Steven was still reeling the next day, and it didn't help that - apparently - he had yet another therapy session to attend. The past few days had been somewhat peaceful, and the hybrid had almost found himself enjoying his time at the facility. As much as was possible, anyway. Now, though, his stomach was in knots again, and all through breakfast and morning group, he found himself unable to focus. He zoned during his friends' conversations more than once, unable to bring himself to joke about the food being disgusting or what activities the nurses and doctors might have planned for today. The only thing he could focus on, every so often, was Kevin - on the rare occasion that the man would glance at him from the corner of his eye, looking like he wanted to say something, but never actually opening his mouth to do so. It was something Steven related to right then more than ever; he wanted to talk to Kevin, but he didn't know how. He didn't have the slightest clue about what to say, and it was driving him crazy already.
He knew what it was. He knew it was going to be his downfall. This guilt that didn't really have a reason for presenting itself, and the pain in his chest that came with it - it was everything he was trying to leave behind. The desperate need to help people, to throw himself forward and completely and utterly devote himself to making their life better. It followed him all morning, trying to hook its claws and teeth in and drag him back into the life he was trying to forget. Every so often, he found himself wondering, desperately, what was so bad about trying to help someone if he really, truly wanted to - but when these thoughts came, there was a quieter voice in the back of his head reminding him that wanting to help was one thing, feeling obligated to was another. And for the life of him, he couldn't tell what this feeling in his chest really was - whether it was some twisted sense of obligation, or whether he really just… wanted to help.
It was going to drive him crazy, and he knew that - and he also knew he wasn't going to be able to resist it in the long run, because the pain and guilt was already driving him insane. He kept replaying Kevin's words in his head, from back then and from just the day before, and every time, he wondered if Kevin would be in here if Steven hadn't been so blindly angry back then. If he'd managed to look past his hatred just long enough to see that Kevin hadn't been joking around when he'd mentioned his brother, to see that his immediate denial had just been an attempt to protect himself, to shield himself, before they could see he really was just… hurt.
It was kind of funny. Just when Steven thought, maybe, he might be something at least somewhat close to okay, something like this sent him spiraling again almost immediately.
He found himself digging his nails into his palms as Vexy rolled him back to the hospital-style like room to get his vitals checked. He complied dutifully, too tired to even sigh and groan in protest when he had to stand up to get his height and weight checked, and he didn't even protest when he had to fill out more forms, answering the questions honestly. They were actually mostly the same questions he had to answer the week before, and he found that some of his answers had changed as well. It wasn't much, but he still found himself scanning the forms until it was time to hand them over again, and after a few minutes, Vexy was rolling him out of the room, calling goodbye to the other nurses and heading down the hall with a hum. Steven sighed, wrapping his arms around himself and curling a hand around his gem loosely.
"Are you okay, Steven?" Vexy looked down at him, and Steven shook his head a little, sighing. The nurse hummed a little bit, looking upwards briefly. "Dooo you wanna talk about it?"
"Are you trying to take Ms. Roberts' job?" Steven sighed, cracking a faint smile despite himself and shaking his head. The words felt wrong, even from him; her job. Listening to him rant about his problems for an entire hour. He couldn't take it anymore, the constant guilt and anger and confusion. He couldn't stand not really knowing anything about this woman, and he couldn't come to terms with the fact that she might just genuinely enjoy doing… what she did. And yet, he couldn't really come to terms with the fact that there might be a deeper reason for it, either. The hybrid gritted his teeth, staring down the hallway for a moment, then finally let his head fall back to look up at Vexy, narrowing his eyes slightly. "You know her, right? Ms. Roberts?"
Vexy arched an eyebrow at that, actually looking somewhat amused as she glanced back down at him. "You could say that," she replied, and Steven twisted his mouth slightly, thinking that over for a while - as well as how to word, exactly, what he wanted to ask the nurse. "Maria and I have… history," she continued, and Steven raised his eyebrows faintly as he lifted his head again to glance down the hall. Yeah, she wasn't fooling anyone - even he knew what that meant.
"Do you think she really likes it?" He finally asked, letting his head sink back again. "Being a therapist?" At this, Vexy paused - and he could feel the slight hesitation in the way her steps slowed, the way the wheelchair faltered a little under her grip, and for a moment - just a moment - he figured, maybe he really had been right. Maybe Vexy recognized it too. Maybe it wasn't just him, projecting all these pent-up frustrations onto some stranger. But when he lifted his gaze back to Vexy, she looked somewhat amused; a slightly puzzled expression had entered her eyes, but her lips were curved upwards into that tiny smile that he noticed she wore when they were speaking about the woman. And he couldn't help the rising frustration, even before she spoke.
"I think someone like Maria wouldn't waste her time doing anything she didn't like to do." Vexy shook her head, and Steven clenched his teeth slightly as he flicked his gaze forward again, staring down the hallway with a scowl. "But I couldn't really tell you, Steven. I'm not her."
"I know," Steven muttered, jaw tensing slightly as he narrowed his eyes. Vexy fell silent, only heaving out a gentle sigh as she continued to push him down the hall, and Steven let his eyes slip shut after a moment. An hour. He had an hour to either figure out more about Maria, or to just try to ignore her through the entire session. Talking to her hadn't exactly gone well for him the last time, and he wasn't looking for a repeat; she clearly wasn't going to entertain him trying to shift the topic onto her, and it was something he understood and related to far too well. But he needed to figure out how he was going to deal with her regardless, because he couldn't just get out of this, could he? He could try to ignore her, sure, but he had a feeling that would be difficult. She already knew what buttons to press. She already knew more about him than he liked.
He stayed silent until Vexy pulled the wheelchair to a stop, cracking an eye open and glaring up at the door in front of him with a frown. It didn't take long for Maria to answer it after Vexy had knocked, and Steven found himself tensing even further at the sight of her; he was still incredulous by how much she affected him, how many conflicted feelings he held toward her. The more prominent one being frustration, he'd quickly managed to deduce. Definitely anger. And that was even more confusing - how he could feel all of that, how he could almost hate the woman - this woman he didn't even know - and yet be concerned for her at the same time. And he found it even harder to figure out whether it was instinctual, or if he really did care somehow.
"Steven," the therapist greeted, smiling down at him, just as warmly as the first time he'd met her - and he grimaced back at her in response, not even trying to lift his expression into something even close to friendly - but she didn't seem to mind, lifting her gaze to Vexy and offering a small grin as she stepped back, gesturing for Steven to enter. "Hello, Vexy."
"Hi, Maria," Vexy murmured, and Steven caught her smile as he leaned back to grip the wheels of the chair, rolling himself into the room with a sigh. History, indeed. But he was happy to leave them to talk, managing to tune them both out as he took a quick look around the room. Yeah, exactly the same… he hesitated by the couch again, staring at it and debating on whether or not to strain himself by climbing up onto it. And, after a moment, he did eventually shift forward to push himself up. Not because he wanted to get comfortable here, but because he knew he needed to move around a little more. He was pleased to note that it was a little easier to do so, too; his back hardly ached, and the only trouble he had was moving his leg. Not even because of the pain, but because he still didn't have much feeling in it.
By the time he settled down, Maria had shut the door and was crossing the room to sit in her chair; he narrowed his eyes slightly at the smile on her face, not even bothering to disguise his frustration. But, once again, she was undeterred - and it only further increased his frustration, watching as she sat down and crossed her arms over her lap, offering him a bright grin. "So, how have you been? Vexy tells me you've been settling in well."
Traitor. Steven couldn't wait until Peedee came back. He bit the inside of his cheek, narrowing his eyes further at the woman in front of him - and when he was offered nothing more than a patient smile, he kept his mouth shut, wondering exactly how far he could get with testing that patience now if he just didn't bother saying anything at all. Difficult to get to know someone in silence, no? He leaned back, sinking into the couch, and rolled his shoulders back with a sigh. Your move, doc. Let's see you call checkmate if I don't even move my pieces.
He watched Maria's lips twitch, saw the sparkle enter her gaze as she accepted his challenge. And somehow, in that same instant, he already knew he had lost. "Giving me the silent treatment, are you?" She paused, reaching over to the desk beside her to grab her clipboard. Steven flicked his gaze toward it briefly, but he rooted his gaze back to her quickly enough. "Well, that's fine with me, Steven. We can just sit in silence for an hour. Sound good?"
The hybrid stared for a moment, eyeing the woman somewhat uncertainly now as she directed her attention to the clipboard in her hands. This certainly hadn't been part of the plan - though admittedly it hadn't exactly been a well-thought out plan on his end anyway. Reverse psychology, maybe? Yeesh, he didn't really like that. The fact that she thought he could be tricked into speaking up if she simply agreed to let the hour tick by like that, sitting in tense, uncomfortable silence. And she didn't even seem as tense as he felt; if anything, she looked about as relaxed as Steven wished he could be right then, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back in her chair with a calm expression on her face as she marked something down. He didn't do well in silence, but there was no reason she needed to know this. If he could stick it out for an hour, maybe he could get through the entire session without any problems. And that included having to talk about his problems with her - which was his biggest one right then.
Finally, Steven managed to lift his gaze to look around the room instead, taking in the pictures on the wall for quite some time before redirecting his gaze to the window. The curtains were open, and while it did, admittedly, take a little while for his eyes to adjust to the sunlight, he realized rather quickly that he could see the garden from where he was sitting. There were a few patients outside, the lucky ones that didn't have psychiatrist or therapy appointments; he was somewhat disappointed to realize he couldn't see the batch of pink flowers - he was a little startled to admit it, himself, but he had taken quite a liking to them - but he could still study some of the other ones from where he sat, watching as the breeze stirred them, swaying them gently.
He watched for a while, unable to help but think back to Aster. He was still frustrated that he hadn't been able to sleep the night before - not just because he was left exhausted and cranky, but because now, more than ever, he just wanted to spend as much time with his twin as he could. It was kind of funny, he was left missing his brother, and his brother was… there. He was always there. And yet, somehow, he was still just out of reach - he hated it, more than ever.
The hybrid leaned his head back against the back of the couch, crossing his arms over his chest with a frown. And he thought about something Aster had said, about looking for the differences in their situations instead of the similarities. He'd thought, at first, maybe that would be easy - a little too easy, he had argued, because as much as he would like to believe that Maria really was okay with all of this, he found it difficult to just brush his concerns aside, knowing exactly what the consequences could be if he did. The gems had done that to him, hadn't they? And that had landed him here. Then again, Maria certainly didn't rely on him as much as he had relied on the gems… at least in the sense that he relied on them to… rely on him? So unless Maria had a problem with needing to be needed - which Steven certainly wasn't helping with anyway - then, he reasoned, maybe their situations were a little more different than he'd thought. Or maybe he was nothing more than a speck, a little blip on the radar. One out of millions of people she could be helping right about now. People who actually deserved it.
Not helping, he chided himself, and he almost wanted to laugh. Well, he was trying to look for the differences, he really was - but even then, he still somehow found something to nitpick. He just didn't like the situation, but he couldn't really help that, could he? He didn't ask for this.
He heaved out a sigh and shifted a little, moving to lay back on the couch instead - and chose not to look toward Maria, though he could still see her lift her head from the corner of his eye, feeling her gaze fixed on him as he stretched himself out and let his head fall back onto the arm of the couch. Okay, so, what? Getting comfortable on the couch didn't mean he was getting comfortable with Maria. If he had to sit in silence with the woman for an hour, he might as well lay back and try to relax. Hell, he would be trying to sleep by now, but he knew there wasn't really a point in that. One hour and he'd be up and on the go again, and on the off-chance that he woke up in pain… yeah, staying awake would be his best option. He tilted his head to look out the window again, and ignored the way he could feel Maria's smile from across the room.
"Everything alright, Steven?"
"Yep." Steven paused, only for a second; it took him a bit to realize that he'd spoken, but it didn't take long for him to curse himself under his breath, spitting out a quiet "shit" in Gem Glyph.
Rather than being met with confusion, he was met with amusement; Maria huffed out a quiet laugh, and she was grinning when the hybrid finally, reluctantly, turned his head to look over at her, narrowing his eyes faintly but not bothering to ask what she found so funny about this. "You're welcome to talk, you know. Whether or not it's about you, that's your decision, but you certainly don't need to silence yourself in here." At this, the hybrid merely rolled his eyes, but Maria still offered nothing more than a patient smile before she redirected her attention back to the clipboard. "And you can keep the swearing English if you like, I don't mind that, either."
Steven paused at that, staring at her for a moment. When the therapist made it clear she wasn't going to elaborate or say anything else on the matter, he briefly considered just letting the subject drop entirely - but his curiosity got the better of him, as it so often did. He shifted a little, ignoring the pain in his back in favor of turning his focus to the woman across from him, and turned his head a little against the arm of the couch, eyes narrowing. "You understood that?"
"Of course." Maria bobbed her head lightly in confirmation, writing something down with a hum. "You pick up a few things, working with gems." She paused, flicking her gaze up to him again. "Though, I'm sure you already know that. You seem fluent in their language as well."
"You pick up on a few things, living on another planet." Steven fell silent for a moment, shifting a little more to push his elbow up under him and lifting his head from the arm of the couch. "And, I mean, I don't just work with gems. I am a gem," he added, the scowl disappearing after a moment. His somewhat pinched expression relaxed, though his eyebrows remained furrowed for a good few seconds more. "I just didn't think a human could pick up on…"
"Another language?" Maria questioned lightly, a small smile tugging at her lips now.
Steven narrowed his eyes faintly, shrugging. "An alien language."
Maria shook her head slightly, placing the pen down on the clipboard. "You know, I don't think alien quite means what you think it means, Steven. It's not just something or someone from another planet- it could be something or someone from another country, another nation. Some would argue that Spanish and Chinese and Japanese are alien languages. Some would even argue that English is an alien language. Alien doesn't quite translate to 'extraterrestrial' - it just means something a little different than what some people know. Something some people are unfamiliar with. That's all." Steven didn't reply immediately, puffing his cheeks out with a sigh and looking around the room again, offering nothing more than another half-hearted shrug. "For instance," Maria began again after a moment, and Steven rolled his eyes back toward her, arching an eyebrow silently with a frown. "Some human things seem to be 'alien' to you, yes?"
Steven hesitated at that, narrowing his eyes. This was treading dangerous territory, and he wasn't entirely sure this was a conversation he wanted to have regardless. He already knew how distinguished he was from humanity, he didn't need her pointing it out to him, too. "It doesn't really matter, does it?" He finally replied, shaking his head slightly. "I guess it's like you said, it's just something I'm unfamiliar with. I'm not exactly great at human stuff anymore." He fell silent for a moment, finally pulling himself to sit up against the arm of the couch, and grimaced slightly as he shrugged again. "Maybe I never was. I don't know."
"But that doesn't make you any less human," Maria told him, crossing her arms over the clipboard and offering him another smile, prompting him to narrow his eyes in response. "If anything, that in itself is something I see in many of my other human patients. You feel disconnected, unable to relate to or understand much or anything about them at all."
"No… look." Steven shook his head a little, curling his lips back slightly. "I'm not human, okay? Not really. Hardly at all." He rolled his shoulders back, scowling. "Fifty percent doesn't count."
"You're only fifty percent gem," Maria reminded him.
"Yeah, but I know more about gems," Steven insisted. "And I only lived on Homeworld for, like, two years. I've been on Earth my entire life, besides that, and I'm only just now learning about humans and the stuff they go through. I was pretty much raised by-" He stopped, grimaced, and shook his head again as he continued, "I was pretty much raised by gems. There were only… I don't know, about a handful of humans I really even knew, and even then, most of them, we just kinda ended up drifting apart anyway." He fell silent for a few seconds, swallowing as he thought about Peedee, and Kevin, and Sadie and Lars and the Cool Kids and every human in Beach City that he had known and grown up with. Even Vidalia, and Onion. "But I've always been surrounded by gems," he finally continued. "No matter where I've been, there were gems."
Maria listened without interrupting, tapping her fingers against the clipboard. She even stayed silent for a while even after Steven had finished, looking more thoughtful than anything else. "Well, not here," she finally replied. "You're surrounded by humans now, aren't you?"
"I guess." Steven paused, somewhat uneasy now - he hadn't exactly thought of it that way before. He was starting to get comfortable with humans, but he didn't know how long that was going to last. Especially now that his attention had been drawn to it, now that he was conscious of what was happening, and how much had changed in just a week. "But some of the gems still come to visit some days, so it's not like…" He trailed off, sinking back a little bit with a frown. He didn't have anything to refute what Maria had said - she was right, he was surrounded by humans. Humans that he'd, admittedly, grown somewhat fond of in a short amount of time. At the very least, he enjoyed Parker's company, he liked talking with Will, and Kevin… well, he didn't want to think of Kevin too much, but he definitely didn't mind having the guy around. Peedee was nice to be with too, and Vexy was growing on him. "I… I don't know. It's…"
"Different?" Maria offered tentatively, offering a smile when Steven flicked his gaze back up to her with a frown. "I'm sure it is, Steven. Nobody expects you to adjust to this immediately, especially considering your situation. It's hard to adapt to a different environment than what you're used to- and it's not just you, it could be anybody. I've seen this in humans and gems."
Steven grunted in response, propping his elbow up on the arm of the couch. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"What?" Steven gestured slightly with his other arm toward nothing in particular, letting it fall back to his side after a second. "I mean… okay. That's nice to know, I guess, or whatever. Adjusting to humans and stuff again isn't even what's bothering me anymore- I'm mostly okay as far as all of that goes, and I've already come to terms with the fact that I missed out on a lot of human stuff to begin with." He paused for a second to swallow, struggling briefly for some reason that was - honestly - somewhat lost on him, before he managed to continue speaking, "but it doesn't matter. I know what I am. I get it, I'm half human. I'm half gem. And even if I wanted to be both, it wouldn't have worked out." He twisted his mouth, looking down for a second and lightly curling his fingers into his shirt, twisting the fabric slightly with a scowl.
"But you're allowed to be upset about that." Maria put the clipboard aside; Steven glanced up briefly, then looked back down again, eyes narrowing faintly. "To feel robbed."
"I don't feel robbed," Steven muttered, wrinkling his nose.
"So you don't feel like you should have been given more of a chance to experience more human things?" Maria prompted, and Steven paused at that, mouth half-open in a half-hearted, half-baked attempt to deny whatever the hell Maria was going to say. And he found the words dying on the tip of his tongue anyway, the scowl on his face turning a little more bitter as he lifted his head a little to glare up at her. He didn't have a response, but he was sure she already knew that she'd hit the nail on the head with that one. "It's perfectly normal to feel that way." Maria paused. "From what I understand, you're currently estranged from your mother figures?"
Steven narrowed his eyes a little more at that, unable to keep himself from sneering at those last two words, but he didn't bother to try and correct her. He didn't understand nor care why they had been brought up, but he wasn't really in the mood to entertain the thought of them just yet. He was still angry, despite his revelations the night before. "Yeah, sure. What about it?"
"They are gems, correct?" Maria questioned, and Steven nodded slightly, curling his fist a little tighter around his shirt and leaning his head back with a frown. "And, I assume, they were a big part of what connected you to gems and Homeworld in the first place. Aside from, of course, being half-gem," she added, gesturing toward him; Steven's hand twitched, almost enough to cover his stomach, but he managed to keep it where he was. "And I'd also assume that the reason you're not on speaking terms anymore is because you harbor some bitterness and resentment toward them in particular for being what kept you from living a normal 'human' life."
Steven grimaced. "I could've told you that."
"But would you have?" Maria's lips twitched, meeting his gaze steadily.
Steven answered with a shrug, honestly not knowing whether or not he would have brought up the gems himself in the first place. He had been adamant about not even thinking about them, much less talking about them. But he was surprised with the minimal irritation that he felt toward Maria for even bringing them up in the first place - so she was good at what she did, he already knew this. Sure, he'd rather not talk about them, but he didn't really need to say anything for her to understand, did he? Which meant he could just stay silent and let her read him like an open book. It didn't really matter how much she knew, because even with all that information, she wasn't really going to be able to help him regardless. "Okay. I'm not exactly their biggest fan."
"Would you like to elaborate a little?"
Steven's lips twitched slightly at that, but the smile that he formed was nothing short of sarcastic, briefly displaying his teeth as he curled his lips back. "No, I really wouldn't." He rolled his hand in her direction, letting his arm drop from where he'd been using it to prop his head up. "See, the point of trying to pretend they don't exist is… pretending they don't exist."
"Alright," Maria relented, reaching over to pick the clipboard back up. Steven directed his gaze to the window for a moment, pausing as he gazed out at the flowers, and he decided not to turn his attention back to her completely even when she spoke up again after a few minutes. "You mentioned that you lived on another planet for a while, yes? Two years?" Steven nodded faintly in confirmation, still staring out the window. "Would you like to talk about your experiences-"
"Nope." Steven wasn't willing to wait for her to finish the question, certainly not about to entertain the idea of discussing his stay on Homeworld with her of all people. "I'd rather talk about the gems- not that I'm going to," he added warningly, sparing her a glare. "No."
Maria only smiled at him, frustratingly patient and calm. She could read him like a goddamn open book, and he knew he wasn't exactly making it hard to do so either - but she couldn't make him talk, and even she could only get so far by reading his facial expressions and picking out what topics he didn't like to focus on. Maybe he didn't have the training she did, but if she was like him, just a little bit, then he knew some of her tricks. He knew she was analyzing every glance, every twitch of his eyebrows, every wrinkle of his nose and every time he hesitated or spoke too quickly or rushed to respond to a question. He knew she was sorting through everything they spoke about, figuring out which questions he was more likely to answer and which ones would take a little more of a push, taking every answer he did offer into careful consideration and taking in every word and pause. Steven wasn't stupid by any means - she might be reading him like a book, but he knew she'd be running out of pages soon enough.
"Oh," Maria began suddenly, and Steven met her gaze again silently, arching an eyebrow. "I can't believe I almost forgot. I'm sure you had a lot to think about after our last session." At this, now, the hybrid faltered slightly - yeah, her words were still ringing in his head from time to time, echoing through his ears, taunting and merciless. And he was sure that was the point, right? To make him think. And he was thinking. And just thinking of everything she had said before was enough, just for a second, to lower his guard; and she must have caught it, because she wasted no time in pressing on, "have you given any more thought to what we discussed?"
Steven hesitated, lightly curling his fingers against the couch and letting his nails scrape against the fabric with a frown. He didn't answer for a moment, anger and resentment steadily fizzling away to something even he couldn't quite describe - but it wasn't nearly as volatile. "Yeah," he finally replied, voice strained with his best efforts to hold it steady. "Yeah, I have. But I-" The hybrid paused, running his tongue over his lips lightly, and gritted his teeth as he glanced down. "Okay, I don't really wanna talk about that either. You can't just- change the way I feel because-" Again, he stopped, only to breathe in through his teeth and snap his mouth shut after a moment. He wasn't sure what he could say now to get through to her - yes, he had heard what she'd said, he had understood what she'd said, and he'd gotten her point just fine. But it still didn't change the fact that he hated himself with every fucking fiber of his being - he wasn't sure that would ever change, because it had been something that had just always been… there. Even before this, he'd never thought too highly of himself. Now it was just a little bit stronger.
"No, I can't change how you feel," Maria replied, clicking her pen. "Only you can. But I am here to talk you through those feelings, and to help you get a better understanding of what you're feeling and why. It doesn't really sound like such a difficult thing, does it?" She smiled at him again, and, once more, the hybrid found himself hesitating. No, when she put it like that, it sounded fairly simple - it sounded like the kind of stuff he used to do, and the kind of stuff he'd even enjoyed doing, before his entire existence became solely about saving the entire world. "Some people are… I don't like the term 'lost'," she began, "but… misguided. Sometimes it takes a helping hand to guide them in the right direction, and there's nothing wrong with that. There's nothing wrong with you. What I'm trying to do here is help you realize that."
Steven fell silent, glancing down and twisting his hands slightly. It sounded simple enough. She made it seem like it was so easy, and it almost hurt. But even that jealousy and anger had fizzled out to something a little closer to desperation. The past week had taught him that he could feel some good things, too - that he could start to get comfortable, and adapt. And learn. He was learning so much about these things, about depression and PTSD. Things that he had - most definitely, now, if there had been any doubt about it before. He remembered that Maria had told him that he suffered from other things, too - emotional neglect, low self-esteem. Both of which he was definitely sure she was right about, but he had yet to find anything about either of them in a book just yet. And learning about Kevin and his brother had sparked yet another realization - as angry and hurt and depressed as he was, he… he didn't want to die yet.
He didn't want… to want to die.
He wasn't ready. He wasn't done. He still wanted to get to know Aster. He wanted to go home with his father. He wanted to finally get up the courage to talk to Connie. And he didn't know what he was going to do about the gems - whether he was going to ever try to talk to them again, or whether he would just call it quits and decide that he didn't want them in his life anymore. He didn't want them dead, that much was certain - but he also wasn't sure he was ready to be around them. But he'd made new friends, he'd reconciled with old ones, he'd shown himself that, in the past week, he was still capable of feeling… okay. Genuinely okay. And he was starting to realize that he didn't have to put on a bright, happy smile and sing and pretend that everything was right with the world; because even though it wasn't, sometimes, he was able to forget about that every so often anyway. When he was with his new friends, with his family.
He knew he was lost, or 'misguided'. He still felt like that, like he was just walking in one direction without any idea where he was going, or what he was going to. The thought of being steered back onto the right track was still something he was grappling with, and he was trying. He really was. But he still didn't feel like it was something he'd be able to do, not on his own.
"You have to let someone help you, you know," Maria told him softly, briefly snapping the hybrid out of his thoughts. He looked up at her, eyebrows furrowing. "I'm willing to try, if you are."
But maybe he didn't have to.
He knew it would be easier, accepting the help. He was slowly learning to do that with other things - hell, he was even starting to ask for help when it was necessary. This was different, though; this wasn't like asking someone to help him get dressed in the morning, or help him move from his wheelchair to the bed when he found himself too tired or sore to do so, or help him pick flowers to take back to his room. This was a different kind of help, and it was the hardest kind to ask for, because it was something he knew, deep down, he didn't deserve. But would he ever deserve it, then? If he didn't try to get better, if he just let himself get worse? Because that was what was happening now, and it just seemed like an endless cycle.
He wanted to feel better.
He wanted to be better.
It was time to get better.
"Okay," Steven mumbled after a moment, flicking his gaze up to look up at Maria. The fury had evaporated, but he could still feel the tension in his muscles, the nausea curling in his gut. The desperate questions racing through his head, wondering if he was making a mistake, if he should just leave it alone, just give up again. He was tired - god, he was so fucking tired - but it seemed like, these days, what he was really tired of was being tired. And there wasn't really any way to fix that, not one that he could see. He just knew that going about it the way he'd been going about it wasn't going to make it much better. He'd still crumble again in the long run. He was already getting there - he could feel it, something inside of him, ready to just break.
Through the nausea, and the pain, and the guilt and shame and fear, though, there was something else. Not as strong, but it was there; a thrumming, a pulse, a rush of excitement and terror and desperation. An odd combination, but one strong enough to strengthen his resolve.
"Okay," he repeated, breathing in shakily and meeting his therapist's gaze. "Then I'll try."