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What is it about stuck up rich kids that makes them all wildly attractive?

Like, I'm pretty sure old money means like, your great-great-grandpa owned an oil rig or whatever, but what if old money meant rich models?

But then again, did they even use oil on the boiling isles? Did they even have models? Wait, they had magazines, right? That was a thing I didn't imagine, right? 

If they have magazines, they have models. 

Note to self: King would make an amazing model.

Wait, why am I talking about models?

I'm trying to talk about Amity. 

Not to say Amity couldn't be a model. She would be a perfect model, because rich people are all very pretty and-

Acabo de pasar por esto...

Whatever, that's not why Amity is special. A lot of people are pretty, and those people just happen to include Amity. Not a lot of people are rich, but most rich people are pretty.

...that makes no sense. 

Whatever, not the point- Amity isn't like most rich people- nor is she like most pretty people. 

She's sweet. Everything about her is sweet.

Her genuine smiles light up a room, her laugh sounds like bells, her cheeks are normally tinged a pretty pink, her eyes are the color of honey-flavored cough drops. 

She's just sweet. 

Most rich people aren't sweet. They're selfish and greedy and vain. 

Not to say Amity isn't any of those things. In fact, there have been quite a few times where Amity has been selfish. 

And while that's not exactly good she's not… bad for it? Does that make sense?

Who am I kidding? None of this is gonna make sense, because nothing makes sense right now. 

Ok, so a few weeks back when Amity messed up all those memories Willow had up in the photo lab? That was selfish. That was also kind of a jealousy thing, I guess?

Wait, no. Her doing that wasn't jealous. She hadn't intended to burn all the photos. I guess she kinda became jealous of me being friends with Willow, but definitely not of Willow's memories. She was just trying to bury evidence.

Which is terrible, but at least she's ashamed of how rude she was, and is taking accountability.

I don't think she's jealous of her past self. That would be a bit weird considering… circumstance. 

But, green is the color of jealousy, and do you know what color her hair is? 

That was a joke, I don't actually think her dyed hair has to do with much of anything besides making her somehow even more attractive. Like, you're rich, we get it. You're attractive because you're rich, congrats. 

Eso sonó grosero...

I'm not jealous. I know that I'm not exactly the picture-perfect girl, but I'm plenty good looking. What's that saying where it's like, you're pretty cute but you're still an absolute trainwreck?

A beautiful mess-uh- not exactly. I'm more like… a weirdly cute kid that wears really bright colors and reads Azura fanfiction. 

At least I have a good sense of humor. Amity laughs at all of my jokes. 

Well, she could've been biased. 

Ella probablemente está sesgada...

Amity always looks at me as if I'm perfect. She stares at me a lot. I used to not know why, but she always looks at me as if I've hung the moon from the sky. As if I'm stunning and charming, and not… me.

Why am I even overthinking this? She obviously likes me. 

She kissed me. How much more clear could it get?

But why do I feel weird about it?

Sure, it was my first kiss, but I didn't hate it. It was actually kind of nice. Her lips were soft, and she smelled like honey and camomile tea. It was like living in a daydream. 

Only, I never really considered that dream before. I never really thought that I could be with… 

It just- it never occurred to me that someone could ever like me like that. I know I'm great, but back in the human world nobody even took a second glance at me. 

Now that somebody here is looking twice, it’s weird. Not just that, but the person who happens to be looking is all kind of sweet, and selfish, and beautiful it feels…

¿diferente? No...

It feels like I don't deserve it, or like it's not even real. I'm not even sure if this place is real, how am I supposed to figure out something like this?

It's so hard to believe that someone sees me as charming. I know I'm a good friend, but I've never even considered that a charming quality. Helping my friends feels more like human decency than anything else.

I just feel bland most of the time. A cute and energetic exterior that holds in an annoying and uninteresting soul. 

So then, why does Amity like me? 

She could have anyone she wanted. She's pretty, and popular, and smart, and sweet, and everything that makes a person interesting. She doesn't have to settle for someone like me. 

When you're with her- or at least, when I'm with her- I feel special. With her, I feel like the things I'm saying are interesting and not stupid or annoying. I feel like what I have to say is important, and that she'll listen to every bit of it. 

With her, I feel seen. Like for the first time, someone has really heard me. The real me. 

That's a dream scenario, right? Everyone wants their partner to see them for who they are. Everyone wants to feel noticed. 

So why can't I decide if I like her back? Why am I not letting myself get to a conclusion? 

I think she's cool. She's pretty, she's nice, she's funny. 

But do I wanna kiss her? Hold hands with her? Do other mushy gushy stuff with her?

Maybe? 

Who knows, maybe we're soulmates. Wouldn't that be funny? Being your former rival's soulmate? In real life?

That's hilarious

So hilarious in fact, that the butterflies in my gut laugh as well.

I should stop overthinking it. If I like her, I'll know it. 

Maybe someday it'll all just feel right. Everything will be okay and I won't feel stupid for considering falling in love. 

Or maybe love just always feels stupid, and I'm just not quite ready to admit that to myself. 

Wait until it feels right. Wait until I'm ready.

 


 

Amity's favorite season is fall. She loves how leaves fall from the trees in oranges and reds, making the air almost crisp with the smell of moss and death.

Normally, she would be on cloud nine this time of year, skipping her way to school and imagining a world that was more like this. Cold enough to wear chunky-knit sweaters, but not cold enough to be trapped inside. 

And gods, it's always just so beautiful. 

The yellows and reds reflected by the sun make the daylight look orange, and the sky is bright blue, with the softest clouds strewn about in clusters. Her boots crunch leaves beneath her feet, creating a comforting background noise to keep her thoughts occupied. Her whole body feels lighter than it normally does at home, like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders.

Except, this fall feels a bit more sad. More lonely. More heavy.

Before just recently, solitude was the only thing she could confide in. That's why she kept a diary. Nobody cared about her problems- not really. So she kept them locked away in a book, and didn't utter a word to anyone about her personal struggles. 

That was, until Luz. 

Luz was so radiant, so kind, so… innocent. Amity had tried to kill her with an abomination, and yet, afterwards, she came after the witchling, and she told her she understood. That she didn't hate her. 

She was probably the person Amity had been waiting for her entire life. Someone who listened, someone who didn't judge, someone who would stand by her side.

She made Amity love life. She made Amity realize that it's ok to mess up, and it's ok to say sorry. That nobody is perfect, and that's why people are so beautiful.

And she messed it up.

Luz hasn't been the same since Amity confessed. 

She knows this because she's been absent for awhile now. Not in class, but around Amity. 

She doesn't sit next to her in Abominations 101 anymore, and instead sits in the back, alone. Amity hasn't been able to finish notes in that class for weeks, because she just knows that Luz is staring at her, judging her.

At this point, she's just ashamed. She drove away the one good thing in her life again, only this time she did it all by herself. And she feels bad about making her feel uncomfortable, but mostly, she feels hurt that Luz can't just tell her that she doesn't like her.

It would be so much easier if she didn't feel like she was waiting for nothing to happen. She would much rather have her heart broken directly. Spare her the pain of never really knowing what she'll say. 

She's currently walking home from school, trying not to think about how the brown leaves crunching beneath her feet remind her of Luz's eyes. Everything reminds her of Luz recently. 

The wind chime outside her window sounds like her laugh, the moon at night is almost as bright as her smile, the autumn air smells faintly like her cedar shampoo. 

Amity just can't seem to get this girl out of her head. 

So naturally, when she thinks she sees her out of the corner of her eye, she scoffs. 

"If that's you two trying to mess with me again, it's not gonna work this time." Amity kicks a stray acorn, watching it bounce off the dirt path ahead. "I'm over it." 

The crunching leaves beneath her feet are joined by another pair of crunching feet. Amity turns around to see who's with her, fully expecting to see her siblings-

But it's the girl she can't seem to forget, her beautiful brown eyes nervously excited as her face glows a bit redder. She's clutching onto a wilted flower, probably smothered by her grip, and she's wearing the exact outfit that she wore to grom, tutu and all.

"Hey," she says, her eyes wide and her feet shifting weight to each side.

Amity smiles a little tightly, her cheeks flushing involuntarily. "Hi." 

Luz takes a step forward, nearly tripping over herself. "So, uhm, I know I haven't seen you for awhile."

Amity swallows, her ears beginning to ring. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry about that-" Luz visibly frowns, "and that this took so long. I've just been figuring myself out, I guess." 

Amity nods, trying to keep herself together, not letting her hopes or her fears get ahead of herself. "I understand." 

They stand there for a moment, just staring at each other, about three feet apart. The silence is loaded. It says a lot, but also nothing at all. 

After about thirty seconds Luz drops her gaze to her feet. The action seems to finally push Amity to speak up, but her voice comes out much weaker than she expects. 

"I'm sorry, Luz."

Amity drops her own head in shame, her voice just barely reaching her ears. Her cheeks flush brightly, and she has to count her breaths to make her heart stop hammering in her chest.

Luz looks up at her, eyes wide and eyebrows knitted. "Wait, you're sorry?" 

Amity nods slowly, ignoring the hints of confusion jumping at the back of her mind, keeping her head down. The wind whips past her in a long, chilled breeze, and Luz seems to take an involuntary step forward.

Luz clears her throat, "Uh, you shouldn't be." 

Amity blinks dumbly at her feet for a moment, before her eyes drag up to Luz's face, which is redder than the trees around them. 

"Uhm, what?" 

Luz's voice is squeaky when she replies, "don't- uh… be sorry?" 

Amity's heart must have stopped its incessant beating, because the moment those words fall from Luz's lips, it's as if the world has become silent. The only noises Amity can pick up on are the rustle of the leaves and Luz's soft breathing. And while the silence is deafening, it's also the most beautiful sound she's ever not heard.

And, seemingly without thought, a question bursts through into the air. 

"Why shouldn't I be sorry?" 

Amity has to forcefully keep her feet in place after she says it, but, for the first time, she stays. She stays and she waits, because she's done running away from how she feels. 

Luz smiles, a tiny delicate smile that takes Amity's heart and squeezes it tightly in her chest. 

"I think I liked it." 

There's a moment where nothing is said, and the girls just stand there again, daring each other to take the next move.

Then, Amity laughs. 

"You- I-" she giggles, taking a few steps towards Luz, tears prickling the edges of her vision. "Really?" 

Luz nods and takes a few steps forward as well. And, although she is obviously not as weepy as Amity is, she still feels as if relief has crashed over her like a tidal wave when their hands meet. 

Amity is flying. She's flying and she's falling and- gods, it's ridiculous. 

She's had a million dreams exactly like this, except not at all. The flower normally isn't wilted, and it's usually in a bundle. They're usually standing underneath the grom tree as the moon rises into the sky, stars painted perfectly in the infinite darkness of the night. There's usually some cheesy romantic ballad on the breeze to accompany the moment. 

But, if Amity is being honest, a stupid fantasy holds nothing to this. 

Luz smiles a little awkwardly as she squeezes Amity's hand tighter, as if she's afraid to let go. 

"I like you too, Amity."