a/n: tfw you forget to upload something to one webiste

this has been up on archiveofourown for like two weeks and i only just remembered

(by the way, you should follow me there because i post a lot more stuff my account name is neverwantedtodance)

so the writers are quite clearly trying to destroy me with feelings about pearl and pearl/rose

so this is the consequences of that

hope you enjoy

It's evenings like this Greg cannot stand to be inside.

Evenings like the one's he used to spend with Rose - humid summer ones, the sky orange and bathing everything in its glow. They'd do whatever they wanted - listen to Greg play guitar, dance, talk about anything and everything.

Greg sighed, lugging his portable tape player along the shoreline, trying not to get his sandals soaked in salty sea water and failing. He's in the mood to be alone tonight. While spending time with Steven and the Crystal Gems is fun, sometimes it makes his heart hurt. Sometimes it gets so fun it starts to get sad. He knows he shouldn't, but he let himself get caught in the thought of what Rose would be like as a mother, and then he cannot be around anyone else.

He spends most of his nights staring at the sunset alone, thinking about what Rose would do if she was here.

He places his tape player down on the sand, finding a comfortable spot to rest a suitable distance away from the sea.

One of his many mix tapes is inside; he never knows which one it is. It's old, though, that he can tell, when he hears the openings bars of 'Everybody Wants to Rule the World'. He hasn't heard Tears For Fears in a long time. He knows, then, that he must have made this one in high school, before he'd even met Rose. So much had changed since then.

He didn't even know who he really was in high school. Just some washed-up reject with a guitar begging for a second chance to send himself up into the cosmos. Before he'd met Rose and realised space was so much closer than he'd ever imagined.

He laughed to himself. He wasn't much better years later. Still washed-up. Still rejected. And still with a guitar.

Steven loved to pluck the strings of his guitar absentmindedly, giggling to himself as it produced sounds.

He smiled at the thought of his son. Though he resented the loss of Rose, he wouldn't give up his young son for the world.

"You miss her too." A voice interrupted his thoughts, calm and collected.

Pearl always knew where to find him, and always knew why he was gone. Sometimes it infuriated him. Sometimes it just made him more melancholic.

"Of course I do," he said as he squinted at the sun, which was falling fast. Soon the moon would rise, and he would get colder, and have to go back to his van. Though that wasn't much warmer anyway.

Pearl sits down gracefully next to him. He chances a look at her as she stares into the distance, the crease in her bow letting him know she's thinking about Rose.

Pearl's changed since Rose died. They all have, radically so.

He looks away.

"I never got a chance to appreciate everything," Pearl says in a small voice. Greg knows his job here is not to reply, but to listen.

"Everything went by so quickly … it was like one minute she was there, and the next …" Pearl leaves her sentence unfinished. She doesn't want to complete it, wants to remain in denial. Like an idiot child, she holds blind hope that if she never utters it, she won't have to accept it.

"She was gone," Greg completes after Pearl trails off. She gives a short, sharp nod.

"Did you ever picture your life being this way?" she asks suddenly, changing the subject.

Greg thinks about this and the next song comes on. He almost laughs out loud. This was the song they played at his prom for the final dance. He and his date had slow danced to '(Don't Fear) The Reaper'; that was the kind of twisted humour they'd had in high school.

Greg turns up the music.

"They played this song at my prom."

After Pearl looks at him with a bemused expression on his face, he explains, "It's a dance they hold at the end of your final year of high school. Real fancy. You take a date; wear a suit, slow dance, the whole deal."

"It must have been nice," Pearl comments in a soft voice, and Greg can only imagine the thoughts running through her head.

Greg chuckles softly, the only sound except the waves crashing gently onto the sand and the music. "I took Desiree Westside to prom. She probably doesn't even remember my name."

Pearl sighs. "I would've taken Rose," she says without thinking, remembering the feelings she has trained herself to cover up in one fleeting moment of what-could-have-been.

Greg looks at her, turning his head quickly. He feels that fleeting moment too.

Gently, he turns the music down. He doesn't touch Pearl; he knows that will do no good. This is his way of showing solidity, and he knows she is grateful.

"Well, there's no use thinking about the past," Pearl says suddenly, in that sharp, clear voice which means the conversation is over, and her feelings are to be bottled up once again.

She stands up, dusting the sand off her legs.

"Take care, Greg," she says in a lost voice, before making her way back up to the temple.

Greg sighs as he watches her go. He and Pearl were never really the best of friends when Rose was alive, but now she's gone, they're the only two who can really understand what each other feels.

Greg decides to sit in the sand for a while longer. It's still not totally dark yet, and the music is still good, the waves still there, and that's all he needs to appreciate and reminiscence.

Pearl's wrong. The past is the only thing Greg can stand to think about nowadays. He's lost in memories of better times.

He continues to look out to the sea, knowing that this conversation will be forgotten by Pearl tomorrow, and that her mask will be painted back on as easily as it fell off.

But in a couple of weeks, Pearl will be back, briefly sitting beside him, uttering a few words, the both of them thinking of Rose and the past.

And that's all Greg needs.