"Really is a perfect night for a walk, huh, Schtu-ball?"

Steven didn't respond immediately, tired eyes roaming across the sand as he walked. He had fallen into step with Greg somewhat numbly, just letting him lead the way for the most part. He was surprised they hadn't stopped yet, and could safely assume his father was just trying to get him away from the beach house, but if they went any further, they would end up reaching the place where… where Steven had proposed… and he wasn't sure he wanted to dive into that fresh wound just yet, either. For a moment, the hybrid's steps faltered, and the brief hesitation was, thankfully, enough to pull Greg to a stop. He turned toward the teenager with a frown, concerned but understanding, but it still took Steven a good few seconds to be able to lift his gaze back to Greg, trying and failing to lift his expression into a smile that he didn't feel. It was forced, and he could feel it straining at his muscles, every little effort it took to pull himself together. Every little wasted effort, lost on both himself and his dad, he noted, heart sinking, as Greg's own smile finally vanished, shoulders drooping slightly for a second, as he sighed.

"Listen… Steven." Greg knelt down in front of him slightly, just enough to come face to face with the teenager, and he found himself grimacing back at his father in response for a second before realizing what he was doing, and attempting once again to force a smile back onto his face. This time, the strained expression didn't go unnoticed, because Greg offered him a slight frown in response and reached up, resting a hand over his shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. Bud, I'm not mad."

"Wha- no… I know, Dad…" Steven hissed out a sigh through his teeth and flicked his gaze away for a second, guilt and disappointment pounding in his chest. He had almost hoped maybe Greg understood, at least somewhat, but it seemed like he was still just as clueless as to how Steven felt as he always had been. Always making assumptions, always guessing what was wrong. And yeah, he knew it was his fault, because he didn't say anything… but still, sometimes, he wished that he didn't have to. But that just made him feel even worse than anything else. For a moment, the hybrid stared down, opening and closing his mouth, eyebrows furrowing together sharply, as he struggled to figure out how to begin, how to tell Greg what had happened. His own dread kept his thoughts from pushing too far on that, much to his own chagrin. He didn't want to, but he had to tell him. He had to just get it over with, get it out there, and let it happen.

"Look, kiddo," Greg interrupted his thoughts, and Steven reluctantly flicked his gaze back up to his father, staring somewhat blankly as the man's smile lifted into what should have been an encouraging smile, but once again, he only felt numb to the reassurance. "Whatever's going on, you know you can still talk to me about it. What happened the other night, it doesn't change anything. I'm still your old man, and you're still my son, and I still care about you. And… gosh, Steven, I'm… really worried here." The smile faltered again, and Steven breathed in shakily, blinking back tears without even really knowing why they had risen in the first place. He wasn't even really upset, himself, more numb than anything, but for some reason, seeing Greg so upset was hitting a nerve he hadn't even realized still existed. "So… you can tell me anything. Whatever's going on with you, we'll figure it out, but… we can't do that if you don't talk to me about it, y'know?" Greg tilted his head slightly. "Come on, kiddo, talk to me. What's the matter?"

Well, Steven had to hand it to him. Even now, Greg knew how to hit the right chords - the small part of him that still had a sense of humor noted that he always could - but even then, he still couldn't bring himself to speak up yet. So he just stared, hollow but aching, before turning his head away again and fixing his gaze on the ocean instead. This time, the glittering, lapping waves did nothing to reassure him, to calm the internal turmoil raging through him right then, but he was hardly looking for comfort - more or less something of a distraction, something to look at besides Greg, to give him the chance to pull his thoughts together before he tried to speak. Everything his father had said, it was just things he had said before. Things Steven already knew. He knew Greg cared about him, and he knew he was worried. Granted, he was wrong about that night 'not changing anything', but Steven decided to just let that one go for now. He didn't have the strength to argue with his father again, not about something that seemed so trivial compared to everything else that had happened. Steven exhaled, settling a hand over his stomach and lightly pressing his fingers down against his gem, shivering slightly for a second.

The waves crashed against the sand, the harsh movement accompanied by a surprisingly gentle sound. It did it again, and again, reaching further each time, and he watched the wet sand roll under the water before it pulled back again. His thumb rubbed against his gem, somewhat unconsciously, almost beginning to relax - if only a little - before another wave rose up and crashed down against the beach with a little more force than the others. This time the sound was louder, a little more akin to a rumbling roll of thunder than anything, and he flinched.

Thunder roared, clouds clashing together above his head as the rain fell, pouring down into his cupped hand. He had to bring the other one up to keep the shards from spilling out with it as he frantically scrambled to his feet, not knowing whether the horrible, excruciatingly loud sound was really the thunder overhead, or if it was the harsh, erratic pounding of his own heart.

Steven's hand flew up to his chest, fingers digging into his shirt tightly as he gasped. For a second, he almost expected to be right back there, feeling the rain pounding down against his head as he fought to shield the shards from the water, holding them close to his chest as he ran, and ran, and ran, managing to grab his jacket from where he'd hung it near the campsite to put the shards in and keep them safe. Tears rushed to his eyes, much like they had then, mixing with raindrops, salty on his tongue as he gasped and shook and took off through the forest. He couldn't move now, though, even though he wanted to. Every instinct screamed at him to run, but he didn't even know why. Every muscle in his body was pulled taut, coiled like a spring, wanting to move but completely rooted to where he stood. His heart pounded, frantic and irregular, making his chest and ribs ache as it slammed against them repeatedly.

He wanted to scream, but he couldn't open his mouth.

Then a hand clasped down over his shoulder, and the imagery of thunder and lightning and rain was stamped out, replaced with violent visions of orange hands slamming into him, punching, pushing, pain exploding through every part of his body as he went skidding back-

He recoiled, struggling away, wriggling out from under the touch. His breathing hitched, more and more stifled with each passing second, as the blur of orange gave way and crumbled to reveal his father, concerned and confused, hands outstretched toward him, just out of reach. For a moment, Steven could only stare in confusion, trembling and continuing to clutch his hand to his chest as he struggled to regulate his breathing, heart pounding so fast he was sure it would simply break free. But it remained trapped, and while it was a good thing, it did very little to assist in helping him breathe, each shaking inhale interrupted by erratic, frantic beats, feeling like his heart was just trying to jump its way up to his throat and make home there.

Steven blinked back tears, face screwing up slightly, expression crumbling into despair, as he fought to pull himself together, tightening his grip on his shirt. He still wanted to run, but now he just wanted to get away; from Greg, from the ocean, from the roaring waves and horrible reminders of that night. The hybrid choked out a sob, just allowing himself one before he sucked in another breath, ignoring the way his heart shuddered in protest, and held it, trying to force himself into a slightly more relaxed state. It wasn't an easy thing to do, especially not as Greg reached out for him again; this time when Steven felt his hands, he didn't pull away, though he still wasn't quite comfortable with it. He simply let Greg pull him into his arms, let his father wrap himself around him, movements uncertain but gentle. And he felt nothing. Nothing at all.

"What's going on…?" Greg whispered, and this time the question didn't seem to be directed at him, or anyone in particular. His father's voice shook in a way he'd never heard before, a tone of pure despair, confusion, anxiety and absolute terror, and Steven finally felt something. Not guilt, but not comfort, but something a little closer to sympathy, something inside of him aching to be the one offering the comfort, like some instinctual, internal reaction. His arms twitched upwards without his permission, wrapping around Greg carefully, hands clutching the back of his shirt.

He didn't know what to do, what to say, how to react. Not at first. But eventually, opening his mouth, he forced himself to speak with a shaking voice, small and childish to his own ears, not knowing how to do anything else except offer his father the answer to the question he'd asked. "I shattered Jasper."

It took a second for Greg to go rigid against him, cold and tense like a marble statue instead of a human. It was only then did Steven manage to push himself away from his father, breathing in shakily and pulling his arms close to himself. Not wanting to meet his gaze, he flicked his eyes toward the beach house instead, blinking back another rush of tears and silently cursing himself as his eyes continued to sting, knowing that at this point, he wouldn't be able to control himself. His hands felt cold, clenched into fists against his own shirt, feeling them clam up as sweat formed in his palms, an uncomfortable feeling that eventually led to him dropping his arms entirely to push them into his pockets instead, rubbing them against the fabric in a half-hearted attempt to dry them. After a while, though, the silence became nearly unbearable; Greg hadn't spoken yet, and Steven didn't want to offer any further explanations until he did, but now he was just uncomfortable, waiting for the reaction. He spared a glance upwards, hesitant and tense.

There was an unreadable emotion in Greg's eyes as he stared down at him. Not quite disappointment, not quite - something more akin to a mixture of confusion, horror, shock and concern. He was open-mouthed, like he was trying to say something but just couldn't find the words - a sentiment Steven related to all too well - and, eventually, the teenager found himself backing away from his father, his entire body wracked with tremors as his stomach twisted violently with nausea, feeling his throat restrict in response as bile rose up, bubbling briefly against his lips. He gagged, swallowing it back down before he could throw up, and shivered.

But he vomited in another way, with words now, which just started spilling out in a desperate attempt to fill the horrified, shocked silence that had followed. "I- I- I shattered Jasper," he repeated himself, as if Greg hadn't heard the first time, but his father's expression didn't change by much, even while his mouth opened again to speak. Steven still couldn't stop, continuing frantically, "I shattered her during training. We were training in the forest and we were fighting and- and she was just trying to help me control my powers better and she said I was holding back so I stopped- I stopped holding back and I just attacked and- and I just let it all go and then I tr- trapped her with my shields and I made this wall with spikes and I-!"

"St- Steven-" Greg finally choked out, wide-eyed, pupils shrunk.

"I didn't mean to- but I- I did-" Steven rambled, abruptly yanking his hands up, and his jacket along with them, which he pulled up over his head like a hood, tugging it down hard against his skull and forcing his head down along with it, just for a second. "I wanted to hurt her but I didn't want to shatter her but I did and then I brought her back and healed her in the tub but Dad she-"

"Steven…"

"-she called me her Diamond-" Steven almost gagged again, crossing his arms now and wrapping his head in the jacket for a second, covering his face briefly. "And I- fuck-"

"Steven Quartz Universe!" Greg's voice rose, and the hybrid couldn't keep himself from tensing, recoiling slightly in surprise. His arms dropped again, the jacket along with them, as he lifted his head to stare at his father in shock. Greg had never yelled at him like that before - hell, as far as Steven could remember, he'd really never raised his voice like that at him either. And he'd sure as hell never used Steven's full name to address him like that. Above it all, though, while he definitely was stunned in so many different ways because of it, a tiny part of him finally felt a rush of relief, enough to allow him to gulp in a gasp of air as he stared back at Greg. It was grounding, snapping his mind back to the present, to the conversation, and leaving him just stunned enough to allow his father to continue. The only thing was that the second he realized what he'd done, Greg's eyes widened, looking positively horrified, and he reached out slightly. "Oh, gosh, Schtu-ball, I didn't mean- I'm so sorry, I didn't-"

Steven stared for a moment, relief steadily fizzling out, and leaned away.

Greg faltered, recoiling a little himself, and the teenager was slightly surprised to see tears steadily brewing in his eyes. He could only stare as Greg wiped them away, seemingly trying to compose himself, but he managed to find his voice after only a few seconds, slightly strained. "Wh- Why are you apologizing?"

"For yelling at you." Greg dropped his hand, looking down at him miserably, and Steven almost felt another stab of sympathy - before, abruptly, it turned into anger. It was too fast for him to even react, like a switch had been flipped in only half a second. His cheeks flushed, hot, burning and pink, and his hands curled into fists at his sides now as he stared back at his father in disbelief. Greg blinked, a surprised, concerned look flickering across his face, but it only served to make the fury churning in his stomach just a little bit worse, blood suddenly boiling as he turned completely pink, recoiling again and backing away from his father with a snarl, yet another inhuman, animalistic sound that didn't quite succeed in snapping him out of it.

"So what? I just told you that I murdered somebody! You should yell at me!" He snapped, knuckles almost turning white as he clenched his fists harder, nails digging into his skin. This time, he felt nothing as they broke the skin, hardly even feeling the tickle as the blood rose up and began to drip. Greg's gaze darted downwards, and his eyes widened slightly in alarm, but Steven continued again fiercely, demanding his father's attention once again. "You should be yelling and telling me that what I did was really, really wrong and that I'm a horrible person!"

"But you're not a horrible person!" Greg exclaimed, gaze darting back down to his hands again for a second. "Steven, you're hurting yourself-!"

The teenager blinked, caught off guard in a split second of how'd he know? before following his father's gaze to his hands, finally realizing that he was, indeed, bleeding. He loosened his grip immediately, the pinkness fading from his hands and receding back to his cheeks, but it continued to linger even then - to a slightly distressing degree, honestly - as he turned his hands over, staring down at the blood on his hands. Looking at them a little more closely, he also saw the other marks he had left the previous times on one of them, while the other was mostly unscarred, presumably from where he'd licked it earlier to heal his head. Greg's somewhat shaky, sharp inhale indicated that he saw, too, but Steven didn't give him a chance to inspect them further, raising first one hand to kiss the wounds away, and then the other, reluctantly.

"It was an accident," Steven mumbled, dropping his hands again, ignoring the coppery taste of blood on his tongue and his father's stare, not wanting to look up and see the horror in his eyes. The hybrid swallowed, shoulders sagging with relief as he finally managed to force himself to calm down enough for the rest of the pinkness to fade away, the lingering warmth steadily dissolving from his cheeks and leaving him just as cold as before as he frowned, mouth twisting.

"I- was it-?" Greg stammered, and Steven's shoulders tensed slightly, managing to spare a slightly surprised glance up at his father. Greg winced, misreading the shock, and shook his head slightly in response, as if to shrug away his own concern - which, truthfully enough, didn't seem to quite work - before walking forward slowly, lifting a hand faintly before lowering it again, seeming more or less uncertain on whether to approach now that Steven had actively rejected his contact and earlier attempts to get physically close to him. Even now, the teenager couldn't keep himself from reeling back on time, guilt seizing and clawing at his chest mercilessly. He was already nearly at the end of his rope, he didn't want to risk snapping with his father… close.

"Yes, it was," Steven finally managed to speak, and his strained, clipped tone didn't seem to do anything to reassure his father. If anything, the slightly horrified, concerned expression returned, some kind of realization Steven didn't want to dive too deep into yet, not wanting it to be one that his father was experiencing at all, so the hybrid pushed forward before Greg could react. "S- Seriously, Dad, I- I'm- I'm fine, okay? I'm-" He stopped, shoulders jerking slightly as he shook his head, suddenly unable to spit the word out. It fell away from his tongue before he could reach for it again, shoulders drooping slightly for a second, not even really wanting to say it anyway, so he changed course and continued quietly, "I'm tired."

Greg softened slightly, still looking concerned, and braved another step forward. "It is pretty late…" He murmured. "Maybe you should go inside and rest, Schtu-ball…"

Steven bit his lip for a second, careful not to draw blood this time now that it seemed like Greg was already catching wind of what he was doing in the first place, but he still longed to feel the sharp pain again anyway - it had gone all too soon from his hands, before he had time to take comfort in it, and now that he was steadily slipping back into the guilt and shame, he needed it now more than ever. The hybrid inhaled sharply, letting it out slowly, but eventually simply ended up shaking his head slightly at his father. "Not that kind of tired," he mumbled, surprising even himself with the somewhat bitter but honest remark, and he turned away before he could see his father's expression, looking back toward the waves. They swept forward over the sand, surprisingly gentle now, but it didn't make it any easier to watch them, knowing now that at any second, it could become loud, startling, and send him right back to the night of the storm.

The teenager sighed, flicking his gaze to the sky for a second. He rubbed his thumbs over his palms, curling his hands up slightly for a second and just trying to breathe. This had gone about as well as could be expected, but at least it was a little more tame than Steven thought it would be. But, evidently, it wasn't quite over yet, and he cursed under his breath as Greg finally started walking toward him again, seeming to gain a little more confidence as he approached now. Steven simply pretended not to notice, adamantly keeping his eyes fixed on the stars as his father settled down beside him, leaning back on his hands with a low, strained sigh of his own.

After a while, he spoke. It was quiet, but nearly impossible for Steven not to hear, even over the crashing of the waves against the beach. "Steven… you really think you're a horrible person?" Steven didn't reply, but the answer more or less hung in the silence, tense and wary, and Greg exhaled sharply, falling silent for a moment before speaking again. "Gosh, kiddo. I can't imagine what you're going through right now, but… jeez, you're… the best person I know. I'm so prou-"

"Oh, shut up."

Steven's sharp, snarled words were accompanied by another loud crash just ahead of them, a particularly large wave slamming down against the sand, water spraying up and spreading out toward them. It reached a little further this time, lapping at the edges of his sandals, and the teenager shifted back a few steps, distancing himself from both the water and his father in the process. The water retreated. His father did not. Instead, Greg only stared at him, wide-eyed with surprise, and Steven realized numbly that he hadn't ever spoken such venom toward his father before in his life. Even in the van, his words were desperate at best, angry and hurt, but never just angry. His tone now was simply one of pure rage, quivering under the force of the fury he was feeling, and the absolute loathing he felt toward both himself and his father and the words he knew had only been half a second away from escaping the man's lips.

But he felt no guilt now, only rage and pure, unadulterated hatred for the both of them. He was so sick of hearing those words, and he was only realizing for the first time how meaningless they really were. If Greg ever really meant them in the first place, or if he only said them to calm him down, shut him up. Because he couldn't fathom how anybody in their right mind would be proud of him at this point, how Greg could stand there and look him in the eyes and tell him he was proud of him after Steven had just confessed to shattering a gem, to murdering somebody.

It was really the first time he'd ever felt something close to contempt to his father, and despite his words to Greg in the van - "I can't believe I never realized… you're just like mom!" - it was the first time he'd ever felt anything remotely close to the amount of disgust and hatred that he felt for her directed solely toward his father, one of the few people he'd ever idolized in his life. Hell, even if they weren't as alike as Steven was starting to believe, there were still so many new revelations rising up, as he was realizing things about his father he never knew before, things he thought he'd be better off knowing. And that alone, well… that was enough of a comparison for Steven at this point. Every new thing he was realizing about his father was suddenly making him want to scream, to pull his own hair out, and it was making every bit of respect he held for him fizzle out more and more until finally, there would be nothing left.

And that was exactly what had happened when it came to Pink. Every new revelation, every secret revealed, he'd lost a little more respect, a little more willingness to love - hell, some days he didn't think he held any love for his mother at all, and that hit the hardest sometimes - until finally the only really prominent emotion he felt at the thought of her was contempt and rage.

Feeling these things toward Greg now, it pissed him off to the highest degree.

Steven clenched and unclenched his fists and spoke again, voice still shaking with the anger he was feeling, surprising himself by not turning pink right then and there. "You… you have no right to sit there and- and say that to me. To- to tell me that you're proud of me. That I'm a good person. I- god, Dad, do you even listen to me when I speak to you? Do you even care-?"

"Of course I care," Greg insisted, wide-eyed, but Steven held a finger up before he could continue, and he was pretty sure it had stunned both of them when Greg flinched back. His expression was one of surprise, not fear, but the reaction itself was enough to make Steven recoil, going completely blank for a good few seconds. At that point, there was barely any emotion left. No anger, but nothing else. Not even an ounce of guilt. Just numbness. Just done, for the very first time in his life, he was just completely, absolutely done.

"I…" The teenager huffed, dropping his arm after a moment, before simply turning on his heel to head back to the house. He didn't have anything else to say to Greg at this point, no longer wanting to continue the conversation. He had said what needed to be said, he had told Greg he killed someone, and obviously he wasn't going to get any kind of reaction out of it other than reassurance, which he wasn't even looking for. So, at this point, the rest of the conversation was left pretty much useless, and Steven decided it was best to just end it right then and there. Wouldn't be such an easy thing to do, he thought bitterly, hearing his father's footsteps behind him as Greg followed, calling after him in concern. "Just go, Dad, it doesn't matter anymore."

"It does matter!" Greg told him, speeding up a little, but Steven didn't slow nor quicken his pace, even as his father grew closer to him. "Come on, Schtu-ball, talk to me-!"

"Talk to you?!" Steven whirled around, so fast Greg skidded and stumbled in an effort not to run into him, gasping slightly and reeling back sharply as Steven continued with a sneer, "talk to you? I tried to talk to you! I told you what happened, like you wanted me to, okay?! Now, look, I- I'm sorry if you're not satisfied with that, or that there's no- no happy ending to the fucking story or whatever you want, or some lesson to be learned from the mistake, but that's just not what's happening here! I killed somebody, Dad! Just because I could! Just because for the first time in my life I felt so, completely, totally in control and powerful and wanted to be the one dishing out pain and taking my anger out on someone who didn't deserve it for once! Now if you can't accept that your 'amazing little boy' is a murderer, then that's on you, but stop pushing your expectations onto me for once and telling me you're proud of me for being someone I'm not!" Steven paused, gasping in as much air as he could, and continuing just as fiercely as before, "I'm a murderer, Dad."

"You-" Greg flinched slightly again, but didn't move back. Steven would have felt bad, should have felt bad, but he felt absolutely nothing, watching his father stumble and stutter over his words. Nothing but a numb sense of rage, blood boiling and freezing at the same time. Like everything was just at a standstill, nothing else mattered enough to move. "Y- You are- a child-"

Steven blinked once, then stared at him for a few seconds. "Fuck you."

Greg recoiled as if Steven had struck him, and, honestly, Steven might as well have. But he continued anyway, his tone no longer one of burning, boiling fury, but completely icily cold. "I stopped being a child the minute I had to play space therapist for a bunch of thousand-year-old aliens for the sake of Earth and the entire galaxy!" For a moment, he paused, the reality of those words genuinely sinking in, and he hissed out a sigh through his teeth as he shook his head, a mirthless chuckle bubbling to his lips but never quite escaping as he ground out through clenched teeth, "so basically I guess I never was a child, huh?" He flicked his gaze toward the house for a second, feeling nothing but bitterness and resentment, directed toward everyone all at once for so many different reasons he couldn't even begin sorting through, but he didn't care. At the moment, he was just angry at the whole world, and he didn't care anymore.

"I could have been," he muttered. "You should've never let me move in with the gems."

"Oh, Steven…" Greg's voice shook slightly, a mixture of surprised, confused and horrified, and Steven rolled his eyes back toward his father, fixing him with a contemptuous glare that seemed to almost make him recoil again. "You don't mean that-"

"Are you kidding me?" Steven spat, his tone now equal measures cold and blazing with pure, absolute fire as he stared back at his father. "Don't tell me what I mean, Dad, because, trust me, I can tell you with complete certainty that I definitely do mean you should've never let me move in with the gems, because all this gem stuff is what led to this, right here, right now, in the first place. God, do you know how much I've started wishing I wasn't even a gem? How much I wish I wasn't even ali-" He stopped himself before he could say the word, still completely drowning in rage, but having just enough clarity at the moment to stop himself from finishing the sentence.

He ran his tongue over his lips and sank back a bit, watching Greg's expression change once again, but he held up a hand before his father could start talking, watching his mouth open and close in absolute horror as he fought to form words. "Just- don't. I'm done, okay? I'm just done. Just go back to the car wash." He turned to leave again, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"St-"

"Go, Dad," Steven growled, continuing his retreat back toward the house, absolutely seething at this point in a way he never had before. "I'm serious, I don't want you here." He hopped up the stairs two at a time, not looking back to see if his father was following, or if he was still there, simply pushing the door open and walking back inside. He didn't even stop to look at the gems, making a direct beeline for the stairs to head up to his room, seeking absolutely no interaction.

"Steven?" Pearl sounded concerned, confused, "what-?"

"I'm going to bed." Steven whirled around, balancing on one of the steps in the center of the stairs. "I'm going to my room, I'm locking my door, and I'm going to bed. Is that a problem?"

Pearl blinked, startled - hell, fuck that, she looked downright shocked, and so did Amethyst. Garnet's expression was more or less unreadable, but he thought he saw Jasper smirk to herself as she ducked her head, keeping her gaze rooted to the phone in her hand.

"I- of course that's- not a problem-" Pearl finally stammered, and Steven nodded once, spinning back around and continuing up the stairs without another word. Upon finally reaching his room, he did just as he said, shoving the door shut behind him and locking it, then turning and heading over to his bed, shrugging his jacket off and tossing it down onto the floor carelessly. With no real intentions of falling asleep at that moment, though, he simply let himself fall forward onto the bed, letting it sink under his weight, letting himself finally turn pink. When it came, it came in a pure rush, like it had been holding itself back, dormant, while he had yelled at his father. Which was kind of funny, really, all of that anger had been his own, not related to his powers. Hell, it was almost pretty satisfying, and he would have been satisfied if he wasn't so pissed off.

He rolled over onto his back, settling his hands over his stomach, directly over his gem. He didn't do anything, though, despite the knowledge that he could - it would be as perfect a time as any to just do it, to see if he really could push himself to that extent. His thumb rubbed over his gem, once, twice, a third time, before he shuddered and had to pull away, the rest of his anger evaporating. He waited for the guilt, but none came. No satisfaction either, though.

Just numbness. Numbness he could deal with.

He closed his eyes and breathed, just breathed. He wasn't going to be falling asleep, and he knew that, so he would just lay there. Awake. Feeling nothing, thinking about everything, and he'd decide what to do when the morning came, but until then, too emotionally exhausted to follow through on the thoughts of cracking his own gem but too physically wound up to fall asleep, he just forced himself completely still, completely silent, and just listened to the sound of his own breathing, and let everything he was angry at fade away, including himself.