False Reassurance

Rose Quartz sits, cross-legged, hands in her lap, admiring the sky. It is as beautiful as ever, thick with clouds, painted with the pink of dawn.

There's a soft susurration as Bismuth comes to sit down besides her. "Hey."

"Hello," Rose says. She allows herself to look at her old friend. Bismuth's face is serious and solemn, but beautiful all the same.

"What'cha thinkin' about?" Bismuth asks.

"You know."

Bismuth sighs. "Yeah. I do."

Rose looks away. She feels a hand on her arm, warm and familiar and reassuring.

"I'm impressed," Bismuth says, the slightest burr of laughter in her voice. "After everything, I'll admit, I didn't think you had it in ya."

Rose's face burns. Her fists clench. She pulls away.

"Now, don't be like that Rose. It was a compliment. It was real brave what'cha did. Real brave."

"What does bravery matter?" Rose moans. "So many are dead, Bismuth, or worse. So many."

"And the humans? So many are alive, Rose, so ma—"

Rose doesn't let her finish. She grabs Bismuth by the shoulders and pulls her in, and presses her lips against hers, and Bismuth responds, as fierce and as passionate as she ever was—

— they kiss and they kiss and they could go on forever.

But they don't.

Finally, Rose breaks away. She is smiling, and so Bismuth is too.

Smile fading, Rose Quartz leans in to rest her head on Bismuth's shoulder. Bismuth responds by wrapping an arm around Rose, and it feels so safe, so warm. "Oh, Bismuth. Should I tell them?"

"No." Her voice is certain. "You'd just upset them."

Rose closes her eyes against the burn of tears. "You'd never really say that."

When she opens her eyes again, Bismuth has drawn back, her face creased in confusion. 'What're you talkin' about? Course I would—"

Rose raises her hand. Bismuth freezes.

Rose waves her hand. Bismuth dissolves.

All that's left of her is clouds, perfect pink.

Rose stands. Sweeps up her skirts. Blinks away the last of her tears. Fixes a smile on her face. Leaves the room, and her old friend, once more.