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"Do you know where I put the car keys?" Luz asks, rifling through the action figures strewn across her desk. Amity has long held the opinion that Luz needs higher standards for organization, and she won't lie, it's a bit vindicating to watch her struggle.
(Shelves, Luz. The only practical way to display memorabilia.)
"Hm?" Amity says, more just to acknowledge the question as she pulls her head out of her healing textbook. It's far from her wheelhouse, magic-wise, but she's been experimenting lately. "Oh. No. Did you leave them in the kitchen?"
The last time they'd left home (Luz's home, not hers, Amity isn't sure why she keeps forgetting that) had been for a grocery run, so it seems the most likely option.
Luz shakes her head, starts to worry at her lip. "I already checked. Twice! You don't think Vee would've-"
"Vee doesn't even have their learner's."
"Right." Luz lets out a breath. "Right, uh. Crud. I'm gonna go check the basement, I took some laundry down there earlier."
"Okay," Amity sets her book to the side. She offers Luz a smile, and receives one in return. "Want me to keep looking around here?"
Amity likes knowing exactly what Luz expects of her. It's soothing, not having to read subtleties, and instead just having clear statements of her girlfriend's needs. No surprises that way. No mistakes.
Luz's face softens. "Yeah. Thanks, tater-tot."
Amity blushes and waves her away. She's not anxious about being late- Vee's recital doesn't start for another hour, and even in the worst case she and Luz could just walk to the auditorium- but Luz's nervous energy seems to be seeping into her, making her movements jittery and unfocused.
Ugh. She thought she was over this. Anxiety doesn't mean anger, Blight. Calm the heck down.
Still, though, it's hard. Panicked words and rushing before an event had always led to screaming matches, in her household. Any minor setback was liable to set Odalia off, particularly if it pertained to a showcase for their business. But over time, it'd started to leak into other events, too, until just trying to leave the house felt like a ticking time-bomb.
But she knows Luz isn't like them. Amity knows that. She just- can't seem to convince her instincts.
After five minutes of scouring drawers and coat pockets, Amity decides the chances of her finding anything here are extremely low and she may as well spend her time with Luz.
On her way through the kitchen, she stops. It's a complete long shot, but-
Amity opens the fridge. There, clear as day, are the car keys, next to the full bag of groceries Luz had shoved in the fridge without unpacking, since they'll be using them for dinner tonight.
"Luz," Amity calls out, walking over to the basement steps with the cold metal in hand. "I found them, you can stop looking."
There's a small series of crashes, as if Luz has just dropped an entire dresser. Still, her voice is as peppy as ever as she chirps, "Really?"
"Yes. Want to braid my hair before we leave?"
"Uh, always," comes the answer, and then Luz is rushing up the stairs. Amity doesn't bother to hide her smile. There's dust in Luz's hair and a spider on her elbow and titan, Amity has the cutest partner in the world. "Where were they, anyw-ow, jesus fucking shit!-"
Amity freezes. She knows, logically, that Luz has stubbed her toe on the top step of the stairs. Gus did it all the time when he lived down there, and even Hunter did, on particularly sleepy occasions. And she knows, logically, that she should grab Luz's arm. Help, somehow.
But Luz is still grumbling (not yelling, she's not yelling anymore, she's fine she's fine she's fine-) and Amity isn't breathing and Luz is going to see and she needs to stop overreacting before she gets screamed at-
"Amity?" Luz asks, cutting through the radio static that's quickly overriding all other sensations. Two years ago, Amity hadn't known what a radio was, and now it's taken over her entire brain. There's something mildly hilarious about that.
Amity tries to say something, but when she opens her mouth, her throat is too tight and she can't force the words out. Her heart is pounding, each thud making her head hurt, and it's still so loud. It's so loud.
Can she run? She can't hide, really, this is Luz's house and Amity can't exactly steal her room, even if hiding under Luz's weighted blanket sounds like heaven right now. (It always smells like her, too, which is a nice bonus.)
"Amity," Luz says again, reaching out. She stops with her hand a few inches from Amity's shoulder, apparently thinking better of it. "Is it okay if I touch you?"
Amity isn't sure why Luz is asking. Is something wrong?
She manages a nod anyway. Luz places her hands on Amity's shoulders and gently applies pressure until they're both sitting down, Amity's legs all but collapsing under her.
Soft, calm, like Amity's a pathetic little child in need of coddling, Luz asks, "Can you let go of the keys for me?"
Amity blinks. Her vision snaps back into focus as she looks down at her hand, currently clenched into a fist around the piece of shaped metal. She loosens her grip about halfway and it hurts; Luz notices her hesitation and unfolds her fingers the rest of the way.
Oh. She's bleeding. Are keys that sharp, or was she just pressing that hard?
"Thank you," Luz says, and sets the keys to the side, out of Amity's reach. Amity isn't sure how to feel about that. She's- She's an adult, and six months clean (unless this counts as a relapse? that'd be unfair, in Amity's opinion. accidental self-harm shouldn't count). She can control herself.
Luz takes her hand. She wouldn't do that if she were disappointed, right?
"Now breathe with me, okay? In," Luz exaggeratedly takes a huge breath, holds it with her cheeks puffed up. It startles a laugh out of Amity, even if it is a pretty pathetic one. Luz smiles, drops the face to exhale slowly. "And out. In… and out."
It takes too long. Amity isn't sure why her lungs are hurting so badly, or why she can't seem to follow such simple directions, but when she dwells on either of those facts her breathing gets worse, so she tries to just focus on the feeling of Luz's hands around her uninjured one.
"Sorry," Amity says, when she can speak again. "Sorry, I- I don't know why I freaked out."
"You can always freak out," Luz says easily. "I freak out all the time."
"But not over-" Amity's voice trembles again, threatening to go for panic attack version 2.0, but she powers through, "-not over something so stupid."
Luz's eyes do that sad slant they always do when Amity is cruel to herself. Amity wouldn't say this is cruel, though. Just the truth. "It's not stupid."
"It is."
"It's not, Amity."
Another few seconds pass.
"...it was my yelling, right?" Luz ventures.
Amity swallows. Fuck.
"Sort of," Amity says slowly, because saying yes just feels like putting the blame on Luz, and that's not at all what she wants. How else can she phrase this? "But I don't… I shouldn't have panicked. I know anger is healthy. Especially since you got-" Amity freezes mid-sentence. "Oh my titan, you got hurt, here let me-"
Luz laughs, clearly out of relief at her burst of energy rather than any amusement. She brushes Amity's hands away, but it's a kindness, not something out of annoyance. "I'm fine, silly. See?" She adjusts the way she's kneeling to stick out one foot. The nail is torn, and she's bleeding slightly, but it's nothing major. Amity still feels a little sick.
"I- I should've-"
"Been awesome? 'Cause you were. Are. Will be." Luz pauses. "It's… I shouldn't have yelled. It's not your fault that I scared you."
"It kind of is," Amity mutters.
"It's your dickhead parents' fault, sure," Luz starts, but Amity cuts her off by shaking her head.
"No, you were just yelling because you got hurt, and I knew that. I can't just- lose it every time someone raises their voice. That's not fair to you."
She should probably defend her father's honor. Normally, she would. Today, however, she can't even muster up an argument for why her entire childhood was fine, actually.
Luz raises a brow. "What are you gonna do, stop having feelings?"
"Maybe," Amity replies, defensive. "Better than you bottling things up for my sake."
And that's the crux of it, isn't it? Anger is okay. People are supposed to feel angry on occasion. It's not Luz's fault that Amity is damaged goods.
Luz strokes her chin thoughtfully, like a wise old man in one of her movies. "Okay, well, yelling isn't an emotion, so therefore I can't bottle it up."
"That's not really-"
"And I get my anger out in other ways. Like shooting the shit with Eda, or complaining to you about my day, y'know?"
"I… guess?" Amity says slowly. Does that count as anger? Irritation is a form of anger, sort of, but those examples don't seem, well. Volatile enough.
Luz looks triumphant. "How 'bout this: I'll avoid yelling around you as much as possible- which should be easy, because I usually don't anyway- and you'll let me walk away and scream into a pillow if I ever need to. Deal?"
Amity hesitates. It's selfish. It's so, so selfish.
But Luz is offering. And she looks sincere, like she knows what she's offering and doesn't plan to regret it.
"Okay," she whispers.
Luz beams. "Great! Now we should probably go find the band-aids. That hand looks pretty bad."
Amity looks down at her palm. It's a surface level wound, even if it's bleeding a ton. Maybe (definitely) it's fucked up, but she's glad that their injuries are close in severity. She doesn't think she could've handled the second panic attack if Luz's had been worse.
"Boo-boo buddy club," Amity mumbles, mostly to herself. Luz catches it, though, a startled laugh tearing out of her chest.
Her laugh is beautiful. Infectious. Always has been. Amity doesn't know how she got so lucky.
"Luz?" Amity says, before the other can stand up fully. Luz barely gets out a questioning hum before Amity slams into her, throwing both arms around her shoulders. "Thank you."
She doesn't know what she's saying thanks for. For staying through her panic attack, maybe- not many people have bothered to do that. For trying to accommodate her rather than telling her to suck it up, even though it'd be justified. For not leaving.
But apparently it doesn't matter, because Luz says, "Of course, sweet potato," without any hesitation.
"You're too nice to me," Amity says into her shoulder.
Luz strokes her hair, in that absent-minded way she always does when Amity gets close enough for it. "No, I'm not," Luz says softly, and then her voice drops, just a touch. It'd be indiscernible to anyone who hadn't spent their entire life regulating others' emotions. "I think everyone else wasn't nice enough."
Her voice is quiet, but it still sounds very faintly like anger. It sounds like a threat. And yet, for once in her life, Amity doesn't find that prospect frightening.
Instead, she closes her eyes, and lets her girlfriend hold her.