Chapter Text
Willow stands, drawing up the soaked negative with her, clipping it to the wire with twin clothespins. She watches as the water drips off and the picture develops, and tries to ignore the odd flipping in her gut that she feels at the sight of her memory, real and tangible and able to be touched and smudged. It's panic, she realizes, after a moment. It's fear of vulnerability, because what if someone walked in right now, and tore it off the line and cut it to bits. What would Willow do?
Would she even remember?
She knows it's silly (she's alone), but an uneasy feeling simmers low in her gut, like her underside is exposed to some predator and she needs to take cover.
It takes risks to discover oneself, Willow remembers her instructor saying, as if those weren't her memories up there, and well, they weren't, were they? Ms. Koios wasn't the one taking a risk, was she?
Willow shakes her head, tries to shake away the discomfort, and gently hangs the next photograph with fumbling fingers.
Someone passing by enters the classroom, the soles of their boots clicking very, very quietly against the tile, and Willow's ears flatten to her head and she turns swiftly to face them.
It's Amity.
Oh. Oh.
Willow stands, subconsciously moving until her body is hiding the photos. The couple not shrouded by her shoulders shimmer purple in the light, tilting on the wire.
Amity's face crumples, and her shoulders square.
"Um… hi, Willow."
"Hi." Her throat feels tight.
"I um… I wanted to check up on you. It's been a few days since the memory incident and…" her hands fidget incessantly at her sides, and she shrinks back a little more as if in shame, "Are you okay? I completely understand if your still upset and don't really want to talk to me right now or-"
Willow notices Amity's gaze, centered resolutely on the photographs behind them. She looks haunted and Willow feels sympathy and vindication, and then a deep well of shame for the vindication, because Amity's trying, isn't she.
Willow glances back briefly, bites her lip, and turns back just as quickly.
"I've already forgiven you for that."
"Really?"
"I–" Willow scuffs her heel against the floor, "yeah," she says, voice particularly whispery, a breeze through the branches of her namesake. It occurs to her, once the echo of her quiet statement is gone, that it isn't entirely true.
She wants to forgive. She really does.
But they're back in this dark, development room, and Willow's most precious memories are mere feet away, and it's only been a week. Willow feels her journey to self improvement, or what ever this class was meant to provide her has been irrevocably stifled, and the burn is still there, and Willow just really wants Amity as far away as possible.
She wants to snatch every photograph off the line and draw them close to her chest and cocoon herself away.
She also wants to hug Amity immediately because she's missed her and it's been too long– and she is hopelessly conflicted between the two.
She ends up standing in the middle of the room, unable to do either.
"I'm not mad about the memory thing," she finally manages to say, "but I'm also not-not mad."
Amity's mouth whirs open and then shut again. She runs a hand through the left side of her hair, the part not tied up in her little ponytail, and then gives a jerking nod. "That's fair," she eventually settles on, upset, but not as upset as Willow would have expected.
This isn't… isn't really how she'd wanted this to go. Willow has been thinking about- dreaming about, even- how her reconciliation with Amity would go for a week now. It hadn't been quite so awkward, or painful, and her hands hadn't been so sweaty. They also hadn't been in the photography classroom that had started it all, and Amity hadn't been glancing at a still of Willow and Gus in gray, laughing during their first lunch period together at Hexside, nervous like a skittish stray, and Willow hadn't felt nearly so off balance.
But that was a daydream and this is now, and right now Willow says, "Give me a minute? Please. I just need to finish up here," and she turns back to her photos, and does her best not to wince, not to let her shoulder blades draw back in sympathy, because she can hear Amity's own shoulders slump in defeat.
"Yeah, I just…" there is the quiet scuff of boots against tile, again. Willow waits until she can hear them moving toward the door, "I'll wait for you outside, okay?"
"Okay," Willow affirms quietly, and she waits another moment, until she hears Amity step over the threshold, before pinning up the second to last photo.
"You wanted to talk?" Willow asks, as she draws the door shut with a soft click. She was usually the last to leave, having her next class just down the hall, so she's gotten in the habit of locking up the classroom.
It's not a distraction. She's not putting off talking to Amity, and she's not avoiding making eye contact by jiggling the door knob once or twice to make certain it's locked. That would be silly.
"Yeah… I, I just wanted to say I'm sorry."
Oh. Willow didn't know what she was expecting, but it wasn't that. And she isn't sure if that's a good thing?
"Oh well, it's… that's okay," Willow says, but she doesn't feel it. The words leave her mouth and they sound off.
"It's not okay. But I appreciate the apology."
"...I know this doesn't begin to make up for, uh, everything, but I made you this," She hands Willow a flower, pressing it into her hands before she can really decide if she's going to take it or not. It's paper, carefully folded into a lily shape, because Amity wasn't nearly as skilled at plant magic as Willow and even though the edges cut Willow's lips part and then quirk up into a small smile as her fist closes around it.
Amity takes a step back. She still seems nervous, but it's softened from a pressing stone against her middle into a pricking thorn. She takes a few more steps back toward her locker, like a phonograph in rewind.
"And I promise I won't let Boscha bother you anymore, okay? If any of them give you a hard time, tell me and I'll fix it. They're ruthless, but they'll listen to me."
Amity waves awkwardly, one hand still precariously balancing her tray.
Gus glances over at Willow beside him, gaze bewildered and surprised (and maybe, maybe, just a little offended). That made sense. He missed their whole journey down memory lane, so busy with his illusions homework, but he'd gotten the synopsis. Moreover, he knew all about Amity; more specifically about Amity and Willow, and the betrayal, and Gus was part of the drama hungry Illusion track for a reason.
"What are we supposed to do?" He says with his eyes, his posture, body stiff and arms crossed.
Willow shrugs, and motions for Amity to come closer. "Let her sit," she replies, by not arguing.
Gus huffs and glares at his tray. He refuses to look at Amity, until she starts speaking, and then he spends the rest of the lunch period glaring straight at her.
"Where's Luz?"
"Home Ec, I think."
Willow starts to see more of Amity, from that moment onward. It's still mainly in the hallways, incidentally passing each other on the way to their classes, but at least now, Amity always waves, small and a little awkward.
"I don't really know where we stand," Willow admits to Luz, who's honest to Titan vibrating beside her. Willow hands her a sprig of manticore talon to add to their potion, which she throws into the cauldron without crushing properly, not that Willow notices. She's way too distracted contemplating her current situation with Amity.
"Have you guys talked? What did she say? What did you say?" Luz pauses in stirring the concoction, nearly dropping the spoon in the glowing soup. Willow has to tap her shoulder to get her attention; the wood of the spoon had started to sizzle, and Luz laughs and resumes, "Sorry! Anyway, has Amity finally undergone her full redemption arc?"
Willow laughs a little at that last one, "Maybe? I don't know. We've talked some, and she apologized, but it still doesn't feel right… and she's still pretty awkward around me… I think she's avoiding me?"
"Do you need me to give her a stern talking to?"
Willow laughs again, "No, no. I think all I really need is to be patient."
"Don't worry bestie, you've got patience in spades. I really think you guys'll work this through in a snap," Luz says, with that tone she usually gets whenever she talks about Amity or anything Amity adjacent. Willow used to call it the friend finding voice, except it's shifted over the last few weeks. Willow isn't really sure what to call it now.
It's very affectionate, and Willow can't help a slight twinge of jealousy. She crushes it down, buries it, the same way she buried her anger.
The cauldron burbles, the metal itself seeming to groan in protest, and Luz crouches down and wraps her arms around it. "It's okay, don't feel left out. You're my cauldron bestie!"
Willow shakes her head, tossing in an eye of newt, "What about me?"
"Aww Willow, you're still my number one!" Luz replies with a grin, springing up to her feet.
Willow laughs again.
Willow might need glasses, but Willow is not blind, and a girl would have to be blind not to notice that… something is going on between Amity and Luz.
Amity is enamored. That much is clear.
Willow doesn't know how to feel about that.
She knows how she is feeling, a mixture of apprehension and fear and anxiety, and a more icky emotion that she doesn't particularly want to touch on that tastes and looks and sounds a lot like jealousy, but she doesn't know how she's supposed to feel. How is she supposed to feel?
She drops her pen in frustration, eyes squinting at the Potions busywork she was struggling to focus on.
There is a knock at the front door. Willow scrubs at her eyes, debating on whether or not she wants to get up and get it.
"I've got it!" One of her dads calls from the living room, and Willow let's out a huffing breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in.
Her dad pokes his head back inside, glasses slipping down his nose. "it's your friend, little Porter. I'm surprised Perry let him walk here all alone."
"I'm not that little," Willow hears Gus mutter, muffled slightly by the door. She pushes her homework aside, standing up from the table and heading towards the door.
"Thanks dad," She says, with a faint smile.
She is greeted by a particularly peeved looking witch.
"Hey Gus! Was there a project I forgot about?" She let's the door swing wide, and Gus tumbles inside, bag of who knows what slung over his shoulder.
"Nope." He looks tense, but remains clammed up while Willow's dad remains standing nearby. His cheeks are all puffed up and out.
Her dad just laughs, and waves at them both, "Okay, I see I'm just getting in you guys' way here. You two have fun, okay? If you need me Lolo, you know where to find me."
"Thanks, dad."
She turns back to Gus, eyebrow raised. "So what's up with the bag?"
"What's up with you?" Gus asks in retaliation, and he performs one of the most dramatic turnabouts Willow has had the pleasure of seeing. She almost breaks out giggling right then and there, with Gus pointing at her like a coven guard straight out of a comic, except his expression is one of genuine concern. Serious, genuine concern. "I mean really," He huffs, a little out of breath, and he drops his bag on the floor, "...hanging with Amity Blight? What happened to self preservation Willow?"
"What're you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb!" Gus shouts, pointing accusingly again, before he laughs quietly and threads his fingers together, "Sorry, I just got really into it just now. I watched Hanes Pond with Luz yesterday, the screenwork is incredible. Anyway, you know what I'm talking about… Amity had lunch with us and I saw you talking to her in the hallway. Twice."
"So?"
Gus frowns, "So Amity's been a real mean mc-meanster to you, and I… I don't want you getting hurt again."
"She wouldn't…"
"She did… I know you don't like talking about it, but she hurt you, and I'm worried if you make nice with her she'll just hurt you again."
She wouldn't hurt me on purpose, Willow considers saying, but her mouth forms stiff around the words, because she hadn't hurt her on purpose the first time either. It had been incidental, a side effect of an action she felt was necessity, which... really only made it worse. Because who was to say she wouldn't do it again? Sacrifice Willow for the greater good, if need be?
You don't have to protect me, is the next statement that fizzles out before she can give voice to it, because she has few people who'll extend the courtesy. Who care, like Gus cares. And it's nice, really, knowing Gus has her back, and she, naturally, has his in turn.
It's friendship, in its purest, warmest, most reassuring form.
She missed it. Like the fierce Snapdragon Lilies Willow used to cultivate with her dads, sharp buds that bloom into gentle petals. She can't really remember why they stopped planting them (but it coincided within the timeframe she and Amity stopped talking.)
"Did Luz tell you about the memories… my memories?" Willow asks.
Gus nods, "Yeah. It was all a little confusing at first, but she did. Then I went from confused to mad."
They both venture into the kitchen. It was late in the evening, which meant Gus was probably staying the night. Staying the night meant a sleepover, and sleepovers usually meant snacks, in Willow's experience.
Willow stops in front of the pantry, crossing her arms over her chest. "Then you know Amity apologized? And we made up?"
"Yeah, but… do you think she really meant it?"
She falters, slightly. "I don't know. I think so."
"Did you mean it?"
"Mean what?"
"When you forgave her?"
"I… I think so."
Gus contemplates deeply for a moment, reaches into the cabinet, and snatches a box of fudge bars.
"I guess I should take out the trash slug larvae I put in her locker?" He says uncertainly, as he casually gnawed on the stick of dark chocolate in his fist.
"Gus!"
"It was only one. Or two. Maybe three, but definitely no more than three! Just an hour ago she was still the enemy, okay?"
Gosh.
Willow laughs quietly, after a moment, and hugs Gus, tightly enough to hurt a little. "Thank you. Even if that's really really against school policy… you're a great friend."
Would Gus like Snapdragon Lilies?
Or would he be more partial to a Geranium?
Gus doesn't hesitate to return the hug. Quite the opposite, really. Willow doesn't realize when she starts crying, until there are tears dripping off her chin onto her sleeves and against Gus' shoulders. Gus pats her twice on the back, and a wet, hiccuping laugh burbles up out of the cavernous space of her chest cavity.
"I'm not saying she will… but if Amity ditches, do I have permission to conjure up a Snagglebeast illusion to chase her?" His arms wrap a little tighter around Willow, "Just for vengeance purposes, you know. Not like I care about you or anything."
Willow wonders how odd they must look, hugging as if the world might crumble, standing in the middle of the kitchen. Her dads would worry if they walked in and saw how distressed she looked, but she decides that doesn't really matter. She needs this… Gus needs this.
"Yeah Gus. That's okay."
(She reminds herself to grow something just for Gus, when she next gets the chance.)