I'll tell you all how the story ends

[cleartranquil]

Who: Ghost Quest kids and all those who want to see them.
What: So as it turns out, going against the label might've been a bad move. Who knew, right? 
When: Feb 3rd and after 
Where: Pride HQ
Warnings: Talk of torture, aftermath of violence, aftermath of brainwashing, dudes there's some dark stuff.

For the past three days, the troublemakers and ghost helpers of Pride Records were kept locked away from their friends and their bands. 

As far as everyone else knew, they were just gone. And then they were back. 

They are all worse for wear, some far more than others and some much more mentally than physically, but they are all returned to their penthouses, finally, at the end of their ordeals. 

But, at least they're back. Somewhat in one piece. For the most part. 

Comments

[panspermia]

Greg chokes on a noise in the back of his throat as Steven's hand closes on his finally. Something so simple and small shouldn't feel like a victory. Something that feels like a victory shouldn't feel so terrible.

"It's okay. You'll get better. We'll figure out a way for you to get better." They can't possibly leave him like this. Pride is a lot of things, but they wouldn't be foolish enough to leave their musician unable to play.

[tigermillionaire]

"She said she didn't care," he says, his voice hiccuping with grief. "She...she doesn't want me she...it's my fault she did."

If they hadn't betrayed Pride none of this would have happened. Right now he believes that unconditionally.

"She hates us..."

[panspermia]

"You don't deserve this, no matter what you did."

He says it softly, his hand resting on his son's cheek. Kido had insisted much the same thing, taking blame for their punishment. Greg doubts Steven will be convinced any more easily.

"I love you. I do, and Garnet does, and Pinkie, and Kido. We're going to help you, even if she won't."

[tigermillionaire]

Though it's hard to tell, Steven's gaze actually seems to settle on Greg's face for a moment, that part of the picture finally coming into focus. He is quiet for another couple moments, before he starts to push himself up and over the bed sheets, trying to hold Greg in his arms. He doesn't speak, he's too caught up in the motion, the closer contact making Greg's present seem slightly more real.

[panspermia]

Greg wraps his arms around him, pulling him in closer. Given the choice, he'd never let go. His memory of their relationship is still spotty, and he still doesn't understand how it's possible. Yet he knows with all his heart it's the truth, more than anything else. He loves him, and he never wants to leave him again.

[tigermillionaire]

Somehow Steven feels more sure of their connection now than he ever had before, even if the things they forced into his head fight against it. In these scattered bursts of thought, there are no details to complicate things. Instead he just knows what he feels in the moment, and that's that Greg is his dad. It doesn't matter how.

He tugs back against Greg a little, wanting to lay down again but wanting him to come with him. Being upright feels weird and uncertain at the moment, and right now all he can think about is being close and feeling like someone else is there.

"...I remember when..." he sings, softly and sort of vacant, as if doing it on reflex, "you'd sing to me..."

[panspermia]

Greg lies him down, crawling in beside him. They've done this before, he can remember. Not in a big, wide bed like this one, but huddled together on a mattress. It was small, and dark, and everything they needed.

He remembers this song, too. "I would do it again." He strokes Steven's hair, like last time. "Beloved child, remember this too..."

[tigermillionaire]

He curls against Greg's body, his fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt like that grip is the only thing holding him up. In a way, it probably is. He shivers in Greg's arms, a wave of discomfort passing through him - just the continuous symptoms of this open wound.

He can't remember what comes next, at the moment. It's on the tip of his tongue, but he can't bring it to mind. He closes his eyes and just tries to hold on.

[panspermia]

Greg can keep singing, he'll make up words if he needs to, he doesn't mind. Steven just needs to save his strength, and rest, and get better. He'll get better.

"In this world..." ... "...there's no one like you..."

[tigermillionaire]

Greg's singing comforts him in a way that nothing else can. Gradually his shaking begins to stop, the fear clawing at him from inside dying down. He's in his dad's arms, and for the moment that's enough.

He reaches up to search for Greg's face, his hand stopping at its side as he tries to remember this. He doesn't feel like his dad should look like this. It's strange but familiar and warm at the same time.

"You're the real one," he mumbles.

[twoscompany]

Real. She doesn't remember him, and she knows, it's the truth. She can feel it. Greg is Steven's dad and no false memories could change that. His song has a sobering, yet comforting effect on Garnet as well, even as she sits with her head down, her eyes tearing up, her left eye especially impossible to force water back. Taking her glasses off, she rubs her three eyes, looking up at the scene.

Really, of everything happening so far, this is the only thing, right now, that's any good. Steven could forever not know her anymore, for all she cared right now, as long as he had something to give him hope, any hope, that he would have a reason to smile and believe in himself. Greg's the only one who can provide it here and now.

So for now, she says nothing, simply watching the scene unfold.

[exhumerus]

Sans, for the most part, is doing his best to pretend he isn't present at all.

It's worse than he had even anticipated, hearing these two go at it. The kid is messed up, and bad, and the sound of Greg's ambient misery is the next best thing to torture. He doesn't really belong here, right now. This has nothing to do with him, and there's nothing he can really do about it.

Except for the part where, at some point, he's going to be the one that has to separate them. Right now, it's hard to imagine Greg cooperating with that, but ever moment that ticks by is another moment that their absence could be discovered, or that some sort of alarm he had no way of preparing for could go off.

The anxiety is nauseating. So, as best he can, he focuses on thinking about nothing.