A Diamond That Doesn't Shine

The Black liquid and Sweet Treats

!!!THIS HAPPENS BEFORE THEY MEET STEVEN!!!

It's odd, really. I can't help but notice it every time. I glance at my forearm and see that peculiar black ooze trickling from a cut sustained during a fight with a corrupted gem. This ways happenes and yet the answer to why is still inclear to both me and the other gems. They claim not to understand it, yet their reactions betray there words whenever it happens. It's not just battles either. One year, I accidentally nicked myself with a knife while cutting my birthday cake. Not only did the gems react strangely, but every knife in the house suddenly became dulled. When I suggested using a sharper knife, they abruptly stopped their preparations for my birthday and it has not resumed since. Perhaps this year will be different...

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Today is the day! I hastily get dressed and bound down the stairs, shouting, "GOOD MORNING! I HOPE NO ONE'S DOWNSTAIRS WAITING TO SURPRISE ME!" I reach the bottom and scan the room—no one. Instead, a note catches my eye.

Maybe they've gone to town for supplies for today.

I approach the note.

Dear Y/N,

There's been an influx of corrupted gems nearby. We've been called to fight them. It might take a few days, maybe weeks. There's food in the fridge, including a birthday cake. We're truly sorry and we promise to make it up to you next year.

From, Your favorite gems.

I finish reading and sigh. Folding the note, I tuck it into a specific box where similar notes reside—each one recounting a holiday or special occasion ruined by my unfortunate incidents.

There are notes for every holiday imaginable—my birthday, Easter, Thanksgiving, even Christmas. But this year was my 15th birthday. Why did I expect it to be any different?

I carefully nestle the note among its companions before stepping out. Opting for a change of scenery, I head to a quaint bakery in the village. Inside, I settle at a table meant for two. As I scroll through my phone, a server approaches.

"Are you waiting for someone?" they inquire.

"No," I reply softly, "just spending my birthday alone...again." They seem taken aback for a moment, then give me an unsettling smirk before darting off. Odd...

About five minutes later, they return hastily with a food tray in hand.

"Since I'm nearly done with my shift, I whipped this up quickly," they explain, presenting me with a Chocolate, chocolate chip cupcake muffin with a bold glittery, yellow "Happy birthday!" Made with frosting. My eyes widen in surprise.

"R-Really? Can I have this?"

"Of course! I'm not about to tease you with food and then take it away," they say with a smile.

"Thank you," I murmur gratefully.

"Think of it as a peace offering. If you like it, drop by more often. I get employee discounts, and my family owns the place—I can't avoid working here, but at least I can share the perks with a friend," they suggest warmly. I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"Are... are we friends?" I ask tentatively.

They appear concerned for a moment, then I interrupt by impulsively hugging them.

"Of course, I'll be your friend," I declare.

"I'm Theia, they/them," they introduce themselves.

"I'm Y/n, I use any and all pronouns," I respond with a smile.

After a brief, comforting hug, Theia returns to their duties, leaving me to gaze at the beautifully decorated cupcake before me.

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It's been a year since then, and Theia and I have become close. I confide everything in them, including my true nature as a gem. Yet, once again, on my birthday, I find myself staring at a note similar to the previous year's. I place it gently with the others and resolve to treat myself to a good breakfast.

Before I can start cooking, the doorbell rings. I dry my hands and answer it, finding Theia standing there with a small present in hand.

"Happy birthday, Y/N!" They exclaim as I leap forward to hug them. This is the first time I've ever had a friend—friend. Why does admitting that sting a little? Well, that's something to ponder later.

I set the gift on the table and eagerly unwrap it to reveal a beautifully handcrafted flower.

But as luck would have it, I manage to give myself a paper cut in the process. I notice the familiar black liquid seeping from the wound and let out a sigh.

"Sorry about that...you don't have to sta-"

"ARE YOU OKAY! YOU'RE BLEEDING. Paper cuts are the worst. Hold on," Theia interrupts, digging into their backpack and producing a small band-aid. "Here."

A soft smile spreads across my face. I decide to drop the previous conversation and focus on the flower.

I have all the time in the world for talks like that. She doesn't need to know how I feel just yet.

Or so I thought...