Connie had not been conscious in almost a week.

The doctors looked at him sympathetically when he stays for days on end. He drops everything, nothing is important but her. His lips tingle with healing, healing that may save her life. He can't remember the last time they kissed after her diagnosis. There was too much risk, you could leave her severely disabled, they told him.

The only thing that made him care was Connie's adamant non-consent of the matter. They had had their last argument a week ago. And the next day they reconciled, whispering to each other in pure adoration for nearly 5 hours until she had fallen deeply asleep, and then deeper still.

He had waited for a day of her sleeping, 12 hours that is, before a doctor came in with a few others.

"Doctor." Steven nodded at Connie. "She's still sleeping."

His eyes surveyed the vitals and before he pulled out a pen and waved the flashlight end around. "No response to stimulus. Her heart is beating 18 suddenly, that's why we came in."

Her lovers heart dropped.

"Connie," The doctor spoke a little louder, holding her eyes open. "Can you hear me? Are you hungry?"

No response, no uptick to a more reasonable 80 beats a minute, nothing.

Steven held it in as best he could until they left, a soft wail nearly silent into his hand. Raw scraping pain this was, the kind that comes from knowing you will never see someone's eyes ever again. No deep dark pools of exhaustion and chocolatey warmth of love to drown in. No playful sparkle or angry glint.

The pain that comes from knowing you will never hear your favorite song fall from lips you're forbidden to kiss again. The aching stabbing pain of knowing you'll never hear their cries as they birth your child or the loving murmurs afterwards in awe of it all.

The kind of agonizing twisting jagged pain that reminds you you never got a wedding or rings. You never got a wedding cake or registry gifts or a reception, that you never got to see her walk down the aisle in her gown literally walking towards forever with you and an officiant.

There was nothing left for him there. "I'm so glad you're still here. I know you want out." He choked on the words but forced them out. "I'm going t-to call them, they'll come. Everyone will come."

A pause filled with beeps.

"Don't worry, your hair looks fine." He manages the shakiest smile and pulls his phone up to his ear. "Dad."

It's all he has to say. That heartbroken, crushed tone and his father would know.

"We're on our way."

Connie Mahaswaren was beautiful.

Even as a soul trapped in a corpse, she was a mortifyingly beautiful picture of passing. Her dark hair was gone now, no luscious locks to admire in their curves and bounces. No, today the nurse had put her in a scarf with bluebells, bluebells that mended with her tone to bring more color into her face. Her hands clasped at her middle, still where Steven had left them. There was no twitch or confirmation they could get from this, but they could be there and watch her become as beautiful in death as she was life.

"Anything you wanna say man?" Amethyst patted Stevens back, the only back not bouncing with uncontrolled sobs.

He nodded, pulling out a piece of paper. They tried to quiet as he pulled up a chair right next to her head and squeezed her hand. "I can't– I had to write it down," He half laughed. "Y-you would've called me schmaltzy and I would've laughed because you're so- you're so," He sniffled and took a deep breath at the apex of more laughter and dropped his head to Connie's side, pressing his eyes to the sheets but the top of his head to her hand because he misses when she would rub there. The breath turned into a sob, and another that made him almost gag with its cruelty. They let him cry, his sadness almost working like Blue's, spreading to them to make them feel even a sliver of his pain. It took him 5 minutes for the sob to go from heartbreak to empty. He had to do this now. "You're my best friend. My lover, I'm so in love with you. I should've taken you on more dates. I should've brought you more flowers and combed your hair more often. I should've let you speak more often. I miss your voice, I miss when you could look at me and tell me you see me. B-but, I'll be so thankful for our time together, the too short years with you were so incredible. Everything we did, fighting monsters and pushing for diplomacy and no war, you ended up capturing me in setting yourself free. I'm so hopelessly... I," He sniffled through another weak laugh. "I could go on, but... I'm so thankful for you, I could never love another, I'm yours until the end of time and after that. I miss you, I'll– I'll m-miss-s you forever... but thank you. Thank you, Connie Mahaswaren. Thank you Jam Bud."

His gem glowed brightly and suddenly he and Connie are alone, her in her hospital bed and him sitting next to her in the fusion mindscape. He knew his real body was doing what he was doing here, and he stood on shaky legs, kissing her forehead and then her lips because he's selfish. A tone sounds, B flat, a note that causes his love for music to die a horrible death. As doctors shove him back to try to resuscitate per her allowance, Steven watched as a million butterflies appeared on her, all flitting and reflective and glowing. They flew off into the air, shattering into shining dust. Save for one that landed on his nose, a silent murmur, a scream of joy, a moan of relief.

'I love you. Goodbye."