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Spinel Stiles was sprawled lazily across her oversized couch, magenta eyes half-lidded in that seductive way as she shoveled popcorn into her mouth. Her pigtails bounced every time she laughed. She wore comfortable baggy gray shorts and a fitted black hoodie that still managed to look stylish on her. The Amazing Digital Circus played loudly on the TV, and she was fully tuned in to the colorful madness.
Her phone rang with Christine’s dramatic orchestral ringtone. Spinel answered without looking away from the screen.
“Yeah?”
“Spinel, darling,” Christine’s elegant voice came through. “What do you have going on today?”
“Nothing much. Might hang with Ame, Lapis, Peri, and Connie later. Why?”
“Right. I’m sorry for calling so randomly, but I need a favor from you.”
Spinel muted the TV. “What’s up?”
“Steven needs a place to stay for a while.”
Silence stretched across the line. Christine knew that silence very well.
“Why the hell would I let that people-pleasing little bitch anywhere near my place?” Spinel finally snapped.
“Spinel… he just got back from his self-finding journey. He doesn’t have anywhere else to go right now.”
“What about his dad’s beach house?”
“Greg sold it after he moved upstate. He’s already gone.”
Spinel groaned dramatically and flopped back against the cushions. “For fuck’s sake. How long does he gotta be here? If I even allow it.”
“Only until he can afford his own place. He’s determined to work for it himself instead of taking handouts. Honestly, it’s admirable—”
“More like retarded,” Spinel muttered.
Christine sighed softly. “He’s already on his way over.”
“Wait, what do you mean ‘on his way’—”
A firm knock sounded at the door.
Spinel glared at it like it had personally offended her. She got up and yanked the door open.
Steven Universe stood there, pink eyes wide and nervous, duffel bag slung over one shoulder. Behind him, Christine’s sharply dressed butlers were unloading several suitcases from a sleek black limo with smooth efficiency.
“Hey, Spinel…” Steven greeted, voice a little shaky.
“Shut up and bring your shit in already,” she grumbled, stepping aside.
As the butlers carried everything inside, Spinel crossed her arms tightly. “I’m not gonna beat around the bush. I don’t want you here. I can’t stand you. But Christine asked, and I can’t say no to her. So here we are.”
Steven nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “I understand. Thank you for letting me stay anyway.”
She led him down the hallway to the guest room—spacious with a big bed and tall windows. “If you break anything, I’ll break you. Touch my snacks without asking, I’ll break you. Sing in the shower like you used to, and I’ll record it and blast it everywhere.”
“Got it,” Steven said, setting his bag down.
He glanced at her as she stood there with her arms crossed. Memories hit him hard. Back then she had been such a happy, bubbly girl—bright pink eyes sparkling with mischief, those cute little buns bouncing as she dragged him into every silly adventure. She used to laugh so loud and freely, calling him “Stevie” in the sweetest voice. He couldn’t believe those pigtails were her natural hair color now. The magenta shade of her eyes was the same, but everything else about her felt sharper, more guarded.
“So,” Steven tried, keeping his tone light, “how’ve things been since the last time we all hung out?”
“None of your damn business,” Spinel shot back. “Now go get a job already so you can leave faster.”
Steven felt the sting, but he couldn’t blame her. The old nickname “Stevie” was long gone, replaced by cold distance. He gave a small nod as she turned to leave.
“Alright… thanks again.”
Spinel paused briefly in the doorway, her pigtails swinging, before heading back to the living room without another word. Steven sat on the edge of the bed and let out a slow breath. From the other room, he heard her yelling at the TV again—“Don’t go in there, you idiot clown!”—followed by the sound of a pillow getting aggressively thrown.
A tiny smile tugged at his lips despite everything. Some chaos never changed.