Several days have passed, and I've been watching the sea gradually recede. I think it took about five days for that column of water to disappear completely; it was enormous, truly. Even so, I thanked the gods who brought me here, because I honestly couldn't remember if in the series that column had caused any disaster, if ships were involved, or if there were many deaths, or if the government had intervened in any way. Although, to be honest, since it was a TV show, everyone probably would have taken it as something biblical and not given it much thought.
But anyway, back to the present... the last few days have been a bit strange. Although, of course, strange for me is a relative concept. I'm a beautiful being, and someone beautiful, naturally, should have a bodyguard. That's what I thought in a dream, and believe me, I never imagined it would come true. Connie, my best friend, has been acting differently since that day we went to see the column of water. He seemed to feel useless, and yes, all the voices in my head agreed that he was, but for me, the original, he wasn't. The truth is, I wouldn't have had the courage to talk to Lapis if it weren't for her. Her presence put a certain pressure on me, that feeling that if someone hurt her, I had to stay calm and act logically.
But do you know what he did? He went after the person who, at first glance, seemed the most sensible, the calmest, and the most capable. Yes, I'm talking about Perla. And he did it completely behind my back. To this day, I still don't know exactly what they were up to. I found out one morning, one of those mornings when everything seemed normal.
I had finished a totally satisfying workout, or at least that's what I kept telling myself to convince myself. Then I went to the bathroom because, well, Fabricio needed to relieve himself, and who am I to deny his body that pleasure? While I was washing my hands, I heard footsteps inside the house.
And that's how the mystery began.
I stood still, confused, listening to footsteps that weren't coming from the doors where the girls were. What's going on? I wondered. A burglar? Now it was time to put the lessons I'd seen on my phone into practice. I would summon my shield, making it a little smaller; I must admit that controlling that power was much harder than it seemed. My schizophrenia and too much free time from not studying had led me to a new level of imagination, but putting that aside, I paid attention.
The temple door opened silently. Connie whispered a greeting to Pearl, and Pearl responded in a low voice as well. That disconcerted me; for a moment I thought they had invented a new religion based on whispers.
From where I stood, I could hear the conversation. Pearl asked if Connie was sure about not telling Steven what she was hiding. Connie replied that she was sure; she had started wearing longer clothes to hide her injuries and had told someone that she looked better that way. Connie's voice sounded more nervous than usual, and I remembered seeing her in long sleeves and longer skirts the last few days. Pearl insisted she didn't want Steven to know, and Connie, with barely contained excitement, confessed she was doing it because she wanted to impress him. Then they both headed toward the portal.
I left the bathroom and stood for a moment, still detached from the scene, a little out of it. The idea of someone trying to impress me made me smile absurdly; as I leaned against the doorframe with a finger brushing my lips, I whispered to myself that I hoped she didn't hurt herself doing that.
Then I headed toward Connie's mother's bedroom door, feeling that this gesture betrayed an old rivalry. I faced her with a defiant air; of course I intended to go into that room. I stood in front of the door, put on the most serious expression I could muster, and prepared to reproach her in that silly, theatrical voice I used when I wanted to drag out a scene for hours.
I discovered everything that way, but putting aside what I did, should I be worried? The answer was clear in my chest: absolutely. I felt that Pearl wanted Connie to be her reflection, traumas and all. That thought made my stomach churn. With my wit and my 180 IQ, I arrived at a logical conclusion: they were probably training in the celestial arena, or whatever that mythical place was called. So, true to my nature as a concerned gossip, I walked toward the portal and with a thought, I teleported myself there.
When I arrived, I found them practicing with swords. The scene was more theatrical than I was keen on. Pearl was egging Connie on, telling her she was doing it for me, and Connie was responding with a seriousness that seemed excessive to me; she insisted she would die for me. That statement stopped me dead in my tracks on the stairs. What on earth was going on? I glared at Pearl, as if she were a gem capable of resurrecting corpses or exaggerating everything to the point of absurdity.
Pearl noticed my gaze, froze, and Connie, who had been oblivious to everything until that moment, also froze. The silence stretched out, thick and long. I approached without losing my composure. I wasn't in the mood to hear promises of sacrifice. I knew what it was like to die, and I didn't want anyone to suffer for me; that idea made my conscience churn.
Perla took a breath and spoke with a conviction that made her intentions clear: she wanted Connie to be my shield, my right hand, the person who would take my pain and protect me at all costs. Emotion trembled in her voice; it was the mixture of pride and fanaticism that only the masters and the fervent can display.
I looked at them calmly. I asked if they truly thought it acceptable for someone to die for me. Don't misunderstand me, it wasn't vanity; I simply couldn't bear the thought of a life wasted in my name. I asked Perla if that was what she had done before, if she had repeated the same pattern with my mother, and the words seemed to hang in the air. Perla tensed up to her fingertips. My mother. That word charged the atmosphere with an uncomfortable electricity.
I explained that I didn't want a shield or a replica of past traumas around me. I looked at Connie firmly and ordered her to stay in the house. I made it clear we would talk there, no excuses or refusals. I warned, more jokingly than threatening, but with every intention of being taken seriously, that if she locked herself in her room, I would drag her out and force her back in. The silence returned, heavy, until Pearl floated the idea of calling Garnet instead.
The mention of Garnet made Pearl pale, if that was even possible. That was all it took. With restrained determination, Pearl ran toward the portal, and Connie followed without hesitation. I stood for a moment watching them vanish in the glow of the dimensional transition, thinking that in that world everything was taken too seriously, even heroic drama, and that perhaps I would have to start taking more drastic measures to prevent my life from becoming a tragedy. As the echo of the portal faded, I retraced my steps toward the house, convinced that gossip and parental intervention would be the only medicine for this over-the-top sword-fighting therapy.
I was stunned; I'd asked her to stay, and yet she'd left. I walked quickly, my heart racing, muttering to myself that this was the behavior of a four-and-a-half-year-old. Together, the three of us arrived at the house.
Connie was already carrying her suitcases, running toward the door, when I decided to intervene with something more theatrical than an order: I conjured a bubble. Amazing, right? A Bluutho bubble appeared in front of her and froze her, as if she'd suddenly remembered that I, in a casual conversation, had said I'd make bubbles for my enemies or for other gems.
She turned slowly, awkwardly raised her hand, and stood there, in an uncomfortable greeting position. She approached hesitantly, trying to sound natural, offering food and apologies at the same time. She hesitated, offered to buy what was needed and cook, as if domesticity were the antidote to drama.
I stared, puzzled. Was she going to hit me? I thought, because seriously, who does she take me for? I saw a memory flash through her mind: images of punishments from her past, a shadow of violence that pierced her gaze. She said it with her eyes, not with words.
She broke the guilty silence, wondering if she had said that out loud. I, with a bead of sweat on my temple and not understanding why she mentioned Vietnam, let the bubble dissipate with a gesture. I picked her up carefully, settled her on the sofa, and took a deep breath, thinking that sometimes life in this place was less heroic and more like a comedy of errors that was determined to become a tragedy.
"You know, Connie," I said, looking at her calmly as she sat on the sofa like a child who had been punished, "I'm not angry with you, I just don't want anyone to die, you know? And least of all you. You're one of the few friends I have, and that means a lot."
Connie didn't answer. She looked at me with that expression of a dog in the rain, so sad it hurt to see it. In her mind, a melancholic song was probably playing, something like "that's why I waited with my face all wet," and I had to stifle a soft laugh so as not to break the moment.
I took her hand. She didn't resist, letting me do it as if the weight of the world had drained her strength. I looked at her with a serenity I tried to convey, and when she looked up, I noticed her eyes were teary and her cheeks were flushed.
Ah, I thought, puzzled, why are you blushing?
I shook my head to stay on topic. I smiled at her calmly. Look, Connie, I don't want you to give your life for me. I don't want a right-hand man or a shadow to carry my battles. Well, maybe a right-hand man, but not that kind, I added, unable to suppress a smile.
Her face turned even redder, as if my words had triggered an internal alarm. Before I could say anything else, she stood up and hugged me tightly. I felt her warmth envelop me, and, reflexively, the power did its work: a bright light enveloped us, and suddenly we were no longer two.
Stevonnie blinked, completely confused. She looked at her hands, her hair, her entire body, as if trying to process her new shared existence.
"Uh," she murmured, still not understanding how it had happened, "sorry, I didn't mean to." "Don't worry," she answered herself softly, "we can stay like this for a while, I don't want to be alone right now." "Okay," she whispered, accepting the calm of the moment, "I'll talk to Pearl later."
And so, literally, we were together. We spent a few hours playing, talking, trying new things, rediscovering how it worked to be one person with two souls.
When they finally separated, the sun was already setting. Connie left, still slightly flushed, while her mother waited outside with an expression of control disguised as concern. Ever since that day she'd come home late, her mother had lost all trust, especially in Garnet, who had been the group's representative that time.
I watched her get into the car and close the door, a smile fading into the distance. Then I was left alone, staring at the orange sky from the temple doorway, thinking about how strange love could be when it mixed magic, fusions, and a touch of teenage awkwardness.
"Connie, nah," I said, shaking my head repeatedly. There was no point in insisting anymore. "Let's talk to Pearl."
I walked slowly down the hallway, each step echoing softly, until I reached her door. I knocked three times, gently, as if each knock were a warning wrapped in calm.
"Pearl," I said in a voice so calm it sounded like an angel knocking on a door. "Open up. I want to talk to you. Alone."
Silence answered first. Several minutes passed, and the door remained closed. I sighed with a mixture of patience and annoyance. "Fine, you want me to do what I promised. I'll count to three," I warned in a dry tone that contrasted sharply with my previous composure.
One.
Nothing.
Two.
The same stubborn silence.
And just as I was about to say three, my gem began to glow with a bright, vibrant light, as if reacting to my growing impatience. At that opportune moment, my mother's bedroom door slowly opened.
I stood in the doorway, my eyes squinting. "Now you open it," I murmured, almost amused. "You didn't want me to break the door, did you?" My gem glowed once more, as if answering me with a silent nod.
"I'll just go in," I thought, stepping through the frame with the decisiveness of someone who no longer has time for games of hide-and-seek.
My mother's room was a world made of soft, warm, pink clouds, a place where my mind could completely lose itself. There, my schizophrenia reached its peak, so I decided to do something to not let that corner of madness and memories go to waste.
"Come out here, Rosa."
Silence reigned for several minutes, until a figure slowly began to materialize before me. Rose Quartz appeared, radiant, with a maternal smile that struck me straight to the heart.
"I said Rosa, not Rose."
The figure hesitated for a moment, but nodded obediently. Her body began to change, the light intensified, and her gem slowly rotated on her abdomen. In a pink flash, a new figure emerged: the majestic and brilliant Pink Diamond. Her presence filled the entire room, and her eyes gazed at me with the tenderness and firmness of a mother.
"Since you are part of my mind, take me where I can reach the girls' real rooms."
"I said Rosa, not Rose."
The figure hesitated for a moment, but nodded obediently. Her body began to change, the light intensified, and her gem slowly rotated on her abdomen. In a pink flash, a new figure emerged: the majestic and brilliant Pink Diamond. Her presence filled the entire room, and her eyes looked at me with the tenderness and firmness of a mother.
"Since you are part of my mind, take me where I can reach the girls' real rooms."
"I said Rose Quartz." She nodded and extended her hand, guiding me.
I always wanted to know what Pink Diamond really looked like. Thanks to this place, I knew now. Although her appearance was different from what I remembered: her skin was a pale pink, her eyes sparkled like cut diamonds, and her hair, white as the dawn light, fell in soft waves. She wore an outfit that seemed like a cross between armor and a royal robe. Perhaps that's how my mind perceived her.
She looked at me with a smile and stood beside me.
"Hello, son. Have you been well these past few years?"
I looked at her for a few seconds and replied with a somewhat mischievous smile.
"Well, if being in the midst of wars and trouble means being well, then yes, I've been well."
Pink Diamond lowered her gaze.
"You know, I never meant to leave you like this," she said softly. "At the time, I didn't think much about what I was doing, and now that I no longer exist... only fragments of memories remain inside your gem. Thanks to them, I can speak to you like this."
I never wanted you to live through my battles, which it seems you now have to face. I can only wish you luck, because I no longer have the strength to do it myself.
We reached a luminous tube that connected to the other rooms. She looked at me with a motherly gleam in her eyes.
I love you very much, son. I know you haven't seen the video in Lion's mane yet, but watch it when you can. I wasn't the best mother, but you should know... I love you, and never forget that. Please, talk to Pearl.
Her smile slowly faded as her body vanished in pink flashes. I felt a lump in my throat and a few stray tears escaped my eyes.
"Huh?" I murmured as I wiped my face. "You look like you're crying, Steven," I thought quietly, trying to compose myself. I hadn't cried like this since that time the Gems almost killed me.
I turned toward the hole that connected to the rest of the rooms. "Okay, let's go," I said, and jumped in.
As I fell, a few stray tears trickled down, but they disappeared before hitting the ground.
I should go into that room more often, I thought with a wistful smile.
I passed Amethyst's room, who looked at me, confused, but greeted me with a smile. I smiled back before continuing on.
I finally reached Perla's room. I jumped out of the tube and surveyed the place: a calm, almost ethereal surface of water. There she was, sitting cross-legged, her gaze distant, a deep sadness in her eyes.
I approached slowly and, after a few seconds, murmured, "Hello, Perla."
She didn't answer, but her body tensed. The silence stretched until she finally spoke, her voice breaking.
"I failed you, didn't I? I failed you again, Rose. My God, I can't get over her, you know. No matter how much time passes, I'll always see you the same. I can't see you as you, as your true self."
I remained silent.
"You're disappointed, aren't you? I tried to forget her, but I can't. I look at you and all I see is Rose," she sighed, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"You know," I said calmly, "you can't change six thousand years in just five. Nobody forgets that quickly. Just trying is enough."
"I'm not going to forget her, you know. Nobody forgets that fast. Just trying is enough."
"I'm not going to forget her, you know. Nobody forgets that quickly." Perla looked at me, her eyes shining, surprised by my words.
But there's something else, I added. I don't like that you project yourself onto Connie. I know you don't do it out of malice, but... you would die for me. Have you stopped to think about that?
I sat down beside her.
I don't want anyone to die for me, Perla. I don't want anyone to carry something that isn't theirs to bear.
She lowered her head, trembling, and I stood up, extending my hand. Come on, get up.
She sat up mechanically, and without thinking, I hugged her.
You know, I think she never meant for you to depend so much on her memory. According to her, you were meant to be free. But looking back now... I think she was wrong. I want you to be happy, Perla. That makes us equal, you, her, and me. We are one.
Perla burst into tears, hugging me tightly. For a moment, they almost merged, but Steven held back, maintaining his balance.
And so, Steven spoke to Pearl heart to heart. And Connie, from that day on, understood that he was willing to do anything for a friend.
End of Chapter 19.
Note: Thank you for your support of this series <3 Please give it stars so I know you like it. If we reach 18 stars, I'll try to upload a new chapter as soon as possible.