Steven’s hand ghosted gently over Connie’s cheek. He smiled lightly and brushed a strand of hair from out of her eyes, letting out a soft sigh. “You’ll be okay.”
“N-no I wo-won’t,” she retorted, hiccoughing hard enough to jolt herself thee centimeters to the right. She furiously rubbed away the tears bubbling at her eyes and crossed her arms, leaning away from Steven. “I’ll go to school and yo-you’ll continue doing m-magic things with the Ge-Gems. You’ll st-stop calling m-me and then I’ll b-be alone again!”
Steven was shocked, “But you were fine last year!”
“B-but last year wa-was the whole Yellow Diamond thing an-and I had enough of this story to last me all school year, plu-plus I was co-coming back for spr-spring break because I didn’t have that e-extra studies thing and—“
Steven interrupted, placing his finger against her lips gently and shushing her. He stood up, pulled his phone out, hit a few buttons, and stuck it in the sand. A soft tune on the guitar emanated from the device. He stood up and faced her with one hand placed over his eyes and the other extended towards her in a gesture that was familiar. “C’mere and dance with me. Dancing always makes you feel better, doesn’t it? And we’re all alone. No one to stare. Just you...and me.”
Sniffing, she stood up, wiped her nose on the back of her arm, and took his hand. The song resonated softly with the rise and fall of the waves and the two of them swayed back and forth gently, Connie leaning her head into Steven’s curly hair.
It had been a year since the Yellow Diamond incident and Steven had grown out his hair quite a bit, changing the style as frequently as he changed his pronouns and his clothing choice. Within the last three-hundred and sixty-five days, Steven had tried on female, male, and genderless pronouns in any combination; he had tried fifty-odd different clothing aesthetics, each one more ridiculous than the last, yet somehow they all screamed “Steven Quartz Universe”; and he had done his hair up in a variety of longer styles, never stopping to think about what was “appropriate for a boy his age”. Steven was wild and fearless. He was bright and ephemeral. He was a shining star.
Connie was not.
Connie was a creature made of mud and sticks, a pathetic imitation of life that only looked good when compared to other mud-people. Her hair was too long and too straight and too coarse. Her eyes were an ugly shade of plain-Jane brown and her nose was hooked and hawkish, not cute and upturned like a girl’s should be. Her eyebrows were too thick and she had pudge on her waist and her toes were crooked and stubby and her skin was too dark. She was a joke. She didn’t deserve him.
Steven picked up on her distress and spun her around, smiling down at her when he dipped her down. He began to sing along with the song as they swayed on the beach. “Love sings a song as she sails through the skies. The water looks bluer through her pretty eyes. And everyone knows it whenever she flies, and also when she comes down.” It took her a second to realize that he was singing to her and about her and for her. She let a small smile play across her lips and she took the lead while he serenaded her. “Hate keeps his head up and walks through the street. Every stranger and drifter he greets. And shakes hands with every loner he meets with a serious look on his face.” She leaned in close to him as they danced a small four-step sway, closing her eyes and allowing herself to be lost in the sound of his voice and the movement of their dance. “Love arrives safely with suitcase in tow. Carrying with her the good things we know. A reason to live and a reason to grow. To trust. To hope. To care.” She felt a warmth envelop her and the strange-yet-familiar feeling of fusing with Steven spread through her.
Stevonnie danced by themselves for a bit, singing the song in a voice much like Connie’s own reedy mezzo-soprano, enjoying the feeling of being themselves. “Hate sits alone on the hood of his car. Without much regard to the moon or the stars. Lazily killing the last of a jar of the strongest stuff you can drink.”
Their dancing took them to a clear tide-pool where they observed their reflection. This time—for each fusion had yielded a different result—they looked more like Connie than Steven, save for the hair. A part of themselves flushed in shame and tried to pull away but their other half refused, sitting down.
“Why?” They asked themselves. “Why this way? Why so much like me and so little like you?”
“Why not?” They replied, smiling warmly and leaning back to gaze at the stars.
“Because,” they shouted, “I’m nothing! I’m ugly! Even I don’t want to look like me so why would you want us to look like me?”
“Well let’s look down and see what we have this time, shall we?” They leaned forward and gazed at their reflection, tracing each feature as they commented. “I see the skin color you got from your parents—that nice dark color that makes anything you wear look great, especially spring colors.”
“It’s just a muddy brown,” they retorted, sullenly looking away and desperately trying to ignore the waves of emotions flowing through them from Steven’s experience.
“I see the nose you got from your mother; the sharp, distinguished angle of it making for both a commanding and a cute figure, like a bird.”
“It’s not cute at all,” they argued, though much weaker than before. Steven’s love permeated their body and they realized that everything that that part of them was saying was true. It didn’t make it any easier though. “I see fat, lots of it, and ugly toes.”
“Well I see toes that make soft indentations in the sand and are perfect for tickling and I see a healthy person who is confident in their appearance.”
Tears welled up in their eyes, “But that’s just it! I’m not confident. And no one at school likes me.”
They separated gently—much different than their first attempt a year ago—and Steven wrapped his arms around Connie’s shoulder and hugged her close, plopping down on the beach. “Well I like you. And you know you can call me at any time. Well,” he revised, “Almost any time. I can’t promise I’ll pick up if I’m in the middle of a Gem thing cause, well, you know. I can’t help the gems and talk on the phone at the same time. You know I’m no good at multitasking.”
She giggled, remembering the time he tried talking to her and playing one of his GameCube games at the same time. He wound up forgetting to save and losing three hours of play-time. Then she sobered up again, “I wish you could come with me.” She hugged her knees close to her chest. “I get so lonely.”
Steven leaned in closer to her and sat his head on her shoulder, “Well you know,” he said in a singsong, “You could always, and this is a radical idea and all, but you could try and make new friends.”
Connie mock-gasped and elbowed him in the chest. “How dare you,” she deadpanned, “and here I thought I was the smart one. You’ve put me to shame.”
“I’m just sayin’,” Steven replied, chuckling and rubbing where she punched him. They sat in silence for a while, just enjoying the last tones of the song. Steven lets out a content sigh and leans against Connie, snuggling into the crook of her neck. She smiled back and relaxed. It might be a while before Connie got to see Steven again in person—unless one of them made an extreme effort—but maybe she’d be okay. Just maybe she’d make some new friends.
After all, if Steven thought she was great, why shouldn’t she?
Hate stumbles forward and leans in the door. Weary head hung down, eyes to the floor. He says "Love, I'm sorry", and she says, "What for? I'm yours and that's it, Whatever. I should not have been gone for so long. I'm yours and that's it, forever." You're mine and that's it, forever.
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To me there is nothing more heinous than misrepresenting a religion or culture. Do not just rely on Wikipedia, look at dozens of other sites because you may come across something biased--especially when dealing with religion or culture.
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