AN: I don't remember when exactly I wrote this, but it was a birthday present for August (yarnwithpictures) a while back. I'm posting it now so that they can reread it, but I hope other people get some enjoyment out of it, too. See the end for the prompt.

At first, your visit creates more questions than it answers.

You are a wreck. Like, a huge, fucking wreck. I'm instantly grateful that Garnet was the one to answer the door because before she even gets your name out, you're drowning out her voice with your sobbing, eyelashes thick with tears and hugging yourself. Your hair is not in its usual pert bob but stringy and messy, as though you'd just rolled out of bed, and your clothes are far more casual than you'd usually wear out. Especially in the evening.

I watch from afar as Garnet pulls you into a hug and shuts the door behind you. She strokes your hair and you cry into her shoulder. Neither of you say anything or even acknowledge me and I wouldn't know how to help even if I were asked to, so I take the remains of my TV dinner to my bedroom. After a brief hesitation I push the door shut with my foot, careful not to make too much sound, and sit cross-legged on my unmade bed. My laptop is open in front of me where I'd left it earlier, the screen black and empty. My reflection looks back at me for a moment with a slight frown and then I shut the laptop and push it aside.

I don't leave my room again for the rest of the night.

I know who you are, of course. I consider you a friend at this point. We met during our senior year of college through Garnet— she'd been my assigned roommate that year; you were already living off-campus, I guess. I think you two met in some club or sport during high school or something, long before I knew either of you.

I might never have met you at all had I not become friends with Garnet. I learned your name and face from some pictures Garnet showed me a few times, but she's never forthcoming, especially about the details of someone else's life. And the school was so big, you could go all four years without knowing more than half of the people in your graduating class. Besides, I shared no classes with either you or Garnet and especially compared to her, you didn't stand out much. On top of that, you never came to our dorm. Apparently you saw Garnet a fair amount around campus, though. So I didn't actually meet you until I started hanging out with Garnet and those became the only times I ever saw you during that year.

We got along alright. Our relationship was kind of superficial, I guess. I mean, I had fun spending time with you. We bantered and joked a lot and it was easy to get under your skin without actually wounding you. Even after we all graduated and Garnet and I decided to stay roommates and rent an apartment together, spending time with you was never unpleasant. On occasion, especially in public, I could see a little bit of how awkward and anxious you could be, but it was never that way when it was just the three of us hanging out.

Talking to you was always easy and effortless, but still meaningless. Never serious.

I don't know how to do serious.

I find you the next morning sitting at our tiny kitchen table, eyes downcast and listlessly swirling a spoon in a bowl of cereal. You're wearing Garnet's pajamas, which are snug on her but baggy on you. The collar is damp from your dripping hair. You smell of Garnet's shampoo. I pour myself my own bowl of cereal and head back to my room.

On a weekend morning like this, Garnet and I would eat breakfast together, either at the table or on the couch in front of the television. So when I pass Garnet on my way, we pause and look at one another.

"Uh," I say. I look down at my cereal. Garnet hums.

"I think we might be out of hot water for a day or two," she says.

I smirk. "Figures she'd be an early bird."

She looks beyond me, somewhere above my head. "Come on. Let's go eat breakfast."

I am in no position to argue.

At first, you're not talkative. Sometimes you wipe beaded tears from the corners of your eyes, but mostly your gaze is fixed downward while Garnet and I make small talk. We're trying to put you at ease by not focusing on you, by making it feel as though this isn't weird at all. Garnet is decidedly better at this than I am.

Garnet waits until I'm rinsing our bowls in the sink (your cereal is mostly untouched and thoroughly soggy, but I don't say anything) to address you at all. She says, "You can stay here as long as you need to, Pearl."

I look over my shoulder to meet Garnet's eyes over your head and then go back to the dishes.

"Are you…" you begin to say. It's the first I've heard you speak since you got here last night. I assume Garnet must make some sort of gesture or expression to indicate her insistence because you finish by saying, "I… thank you. Both of you."

"No prob, P," I say as I rinse out the last bowl.

"Of course, Pearl," Garnet says.

You sniff.

Garnet and I both have off from work on Saturdays, so the three of us spend the entire day lazing around on the couch, watching television. You and I sit on the ends with Garnet in the middle. Throughout the day, no matter what we're watching, your phone doesn't leave your hands for more than a few minutes at a time, though I haven't seen nor heard it light up, vibrate, or ding once. At some point, as you reach out to pick up your phone from our coffee table for the umpteenth time, Garnet rests a hand on your forearm.

You give a shaky sigh and pull back, opting to wrap your arm around hers instead and lean your head on her shoulder. I look away and focus on the show.

It is not until Tuesday that I learn why you're staying with us. You took yesterday off from work and forced yourself to go back today, so you're not home yet when Garnet corners me as soon as I get home from my shift.

"Geez, Garnet, what—" I begin to say, tossing my shoes across my room.

"It's about Pearl," she says. My shoulders slump.

"Uh, yeah?" I ask, folding my arms and leaning against the doorjamb.

"You deserve to know why she's staying with us."

I shrug. "Eh, I don't mind her," I say. "She's alright. Cleans up after herself. Not too noisy."

Truth be told, I couldn't say either of those things about myself and I'm sure Garnet would love to take the opportunity to make a quip about it.

"I already knew you'd be fine with it. That's not why we're having this conversation," she says.

I narrow my eyes. "How did you know that?"

"Amethyst."

My arms fall to my sides and I look down at my feet. "What?"

"Do you remember Jasper?"

I do. Jasper and Garnet did kickboxing together. I watched them spar one afternoon years ago when I had nothing else to do. I remember being impressed because not many people, especially those who were born female, were bigger than Garnet, but Jasper was. They were no match for Garnet, but Garnet didn't snag an easy win, either.

"Yeah. You were kickboxing buddies."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Garnet smile a little for a fleeting moment. "Pearl has been in a committed relationship with them since our sophomore year of college. They've been living together since senior year."

That would explain why you were living off-campus that year. I can't picture the two of you together—big, buff Jasper, all wild hair, eyes, and aggression, and little, petite, demure you, all frills, pastels, and delicacy. But then I realize that was, perhaps, the appeal. How well you two might've complemented each other. Maybe Jasper needed some coddling and you needed some discipline.

"So, did…"

"They had a messy breakup on Friday," Garnet says, filling in the blanks. "But it's for the best."

"Okay. Is that it?"

Having you here is not an issue for me. I go to work like always and go through our regular routines. There's a little less talking between me and Garnet maybe but that's okay. For the most part, I try to stay out of your way. You have work too and you're still not quite the way you normally are, but you're at least starting to become recognizable by the time the end of the week rolls around.

So far, Garnet's handled a lot of the tricky details, things like getting your clothes and toiletries from your old apartment and carrying them home in large cardboard boxes. We don't have a third bedroom, so you've been sleeping on the couch and your stuff ends up scattered around the apartment. I don't mind the clutter and neither does Garnet, but in your characteristic moments, you fret about how messy it is and how much of an imposition you are. This may have been why you never visited our dorm. Garnet is always sure to reassure you that it's all fine, really not a problem. But you can't quite let it go. While still infrequent, it's getting easier to see you the way I knew you.

Thursday night, or perhaps very early Friday morning, I'm watching some show on my computer since tomorrow—or today—is one of my days off. Between episodes, I hear your muffled sobbing long after Garnet's asleep. You're too preoccupied with your face pressed into the corner of the couch to notice me so I tiptoe around and leave a couple of Advil and a glass of water on the coffee table. I sneak back to my room to watch another episode.

I wake up the next morning as Garnet's departing for work, leaving the two of us alone in the apartment for the first and only time since you've been staying here. It takes me a little longer to drag myself out of bed and get ready for the day.

It's late morning and I find you sitting on the couch when I come in. I pretend not to notice you watch me move around the kitchen as I prepare myself a bowl of cereal.

"Thank you for the Advil, Amethyst," you say as I'm pouring milk into my bowl.

"Don't mention it." I take my time returning the milk to the fridge. When I turn to face you, bowl in hand, I muster a smile. "So, uh. Um." Your face is blank. I force my grin to be a little wider. "Hey, uh, so, what's wrong with your face today?"

You give me a quivery smile and turn away. "Hey, wait," I say, walking around to stand in front of you. Your head is bowed. "Uh, Pearl?"

Your hands come up to cover your face and your shoulders start shaking. I hurry to put my bowl on the coffee table. "Hey, hey," I say, running my fingers through my hair. "Pearl? Oh, shit."

I sit with you on the couch, leaving a respectable distance between us. "Pearl, hey, c'mon, I didn't mean it." You're trembling all over now and I can see the tears leaking from between your splayed fingers so I try inching a tiny bit closer. "I was trying to be funny! Your face is fine, I promise. I was just…"

It's no use, so I try to think of what Garnet would do. It doesn't work. At a loss, I move to sit right next to you. "Is this okay? Uh." You've pulled your knees up to your chest now and wrapped your arms around them. "Do you… want to wipe your eyes on my sleeve? Or something." I hold my arm out next to you but when that doesn't get your attention, I say, "or, uh, how about a… nice side hug? Eh?"

You don't reject it so I maneuver to wrap my arm around your shoulders as much as possible. I'm smaller than you and you're not responding at all so it's not very comfortable, but nonetheless I stay there, feeling your heaving breaths and your pointy shoulder blades under your own freshly laundered blouse. This close, you smell light and airy, if such a thing is possible. Nothing like Garnet's muskier shampoo. More like your own.

Never one for tact or subtlety, in a split second you're clinging onto me, your hands gripping the back of my jumper like a lifeline and your face buried in the hollow underneath my collarbone. "It's—it's okay, Pearl," I say, patting your back with one hand. I can feel your tears and snot soaking into my jumper, but in a moment of confidence I stop patting and wrap both arms around you, pulling you into me. I'm pretty sure this is what Garnet did when you first showed up on our doorstep.

I let you cry. I don't know what else to do. When the intensity seems to ebb a little, I rest my cheek against the top of your head, rubbing your back up and down and closing my eyes. We've never been this close before. All I can hear and smell and feel is you, your soft hair and warm face and the fresh, aromatic scent that's all you. I take a deep breath. "You smell pretty good," I say.

It gets a laugh out of you and you pull away to look at me. Your eyes are watery and red and your nose is dripping. "Really, Amethyst?" you ask me, but it sounds more like you than I've heard all week.

"Yeah, really," I say. The goofy smile comes naturally.

You laugh again and look away, your whole body shuddering as you sigh. "Thank you, Amethyst." Your voice is heavy and low and I can feel it heating my wrists and fingertips.

"Any time, P."

When you smile at me this time it's less tenuous and more affectionate, but it only lasts a second before you zero in on the wet patch by my shoulder. "Oh, that's disgusting," you say, wrinkling your nose. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't sweat it," I say, standing up. "I'll just go change real quick. And then…"

"We should probably go grocery shopping," you suggest. I raise an eyebrow. "We've been working all week and with me here, you must be low on food."

"Sure, why not?" Garnet will appreciate getting a break from that particular chore this week. "Just give me a minute and we can go, if you're ready."

"You didn't even eat your breakfast," you say, pointing to my bowl that's been sitting, neglected, on the coffee table.

"It's probably gross by now anyway," I say, bringing my bowl into the kitchen. On my way back to my room I pass behind the couch and pause, looking down at your disheveled hair. "Uh, Pearl?"

"Yes, Ameth—"

As soon as I can see your face I lean down to press a kiss to your temple. It surprises both of us.

"You deserve so much better than them. And I promise your face is more than fine," I say, pulling away and winking at you as I head down the hallway to my room. Your laughter follows me out.

AN: If anyone knows where to find the exact prompt for this, please let me know so I can give proper credit. It was something along the lines of, "Hey, what's wrong with your face today? Oh shit, I didn't mean to upset you, please don't cry."