An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Summary: His family’s not present, the third time he runs away. They never see the creature he becomes.
Time skip this chapter. I have some meta notes on the time period I’ve chosen for Steven’s corruption in the end notes of the AO3 copy, if you’re interested.
MISSING PERSON
Have you seen me?
Steven Quartz Universe
16 years old, 5’5”, curly dark brown hair.
Missing since March 10th, 2017, from Beach City, Delmarva. Last seen wearing light blue jeans, sandals, and a black t-shirt with a yellow star. Occasionally glows pink.
If you have any information about his whereabouts, please contact the following number: 340-782-7572
One week to the day since the Gems last saw him, and there’s no sign of his reappearance. No new clues. Nothing.
One whole week, and all Greg Universe has to show for it is a van in disarray, two empty boxes of tissues, more cans of cheap hard cider than is probably healthy for one man, and a few startling realizations.
Namely, that there’s no perfect word to describe that unusual brand of grief a parent experiences when they’re mourning the loss of a child who isn’t even (knowably) deceased.
He’s lost track of his son before, of course, but not like this. Not for this excruciating length of time. Not without at least knowing the name of the planet he’s trapped on. And that’s the crux of their issue, really, searching for Steven. With a whole galactic warp network at his fingertips, he could quite literally be anywhere.
Rebelling against that oh-so-familiar crushing weight that threatens to stamp down on his chest and drown him in his own sorrow, he grabs the top sheet of paper from his stack and aligns it next to the old missing dog advert that’s been hanging there dejectedly for the past year and a half. Sighing heavily and angling to avoid his son’s smiling reference image, he picks a thumbtack from the box he’s brought along and uses it to secure one corner of his flyer on the hole-ridden cork board. He’s sure that some people— gesturing to his earlier logic— might question why he’s bothering to hang missing person flyers on little, unassuming Earth when he knows his son might have disappeared to any corner in the known galaxy. In some respects he agrees with them. There’s no guarantee Steven is still on this planet. Given how little information they possess, there’s not even any guarantee that he’s alive. But even amongst so many heart wrenching unknowns, Greg owes it to himself and his own mental stability to try something.
Anything, if only to help.
“Thanks for letting me hang this up in here,” he says, pressing one last thumbtack through the opposing top corner of the flyer.
“Hey, that’s what the community board’s for, right?” Barb Miller chirps in an overly chipper tone as she sorts the last of today’s mail behind the desk “It’s no problem. No problem at all. In fact, if you want, I could probably hang up some more of these for ya’ as I head on my route today.”
He firmly shakes his head, picking the thick stack of papers off the counter and clutching them tight within his grasp. He yearns for a kinder reality in which he could’ve shielded his son from the dangers of this world in the same manner.
“That’s all right. I’ll do it myself. I could use the work, y’know? Keep my mind off things, and all.”
Barb’s expression fills with sympathy. “Yeah, ‘course,” she says, scratching at the nape of her neck. “Listen, I, uh... I’m really sorry to hear about Steven. He’s a real good kid.”
Greg merely nods, his emotions on the matter still far too raw to manage a vocal response. And who can blame him? This isn’t the first time he’s experienced the soul-crushing weight of loss. Silently, he turns on his heels and leaves her to her far less depressing duties.
“Too good,” he mumbles under his breath as he closes the post office door behind him, holding his supply of missing person flyers. “He deserved better.”
