Hey guys! I know I should be working on my other stories, but this idea gripped me and I had to write it. But don't worry, for those of you following, Flightless and The time I spent as a Cat will both be updated shortly! :)

This is just a short Steven Universe drabble inspired by a fan comic. It's meant to be a one shot, but I am willing to write more if anyone desperately wants more. This is my first one shot, and my first Steven Universe fic, so feel free to be picky and let me know how I did.

I do not own the comic this was inspired by, all credit to its owner, whoever that may be! And, as much as I could hope and dream, Steven Universe belongs to the amazing and wonderful human being that is Rebecca Sugar, all copyrights and credit to her and Cartoon Network.

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this little drabble and I can't wait to hear what you think.

- Raven

She knew she should feel horrified, but honestly, she couldn't quite feel anything anymore. And she wasn't entirely sure she minded that feeling. Feeling numb, all her thoughts and fears and useless emotions taking a back seat, leaving her to drift aimlessly through a comforting hazy buzz. She should feel horrified, and a small part of her actually manages to get a bit of panic through as well; an instinctual what have I done, what should I do, this wasn't supposed to happen like this, this wasn't supposed to happen at all. But then she breathes in the haze again, and the buzz grows stronger, and the panic dies, the numbness mercifully taking over once more.

"Pearl?"

There's the source of the conflict. There in front of her, no, at her back now, a small pink form that is nothing like the one she wanted to see. The one she didn't want to see. The one she desperately needed to see again but the one that she couldn't afford to feel anything for.

"Pearl?"

It comes again, a hitch to the voice, and there's a stirring in her thoughts through the haze, the inherent knowledge that he sounds like he might cry. Or scream. She isn't sure which she prefers, and she curls up tighter in the windowsill, trying to ignore him to little avail.

"W-what are you doing?"

What does it look like I'm doing, Steven?

She regrets the harshness of her thoughts. No, she doesn't. She does regret not having the courage to say it aloud, but courage would involve feeling, and she's had quite enough of that.

"You shouldn't…Pearl, you- you need to…those things can give you…."

"Nothing, Steven."

It's the first thing she's said to him, but she still refuses to make eye contact. Her voice is blank; not Garnet blank, she at least manages to express emotion in her inflections. No, her voice is simply devoid of anything, just a stream of words that pour just like the smoke from her lips.

"These things give me nothing. I'm a gem, gems can't get sick from something like this."

And she wonders, even before he asks it, then why does she do it? To feel numb, to let the smoke fill her and take everything away. She finds it ironic that her usual self, so obsessed with clean and order, would stoop to something like this. But it's not stooping, it's floating, peace and calm that fills her, even if from an artificial source.

"But…it's still a bad thing!"

It is. She breathes again anyway.

"You should be ashamed of yourself!"

She should. She knows she should. But she sighs the smoke out regardless. That instinct part of her that doesn't quite diminish fully hears the intake of breath from the boy behind her, and it tenses as she waits for the outburst, the scream that will surely come. But it doesn't, it's just a breath. A sharp one, but a breath nonetheless. She takes one as well, and sighs into the silence Steven's breath had brought.

"Amethyst has her food, Garnet her video games and me…well, I have these."

She isn't quite sure if the twitch in her cheeks is amusement or just the numbness catching up to her as she states their respective vices, but it is overshadowed by another of Steven's sharp breaths, and she realizes it's not a scream building but tears.

"Mom wouldn't have wanted to see you like this."

It's quiet, but it rings too loud in her head, and something foul is rising in the back of her throat, a stream of words she knows she can't say.

It's because of her that I'm like this. It's because of you!

She says nothing, because she can't afford to waste the breath to, and there's a high pitch of sound before the screen door creaks and then slams closed. The squeaking pattering of his footsteps are heavy and come in fast repeats as he flees, and she feels -curse the feeling- but she feels the churning of guilt and pain in her gut, and the smoke has turned bitter on her tongue, no longer the sweet relief she had been craving.

She pinches the glowing bud between her fingers, watching the smoke wisps curl upwards and wondering if it was too late to join them. It is too late, and the disappointment sets in. Disappointment because she has a job to do, and she's already failed it. Disappointment because she loves Steven, even if she can't always show it properly. Disappointed because she knows he is right, and that she should be above this but isn't. And disappointment because, in spite of all of it, she will do it again. If only to be free of the weight for just a moment more. The weight of feeling. The weight of living…living when the one thing that had made her whole was gone.

She should be grateful, to have Steven, at least.

She should…but she feels...numb.