Chapter Text
Dear Steven Universe,
Today is going to be an amazing day, and here’s why: because today all you gotta be is yourself.
The typing cursor blinked at him with a steady rhythm, contrast with the beating of his heart. The clock on his laptop told him he had just five minutes to leave for school, and his chest felt heavy at the thought.
He kept typing.
But also be confident but still approachable. And don’t be so afraid of disappointing people. But be yourself, that’s number one!
How, though? He thought. He didn’t know how to be himself. He always acted how he thought people wanted him to act.
It's not gonna be like that time when you had the perfect chance to introduce yourself to Connie Maheswaran at the concert last year, when you waited afterwards just to talk to her and tell her how good she was on the violin and you were gonna pretend to be super casual like you didn't even know her name. Like she would introduce herself and then you'd be like, "I'm sorry I didn't hear you, Bonnie you said your name was?" And then she'd be like, "No it's Connie." And then you'd be like "Oh see I thought you said Bonnie 'cause I'm just very busy with other stuff right now." Or something.
His hand went up to his forehead in shame. Stupid.
Well it doesn’t matter, anyway, because you bailed on that. Why would a smart, pretty girl like Connie Maheswaran want to hang out with someone like you?
He was beginning to think he was missing the point with these letters to himself. He laughed at himself. They were supposed to help “build his confidence,” or whatever. Confidence was hard to come by when you had no friends.
His dad knocked on his door, and opened the door ajar.
“Hey, Schtu-ball. You ready for school?”
Steven jumped off his bed, slamming his laptop closed, and began packing his backpack, avoiding eye contact.
“Yup!” Steven tried to sound as chipper as possible.
“Did you write a letter?”
“Yup!”
“Is it working out?”
“Totally!”
“Oh good. Tonight I’ll bring home some pizza on my way home from the car wash. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds great, Dad. Thanks!”
“You know, I know you didn’t eat again last night. Should I be worried?”
“Wasn’t hungry.”
“I can pick something up other than pizza. We can eat it together before I have to go back to work.”
“No, pizza’s fine.” Steven was ready to bolt out the door when his dad sighed.
“Steven,” his dad started, “It’s a new year. First day of high school! It’s a chance for a new start!” Greg’s eyes lit up with an idea, “Maybe ask kids to sign your cast!”
Steven's eyes trailed down to his broken arm. The thought of a bunch of names adorning the bland white plaster sparked a bit of hope in him. Then he remembered how lame that sounded, to ask random kids to sign the representation of what a screw-up he was. How pathetic it was to use your injured-kid status to guilt people into pretending to like you.
“That’s a good idea,” Steven nodded. His dad finally allowed him to rush out the door. Before Steven let the front door close behind him, he heard his dad call down the steps.
“I’m proud of you, Son!”
Oh….good…..
___
Greg Universe sighed as his fourteen-year-old son bounded out the door to get away from him, keeping a fake smile plastered on his face and in his voice. He never felt like he said the right thing to his kid. He just got further away from him as time went on. It certainly didn’t help having to work two jobs to make ends meet, and not being around that often.
He wished those single parenting guides online gave better advice.
___
The Murphy’s sat around the breakfast table, feeling like prisoners. Seriously, Amethyst would rather gouge her eyes out than be forced to act like a happy family every morning.
Their mom was locked in a glare at her sister, Lapis.
“You can’t miss the first day of your senior year!”
Lapis groaned. “I said I’d go tomorrow.”
Their other mom, stoic as always, flipped her newspaper. “She won’t listen. And she’s high,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Lapis Lazuli Murphy! Are you high?” Their mom screeched.
Lapis’s stoned face said plenty. Their mom’s reaction was priceless. Amethyst snickered, earning a kick from Lapis under the table (a hard one).
“This is not funny, Amethyst! Lapis, I do not want you going to school…” she whispered, as if scandalized by the term despite just saying it a second ago, “...high.”
Lapis deadpanned, “Great, so I won’t go. Thanks, mom.”
Lapis grabbed her (empty) backpack and stormed back upstairs. Such a drama queen.
“Well if she isn’t ready I’m leaving without her,” Amethyst said, throwing her bag over her shoulder.
___
Pearl Murphy loved her wife, she loved her two daughters, and she just loved how loving them wasn’t enough to keep them functional. Everyone felt so far away from each other in the family, and she just wished she had a map to get to them.
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