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He’s nervous.
She can tell, even though she doesn’t entirely understand why.
Everything about him is radiating discomfort; his hands clasped tightly together, his shoulders shaking, his eyes staring at the floor so intensely that they’re almost burning a hole in the wood. She doesn’t know why, and she doesn’t know what to do.
“Can I touch you?” She asks, and Connie flinches as Steven jumps, the conversation sudden and unexpected. It was only four words, but the look in his eyes proves that it meant more than anything else she could have said. She doesn’t need to ask more. She understands the unsaid words, and she knows that he does too.
Can I touch you?
Can I hold you?
Do you need me?
Tell me what you need.
I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.
There’s a short pause, Steven squeezing one of his hands tightly in the other before he nods, and Connie touches her hand to the small of his back. He leans into the touch, eyes fluttering closed before opening again, staring directly into hers.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” He whispers, and his voice shakes with worry as the words pass through his lips. His fingers brush against Connie’s gently, a silent question of can I have more?, and Connie takes his hand in hers with the full force of her reassurance behind it.
“I’m sure,” she says, and she is. She wants to be with him again, to feel his happiness in the way that only Stevonnie can give them, to see light shining between them as Steven’s gem glows and shimmers, her hand tucked softly in his as they spin. “I’m sure, Steven, but- but after everything, you don’t have to be okay with this. It’s alright if you don’t want to- or if you can’t.”
The ghost of a smile passes over Steven’s lips, a murmured “thank you,” filling the room at the same time as Connie says “I understand.” The words mix together in the air, joining and sounding over each other, and they both pause for a split second before laughing, pulling each other in and holding tight.
“Thank you!” Steven says again, grinning as it clashes with Connie’s shout of “it’s okay!”
“Okay-”
“Wait-”
“Stop-”
“Stop-”
“Talking at the same time as me!”
“Talking at the same time as me!”
Another burst of laughter, and Connie waves her hands in the air as she wipes away a tear from her eye, slowing her laughter and shaking her head. “Alright, alright, enough. Maybe we don’t need to fuse, we’re already the same.”
“Are we?” Steven bites his lip, and the beginning of sadness creeps its way back into his words. “I’m scared, Connie. I think I’m too different.”
“You are different,” Connie says, and she rushes to her next words before Steven can reply. “And so am I. And that’s good. Do you think a normal person could save the universe? Or talk down the Diamonds? Or... I don’t know, how many people do you know that can literally conjure a magical shield? Because I’m pretty sure I only know one, Steven.”
Steven snorts, eyes glittering with amusement. “I only know one human girl who can wield a sword.”
“Exactly!” Connie’s eyes gleam as she speaks, a smile overtaking her face as she bounces a little. “What’s normal? Being different is okay; we can be different together. And you know, it’s okay if Stevonnie is different too.”
“Even if they have my eyes?”
“Even,” Connie says, and she cups his face in her hands, fingers brushing over his cheek, coming to rest by the side of his eyes; bright eyes, pink eyes, with the solid shape of a diamond resting in the middle. “If they have your eyes. They’ll look beautiful. You’ll look beautiful.”
A blush spreads over Steven’s cheeks, and Connie clings onto him as he mutters under his breath, quiet words that sound like an adamant “no, you.”
“Ah, don’t try and uno reverse card me. That’s not gonna work here, Universe.”
“Bet.”
“Shut up and dance with me,” she laughs, and she pulls him to his feet, rolling her eyes at the feigned reluctance on his face. “Shush.”
“I didn’t say anything!”
“And you’d better not.” She flicks his nose with one hand, holding onto him and twirling under his arm with the other.
“Or what?”
“Or this,” and suddenly he’s in her arms, close to her, pink eyes so close to her, his lips so close to her, until she lets him drop and catches him, dipping him so low that his hair hangs down and brushes the floor.
“That was dramatic,” Steven says with a grin, and Connie laughs, harder than she’s ever laughed in her life.
“I’m just trying to teach you to be a better dancer!”
“That’s fighting talk.”
“Is it really?”
She blinks, and suddenly their position has shifted, one of Steven’s hands clasped in hers, the other resting gently on her waist, and what she can only assume is meant to be a flirtatious smile plastered across his face. “It definitely is.”
“Dork.”
Steven pouts, pulling her into a steady rhythm as they glide around the room, a perfect mix of elegant and clumsy. “You wound me, Connie Maheswaran.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll live.” She glances down as his gem starts to glow, a soft flicker of light barely visible from under his shirt. It’s a familiar sight, filling her with a warmth that feels distinctly like home, like the softness or Steven’s smile, the shape of his hands, the curls of his hair.
She’s in love.
It hits her just as the light overtakes them, a blinding glow that envelopes them just as everything falls into place in her mind, as everything figures itself out.
She’s in love.
Love.
Love.
She can almost see the word in front of her, glowing in soft pink cursive, a bold thought that she can’t ignore (not that she’d ever want to). Then suddenly it’s gone, and she’s not herself, Steven’s hand isn’t in hers, and there’s someone else entirely in the spot where she was stood.
“Eyes,” Stevonnie says, and they skid across the room, stumbling over their own feet as they search frantically for a mirror, something, anything reflective. A mirror. Pulled from the shelf, resting in their hand, and they stare into it with wide eyes.
One dark eye, a shade of brown that’s almost black. Normal. Normal. Something that they’ve seen before.
And one pink eye, shining and glittering and filled with tears, a diamond staring back at them in shock.
“Are you okay?”
I’m okay.
Connie, are you okay?
Steven, I’m okay.
“I’m okay,” Stevonnie whispers, and they touch a hand to the eyelid that closes above the pink. Soft. Gentle. Reassurance that I am still me. You are still you, Steven. We are still us. “I’m beautiful.”