
he goes to sleep a hybrid. he goes to sleep, steven universe (renounced the middle name, held onto what was only his), and when he opens his eyes he’s not himself.
the bathroom glows magenta and he’s staring at his organic body. his chest rises and falls, still, but it’s slowing, slowing…
he wants to be with himself. he wants—
he doesn’t want that. it hurts, being steven. it’s awful. his heart always feels like lead, his hands shiver too much, he can’t ever say what matters when it counts.
what does he want, then, he wonders? he looks at the dying body once more, looks at the boy that should be himself, and turns towards the door.
the house is empty, it seems, after his last outburst. he scans the residence anyway and heads straight into his room in the temple, makes his way into pearl’s.
what does he want?
ending his life is a joint effort.
does he want that? or did steven simply assume—
does he want this?
pearl follows him out the instant she sees him. when she sees the body her reaction is even worse. it’s as if she’s mad with the world; he can’t blame her.
it still stings when she calls him ‘pink’.
ending his life is a joint effort. it wouldn’t take long to shatter his own gem.
does he want that?
pearl attends a phone call and soon the house is filled to the brim with gems, humans, friends of the body. it’s disorientating. he needs to escape — he needs to guard the body.
his chest still rises, still falls.
“can’t you heal him?,” peridot asks him. they all hover anxiously behind her.
“self-inflicted,” he replies.
“that didn’t answer my question at all.”
he doesn’t give her an answer, not yet. he can heal the body. he knows he can. he’s done it before.
why is he hesitating now?
does he want this?
“this is a waste of time,” lapis scoffs. her arms scoop the body up, and he’s right by her side immediately. “let’s go to the fountain.”
“no,” he says. everyone looks at him: pearl is horrified, garnet is stoic and all mighty stop that amethyst is angry and greg is—
dad is crying.
“why not?!,” he thinks he hears some gem say. he doesn’t know who it is. he can’t make himself reply.
it’s a joint effort. so why is he taking the body from lapis’ embrace?
death would be so easy, now. summon the shield, shatter yourself before anyone can stop you. and he craves it. his fingers ache. his whole being is tired. even his gemsong is quieter, now, like a whisper in a library. he’s not even sure of what he is when he’s like this. he’s not even steven , not entirely . he doesn’t know who he is. he doesn’t want to be this anymore. summon the shield, slam it against your gem. it would be comically fast.
why is he saving him then, tears of mercy rolling down his glowing skin, if this is what he wants?