Chapter Text
Whether she was willing to accept it or not, Amity figured she should at least acknowledge that things were changing in the exact way she’d promised herself they wouldn’t. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when that change had really started, but she could pinpoint exactly why. The catalyst sat mere inches away from her at their shared desk, dutifully scribbling notes on a crumpled sheet of paper.
All of this was, as things so often were nowadays, Luz’s fault.
Amity caught herself staring at her classmate before anyone else noticed. She quickly turned to face her notes- or rather, her lack thereof. Focus was not coming easily to her today. Luz seemed more distracting and obnoxious than usual, somehow. But wait, no, that couldn’t be right. Because Luz was the one paying attention to the teacher’s lecture, and Amity was the one… staring at her. Again. Damn it.
She steered her gaze back towards the almost-empty page in front of her. More forcefully than this time, like that would keep her mind from wandering. It didn’t. Amity wondered if a part of this might be her fault, too. But it couldn’t be, could it? It was Luz who had decided to waltz into another dimension and change everything, not her.
Maybe Amity had let herself be included in the ‘everything’ too easily.
The change wasn’t actually proving to be as horrible as she’d built it up to be, anyways. Luz was her friend now. The first real friend she’d had in a while, which was nice. Willow was something like that. And Amity didn’t feel as… hollow as she had before, when she had blindly drifted through day after repetitive day. She felt kind of warm. Maybe it was comfort? Or optimism? Or confidence? After all, she’d nearly been confident enough to-
Amity’s mind went blank. Any thoughts of notes were driven out. She’d been trying to avoid thinking about Grom. It added a million more variables to the change she was already struggling to understand. Plus, it made her really really aware that Luz was sitting right next to her. And that she could probably reach out and grab her hand, or lean into her side, or run her fingers through her hair or-
Or, Amity stopped herself, I could stop being weird and start taking notes before I fail out of school . Getting sidetracked during class was proving to be one of the less-nice side effects of all the change. Sure, it made class less boring, but she didn’t like feeling out of control. Her mostly blank paper bored into her eyes from its spot on the desk, mocking her.
Amity knew she liked Luz. She wasn’t an idiot. She’d tried to do something about it, but-
And before she knew it, her mind had circled its way back to Grom again. Great. It had only been a few days, but Amity was already getting sick of the events of that night replaying in her head.
At least, that’s what she told herself.
The memories carried with them a sort of timid exhilaration. She remembered being scared out of her mind. Not just because she was facing the actual living embodiment of fear, but because Luz was, too. That’s what she was afraid of, losing her to a fear that was never hers to overcome.
But overcome it they had. Together. Amity could definitely remember doing that . Her brain was all but forcing her to think about it, which she was trying really hard to pretend was just annoying and not even a little bit exciting. She remembered being so happy that it didn’t feel real. Nothing felt real, not even the happiness she felt upon recalling it. Was that bad? That being so happy was outlandish enough to feel fake? Or was it just weird?
Well, of course it was weird. This was all so incredibly weird. Amity could feel herself blushing as she drifted back to reality. Reality was unfortunately dull in comparison. The paper had not moved. Neither had the pencil she’d pressed to it. The teacher’s boring drabble and the scratch of chalk still sounded from the front of the room. The board was covered in writing, none of which she could even begin to comprehend, too behind for any hope of catching up. Amity clenched her jaw in frustration. She used to be good at taking notes, right? She used to color-code them by class and subject material. She’d had binders full of them. Now, she could barely even scribble two bullet points before-
She felt a tap on her shoulder, interrupting her train of thought. Maybe that was for the better. She turned her head to find Luz’s worried eyes locked onto her own. Nevermind.
(Amity wasn’t sure why she was surprised, since Luz was the only other person at their table. She was apparently losing the ability to think straight now, too.)
“Hey, are you okay? You look really mad at that piece of paper.” Luz leaned closer to whisper to her without anyone else hearing. If Amity’s train of thought was an actual train, it would’ve veered off course and crashed sideways into the ground. Luz’s eyes were really pretty up close. It was hard for Amity not to notice after she’d stared into them while banishing a giant monster to the nether realm. Of course, she’d noticed before then too, but something about the intensity of a shared near-death experience left them with an even greater impact on her mind. Well, another shared near-death experience. Her time spent with Luz bore no shortage of those. It was more or less worth it, though.
“Um, Amity?” Luz waved her hand in front of Amity’s face. Amity blinked a couple times in response. Oh, right, talking. She could do that.
Probably.
“Uhh… yeah. I’m okay.”
“Are you sure? You seem kinda stressed.”
“I-it’s fine.” Amity tore her eyes away and cast them downwards toward the desk. “Just, y’know, school stuff.”
“Oh.” Luz followed her gaze towards the paper. “Oh! If you need help with notes, I could give you mine after class.”
“Wh-”
Luz suddenly gasped and grabbed onto Amity’s arm. “Do you want to study together?” she asked in the loudest, most excited whisper Amity had ever heard. “It would be so much fun! You even have that cute little room in the library!”
All of Amity’s senses zeroed in on Luz’s hands around her wrist, close enough that she could’ve shifted a little and woven their fingers together. If she was still rolling with the train metaphor, the wreckage had just caught fire. Amity wouldn’t have been surprised if her face had as well, considering how hot it felt.
She didn’t need to look in order to feel the eyes of the entire classroom burning against the back of her neck. The teacher had probably noticed their conversation (if you could call it that, it was mostly stuttering on Amity’s end) by now, too. The only thing keeping him from calling them out was Amity’s top-student privilege. But that would only work for so long, especially now, with how much she was struggling to maintain that title. She needed to put a stop to this before yet another aspect of her life got out of hand. She sighed.
“Studying isn’t supposed to be fun, Luz.” Gently pulling her arm away, she steeled herself and spoke as calmly as possible, “And thanks for the offer, but I don’t need any help. I’ll be okay.”
“Aww, please?” Luz stared up at her with pleading eyes. Eyes that were still really nice to look at for absolutely no good reason. It simply was not fair. Amity couldn’t bring herself to respond.
“Look,” Luz continued, “I know you’ve got your whole ‘asking for help is a sign of weakness’ thing, but you know I’d never judge you, right?”
Amity really wanted to know that. She stayed silent.
For a second, concern flashed over Luz’s features. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced with an airy smile. She kept talking like nothing had happened.
“And spending time with you would be the fun part.”
And just like that, Amity was back to stuttering.
“Oh, well- I, um-” She had apparently been louder that she’d meant to, because the teacher paused his lesson for a fraction of a second to give her a pointed glare over his shoulder. She toned her voice back town to a whisper.
“W-we can talk about it after school, okay?”
Luz smiled-- a real smile this time-- and went back to her notes.
Amity tried to do the same, she really did, but somehow by the time class ended, her mind had wandered to the ends of the Isles and back, and she still hadn’t written a single other word.
She told herself it was Luz’s fault.