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Amity turns the pendant over in her hands. Her thumb finds the uneven groove, the small nick in the surrounding metal form, an imperfection she knows well by now. She’ll have to sand it down before she —
Sometimes she remembers how the pieces of metal fit themselves together in her hands. The heat, not singing, but glowing, illuminating, and the drum beat of her heart in her chest, expecting beauty and fearing failure. Once it had cooled and she’d begun to paint, the anxiety had melted away with every brushstroke. It wasn’t perfect, but it was beautiful.
She had already loved the necklace when she’d made it. Choosing it, making it with her own hands, seeing with her very eyes which person she was about to become – what she was about to transport to the whole word to see – that had been enough to make her want to wear and keep it forever. Every time she’d worn it had infused it with another layer of importance.
And she was still going to give it to Luz.
-
Her seventeenth birthday isn’t anything special, but at the end of the day, Luz is still in her room.
Amity’s room, despite everything, isn’t much different from the way it had always been. The posters are different, and she has a few books here that she’d kept in the library before. The color of the walls, the position of the bed and desk, even the way the moonlight slants through the windows should bring her comfort in familiarity. But she’s stewing in her own quiet horror.
Amity chose this herself. She picked out the box herself, wrapped the present, tied the bow with trembling fingers, sick to her stomach and elated at the same time. Now it lays on her desk, neat and small and unassuming. She still wants to give it to Luz, even if her throat closes up at the thought of giving it away.
If she doesn’t do it tonight, she might never do it. Birthdays, like beginnings of years or months or weeks, hold a special sort of power, as if it’s more than just another marking for the passage of time. But Amity can feel it — this is the right moment, this night and no other night.
So, she crosses the room with quick steps and turns around to Luz with the little present box in her hands. Amity doesn’t know what her face is doing. She’s trying to smile, but she’s not quite sure it’s working with the way Luz is looking at her. Wide eyes, apprehension clear in them, body too stiff.
The wrapping all but gives away the present inside, purple paper, gold ribbon. Luz takes it in both hands, carefully, and stares at it. She doesn’t move to open it.
“But… it’s your birthday.”
Her voice is unsure.
“Open it.”
Amity can’t meet Luz’s eye. She fixes her eyes on Luz’s fingers, finding one end of the ribbon to pull the bow apart. They’re not trembling, exactly, but still a little nervous, as if her joints didn’t want to move together the way they were supposed to. Amity wonders what Luz thinks is inside. She bites her tongue.
The bow falls away. Luz unwraps the paper carefully. Amity has seen her rip into gifts with no regard for wrapping paper, and how to preserve it, but something is different tonight. Maybe she does know.
And it’s not like Amity has never said I love you to her before. There are days she can’t get enough of saying it, in every way she can, with words and touches and kisses, sometimes with nothing but a smile. Still, this is different. It’s I’m yours and I want you to be mine, it’s I never want to be apart from you and if I have to, take a part of me with you, it’s nothing she could say with words, just with a gesture.
-
The tradition had been, for a long time, something Amity had only read about in books. To give someone a part of yourself was the purest form of love. No one could deny what it meant, what sacrifice it was, to give something away that belonged to you, that was so much a part of you that you couldn’t imagine breathing without it. At one point in Boiling Isles history this tradition had been much more literal, and couples had solidified their love by choosing an organ to exchange. But the toll had been too high, not enough witches who managed to survive this kind of procedure, and a smart witch had offered their lover a significant piece of jewelry instead.
It was less morbid but no less significant. Everyone who wore jewelry regularly understood that it could become part of a person. Like the clothes you wore, it carried a message to the outside world, who you were, who you wanted to be, what you believed in. It could be an item of comfort, a pendant to grab when you had nothing else to hold onto, a ring to twist around your finger to soothe yourself. Not so rarely, a piece of jewelry was tied to a witches‘ magic or directly filled with it. To give such a piece away was no less a proof of love than to part with an organ.
Sometimes Amity had thought of it, late at night, wondered if her parents had ever done such a thing to immediately dismiss it. She wondered if someone would ever love her enough to give her a present like that, and she wondered what she could give them in return. She couldn’t think of anything, didn’t think she’d ever have something of her own she’d hate to part with. The only piece of jewelry she wore regularly was the pink pendant, infused with her mother’s magic, and that was the last thing she ever wanted to give a lover, though she longed to be rid of it.
To be valid, it needed to be something she loved herself, something she would not just give up for anyone. Something that would make her search for hours and cry in frustration if she ever lost it.
If she ever wanted to have something she loved to give away, she would have to make it herself.
-
Luz lifts the top of the box away. She exhales. Carefully, she peels apart the paper inside. Amity almost can’t stand the suspense, even though she did it to herself.
Then, a twinkle of metal, Luz’s lips parting.
“Oh. Amity… this is – “
“Yes.”
“But – “
“I want you to have it.”
Finally, their eyes meet, and Amity can see in Luz’s wide gaze that she does know exactly what Amity means by it. Her heart is a furnace in her chest. Her fingers find comfort in the velvety folds of her skirt.
Luz’s mouth opens and closes a few times. Her eyes are suspiciously wet and a stone wedges itself in Amity’s throat at the sight. Before she can jumble something together to apologize, Luz chokes out –
“I don’t have anything for you. I can’t – can’t give you anything in return – “
The box is shaking in her hands, and Amity takes two steps forwards to steady it with one hand and grab Luz’s shoulder with the other. The stone in her stomach has lodged itself in the vicinity of her heart.
“You don’t have to!”
“But isn’t that kind of the point? Isn’t it supposed to be… returned? Am I not, like, rejecting you?”
Box be damned. Amity surges forward to pull her close and crushes it between them, but that doesn’t matter as much as Luz. That was never what she meant to imply with the present at all, and a franticness overtakes her.
“No.” She speaks over Luz’s shoulder, holds her a bit tighter. “You’re not rejecting me at all.”
She’s still stiff, but slowly, hesitantly, Luz’s hands come up to rest on Amity’s back, and it makes her heart lighter again. Amity squeezes her one more time, then pulls away just far enough to look into Luz’s eyes. They’re wide and shimmery and completely fixed on her.
“I’m giving this necklace to you because I want you to have it. I want you to have a piece of me with you, always, and this is a piece of me. It means a lot to me, but you mean more.”
She thinks of a thousand more words to say, different ways to put it, thinks of adding I love you or a very specific Azura quote or a rundown of how exactly she made the necklace, if maybe that could show her exactly how important it is to her. But Luz’s lips relax into something like a smile, and Amity’s eyes slip to the box, still holding the necklace, now crumpled between their chests.
“The only way you would reject me,” she says, uncertainty creeping into her, as if she’s still not sure, after so many days and weeks and months of staring into Luz’s eyes and seeing nothing but the truth there, “is if you didn’t want it.”
“Of course I want it! But are you sure you want to give it to me? Like – this necklace?”
There’s no verbal answer Amity could give that would mean enough reassurance, so she reaches into the box to pull the necklace out. A shock of grief flits through her, but excitement and joy still curl in her stomach. This is how it’s supposed to feel. It’s not easy, but she still wants to do it.
Luz watches her carefully as she steps around her and lays the ribbon around her neck. Her hair is short enough in the back that she doesn’t have to fear catching any of it in the clasp, but her fingers still fumble with it. This is it. It’s never going to be hers alone again, and that’s terrifying and comforting at the same time.
Amity closes her eyes and take a breath to compose herself before she steps around again. Luz is staring intently at the pendant laying on her chest. The purple isn’t exactly the right shade to compliment the dark blue button-up she’s wearing, but Amity can tell it’s going to make its home there on her breastbone.
Luz meets her eyes with a smile.
“Thank you.”
It’s a true smile this time, but not as bright as it could be. Amity still has words stinging the back of her throat that could make it better.
“And if you want to give me something in return – “
Luz perks up, eyes wide, smile slipping from her face, as if she’s expecting bad news. Amity takes a breath and forces herself through the next words.
“It’s fine if it takes a while. The point is not to just give me anything. The point is to give me something it’ll hurt you to lose. And that’s why I do want to give you this necklace. Because I love it, but I love you more.”
“I love you, too.”
Her smile isn’t dimmed at all this time.
Luz doesn’t take the necklace off to go to sleep. Her sleep shirt already fits the colors a lot better, just a couple of shades off. But maybe that’s the moonlight, maybe that’s the way Amity is looking at her now, so close in her bed, barely big enough for two people.
Their knees knock together when she turns to face Amity. She’s holding the pendant tenderly in one hand, smiles her cutest smile, lips and eyes curling up.
“I’ll find the best thing to give you in return.”
“I know.”
It’s a promise Amity knows is going to be fulfilled. She doesn’t mind waiting, as long as Luz smiles at her like that and takes her hand to bring it close to her beating heart, close to the necklace that used to be a part of her and now belongs to both of them.