Night-Owl Trucking

Tuesday, 2:43pm

Luz cradled Amity close to the slow, steady beat of her heart as the taller girl sobbed against the hollow of her throat. She whispered soft sounds and gentle words as she ran her fingers through her hair. She rubbed her palms across the muscles in Amity's shoulders, and wide figure eights into her back. She knew the therapeutic value of A Damn Good Cry™, but her heart still ached in sympathy as the other girl dredged up long-buried sorrow with every breath. Luz knew Amity kept herself stiff and reserved with other people, even while out of the public eye—thanks to her mother, no doubt. The fact that she felt comfortable enough—or safe enough—with Luz to display any sort of vulnerability filled her with a deep desire to provide shelter and protection for her new-found friend. Even now, as obviously hurt and heartbroken as she was, the green-haired girl stifled herself. Boxed herself in. Limited herself. She wept quietly, eyes closed and shoulders shaking, her hands over her mouth to muffle what few sounds she made, and Luz wondered how many nights she had spent alone and wracked with fear, wrestling her anguish into the silence her mother demanded. Never again, Luz decided— not if she had anything to say about it.

A Blight doesn't cry. That's what Amity had parroted the night before when she was talking about her old rugby injury. That's wrong, that's so wrong, Luz frowned, and pressed her cheek against the other girl's forehead, squeezing her tightly, reassuringly. Amity clutched at her elbow with one hand, and turned her face into a fistful of Luz's sleep shirt, burrowing deeper into her calming presence, hiding from the world that demanded so much from her.

In time, Amity's sobbing slowed to a heavy, wet sniffling and a high-pitched whine as she drew short, ragged breaths. "Take as much time as you need, querida, está bien," Luz repeated every so often, whenever she felt the other girl was about to force an explanation through the lump in her throat. "I'm here, I'm right here... We can talk when you're ready," she said, patting down the back of Amity's head, getting a hesitant nod from the girl curled up on the floor between the seats. "If you don't feel up to talking, that's alright too."

"S–Sorry, I-I'm sor– orry," Amity hiccuped against her collarbone, trailing off into a keening whistle as Luz breathed out a soft No, no, cariño, mi dulce niña. She brushed tousled, tear-dampened hair away from her eyes.

"You have nothing to apologize for, querida. Nothing," Luz assured her as she hooked a mint-green lock over a pale ear, then she added, "You're not a bother or a burden, Amity. Everyone needs someone to lean on at some point, and I'm— I'm honored you chose me. Truly." She hugged Amity close, smiling as the other girl nodded into her jaw. Luz reached down and hooked her pinky around Amity's, gently shaking her hand back and forth, "I will not betray your trust; this I swear, as an Everlasting Oath," Luz chuckled when the green-haired girl covered her face with her other hand and snorted.

"Oh my God, Luz," Amity whispered through a watery smile, blinking discs of shining gold up at her, "Pinky-swear like a normal person." Her eyes crinkled, tenderly, "You're such a dork."

"Takes one to know one," Luz said proudly, giving the teary-eyed girl a brilliant smile.

"I am not a dork," Amity pouted softly, laying her head back down on Luz's chest. She closed her eyes and sighed, listening to the smaller girl's comforting, rhythmic heartbeat.

"Fine. Nerd," Luz took a moment to carefully brush the edge of her thumb across Amity's cheekbone, swiping away the tear tracks she could see glistening in the afternoon sun before adding, "B'sides, normal's overrated."

Luz ran her fingers along Amity's hair, humming a soft melody (https://www.yout-ube.com/watch?v=A-AhIqpfmwU) as the pale girl listened closely with the smallest twist at the corner of her lips. Eventually, those golden eyes blinked open and caught Luz's caring gaze. "What s-song is that?"