Work Text:
Things are different.
U̶n̶u̶s̶u̶a̶l̶.
A̶w̶k̶w̶a̶r̶d̶.
W̶r̶o̶n̶g̶.
Just different.
She isn’t sure what to say, but slipping her hand into his seems like a good place to start.
Steven looks down at their hands as he feels the contact, and Connie sucks in a shaking breath as she waits for his response. It should be fine. Hopefully, it’s fine. She wants it to be fine.
He smiles. It’s fine.
“I’ve missed you.”
She knows what to say to that.
“I’ve missed you too,” she whispers, and it almost makes her cry. He’s been gone for so long, and video calls and late night text messages haven’t been able to compare to the feeling of having him here, having him in her arms, being able to cup his face and kiss his cheeks and feel him smile beneath her touches. It’s been so long, there’s so much she wants to do, and she isn’t sure where to even begin, how to begin. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’m— I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to meet you.” His eyes flick down to the sand, and she lifts his hand up to her mouth and kisses it softly. Reassurance. Promise. Love. “Just... between everything, between travelling and work, I haven’t had time. Things have been... a lot.”
Connie raises an eyebrow, curiosity peaking. “Work?”
Steven lets out a laugh, and it doesn’t sound the same as she remembers. “Yeah. Some place in Oregon. It was weird.”
“Did you like it?”
Something lights in Steven’s eyes, and Connie resists the urge to smile as she sees him slip into excitement mode, his hand falling from hers as he turns to face her. “I did! I mean, like I said, it was weird. The whole town was weird.”
“‘Weird’ coming from you? Wow.”
“Right? Nothing is weird to me, but that place... there were monsters - except, not monsters, not really - and some kid who followed me around with a journal. And there was a goat. I’m pretty sure the whole town was just a hallucination.”
Connie snorts. “Sounds fun.”
“It was...” something in Steven’s expression shifts. A little sadder, a little more tired, a little more wistful. “It was fun. I’d like to go back.”
“Maybe you can, one day.” She bites her lip as Steven nods, his hand finding hers again, his body shifting as he leans in for a kiss. She closes her eyes and meets him halfway, pressing her lips against his, melting into his touch, his presence, his everything, him. She can’t help but think how much she’s missed this, how different and familiar and perfect and strange it feels to be here with him again, how things are almost the same and yet not quite.
Her hand reaches up and she laces fingers through his hair and it’s different. His hair is longer, curlier, thicker, almost falling down to his shoulders, brushing along her face and tickling her cheek. His hand finds her waist and it’s different, stronger and tougher but somehow with that same softness, that same love and gentleness because it’s Steven, he’s Steven.
U̶n̶u̶s̶u̶a̶l̶.
A̶w̶k̶w̶a̶r̶d̶.
W̶r̶o̶n̶g̶.
Just different.
She pulls away eventually and lets a quiet breath escape her, her hand leaving his hair and slipping down to trace along his jaw, brushing a finger softly over his lips. “It’s nice to have you back.” Her voice is soft, barely a whisper, and her eyes study every inch of him as she waits for a response.
“It’s nice to be back,” and she catches him as he leans into her, falling against her like she’s the only solid thing in the world. Maybe she is. Maybe they are. Right now, it feels like it, like nothing else exists except soft touches and desperate kisses and clasped hands and the sand shifting underneath them. “It’s been too long.”
“Any time without you is too long.”
He wraps his arms around her, face buried in her shoulder, and she feels him smile against her shirt, against her skin, against her. “I’m sorry that I’m different now.”
Long hair, strong hands, tales of strange jobs and stranger towns.
U̶n̶u̶s̶u̶a̶l̶.
A̶w̶k̶w̶a̶r̶d̶.
W̶r̶o̶n̶g̶.
Just different.
“It’s okay,” she whispers back, and it is. It’s okay. It’s more than okay. It’s Steven and it’s Connie and it’s perfect, they’re together and they’re different and they’ve grown.
“Are you sure?” It’s muffled. Quiet. Scared.
“I’m sure,” Connie says, and Steven melts into her with a sigh of relief, every part of his body relaxing. Her arms are around him almost immediately, holding him tight and keeping him together, keeping herself together, keeping them together. “We’ve both changed. We’re always changing. We can do it together.”
“Together,” he repeats, and he looks up at her with a small smile, tears in his eyes threatening to spill over his cheeks. Connie isn’t sure whether they’re tears of happiness or fear, and she doesn’t know how to ask; should she ask? “I like us when we’re together.”
She smiles. “I love us when we’re together.”
His head tips down again, pressed softly against her shoulder, and his hands cling to the back of her shirt as he breathes. Slowly, in. Hold. Slowly, out. She remembers when he first told her about it, part of a long list of advice from his therapist, something that he’d been so excited to try. So excited to be able to have some sense of control, some way to make things stop.
“Being home is weird,” he mumbles, and Connie steals a quick glance at the temple behind them. “Moving back here is going to be weird.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to,” he says, and he turns in her arms as he sighs. “That’s what’s weird. After everything, why would I want to come back here? Why would I want to come back home?”
“There’s things here you connect to. Things here you love. The gems, your dad, the beach...”
“You.”
She smiles. “Me.”
“It’s going to be uncomfortable when I move back, isn’t it?” One of his hands lifts to wipe at his eyes, harder and faster than it should, and Connie holds his wrist and guides it away gently.
“Not uncomfortable.”
“Really?”
U̶n̶u̶s̶u̶a̶l̶.
A̶w̶k̶w̶a̶r̶d̶.
W̶r̶o̶n̶g̶.
“Just different.”