Chapter Text
There is a pause between them where Katara seems to take in the sight of her, the bruises on her body, and the way Azula stands in her doorway.
“What’s happened?”
Katara sounds frightened.
“Oh, you’re bleeding.” She cries softly.
And Azula, really, feels like crying too.
“My dad’s an asshole.”
Zuko is quiet then, perhaps waiting for an explanation. She doesn’t give one, only leans forward and wraps her arms tightly around Katara. Katara’s fingers thread through the ends of Azula’s hair, holding her to her body and she knows Katara is crying too.
The both of them lie in the bed, legs twined under the sheets. The rain pounds against the window panes. Their faces are wet, noses bumping against each other. When the thunder roars, it echoes. A part of Azula wonders if this is what love feels like, warm and comforting. A place that seems like a home that never was and where the pain was manageable, the burden light and could be borne together. Where there was no pressure of needing to hide anything. Where there were just two people who shared everything and nothing.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Katara whispers softly in the darkness.
“I don’t think I could.”
They don’t need words. This moment, where she has no obligation to say anything else, feels nice in its own kind of surreal.
(In the way Katara holds her hand, and Azula closes her eyes and lets herself drift off to sleep to Katara's steady breathing. That is where understanding lies, honest and unadorned.)
Katara makes pancakes in the morning. Azula watches from the kitchen counter and tries hard not to think that maybe it won’t always be this way. Perhaps that is her pessimism talking, that something this wonderful cannot last, not for her. She is afraid that this will end, that she will lose this, because it will hurt too much when it fades away.
Katara hands her a plate when she sits on the barstool beside her, and Azula accepts it. There is syrup and butter drizzled and it smells good.
“I broke up with him,” Katara utters softly, almost like a whisper, taking a bite of her breakfast. She says it simply, matter of fact.
“I’m glad,” Azula replies without thinking, smiling despite the situation. It doesn’t seem to bother Katara.
“I feel like it should hurt more. But it doesn’t. Still, he deserves better.”
“He does. You deserve someone better as well.”
“You mean you.”
Azula snorts quietly.
“Yeah, I guess so,” she mumbles, taking a sip of her coffee. “If you’ll let me.”
“I believe I already have,” Katara teases softly, nudging her shoulder with hers. Azula shakes her head, feeling a smile tug at the corners of her lips.
It's the first time Azula cuts a class. She drives Katara to the university campus.
“Are you sure you don’t want to just... spend the day together?”
“It wouldn’t be fair to you.”
“I wouldn’t mind.”
“Go on Katara. I’ll be fine.”
Katara hesitates but leaves anyway. Azula stares after her figure until it disappears into the building’s entranceway. She sits alone in the school parking lot, contemplating what she should do next. Her ankle hurts, her cheek stings, but it’s nothing to fret over too badly.
She finds herself calling Ty Lee. It rings once before it is picked up.
“I missed our talks.”
“So did I.”
Ty Lee takes a deep breath.
“I was scared. At first. Of losing you, completely. But then I realized you weren't going anywhere, really, and I knew that, no matter what, you would stay. And here you are.”
She pauses again, as though gathering the courage within herself. Her fingers curl slightly around Azula’s. They squeeze gently.
“You’re still my best friend Azula. Above all else, we are friends.”
“I know.”
“You're still the smartest, prettiest girl in the whole world.”
Azula laughs, remembering summers of their youth spent together. Beach houses, lighting bonfires, and trashing some kid’s house for the fun of it.
“Azula?”
Zuko’s voice, hesitant. Unsure.
“Hey Zuzu.”
“I’ve got news. Come over?”
She sighs heavily into the receiver, rubbing her face tiredly.
“Okay.”
“Thank you Zula.”
“Whatever.”
Katara stares out into the distance. The park isn’t busy at this time of day. The sun is still high in the clear sky, and its rays hit Katara in a warm caress. But the leaves are beginning to fall, turning the trees vivid shades of red and yellow. Autumn is fast approaching, it seems. The breeze is crisp, not bothering her given the pullover sweater she has on. She’s sitting on a park bench, only metres away from the duck pond.
Her morning classes are finished, so she can sit and think. The ducks swim leisurely around in the water, ripples lap along the surface.
“Are you going to watch them all day?” Sokka says. He sits down next to her, slinging an arm around her and dropping his head onto her shoulder.
He lets out a content sigh. “I can’t believe they don’t mind the cold. I always thought ducks were sensitive to the cold or something.”
She hums in agreement, resting her cheek against the top of his head.
“Do you remember how mom used to take us here every Sunday?” she asks.
Sokka makes an affirmative noise, and she smiles fondly. It feels like such a long time ago. She barely remembers being four years old. Everything now seems so much more complicated, so much more intense. Like the world has become bigger, and everything in it has grown infinitely more difficult to handle.
Katara’s managing though.
“I miss Mom,” she says quietly, breaking the silence that had fallen over them after she’d begun reminiscing.
“I know,” he whispers back. He pulls away from her enough to look her straight in the eye.
“How are you doing?” he asks earnestly. His gaze is searching hers and it takes Katara only a moment to realise what he’s referring to.
“I’m okay. She makes me happy. I think... I think we both made the right choice. I mean, even with the situation and all.”
His lips twitch upwards just a little bit. “That’s good news… Well, are you hungry yet?”
“Starving.”
Azula is at Zuko’s before the sun goes down. They sit outside on his patio, watching the clouds move lazily across the sky. There is a chill in the air. The wind blows, sending their clothes rustling softly.
“You haven’t talked to Dad have you?” Zuko asks eventually, his tone serious.
“Nope.”
“So… you and Katara huh?”
Azula chuckles lightly, glancing sideways at Zuko. He gives her an amused smirk.
“Shut up,” Azula retorts, rolling her eyes slightly.
“I didn’t say anything,” he replies, voice low. Azula can hear the hum of traffic below them.
“Does Sokka know?” Azula asks slowly, looking at Zuko. His profile is sharp against the fading light.
“Yeah. Aang called him, and well, he knows I dropped you off at Katara’s.”
Azula nods slightly, leaning back against the cool wall behind her. The conversation dies and they listen to the noise of the city around them. Finally, Zuko speaks.
“What are you going to do about Dad?”
“Well I was hoping to learn from the first one cut off,” she answers, laughing bitterly, trying to make a joke of it all.
“Are you cut off?”
“Might as well be.”
The silence reigns between them once again. This time it lasts a little longer than before.
“Do you ever wonder? About Mom?” Zuko asks softly, staring out at the sunset, at the sky.
(Mother is shrouded in shadowed memories of leaving and leaving and never coming home again. Pale skin and soft hair. Gentle words and soothing smiles for Zuko but hard looks for Azula. She thinks of Mother sometimes, in passing and she hates it.)
“No.”
“I found her Azula. I hired some PI to look for her. I found her. And she’s married, with another child.”
“How riveting.”
Zuko huffs out a laugh at the dry remark from his sister.
“I’ve been thinking of reaching out. To see how she’s doing. Maybe she wants to see me. Us.”
Azula doesn’t point out how her mother could have easily gone out of her way to reach out to Zuko. When his name was in the papers for being disowned by Ozai. She supposes her name will soon be in writing too, splashed across the front page. She could still fix this, beg on her knees for her father to give her a chance again. Given the man has no spare heirs. Yet, for the first time in her life, she has no wish to.
“Do you think she’d want me to call her?”
Then again, Ursa had always loved Zuko.
It happens slowly, or perhaps it doesn’t, but Katara realises that her home is as much hers as it is Azula’s. There is Azula in the now-filled bookshelf, closets used to their full potential, and even in the pale blue of the walls.
“The blue one.”
Katara looks up from the paint sample cards in her hand. She’d been raising them against the walls one by one, pondering which would fit best with eyebrows knitted and forehead furrowed.
“You think?”
Azula shrugs and nods. “Yeah. It brightens up the room, don’t you think? It complements the natural light coming in through the window.”
“You’re right. I like it.” Katara smiles and holds up the right sample card.
A smirk plays on Azula’s lips before she nods again and starts walking to the next room.
“I’ve always liked blue.”
They’ve settled into a routine of comfortable domesticity. Mornings are typically quiet and lazy, with them sitting around the kitchen drinking tea, listening to the news. Evening usually brings with it dinner and some movie while cuddling together on the couch. It’s a good routine that they’re enjoying. Today’s special though. It’s Katara’s birthday.
The meadows are covered in flowers and the weather is warm enough that they decided to have a picnic. Azula’s knees are cushioned by grass and a checkered cotton blanket.
Katara’s wearing her favourite floral print sundress, her hair is down, and she smells like lavender and jasmine. She’s staring into the distance, and Azula finds this the perfect time to snap a shot. Azula peers through the viewfinder, and when she lowers the camera, Katara is smiling.
She takes another photo, and Katara doesn’t mind, finding that her favourite camera to be in front of is Azula’s.
Katara’s looking up at the sky, head lying on Azula’s lap, eyes twinkling as if she’s seeing something no one else can see. Azula gently cards her fingers through Katara’s hair and leans down to kiss her forehead.
The world feels right, as it does when she’s with Katara.
There is nothing else in this moment but their two bodies and Katara’s soft breaths, the wind rustling the leaves of the trees, and the birds chirping happily in the distance.
This, this is what life should feel like, because it feels so much more than just living.
“Happy birthday, love.”
Katara blinks herself out of her reverie. Her cheeks tint pink at the term of endearment.
“Thank you.”
Later, the two of them will attend a party in her honour with the rest of her friends. Meanwhile, this time of day will remain theirs alone.
They are going to enjoy every second of it.