"Spinel.."

It wasn't right. None of this was right or okay and he knew it, he dreaded it.
Steven cupped the heart shaped gemstone in his hands and pulled down his bubble to look on at the damage Spinel had dealt in her meltdown. Of course she was upset, he knew she was upset but to poof?

It was an otherworldly kind of grief to experience, if it caused a gem to completely dissapate. He hated the idea that he was the one to bring such a reaction.
Still, it had to be done.

Steven hopped over the rubble and debris to the warp pad, staring down at the pink heart as though the gem inside would reappear.
It didn't work like that, she could take days to reform, and after such horrible news, no matter what he'd have to be there to help. Partly out of obligation, but mostly because he would have wanted that for himself.

Garnet was most certainly the first to approach him, nodding somberly at his treasure when he passed, knowing that he absolutely desired to be away from the inevitable commotion Pearl and Amethyst would have.

It was just he and Connie and the small rock, sitting on his bed, quietly hoping that the happy little gem would return.

"She tried to-"

"Yeah..." Steven cut her off before she could finish, preferring not to hear the word. Spinel tried to shatter herself. He had the memory on a seemingly constant loop in his mind, rewinding and replaying those quiet musings before she decided to let go.
He wasn't sure what to do, or where to go after this, eventually she would reform but what would change? Would she even be the same at all?
And worse, would she try again?

'But I do.' Was that enough? Did it really even matter to her?

"I don't know what to do." He mumbled softly, digging his chin into his pillow while his eyes remained fixated on Spinel's gem. Connie shifted positions in order to face him, offering a smile in hopes it would loft his worry. It didn't.

"I'm sure she'll be okay, Steven." They were empty assurances and she knew that saying it aloud wouldn't change anything. She just wanted to try.

"Six thousand years." Steven answered, almost at a whisper. "Since mom first got Earth, Connie. That's how ling she waited there."

Age was just an illusion. That's what Pearl said, right? But how could you possibly quantify six thousand years of complete and utter isolation?
How much more harm could that do to someone who did nothing wrong? How much was that horribly rash decision made to cause suffering?

Some part of him wanted only to punish himself, despite knowing it served no good. He wasn't his mother and no perpetuated self loathing or blame would fix anything.
At least Spinel recognized he wasn't the same as Pink. She knew, or at least he hoped she did, that he was only ever himself. He had been.
She knew that right?

He had started from the ground up, ever since he stepped foot on that desolate floating rock. Spinel was broken but he could help pick up the peices and mend the last mistake his mother ever made.

For now though, he would wait.

The gem was surprisingly large as Steven delved into a closer inspection. One of the largest he had seen that didn't belong to a diamond. Something about it made him know that it held so much emotion and so much love, that was thrown away like a broken toy. Perhaps that's all Spinel really was to Pink. A childish toy meant to be forgotten.
Unlike some of those most cherished things that even he brought into his young adult life. Even MC BearBear couldn't simply be thrown away.
It was one of the many differences he shared with his mother.

"It's getting late." Connie's soft voice pulled him from his thoughts, she was sliding off his bed and preparing her things to head out. Steven tore his eyes away from the gemstone and back to his friend.

"I can get lion to take you home?" What a hollow offer. Connie understood it though and nodded.

"Alright, let me know if anything happens?" She waved goodbye and trotted down the stairs toward the sleeping big cat that was her ticket home. And then he was alone, or mostly so.

Left to his own fears and apprehensions regarding the return of his companion. One who so desperately needed that companionship, and a companionship he was eager to provide.