Chapter Text
Marc suddenly found himself in a small enclosed space.
Instinctively he put up his fists, but another few blinks cleared the bleariness from his eyes and revealed he was alone in Steven's bathroom. His shoulders slumped with relief, and he reached up to run a hand through his hair, only to be blocked by a silky hat.
What the hell? Since when did Steven wear stupid hats? He yanked it off his head, and immediately froze at the sight of it.
No way.
No way that was today.
He threw the hat in the sink and pawed frantically at what he was wearing.
Oh no...
Still in firm disbelief, he rushed over to stand in front the mirror, groaning in despair. Silk hat with a square top, ridiculous blue gown, today must be Steven's graduation. The only question was whether he had missed it or was in the process of missing it now.
Slapping the dumb hat back on his head, he shuffled awkwardly out of the bathroom, flapping about uncomfortably in the flowy fabric. Spotting Steven's phone on the couch, he snatched it up and turned it on. The brightness was too low as always, but he could make out a picture of a group of Steven's college friends that had replaced the usual bland wallpaper. Taking a deep breath, he rubbed at his eyes and collapsed on the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. Looked like Steven had already attended his graduation. Marc wasn't sure whether to be happy that he hadn't messed it up for Steven or sad that he had missed it. Just last week he'd been counting down the days. How had he lost track of time?
"You look like a fool."
Ah, that's how.
Marc's gaze slid over to the towering deity in the corner of his vision.
"I look about as stupid as you do."
Khonshu leaned in threateningly, his empty eyes practically burning holes into Marc's dumb gown.
"Which is to say?" He pried.
Marc returned the bemused look.
"Nothing you haven't heard before." He replied calmly, taking out the phone again.
"What are you looking at?" Khonshu grumbled, perching on top of the couch and leaning over Marc's shoulder.
"...he graduated today." Marc swallowed hard. "I forgot."
"You had better things to do." Khonshu chortled. "That town wasn't going to save itself."
"It might've." Marc mumbled.
Opening Steven's gallery, he flipped through the latest additions to the camera roll, an album of bright and blurry photos that painted a picture of an absolutely beautiful day, and a man absolutely giddy to be living it. There was over a hundred photos, most of them of random things and people that probably made Steven smile in the moment, but that he'd frown sheepishly at later. Marc smirked, knowing that he'd be downloading every last one of these to his personal computer before Steven had the chance to get embarrased and delete them. Another sizeable chunk of the photo was of Steven's friends and his favorite professors, all of them absolutely failing to look like accomplished scholars when not one of them could stop smiling. And lastly, there was a handful of the rarest kind of photos, photos of Steven. It was clear in the first two that someone had turned the phone on Steven and as usual, he'd shyed away, hiding his face behind his hands. In the next picture, two of his friends had joined in, one of them holding Steven's arms down so he couldn't block the camera, and the other playfully tickling him to get him to smile. The fourth picture was of the whole group together, everyone smushed into frame like sardines in a can, with Steven in the middle. Marc hadn't fully noticed it until now, but Steven was the only one wearing a gold stole. Looking up briefly from the phone, Marc glanced around until he spotted it pinned on the wall next to Steven's bed. Marc couldn't help but grin proudly at it, specifically at the crimson red embroidery marking it as a valedictorian's stole.
"Is that the worm? He looks moronic in that monkey suit."
The smile instantly fell from Marc's face, and he turned to Khonshu with poison on his tongue.
"I'm gonna renounce you for the hippo." He hissed.
"You wouldn't dare." Khonshu growled.
"Keep talking and I'll sell you for a bagel."
And with that, Khonshu, god of the night sky, gave a petulant grunt and stormed off, pushing all the papers off Steven's desk as he went. Marc rolled his eyes and threw his middle finger up at the god's back. Today wasn't about him, Marc would deal with the fallout of their little feud later. Turning his attention back to the phone, he flipped to the second to last capture of the day. This one wasn't a photo however, but a video. Raising an eyebrow, he turned up the sound and hit play.
The video was taken from the perspective of someone in the front row, looking up at a black platform on a lavishly decorated stage. There were some garbled words, followed by loud applause, and Marc's face lit up as he watched Steven clamber onstage from the left side of the screen. It was adorable watching that bright smile on his face as he jogged up to accept his diploma. More words were said, hands were shaken, and Steven gave a bow to the audience, almost tripping on the hem of his gown as he did so. The audio quality was crap, but it didn't matter much because Marc could just watch Steven's expression, that bliss on his face. Something seemed something off about it though. Rewinding to when Steven first got on stage, he watched the proceedings closely. Cheering, diploma, speech, handshakes...
His eyes. That was it.
Marc backed up one more time, turned up the audio as high as it went, and watched Steven's face closely. When he first went up, his attention was fully on the people onstage. But the moment the diploma is in his hand..he starts looking out among the audience. That bright smile starts to look a little less real. And barely, just barely, through the wild cheers and static, Marc hears the words 'your parents must be proud'.
Instantly his heart drops to his stomach.
Those innocent looking glances towards the crowd...Steven was looking for their mother.
Marc's jaw clenched, and he looked away, not wanting to confront this. And yet he found his gaze wandering to the papers on the floor, the bright postcards scattered among the sea of handwritten notes.
Fuck. Fuck.
Marc stood abruptly, pacing the floor. He didn't have an excuse yet for this one. What kind of mother forgets their child's graduation? Well, obviously a dead one, but he wasn't going to drop the ruse now, on today of all days. He'd started writing the letters in the first place so Steven wouldn't have to know about him, and what he'd done, how he'd destroyed any chance Steven had at having a real relationship with their mother. It had become so needlessly elaborate now though, but Marc couldn't stop after he realized that Steven kept the postcards and reread them so often the lettering faded. It was excuse after excuse to keep up the facade, to the point Marc had stopped using the postcards to justify their mother's absence. It became a taboo of sorts, and instead, he filled the letters with stories of his travels rewritten as experiences their mother had had, occasionally he'd put in a poem he'd read that he thought Steven would like. He'd built an adventurous and kind persona for the woman who couldn't look at him without cursing his name for years. It hurt sure, but seeing how close they were to Steven's heart...
Marc clenched his fists, shut his eyes, and stood in silence until he could bear to exist as himself again. He looked down at the phone, and flipped to the last photo in the album.
It was a picture of Steven. Just Steven.
No friends forcing him to open up, no hands trying to hide his face. Just him, standing there with a shy smile on his face, and his diploma in his hand. He looked vaguely troubled, no doubt wondering why his only remaining family hadn't shown up.
Unlike the other photos, the file for this was one had a given name.
are_you_proud_of_me_mum.jpg
Marc started at it for a long time. He wished he could scare away the sadness behind Steven's eyes. The funny part about it though, was that despite the sorrow, the picture was beautiful. The sun shone brightly down on Steven, his hair was combed but somehow still messy in a keenly Steven sort of way. He clung so tight to that paper in his hand you'd think he would die if he let it go. And just like always, Marc saw the world in his eyes. Maybe their mother wasn't there, but...Marc was. Even if he had to pretend to be someone else, preserving every hope and dream Steven had, no matter how fleeting...that was worth it.
"Look at you." Marc whispered to the screen. "You don't even know how far you've come. Even she would be proud."
He lingered on the photo a little longer, swallowing down the lump in his throat, and then he set the phone back where he'd found it.
Going to his secret little cubby, he pulled out a special postcard he'd bought for this very occasion. Words and phrasing swam through his head as he cleaned up the mess Khonshu had made. He wanted to say the right thing, but words had never been his strong suit. He doubted that there were even words that could convey everything he wanted to say to Steven, all the things he desperately needed him to know even if saying them outright would reveal the ruse.
Grabbing a pen, Marc sat down at Steven's desk and began to write, compelling himself to keep it short, to not say more than he could bear to say. He could only hope these words would do it.