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Amity felt wrong.
This whole thing felt wrong.
Luz not being here felt… wrong.
The days kept eating away at her, at her… feelings..., and Amity realized that she couldn’t live like this. Like, this feeling of nothingness where she couldn’t do anything but want and wish.
She missed Luz.
~~~
Awoken from her restless half-sleep by a clap of thunder, Amity rolled in her bed and rubbed her eyes. The rain beat down around the house, hissing when it hit the spell-protected windows.
She sat up, deciding that sleep wouldn’t come tonight.
It’d been harder to do so with each passing day.
The witch’s sock-covered feet padded softly across her too large room, coming to a halt in front of her desk. She took a seat.
Picking up a pen, Amity grabbed a loose couple sheets of paper, an impulsive idea coming to her. Setting pen to paper, the witch began writing in neat, though sleepy scrawl.
Luz,
I er… I don’t really know how to start this letter. Despite my upbringing, I’ve never really had the chance to write a proper letter to a friend. Who would I be writing to anyway? Boscha? But, please excuse my handwriting, my fingers are not cooperating due to the late hour I’m writing this. I know, I know, you’d say that I should be sleeping. It’s raining now, which is slightly upsetting. Is the weather on Earth nice? If it’s not, then I shouldn’t really be complaining about a little rain.
Why am I writing you a letter?... Dunno, seems a bit impulsive for my usual self, but I’ve been feeling weird lately. In letters, do people usually say “I miss you”? Because I miss you more than I ever thought was possible. It must be worse for you though, having lost Willow and Gus and Eda and everyone else, so I really, really shouldn’t complain. For me at least, it feels like a chunk of my soul has been ripped apart from me.
You know, (actually you don’t, that’s why I’m telling you this), I had a very different idea about what you were going to tell me that late August day you called and said you were going. It sounds stupid, but I thought you were going to tell me that you loved me or something dumb like that. Not that it’s dumb!... Just, you know.
I would’ve said it back.
Is it selfish to say that? Is it selfish of me to tell you this now, months later, thousands and thousands of miles apart, where my only hope is that this letter somehow reaches you? I didn’t even have the courage to say this to your face.
I love you, a decidedly unhealthy amount. There, I said it, at least in this letter, because a text seems too informal. Not that I have any way to text you, though. I’ve wanted to tell you that for months now, but I was scared, which I now realize is stupid. Considering that I knew I loved you ever since we took a trip down Willow’s memories, I’d say that I’m a bonehead. Here’s the thing though. I have no idea if you like me, or even if you love me nearly as much as I love you. Even so, you’re not even in this world anymore, and you feel so far away that I wonder if this even matters. Sorry that it took me so long to say it. Like I said, boneheaded.
You know, (you still don’t, but… words), whenever I go to class or hang out with Willow and Gus, I feel your absence. Not to mention whenever I pass the Owl House, and Eda waves at me, instead of you, I feel like crying. Finals week is almost here as well, and that’s got me stressed on top of the rest of this mess.
So, well, umm, moving away from all that sappy stuff… How’s being back home treating you? Is your mother happy to have you back? Are you having fun catching up on all your… what was it? Anime? Or whatever your fellow round-eared species do for fun on a daily basis. You better have made some other friends, because I’ll kick your butt if you haven’t. Even if no one can replace my messy, boneheaded self, you deserve a crap ton of fellow… what was the human term… Weens? Somehow that doesn’t sound right.
I wholeheartedly plan on finding some way to visit you when I turn 18, if you haven’t come back by then. Willow, Gus, and I have discussed this at length, we’ll pose as foreign exchange students visiting your hometown. You’ve been warned. Anyhow, I love you to pieces, and don’t you dare forget about me. See? I’m selfish.
With the warmest of wishes,
Amity.
She set her pen down, fingers aching, but satisfied.
Carefully folding the letter and enclosing it in an envelope, Amity licked the edge and sealed it shut with a sense of finality. She ripped another piece of paper into quarters and scrawled a message for Eda on one of the sections.
Eda,
Could you somehow find a way to get this to Luz? I’ll be forever indebted to you and will babysit King whenever you want in return.
Thank you,
Amity.
She taped the note to the front of the envelope, turned off her lamp and rolled back into bed. Sleep welcomed her shortly after, as if aware that she’d satisfied the ache in her chest.
At least for now.