"I'm not the one pretending."
Connie stopped for a second and put her hands on her knees, catching her breath after the sprint. Six years, and she was still having to chase Steven to these places. The lighthouse was still broken from the last invasion, but stood tall, illuminated by the light of the moon above the town.
"I - am not the one who still thinks that running is going to fix any of this," she continued. She rose back to her full height. "And I know you know better. We've been through it all together! I know you haven't forgotten that."
Steven just sat on the lighthouse steps with his hands in fists. Connie wanted to be angry with him, so angry, but when he looked up, she saw the caged animal, pacing behind the bars. He wanted to be angry, too; neither of them could truly feel it.
"I'm not running to fix this," he croaked. He cleared his throat.
"Steven - "
"I just need space."
"Steven."
"I'm sorry, but - but were we ever together?"
Connie stiffened like he had struck her in the face. Steven stood up, nearly a foot taller than her now, and still going. She knew him, she knew that he didn't mean anything spiteful or that he was leaving. Regardless of the explanation, her tongue felt numb in her mouth as she waited. He gestured vaguely up at the stars.
"This world is…fucking absurd," Steven said. "You've seen stuff no other human on earth can imagine, and then the war, and the things on Homeworld… And you're not scared by any of it. And I don't know how you can - be here? how you can - "
"I CAN'T, Steven. WE can."
The interruption pushed Steven back, and he inhaled slowly, raising his face upwards. Connie's finger pointed at his gemstone, an accusation.
"The reason I can 'pretend' is because of you," she said. Her voice was too steady, like a tightrope walker over the alligator pit. "I don't pretend, I believe in you, because of… Do you even know what I would be, who I would be without you? Because I don't! And I don't care! That's what scares me, Steven: not the world where we lose together, but the one where we win alone."
Steven crossed his arms over his chest. The wind caught his shirt and blew the red cotton around his waist as the moonlight caught his face. Connie noticed, he had lost weight.
She crossed her arms as well from the night chill. "That's why we did all of that when we got back, Steven. That's why we got you into sessions, that's why my mom got you the meds, and - Steven, she doesn't do that, not for no reason, and even she knew you needed…"
He had turned away again. Connie let her arms fall down to her sides.
"When was the last time you talked to Dr. Siegel, Steven?" she murmured.
His arms started to tremble. She had seen those arms lift boulders, cars, break down doors like they were made out of tissue paper.
"When was the last time you took them, Steven."
He just sat down. Right there, on the grass, Steven sat down with his hands in his lap. His head fell forwards, right into his hands.
Connie couldn't see him anymore. She blindly knelt down in the grass behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. One ear pressed against the back of his spine. Steven's breath shuddered beneath her. Connie closed her eyes and tried to ignore the breeze around them. He was so warm.