Disclaimer: I don't own Steven Universe!
Title: I don't need the world to see, I've been the best I can be
Summary: Greg and Barb become an item, forcing Sadie and Steven to find middle ground between their hectic lives.
Chapter Title: Big holes in yo heart
Setting: Right after Prickly Pair
...
Steven woke up to a hand smashing into his jaw. His head flew back, eyes wide, as Connie thrashed and rolled over, taking some of his pride with her. He sat up, then almost wished he hadn't, stomach turning.
The greenhouse was beautiful, if you didn't count the giant hole in it. Steven had been transfixed by it, by the aching sense of relatability. At some point, somehow, Connie had come to sit with him. And there was a sleeping bag. And here they were.
"What a mess," he muttered, mushing up his hair.
Connie was a restless sleeper, moreso than he ever was, so when she didn't react to his words he looked at her, half-expecting her to be awake. She wasn't. Her features were pinched and her fingers dug into the fabric of the sleeping bag. He watched as it tore under her strong grip.
"Connie," Steven said, giving her a firm shake.
She jolted, giving him a kick for good measure. "Steven?" she whispered, wiping a hand across her face. "Fuck, what time is it?"
"I have... no idea. Are you okay?"
"Bad dreams." Connie shifted her legs under the covers. "Aqua and Topaz."
They seemed to be bothering her a lot, recently. "Why them?"
She shrugged. "I think it's because I couldn't really move? I can do so many things now, but I couldn't do anything when it mattered."
Steven gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Hey, don't beat yourself up over it."
Connie snorted. "Look around, Universe. You're the least allowed out of the people we know to give me that advice."
The boy flinched, shifting his gaze to the hole again. The edges were jagged and pointy, but the overall shape was around his size. He imagined pushing through it, bloody and raw. What world would he walk into?
"I'm sorry," Connie said, sensing she'd made an error.
"S'okay."
"It's not, though. What're you thinking about?"
"Intrusive thoughts. I mean, that's not what I'm thinking about, but that's what they are." Steven recognized them well enough by now, having suffering from multiple reoccurring ones. "Connie, is something wrong with me?"
"No."
"Connie."
"What? I'm being serious. Considering half of what you've been through, you're remarkably functional."
"Oh." He squeezed the fabric over his stomach. "So I'm just... blowing things out of proportion?"
"You literally aren't." She gave his shoulder a solid punch. "This isn't black and white, you doofus. You've been through hella trauma- it's perfectly natural that that would affect your day-to-day life. You know what you need?"
"Oh, stars, don't say it."
"A therapist."
"Connie, that's literally my job. I'd be doing the opposite of my job if I got one of those."
"That's... not how anything works? Ever? In the history of working?" Connie's glare softened at the truly puzzled expression on Steven's face. She reluctantly leaned her cheek on his shoulder. "I know you aren't ready for that. I'm not forcing you. I mean, I'm being pushy about it, but I never want you to do something just for me, alright? Especially something like therapy. That's something you have to be comfortable with."
"What do you suggest, then?" He let out a bittersweet laugh. "My idea clearly didn't work."
Connie hesitated, drumming her fingers on his knee. "You could talk to a doctor."
He stared at her. "I'm not sick?"
"I meant about medicating."
"I'm not sick," he repeated. "There's nothing wrong with me."
"Steven, that's not what I'm saying. Sometimes, people's brains misfire. Sometimes they don't give out the right chemicals you need. Meds can, in some cases, help with that."
"Like... for depression?" She nodded. Steven hesitated. "But... what if they don't work with my Gem stuff? Or what if there's nothing wrong with my brain at all? What if it's just a waste of everyone's time?"
"Thinking like that is kind of why therapy and meds exist, Steven. You're allowed to not be okay- you know that, right?"
Steven bit his tongue. It really, really didn't feel that way to him, but he didn't want to start a fight, either. People always left after fights. "Will you... come with me?"
Connie smiled. Her eyes were wet. "Of course, Steven. You're not the only one who could use a talking to from a doctor."
And for now, that's enough.
Author's Note: This was originally going to go in so many other ways, but I honestly feel like that drabble will come better later. I won't spoil much, but this is the calm before thee storm.
Aaaaahhhh, meds. I've been on mine for almost three years now! Coupled with therapy, things have gotten a lot better. But I remember the doubt of taking them- actually, it was more like fear. What if the meds DIDN'T help? What if I was going to feel this way forever?
-Mandaree1