Chapter Text
Zuko watches Azula leap off the edge. Her long, dark hair streams out behind her like ribbons on a baton and then fan out for just a moment when she makes impact on the lower roof. He turns away before she can see him watching her.
The market below is too loud, too busy for Zuko’s mind, and it makes his thoughts come in messy fits and starts. He wants to blame that disastrous conversation with Azula on the incessant background noise, making him go all fuzzy at the edges, but some part of him reminds that the heavy weight of the Blue Spirit mask in his backpack and on his mind probably had more to do with it.
He’d been out all night- with Jet for a little while, then alone, spinning his own life for a few hours. It had been… an indulgence. Being with Jet had been an indulgence in itself, and a dangerous one at that, but Zuko’s usually smart enough to go right home afterwards. The Blue Spirit can’t exist anymore, and he knows that.
Sometimes he just does his best to forget.
He readjusts his backpack and swipes his hair out of his face. The quickest route back to the shop is just a few leaps over the roofs of buildings, but he’s trying to be better at taking the long routes down on the city floor. He doesn’t want to think about what would happen to the shop and Uncle Iroh if someone saw him roof-jumping and got spooked enough to call the Dai Li.
Still… Uncle doesn’t know where he is right now. He doesn’t want to worry the old man, who has enough on his plate. Every moment he stays out is another moment Iroh has to notice his absence.
Zuko stands, readjusts his knapsack again, and jumps to the nearest rooftop, then the next, and the next. He doesn’t think about much of anything while he jumps, just a little too worried about falling to ponder his place in the universe, but he feels his mind start to reorganize as he gets away from the buzzing of the market and his inner fire unfurls with the new presence of Agni above the horizon.
He leaps from the windowsill of one last house and lands half a block from the Jasmine Dragon, paper lanterns hanging from the poles over the windows. Warm light streams from inside, casting orange shapes against the cool sunlight of early morning Agni. Zuko can hear a collection of regulars from here, and he braces himself for work. Today isn’t a good day- normally an argument with Azula wouldn’t have rattled him as much as it did. Normally he wouldn’t have had to stay out later just to get back to feeling okay. Normally his mind wouldn’t feel like it’s straining against the edges of a barrier Zuko can’t quite see.
“Morning, Uncle,” he says, raising one head in greeting as he makes a beeline for the back room. Maybe if he starts doing inventory, something where he doesn’t have to be around people, Iroh will let him be. Maybe-
“Good morning! You’ll mop, won’t you? You said you would last night.”
Zuko had promised, yeah, before going to his room and slipping out the window. He’d already been late to meet Jet, but he’d felt overwhelmingly guilty about leaving Iroh without a Pai Sho partner. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, okay.” He changes his route to grab a mop and sling his coat over a peg in the wall. He takes a moment to recuperate, then walks back into the main shop.
It smells like black tea and sweat, just a little. He starts to mop in a corner and lets his mind wander absently.
He feels guilty about lying to Azula during their conversation. Both times were to placate her- lying about where he was because he wants her to know that it’s okay to have friends, that if he can have Jin she can get to know the girls at school, lying about Uncle sending him because he needs her to know that Uncle cares about her too. Well, he needs her to think that. He’s not really sure if Uncle does, sometimes, when the old man looks more wary than anything else.
Of course, she’d gotten defensive about it both times. Iroh’s scared of what I’ll do, she’d snarled, and… god, Zuko doesn’t know. Maybe she’d been right. He sees the way Uncle looks at them and Zuko knows that as much as he plays up the kindly old man image, he’s still the Last Dragon of the West.
He knows that Iroh is scared that the two of them will put the life he’s built for them at risk and he knows that everytime he dons his mother’s old mask he affirms Iroh’s fears. So he lies, and he sneaks back into bed at three in the morning to get what little sleep he can manage before nightmares ambush him again. And he tries so hard not to have to do either of those things, tries to burn the mask and break up with Jet and stay home to be the good nephew, the antitheses to the antagonistic niece.
He’s just not very good at being good.
He casts a quick glance up at where Iroh stands behind the counter, preparing tea orders and chattering with his customers. The old man is much better at customer service than either his niece or his nephew, so he usually takes over the counter while they clean or make tea. Jin is standing with one forearm resting on the high counter, a porcelain cup of tea resting in her hands. She grins when Zuko meets her eyes and bounds over to him, tea splashing precariously.
“Heyyyy, Zuzu,” she says, dropping to sit cross-legged on a nearby table. She’s Uncle’s favorite of their customers, so she won’t get called out for sitting on the table.
“Don’t call me that,” Zuko says. It comes out more grumpy than he intends. The nickname makes him think about Azula, which makes him think about their argument, which makes him wish so much that it hadn’t been a lie when he told Azula that he’d been out all night with Jin, that he thought she was as beautiful as the lanterns in the square.
Jin’s smile drops into a concerned look, which is so much worse. Zuko doesn’t want to drag her down with him. He feels like he’s always dragging people down. “Okay, Zuko. How’s it going? Boy troubles?”
Zuko grimace-smiles at her. “Always.” Jin’s the only one that knows about Jet, that knows about Zuko’s queerness. Zuko had… he’d thought Azula knew, but she obviously didn’t. “It’s just my sister, though.” He stares at the mop handle, worn from years of use. “Ah, if it’s okay…”
Jin cocks her head.
“I’d like to be alone right now,” Zuko says with a quiet sigh. “I’m sorry.”
Jin looks like she’s making a conscious effort not to be hurt, which Zuko appreciates. A small part of him reminds that if he weren’t here, if he were someone else who wasn’t so overwhelmed with simple emotions, she wouldn’t be hurt in the first place. “That’s okay, I get it. I’ll just go…” she looks down at her tea, then out at the tea shop. She points at a gaggle of girls in the corner. “Sit with some of my friends, I guess. We can talk later.”
“Yeah, later,” Zuko echoes. He watches her walk away and goes back to mopping. He’s not sure how much times goes by, only that Azula isn’t back yet and that time seems to be passing unusually slowly. Another gaggle of teenagers- or, a pair of kids that may or may not be teenagers- sit at the table next to Zuko and Zuko tries his hardest not to glare at them.
He steals glances- a girl and a boy, Earth Kingdom and Water Tribe. Probably the Southern Water Tribe. Zuko remembers from his lessons at the palace that the Northern Water Tribe is relatively isolated. Still, Zuko doesn’t see many people from either tribe. It makes him wonder exactly what the Fire Nation did to the two tribes, what he wasn’t told.
The girl is short and younger than the boy, with milky eyes and messy hair. She’s chattering animatedly as the boy sips his tea. Zuko lets his eyes drift up to the Water Tribe boy’s face, which is… startlingly attractive, actually, soft-cut with a prominent nose and brown eyes that sparkle with laughter at whatever the girl is saying.
“Hey, Sparky,” the water tribe boys says, waving a hand. Zuko blinks.
“Do you work here?” the girl asks and the boy rolls his eyes.
“No, Toph, he just goes to random tea shops to wear aprons and mop.” He looks apologetically at Zuko. “Sorry, my… little sister is an idiot as well as blind.”
“Whatever, Sokka,” Toph says, reaching over the table to punch the boy. Sokka. Whatever. “It was a conversation starter.”
“I’m not very good at those,” Zuko says awkwardly. Sokka is still smiling at him, even as he’s gripping the arm that Toph just punched. His smile is really nice. Nicer than Jet’s, which always looks a little like he’s going to bite off Zuko’s head.
“Conversation starters?” Toph asks.
“Conversations,” Zuko says. Both customers laugh and Zuko can’t decide if he should be proud of making them laugh or embarrassed. It’s the kind of joke that makes it seem like people are laughing at you no matter how you spin it, but something tells Zuko that they’re not being mean spirited.
“Tell me about it,” Toph says, kicking her bare feet up onto the table. Sokka pushes them down again, shooting Zuko another apologetic look. Toph continues as if nothing had happened. “Socks here has a little sister and I haven’t had a single nice conversation with her.”
“That’s not true,” Sokka protests, “you guys went to get mani-pedis yesterday!”
“That doesn’t count,” Toph says.
“It so does! That was a whole day spent having nice conversations. Don’t be mean to my sister.” Sokka looks at Zuko and shakes his head, like the two of them are in on Sokka’s exasperation with Toph. Zuko feels his mouth quirk into a smile. “Besides,” Sokka says, half to Toph, “I’ve got two other little siblings too!”
“Oh?” Zuko says. Toph looks equally confused.
Sokka reaches over the table to poke at Toph’s cheeks and she bats his hands away absently. “You and Aang! I swear, if I weren’t there to play big brother, you three would go walking right into a lion’s den.” He beams down at her, the picture of joking older siblingry, and Zuko feels an odd pang of nostalgia for something he and Azula had never had.
“Who’s Aang?” Zuko asks, his slight smile still sitting carefully on his face.
“Oh, he’s the Avatar,” Sokka says offhandedly, “about yee high, cute little baby face, funky tattoos.” He gestures vaguely to illustrate his point but Zuko stops listening almost immediately. The Avatar. Of course. Of course the first conversation Zuko’s had today that made him stop thinking about his father and the Fire Nation ends like this. God, Azula- Azula can’t know. About the Avatar, or about Father’s promise, or- why would she know, anyway.
The quiet chatter of the Jasmine Dragon, a sound that’s usually soothing at best and mildly grating at worst, starts to close in on Zuko, the conversations three tables away chasing away the ends of Zuko’s thoughts. He doesn’t realize he’s spaced out until he looks down at Sokka’s concerned face.
What a nice face, Zuko manages to think. Sucks that he was the bearer of such awful news. It feels like everyone Zuko likes is just a metaphor for another thing that could hurt Iroh and the Jasmine Dragon.
“You okay, man?” Sokka asks. “You spaced out for a second there.”
“I’m okay,” Zuko says quietly. “Uh, I just remembered that I have inventory to sort. I forgot about it earlier. I’ll see you two again soon,” maybe. Not if Zuko can help it. If they come back with the Avatar, who knows what could happen to the shop. The debacle with Jet was enough stress for Iroh forever. Also enough stress for Zuko forever. Those years at the palace without his mother maxed out his stress meter for the rest of his life and he can’t handle anything anymore.
“Yeah, okay,” Sokka says, forehead still creased in worry. He sips at his tea and Zuko slips away through the crowd, back to the hallway behind the counter. When he looks over his shoulder Sokka is back to talking with Toph.
He puts the mop back and wraps himself in his brown jacket again. It’s too warm for the steamy air inside the Jasmine Dragon, but the jacket usually helps when he gets overwhelmed. It was Lu Ten’s, before Zuko’s cousin was killed, and the thick and rough fabric makes Zuko feel safe. He takes a breath.
The Avatar. God, he needs to- he needs to find Uncle, he needs to tell him… what. Tell him to leave? To hide, to find the Avatar- Zuko could go home, he just needs a plan, just needs to think clearly, needs to get away from the buzzing chatter of the tea shop. No, he needs Uncle.
Iroh is brewing another pot of tea and he looks quietly perturbed when Zuko comes up to him. “Nephew,” he says, “why aren’t you mopping?”
“I need to talk to you about something,” Zuko says, eyes flickering to Sokka and Toph again. “It’s important, Uncle.”
“You’re speaking to me now,” the old man says. “Anything you can’t tell me now can wait.”
“Uncle,” Zuko says again, hoping his- terror? stress?- comes through. Iroh’s brow furrows, but he gestures to the line of people waiting to get their orders in.
“I have customers, Zuko. Are you sure this can’t wait?” All of Zuko is screaming that no, it can’t but Iroh’s tone doesn’t leave room for debate. He hangs his head and scuffs at the ceramic floor.
“I guess it can, yeah.”
“Good. I’m excited to hear what it is later.” Iroh’s eyes sparkle. “If it’s about Jin, you know that girls love chocolates, right?”
Zuko stares at the grout between the ceramic- some of the tiles are blue glazed, a indulgence of Iroh’s when he redid the shop. Jin. Another lie to Uncle, but it’s all to keep them safe. To make sure Iroh keeps loving them both, to make sure Iroh doesn’t keel over in his worrying. “I’ll keep that in mind, Uncle,” he says. “I… uh, I have to go, if that’s okay. Jin and I have a… we have a date.” Zuko knows that the second Iroh does a proper scan of his customers and sees Jin sitting in the corner with her friends his cover will be blown, but he doesn’t have the space to think about repercussions right now, just that he has to be outside, away from the noise and the Avatar’s friends.
“I’m happy for you, nephew,” Iroh says, carefully taking the teapot off the burner. Zuko smiles tightly and slips out the back door, back into the alley behind their apartment.
Happy for the lie, right. At least he’s happy.