Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Bones, sinking like stones

(...)

Oh, all that I know

There's nothing here to run from

'Cause yeah, everybody here's got somebody to lean on

- Don't Panic, Coldplay

Another day, another migraine, Lars complains in his mind, his only company at the Big Donut today.

Sadie is on her day off, while he’s forced to stay in this greasy piece of junk. He does cover for her sometimes, but not an entire day. Most days there have been slow, for that matter, and while he’s grateful he doesn’t have to move a lot from his spot, he can’t see the point in staying here – and not without Sadie to talk to about upcoming horror movies or complain about Beach City’s whereabouts. He might just clock out earlier, really.

Lars is scrolling down his social media when the door rings. Just by one glance, he already knows who’s coming by, so he doesn’t bother looking up from his cell phone.

… or at least, before he notices how silent the Big Donut is, that you can even hear the boring background music.

Lars won’t contain a frown once he faces Steven, whose dark eyes are downcast. If the former isn’t looking too much into it, the kid seems to have tired bags under them. Overall, he looks… blue about something.

Whatever happened, Steven doesn’t mention it – when he’s always barging in the Big Donut to talk nonstop about his magical hijinks. Instead, he contemplates the warm glass of donuts in front of him. Lars, definitely not interested, waits for his order as he continues looking at his phone.

…

Nothing.

Okay. This is unnerving.

“Hey, Steven,” Lars calls him, annoyed. When that doesn’t work, he snaps his fingers in front of the kid. “Helloooo? Earth to Steven?”

Only then does the younger boy acknowledge his presence at all.

“Oh, hi! Hi… sorry.” Steven sighs.

Lars’ frown deepens. “What the heck’s gotten into you? You haven’t been a chatterbox for, what…” He checks his phone. “Woah, ten minutes? Are you sick or something?”

“No, nothing is wrong. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, and I love French fries.” Lars rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “I’m not stupid, man.”

“I’m fine.”

“Keep telling yourself that, maybe those ugly bags in your face will disappear.”

Steven groans and raises his voice. “Okay, it should’ve been a miracle for you that I’m not annoying you, so why do you suddenly care?!”

That catches Lars off guard for a good two seconds before he steams hot air.

“I don’t care! I’m trying to do my job here, against my will, so are you going to order, or are you gonna brood until the Big Donut closes, huh? What will it be?”

The two share a glaring contest for an entire minute. Lars wins once Steven looks down.

“The usual, please,” The boy requests, toning himself down a great deal; though it’s deep with anger and grievance.

Lars doesn’t comment and simply goes to grab the two chocolate donuts Steven likes. After a few silent moments, though, the kid speaks up again, quietly:

“I’m sorry for yelling.”

The older boy’s face softens before he realizes it, his temper returning to him.

“… Eh, no hard feelings, man.” Lars shrugs. But as he internally replays their argument, he adds, rather softly, “I, uh, I shouldn’t have made those comments on your mood like that.” He mumbles in his breath, “I should really keep stuff to myself sometimes…”

“It’s okay.”

Except it’s not okay. Steven no longer looks angry – there’s guilt all over him. And from the looks of it, it must not be related to Steven reasonably snapping at the other earlier.

“I’ve been… trying so hard, you know,” The younger continues, much to Lars’ surprise. “I’m trying hard to be better. I’m supposed to be a Crystal Gem, but…” He swallows. “I-I keep messing everything up…”

The small sniff that escapes him is loud, blaring to Lars’ ears.

The kid says nothing else and looks at nowhere again, whereas the older boy watches him. Lars has seen Steven mad before. He has seen him… hurt before. Lars was one of the reasons once, and it’s definitely not something he’s proud of. Yet this time, Steven looks the most hurt Lars has ever seen him – and he doesn’t even talk about it, like he does about everything else. It’s so… disturbing.

Lars realizes he’s still holding his order, so he inhales and has an idea: he checks on the rest of the donuts in display and takes a new flavor – a brownie cake donut, filled with chocolate frost and nuts. He’s soon met with Steven’s confused look.

“Look, uh… I know this isn’t much,” Lars says as he closes the paper bag. “But it’s- it’s on the house. I also sneaked this new flavor we got; it’s, uh, like chocolate cake with nuts. I dunno if you like them, but… yeah.”

He’s rambling. Why is he rambling?

At that, Lars simply hands him the bag, at which Steven stares for a good couple of seconds, as if not believing what’s happening in front of his very eyes.

“… really?” Steven asks.

“Yeah, really.”

The boy’s eyes meet his, and they begin to sparkle. Lars feels his cheeks heat up.

“Come on, just take it,” Lars grunts, shaking the bag a bit desperately. Steven finally takes it and holds it as if it’s the most precious gift he’s ever received. He raises his head again, genuinely moved.

“You’re… You’re worried about me?” He wonders.

“WHAT!?” Lars squeaks, face burning. “I’m not worried! Why the heck would I be worried?!”

He avoids any eye contact, deciding to look at anywhere but Steven.

“Y-You’re literally the only person who comes here every single day, so you should just- get your 1000^th free donut for once,” He says. “This is not because I’m worried.”

Part of Lars expects Steven to be weird about it – because that’s who he is, a little weirdo –, but the kid surprises him when he isn’t. Once the orange-haired teen has the gut to look back, Steven gives him a fond, grateful smile.

“Thanks, Lars,” He whispers. It’s heartfelt, nonetheless.

Lars blinks, then looks away. “Ugh, whatever. Get outta here and enjoy your donuts.”

Steven beams for the first time today. “Okay! See you later!”

Finally, the door rings again and Lars is left alone. When Steven is out of his field of vision, he runs a hand down his face with a long, embarrassed groan.

“I need a break,” He decides, putting the ‘Gone for lunch’ sign on the door and fleeing to the break room.

(At least no one will see his dumb smile.)