Chapter Text
With the play over, there’s nothing to distract Zuko from the probably impending doom of dinner with his father and Azula.
Not to mention the fact that Azula’s been texting him, which is a cause for worry in itself. Azula hasn’t regularly texted him ever .
He makes the mistake of asking Mai about this one afternoon while they’re sitting in the Jasmine Dragon, feeling restless and unable to study for their upcoming finals. He makes the second mistake of, in a moment of panic, asking Mai to check on Azula.
“Zuko,” Mai’s voice is heavy. “You know I can’t do that. If I get within 40 feet of her she’ll...you know.”
“I know, it’s just…” Zuko presses his fingernails into his palms in frustration, clenching his fists tightly. “Something is off, with her. The way she’s acting it’s...it’s not like her.”
Mai raises an eyebrow. “Why? Because she’s not actively antagonizing you?” Zuko shakes his head.
“No, she is. But something’s different about it, I can just feel it.”
“I don’t know what that means Zuko,” Mai sighs.
“I know,” Zuko’s repeating himself at this point. He doesn’t understand either. But he does know that he can’t put this onto Mai.
His phone pings. Azula sent him another message.
This one is slightly different, however, because it’s not random. Maybe all the random ones were just to build up for this, Zuko thinks.
Azula has sent him the schedule for their family dinner. It’s a document that causes an immediate cold chill to come over Zuko.
“I—I have to go,” Zuko stands up from the table, slamming his knee on the corner in the process. He doesn’t have time to process the pain from this, however, because he’s not thinking properly. Zuko can’t breathe. He needs to get out.
Mai has a vague understanding of how things work at the Sozin household. She knows all about the regimented schedule that Ozai makes—or, made Zuko follow. Azula never needed a schedule. She was “self-disciplined,” his father would say. Zuko was lazy and “needed structure.”
But Mai doesn’t know everything. And Zuko doesn’t particularly want to explain to her why this is causing him extreme anxiety. He doesn’t want to do anything.
Somehow, he makes his way to the small park across the street from the shop, breathing heavily and still largely unaware of his surroundings.
Zuko scrambles to grab his phone—it was one of the few things he remembered to bring with him in his haste to leave the tea shop. Before he can properly process the implications of what he’s doing, he’s dialed the number.
Sokka, to his credit and to Zuko’s surprise, picks up on the second ring.
“Zuko?” His voice is disbelieving and slightly crackly through the phone. “Is everything okay?”
“Can you pick me up?” Zuko says before his panic leaves and he starts to second-guess this decision even more. “From my uncle’s tea shop?”
“Uh—yeah, sure. Just give me 10 minutes and I’ll be there.” Zuko nods, without realizing that Sokka can’t see him, and hangs up.
For the next 9 minutes and 36 seconds, Zuko does absolutely nothing other than pace around in front of the park.
True to his word, Sokka shows up. He pulls up to the store, but Zuko quickly recognizes the car and all but runs over to it.
Concern is painted on Sokka’s annoyingly-beautiful features. It makes Zuko’s stomach lurch for more reasons than one.
The other boy doesn’t say anything for ten minutes. Or what Zuko thinks is ten minutes.
They’re driving aimlessly around the various neighborhoods adjacent to the city center, thankfully avoiding his old one. Zuko sighs.
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
Zuko fights back his taught instinct to immediately snap at the other boy, to tell him that it’s none of his business and that Zuko can deal with his own problems. Instead, he takes a deep breath. And tells at least part of the truth. It’s a start.
“It’s my sister. And my father. But right now, mostly my sister. She’s so perfect. I can’t compete with her.”
“I get that,” Sokka says, looking Zuko in the eye when they pull up to a red light. “Katara’s like, an exceptional figure skater. Could probably go pro, if she didn’t want to be a doctor and save the world. She’s always been so talented. I try hard not to compare myself to her, but it sucks to feel out shown, especially by your younger sibling.” Zuko nods.
“Azula is good at everything. I’m the family disappointment. And she’s been acting weird, which—nevermind.” Zuko cuts himself off in a split second decision.
“You’re the least disappointing person I know,” Zuko grimaces.
“Tell that to my father,” he mutters, just loudly enough so that Sokka can hear it. The other boy doesn’t comment, but does raise a questioning eyebrow like he does most times Zuko mentions his family.
It’s a fair response, Zuko thinks.
“Well, does your father know you well?” Zuko shakes his head.
“I don’t think he knows me at all, that’s the worst part of it.” Sokka considers this.
“That’s understandable. But no one who doesn’t know you gets to be disappointed in you. I—We all know you: me, Toph, Aang, Mai and Ty Lee. None of us would ever think you’re a disappointment just because you aren’t like your sister.”
Sokka’s right. But it doesn’t feel like he is.
“I know that,” Zuko says sadly. “I just can’t internalize it. Not when—not when he doesn’t think it too.”
They’re pulled up next to a park now. Sokka stopped the car, turning so he could look directly at Zuko, listening intently to him.
“I get it. Sort of, at least. I get caring about what people think about you when you know you shouldn’t.”
“How’d you stop doing it?” Zuko asks.
Sokka gives him a sad, wry smile. “Who says I stopped?”
There’s a lull in the conversation as they break eye contact, each turning to stare out their respective windows in mutual contemplation. Something about it is companionable; knowing you have the same problem as someone, knowing you aren’t alone, can be just as good as having the problem solved, Zuko thinks.
“Aang always tells me that inner peace will bring outer peace,” Sokka says breathily. “But I don’t know if he’s right. I do know that shit like this isn’t fixed quite so easily.”
“It isn’t,” Zuko agrees. “But it’s nice to know that someone else feels the same way,” his eyes widen as he finishes. “Not that I want you—or anyone—to feel this way!”
“I know what you mean,” Sokka says. His smile is warm and genuine, something else in it that Zuko’s only ever seen before when they were outside Suki’s house. It feels safe and scary at the same time.
Looking out at the growing sunset, Zuko wonders how he ever lived without a friend like Sokka.
He steals a glance at the other from across the middle console and smiles to himself.
Hopefully he won’t have to ever again.
By Tuesday night, Sokka still hadn't talked to Katara.
Not for her lack of trying, interestingly. But every time she’s tried to initiate a serious conversation with him, he brushes it off with some platitude about how it’s not a big deal or how he has homework.
Neither of them are buying it and it’s obvious. Not to mention how it’s clearly weighing on his dad and Bato, who should be happily celebrating their engagement.
Sokka feels like a complete asshole. It’s awful. But he wants to stand his ground, for once.
He’s on the verge of wanting to talk to Katara about it, he can feel it. But not quite yet. Really, he needs to talk to someone else .
The problem with that is that it would require explaining to one of his and Katara’s shared friends, which would make him feel even worse. It should be between them. But Sokka could use a third opinion right about now.
Maybe he can call Zuko. After all, Zuko did call him the other day when he was having family problems. (Although, Sokka deduced that Zuko’s family problems are more frequent and pervasive than he’s let on). Plus, Zuko doesn’t know Katara as well, so Sokka wouldn’t be putting him in the middle of things, at least not as much.
But this is different. Because of what Sokka wants to do. It’s undoubtedly a strange request, but something in Sokka possesses him to hit the call button on Zuko’s contact.
Surprisingly, Zuko picks up almost instantly.
“Sokka?”
“Er—yeah, it’s me. I mean, obviously,” he laughs nervously. “Care to return the favor and come pick me up? I can’t be here right now?”
“Uh—sure, yeah. Where exactly is ‘here?’”
Sokka swallows. “Home.”
He rattles off the address to Zuko, who asks him to repeat it a grand total of four times before they hang up.
Zuko rattles up to Sokka’s house about fifteen minutes later and struggles to parallel park next to it a solid seven times before Sokka puts him out of his misery, running down the front pathway to climb in the passenger side.
They sit in the parked car for a while, not saying anything. Sokka’s expecting Zuko to want an explanation, but if he does, he doesn’t ask for it. Instead, he asks:
“Where do you want to go?”
Sokka clears his throat. “Head east. I can give you directions.”
Zuko nods, but he looks nervous. Sokka wonders if it’s about the driving or the situation. Most likely both.
They don’t talk as they drive, other than Sokka narrating the directions to Zuko. When they finally pull up at the cemetery, Zuko is surprisingly unbothered.
“I wonder if she would be proud of me,” Sokka says quickly. “My mom. Our conversation the other day got me thinking about it. Coming here makes me feel close to her.” He pauses. “Sorry, I know it’s kind of strange.”
“Of course she would be proud of you,” Zuko says, without even the slightest bit of hesitation in his voice. “And don’t apologize, I really don’t mind. You did the same for me.”
“You’re probably right,” Sokka throws his hands up in exasperation, not acknowledging the second half of what Zuko said for a plethora of reasons. “I guess I’m just fed up with everyone thinking I don’t care. About her, about what they say to me, about anything!”
“Who thinks you don’t care?” Zuko looks genuinely confused.
“Right now, Katara. But it’s not just her, it’s everyone!” Sokka breathes heavily. He can feel his anxiety creeping up inside him. “I know I like to joke around but I still have feelings! Sorry, this is weird, huh?”
“Don’t apologize,” Zuko says harshly. “They shouldn’t do that. It doesn’t matter how funny you are,” his voice is noticeably softer, but just as intent.
(Sokka doesn’t dwell on the fact that Zuko thinks he’s funny. Not right now, anyways).
“I get it though.” Now Zuko looks really confused.
“You get why they think you don’t care? How? I’ve known you for like, three months and it’s obvious that you care!”
Sokka swallows hard, the lump in his throat not quite going away. He feels tears prickling the inner corners of his eyes. “Because I can’t remember her.”
“What?”
“My mom. I can’t remember her. Not really.” He’s much less eloquent than when he confessed this to Toph, but it elicits a much different response.
“How—uh, how old were you when she died?” Zuko scratches the back of his neck awkwardly
“Nine.”
“No one remembers anything good from when they’re nine. I can hardly remember my mom and I was a lot older when she died.” Zuko says firmly. “Besides, if you didn’t care, you wouldn’t visit her grave.”
“I didn’t know your mom died,” Sokka gets the feeling there’s a lot doesn’t know a lot about Zuko.
“Yeah,” Zuko replies. “When I was 13. It’s a long story and also not the point. I don’t understand how your friends can think that you don’t care.”
“They don’t know that I do this,” Sokka admits.
“Why haven’t you told them?” Zuko asks.
Sokka isn’t sure why. He also isn’t sure why he decided to trust Zuko with this. The more he thinks about it, the more personal it feels.
“Because I don’t want them to look at me differently.”
Zuko frowns. “They’re your friends.”
“Yeah, but not like that. Besides, they’ll probably just think I’m joking if I ever try to bring it up.”
“I don’t get it,” Zuko says with frustration. “It’s so obvious.”
“You’re the only person who thinks that,” Sokka’s voice is clipped and bitter.
Zuko huffs. “Well, then screw them.”
He doesn’t think Zuko is joking when he says this, but it catches him off guard nonetheless. It’s blunt and objectively not what he should say, but it makes Sokka burst out into a belly laugh.
“I’m serious, Sokka. Screw anyone who thinks you don’t care.”
It’s quiet then. Sokka’s trying not to cry, not to process everything. He needs to let everything just sink in for a second. The moon glitters down at them, a nearly-round circle in the sky. Sokka looks down into his lap, tears returning to his eyes.
A few moments later, Sokka makes a seemingly harmless choice to look up and then—
He can’t breathe. He’s suddenly so aware of Zuko . Of the way he glows in the midnight haze, of the way his hair falls into his eyes, of the way he’s looking at Sokka, with a brilliant gentleness and oh fuck Sokka can’t breathe.
“Are we going in?” Zuko asks, breaking him out of his stupor. Sokka shakes his head, still staring at the other boy.
“No, I just wanted to sit here a while,” he says. “And I didn’t want to be alone while I did it. Should we head back?”
“No,” Zuko says quickly. “Not unless you want to.” Sokka shakes his head. Going home in this state is the opposite of what he wants.
“Where to, then?” Zuko tilts his head, and then:
“I’ve got a place in mind.”
Zuko’s not sure what’s thinking by subjecting Sokka to his driving for an extended period of time. To be completely honest, he’s not sure what his brain has been doing all night. Short-circuiting, perhaps. He’s been doing that a lot lately.
“Are you taking me to a forest? You know this is how all horror movies start, right?” Sokka asks, his normal joking tone still laced with emotions.
“I feel like we’ve been over this before,” Zuko says wryly, getting a sense of deja vu as he remembers a conversation they had in the reverse not too long ago. “But no, not a forest. Not really, anyways. And I told you, it’s a surprise.”
“I hate surprises.” Sokka sighs. “Actually, I love surprises but I’m currently feeling especially impatient. How long until we get there?”
He internally groans. It should be annoying, how Sokka asks this question, but Zuko’s stupid emotions keep getting in the way.
“Twenty minutes,” Zuko says. Upon seeing Sokka’s crestfallen face, he speaks again. “You can do the music.”
Based on Sokka’s reaction, you’d think Zuko had told him that he could name his first-born child.
The music Sokka chooses is unfamiliar to him, but there’s a deep sadness in its melodies that Zuko likes. (Maybe he’s a bit of a masochist, so what?)
Exactly 18 minutes later, Zuko sees the sign for Ember Island State Park. He grimaces to himself, hoping it’s dark enough that Sokka won’t see. This place has...complicated memories for him, but Zuko thinks it’ll help Sokka.
So he’ll put up with the complexities for one night. For Sokka, he supposes it’s worth it. Zuko owes it to him.
The parking lot is empty, semi-surprisingly. This makes Zuko grin full out. It’ll make the next part of his plan much easier.
As they get out of the car, Zuko is careful to mind his footsteps. Sokka, on the other hand, doesn’t.
“Shh!” Zuko says emphatically. “We don’t want any of the park rangers to hear us!”
Sokka frowns. “Are we allowed to be here?”
“Technically no, but once we get onto the beach no one will look for us. They just search the woods.”
“We are going to the woods!” Sokka whisper-yells. Zuko smacks his forehead.
“I said we weren’t technically going to the woods because we aren’t! We’re going through them!”
“Please don’t murder me in a state park!”
“I’m not going to—ugh!” Zuko says, exasperated. “Come on,” he tries again. “Once you see the beach you’ll get it.”
Upon hearing the word beach, Sokka perks up.
“Alright,” he says. “Lead the way. But if I die out here I’m going to be mad!” Zuko rolls his eyes.
They make their way to the start of the forest, using phone flashlights to guide their way.
“We have to turn these off,” Zuko explains. “If the rangers see them—”
“Yeah, yeah, we could get caught,” Sokka says, then pauses. “We have to link arms then. So we don’t get lost. I’ve seen how that ends and it’s a future full of mosquitoes that I want no part of.”
Zuko is grateful that the night covers the deep blush undoubtedly present on his face. He doesn’t have time to process that thought, because Sokka promptly grabs his arm and links theirs together, turning off his flashlight in the process. They wordlessly move forward into the foliage.
It’s silent out of necessity while they walk, each of them stumbling every-so-often on a twig or rock and the other hoisting them back up. After a solid twenty minutes of walking, they finally make it to the beach path.
“We can talk now,” Zuko breathes, slightly out of breath from the walk. It doesn’t matter how in-shape he is at the time; this hill always takes it out of him.
Sokka nods, also catching his breath. “How do you know about this place?”
“Family vacations,” Zuko says quickly, muttering slightly. “We used to come here a lot.”
“Used to?”
“I left home. Not sure if they still come here, but I doubt it.” Sokka looks slightly unsure, as if he’s not decided if he thinks Zuko is going to laugh or cry. “It’s a great place to be nostalgic,” he explains, answering Sokka’s unasked question about why they might possibly be there.
They start to make their way down the beach path, feet sinking down into the sand comfortably. There’s a pleasant kind of melancholy in the air that matches how the night has already been going. It makes Zuko feel better about his choice to come here, and to bring Sokka with.
The clearing of the beach is empty, only the sounds of crashing waves and the rustling of the tall grass in the wind can be heard. Sokka exhales audibly.
“You’re right,” he says. “This is a perfect spot.”
Neither of them thought to bring a blanket, so they both sit straight down on the sand. It’s better that way, in Zuko’s opinion. You feel more connected to the Earth. He can practically hear his uncle spouting some proverb about the restorative power of nature. Honestly, Zuko thinks he could use some of Uncle’s wisdom right about now.
He’s never been particularly good at comforting people, so he has no idea if what he’s doing is actually going to help Sokka or just make things worse. But, for the first time in a long time, Zuko feels like trying. That has to count for something.
Sokka is staring up at the sky, clear and starry without any of the light pollution from the city.
“How are you feeling?” Zuko’s voice is stiff, stumbling over the uncertain words. But Sokka doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, he smiles at Zuko.
“Much better. It’s freeing, being out here. There’s no one to impress.” Zuko thinks that Sokka might be reading his mind.
“When I was younger, I always used to come out here at night. Everyone else would be asleep, but I would just want to sit and think and be alone. It’s calming.”
“Sorry you’re not alone this time,” Sokka says, semi-sheepishly. Zuko gives a half-smile.
“I don’t mind.”
He doesn’t say anything else after that, despite the feelings pounding in his heart, threatening to explode. He just lays his head down on the sand and joins Sokka in staring at the stars.
Zuko revels in both feelings: the one of being miniscule, induced by the stars, and the one of being known, induced by Sokka. He keeps them equally close, but forces them to be distinct.
It’s oxymoronic and inevitable at the same time, Zuko thinks. He supposes that’s the only way things can be at Ember Island Beach.
Maybe, just maybe, it’s not always a bad thing. Zuko figures he’ll just have to wait and see.
Katara corners Sokka the next weekend.
Alright, it’s a bit strong to say she cornered him. Really, she walked out onto the porch and sat down next to Sokka on the bench, where he had been ruminating on the confusing, formerly-subconscious feelings swirling around in his brain.
“We need to talk,” she says as she plops down. Sokka sighs.
This time, though, he doesn’t give her an excuse or a fake nicity. Instead, he nods with a palpable reluctance and slumps back into the wood of the bench.
“Then let’s talk,” he says, unable and unwilling to stop the bitter taste of his tone. It’s parsley and he wants nothing more than to squash it. But then it’ll come back with recrudescence and Sokka won’t be able to control it. This is better, even though it hurts. He figures he’s ready to unpack this, at least a little bit.
“Sokka,” Katara says softly. “I’m so sorry. I never should’ve said any of that, it’s was cruel and—”
“Did you mean it?” He cuts her off. She blinks back at him. “Do you actually think that?”
“What? Sokka of course n—”
“Then why’d you say it? At least a part of you has to think it’s true.” Katara looks shameful. She takes a moment to think about it.
“I—We never talk about any of this stuff,” she starts. Sokka nods, signaling his agreement. “And you’re always so—I don’t know, carefree? It just seems like nothing can bring you down sometimes.”
At that moment, Sokka thinks his sister might not know him at all. But maybe he just needs to give her the chance to.
“Katara, I’m not happy all the time.”
“I know that,” she sighs. “But you never tell me when you aren’t so it almost feels like it. That doesn’t make what I said okay. I just wish we talked about this kind of stuff, y’know?”
“Me too,” Sokka admits. He’s telling the truth: he does want to tell Katara about these things, somewhere deep down in his brain. But right now, he’s not sure she’s the person he wants to talk to. Not after this. But he’s willing to give it a try. “I miss mom all the time, I just show it differently than you. Wanting Dad to be happy with Bato doesn’t make that not true.”
Katara nods, resigned. “You’re right. I guess it just felt like everyone else was moving on from her and I was...stuck.”
“You aren’t stuck,” Sokka says. “You’re human. There’s no timeline for grief.” It’s something Aang had told him one time. Sokka wishes he could internalize it.
“It’s always worse this time of year,” she says, clutching her knees to her chest. Sokka hums in agreement. “It must be even worse for you with Yue.”
Sokka inhales sharply. That’s not something he wanted to think about right now.
“Yeah,” he says shortly. “It’s always rough. But we get through it.”
It’s quiet for a minute as the siblings stare up at the moon together, sitting on the porch in a silence more comfortable than it’s been in a while.
“I really am sorry, and I’m going to try my best to be better about these things, and to talk to you about them. I really want to.” Katara says quietly after a few minutes.
“I know,” Sokka says. “And I forgive you.”
Because he does. Not to mention the fact that he really misses his sister.
Katara nudges him with her shoulder.“C’mon, we’ve got a do-over family dinner.”
Sokka chuckles and the ice between them feels effectively thawed. Someday he’s going to tell her all of these things. But today, he just wants to eat dinner.
It’s painfully quiet when they walk into the dining room. Everyone else is already seated. Sokka had figured that Katara had already talked to their dad, but judging by the collective reaction to their entrance, he guesses not.
“So,” Katara breathes, clearly nervous as well. “Is the wedding going to be here or in Alaska? I have to figure out what I’m going to wear.”
Their dad and Bato practically beam.
All-in-all it’s a better family dinner by leaps and bounds. No one storms out or gets angry, and it finally feels like home.
Thanks to Katara, he spends most of it bouncing back between cracking jokes and thinking about Yue. It doesn’t take long for him to fall into old patterns, apparently.
He figures that he should talk to his dad. But Sokka has had enough emotional conversation for one day, so he decides to enjoy the pleasant, fleeting company of his father and Bato as much as he can.
Later, after Sokka’s helped with dishes and excused himself to his room, he flops back onto his bed in exhaustion.
Sleep evades him for the longest time. It’s not just thoughts of Yue and his mom this time, though. Zuko has also taken up a very different role in his psyche.
It’s a feeling he can’t quite place. All he knows for sure is how grateful he’s been for the other boy’s help these past few weeks. Sokka thinks he might’ve told Zuko more about his life than anyone else. Although, that says more about him than it does Zuko.
Zuko isn’t amazing at giving advice by any metric. If anything, he’s kind of awkward. But somehow, it’s exactly what Sokka needs.
But it doesn’t quite feel like a friendship, at least, not in the way Sokka’s experienced friendship in the past. There’s something else to it. Something that keeps images of Zuko lingering in his mind for an embarrassingly long amount of time.
This rumination feels like the precipice to something big, but he can’t quite figure it out yet. Maybe he should just let it sit for a while, at least overnight so he can get some much-needed rest.
He should probably talk to Suki about this. Later, though. It’s well past three in the morning by this point.
For now, Sokka allows these thoughts to carry him to sleep.
His dreams are full of sandy beaches and a familiar face he can’t quite remember when he wakes up the next morning.