Hi everyone! This is my first fan fiction that I've posted online in about seven years (yikes) - hopefully you enjoy it. I guess disclaimer: I don't own Steven Universe or these characters; and trigger warning (possibly): Lars talks about his mental health and there's alcohol mentioned.
This takes place either before the most recent SU episodes or as if the most recent events didn't happen.
Chapter One: Too Little, Too Late
Horror Movie Night #1 took place on a Friday after work and was at Lars's house. He had two beanbag chairs set up in front of his TV and enough popcorn for ten people. We ate all of it and made vulgar jokes as people were murdered on-screen. I stayed until 3 AM and then drove home half asleep in the darkness.
Horror Movie Night #2 took place the next Friday after work and was at my house. He brought two six packs of beer and a pizza that we destroyed. I threw pillows and blankets on the floor in front of my TV and we laid on them, sipping beer, our arms rubbing against each other's every now and again. He stayed until 4 AM because we found a drinking game to go along with the movie and he couldn't drive home until his buzz wore off.
Horror Movie Night #3 took place the next Friday after work and was at Lars's house. I was exhausted after closing by myself and fell asleep at 2 AM nestled in the beanbag chair. It smelled disgustingly like Lars's skin. I was in and out of sleep as I felt him lay a blanket over my body and whisper goodnight. When I woke up in the morning, he was fast asleep in his bed just a few feet away. I left before he woke up.
Horror Movie Night #4 took place the next Friday after work and was at my house. Instead of the typical blanket-pillow makeshift getup, Lars and I lay on my bed together, on our stomachs, resting our elbows on the blanket and propping our heads up. We bumped elbows a couple times when laughing at the bad special effects and I was close enough to see the bags under his eyes and a hole in his sleeve. I wondered how he always wore long sleeve shirts even in the hottest weather. He stayed until 2 AM and then hugged me goodbye. "I look forward to Horror Movie Night all week, P-2."
"Me too." It was all I could manage to say back.
Horror Movie Night #5 took place the next Friday after work and was at Lars's house. Lars kicked the beanbag chairs to the side of his room and we hopped onto his bed. I wrapped a blanket around my body and popped open a beer while Lars put on the movie. "Now this is one you haven't seen before."
"Oh really?" I wondered out loud, knowing I damn well had seen every horror movie known to man. He sat next to me and took a sip of his own beer, glancing over at me as the opening credits began to play. I didn't recognize the movie. "Lars Barriga. Did you actually find a horror movie that I haven't seen?"
"I searched high and low for this crusty old VHS," he laughed. "You better be grateful."
"I am very grateful," I leaned over and kissed his cheek for some unknown reason – I was only half a beer deep and we hadn't spoken about the island or the hand holding or anything really in months.
He didn't react or respond to the kiss, he just kept staring at the TV screen as his cheeks burned a deep pink. He took a long sip of beer and after a while, his skin returned to normal. By then, we were both invested in the movie.
We didn't speak at all; there were no jokes to be made, because the movie was really good. In the back of my mind, I couldn't help but wonder if my ridiculously inappropriate kiss was the reason he wasn't speaking – but when I glanced over at him, he was watching more intently than I'd ever seen him.
The movie ended and we had four more beers in our second six pack. "Wanna finish these before you leave?" He asked. "We need to talk about that movie, anyway."
I nodded and we each opened another bottle. We sat cross legged on his bed, facing each other, the TV's static buzzing in the background. "Did you like the ending?"
"I usually hate endings where everyone dies, but that was pretty damn good." He leaned in closer. "Did you see how real the monster looked, though?"
"Lars," I laughed, "monsters can't look real because they're not real."
"You can't say monsters aren't real. How'd you get this, then?" He placed his hand on my cheek and thumbed my scar. I felt a shock run through my body emanating from the warmth of his skin against mine. Every moment of our island adventure ran through my mind including our kiss, and as I stared back at him, I couldn't answer. Luckily, he added, "I guess gems are aliens, not monsters, though, huh?"
His hand dropped from my face. It was dark in his room, the only light coming from the TV and the moon outside, shimmering in through his window and illuminating his skin slightly.
"I never thanked you for that," he mumbled, looking away from me, picking at the label on his beer bottle. "As much as it hurt me, I get that you were just trying to help me and I appreciate it."
"I'm sorry that I did that to you. And I'm sorry I lit you on fire that one time." The words broke out of my mouth like prisoners aching to escape a prison.
"I'm sorry for all of the times I lied to you and pushed you away." Silence filled the room, the TV flickering off when I shifted my weight and my thigh accidentally pressed the power button on the remote.
"Thanks for finding this movie for me tonight."
We leaned in closer and he pressed his forehead against mine. I could smell the alcohol on his lips and moved away, letting out a sigh. He was such a lightweight. I brought my bottle to my lips and tipped it back, finishing my bottle as quickly as possible.
The label on his bottle was completely torn off and he began to rip up some bits of it and fold other bits of it. I remembered his words the last time we had an intimate moment like this: Do you ever get lonely... even when you're around people?
Even though we never spoke about it again, I started offering to go with him when the cool kids invited him to things. I watched him start to go out more and talk more around them, as long as I was sitting next to him.
"Do you ever feel like there's no reason for you to live anymore?" He looked up at me suddenly, a pained expression on his face. I was too shocked at the bluntness of his question to answer. "Thanks for giving me something to look forward to every week."
Unsure how to respond, I grabbed his beer and put both our bottles on his night stand before pulling him into a hug. It was the first time we'd hugged outside of goodbyes or other formalities. He was stiff at first but after a couple seconds, he wrapped his arms around me and rested his head on my shoulder.
"I think I need help," he spat out before sniffling. He was drunk, but he was sad, and I could feel it in the weight he was putting on my shoulder as he cried.
"You deserve help and happiness." My hand made its way to the back of his head, holding him close as my fingers got tangled in his curls.
We laid down eventually, his head resting on my chest and his arm falling across my body, fingers digging into my arm. He cried for a while and I held him close, running my fingers over the skin of his neck and shoulders. When his breathing steadied, he loosened his grip and fell asleep.
I woke up at 8 AM to a sausage, egg, and cheese McGriddle and a coffee being handed to me. Then we carpooled to work.
Horror Movie Night #6 did not take place the next Friday after work because Lars canceled last minute. Literally last minute. We were closing early, like we always did on Fridays, and he wasn't supposed to come over for another few hours, but just like that, he dropped the bomb: "I can't do Horror Movie Night tonight. I have something… to do."
"Oh, okay." I didn't ask any questions because I knew what was going on – the same thing that always happened with Lars. We got close, he opened up, and then he pushed me away and reminded me that I was worthless. What pissed me off the most was how normal he acted every other day of the week – as if nothing had happened between us, as always, but as if nothing was going to change, either – we would just continue having our Horror Movie Nights every Friday. "You can leave early if you need to."
He nodded and headed to the back to get his stuff. Before he left, he waved to me and said, "I'll text you later."
I stood behind the counter and began to cry as I counted the money. I wiped my eyes with my sleeve before spraying the donut case with Windex and beginning to clean it, when I heard the front door's bell jingle. I turned to see who had walked in – it was Buck Dewey.
"Hey Donut Girl," he said, his voice always cool, calm, and collected. I wiped one last tear from my eye as he leaned against the counter and peered at me through his sunglasses. "Quick question."
"What's up, Buck?" I paused what I was doing to face him, wondering if he knew my real name. If he did, he never used it.
"Are you free next Friday night? You wanna see a movie together, or something? We could make a date out of it."
I hesitated. "I, ah, um, uh," I stammered before taking a breath and thinking about things. "Sure."
"Cool. I'll plan everything and text you the details in a few days. Can I get a couple chocolate frosted to go while I'm here?"
"Yeah, definitely." I opened the case and grabbed him two donuts. I bagged them before throwing in an extra – "I threw in an extra for you, no charge."
"Thanks, Sadie. See you around." He knew my name. He handed me crumpled up bills and lifted his sunglasses to wink at me before taking the bag and leaving. I saw him let out a sigh of relief once he was outside – it couldn't be possible that Buck Dewey was nervous about asking me out, right?
I blew my nose, which was runny from my five seconds of crying over Lars, before finishing up closing and heading home. I didn't want to waste my Friday night, so I put on my favorite horror movie and cuddled up in bed with a bottle of wine, when my cell phone vibrated.
Was Buck texting me the details of our date already?
Excited, I unlocked my phone – but I only saw "1 New Message: Lars B."
"I have work until 3 tomorrow. Can I come over after for a special Saturday edition of Horror Movie Night?"
I opened the camera and took a photo of my wine glass and TV in the background, sending it to him with the caption "Too little, too late. Having Horror Movie Night tonight without you."
He answered almost immediately: "If I leave now, I can be at your house in five minutes."
Aggravated, I responded, "Didn't you have something to do tonight?"
Another immediate response: "I'm done sooner than I expected."
Weak, I texted back the eye-roll emoji and "Get over here. I can't finish this bottle of wine by myself."
Horror Movie Night #6 took place that Friday night, a little later than usual, in our pajamas and in my bed. When he rang my doorbell, I opened the door a little tipsy and shouting, "hurry, hurry, it's at the best part!"
We ran down the stairs; I nearly tripped on the last step before he caught me. We laughed and stumbled into my bed, getting comfortable as I poured him a glass of wine. As the main character of the movie steadied her knife and stabbed the monster, Lars and I clinked our glasses together and he said "cheers to Horror Movie Night."
"Do I dare ask what it is that you had to do?" I asked reluctantly, taking a sip of my wine and sighing.
He laughed. "I had a sudden burst of courage and needed to take advantage of it before it went away. I sat down with my parents and talked about, you know, talking to someone."
When I thought he was blowing me off to push me away, I was disgusted with myself for being so worthless to him. But I was even more disgusted with myself as I realized how awful it was of me to assume his reasons for blowing me off – when he was actually doing something incredibly important.
"I thought the conversation would go really bad," he shrugged, "I didn't know what state of mind I'd be in afterwards."
"But it went well?" I felt myself smile at him. He smiled back.
"Yeah."
He stayed the night. We slept in my bed together, back to back, the sound of his breathing lulling me to sleep.