Chapter Text
The original diagnosis had been GMFCS V, and Zuko’s father would not have that. That had been the only time that Ozai had been right to demand second, third, fourth opinions, to go demand another doctor look Zuko over. At one years old, Zuko had been properly rediagnosed - GMFCS III.
Zuko counts himself lucky for that. Not that the original diagnosis is bad , not in the slightest. Zuko knows that now. But it would have been bad for him. He would have been locked away, Agni only knows where. Shoved somewhere that he couldn’t embarrass Ozai for having a disabled son.
He hates to think of that fact. He can’t imagine himself without the freedom of the outside world.
No wonder Toph left her home , he always thinks when he recalls the subject. Stuck in her house, told what to do, treated like a pretty little doll… Zuko wouldn’t have been in his house - he’d be in some facility, told what to do, treated like a doll.
He isn’t a locked away, told what to do, or treated like a doll, thankfully. He gets to go out whenever he wants.
Mostly.
“But Uncle,” Zuko says, “I don’t want to hang out with Ty Lee and Mai! Why can’t I just go to Aang’s house?”
“Because we are bonding with your sister,” Uncle Iroh says, opening Zuko’s car door.
“Azula probably doesn’t even want us there!” Zuko protests as Uncle Iroh aids him into a standing position. “She’ll torture us!”
“She will do no such thing,” Uncle Iroh says. He sounds too happy. Zuko doesn’t trust him. “We will simply watch a movie together.”
“She didn’t ask us to join her!” Zuko says.
“Well,” Uncle Iroh chuckles, “we live here! We will have to join her no matter what.”
“She’ll hate this,” Zuko grumbles.
Azula does indeed hate this.
“What!” she shrieks. “I thought you would go sit in the kitchen drinking tea again or something!” She rounds on Zuko. “Can’t you go sit in your room and stare at the ceiling listening to your stupid emo music or something?”
“I don’t do that! And it’s not stupid!” Zuko says, just as Uncle Iroh says, “I want to sit in the living room and drink tea!”
“I hate you both,” Azula snarls, then stalks off to her room. She slams the door.
“That went well,” Uncle Iroh says.
Zuko groans, then makes his way to his own room.
Uncle Iroh makes him return in an hour. He grumbles as he leaves his room, rather pissed off about this whole affair. Azula doesn’t want this, he doesn’t want this, so why do they have to do forced family bonding?
“Hi, Zuko!” Ty Lee says when he joins them in the living room.
“Hi, Ty Lee,” Zuko mutters. He looks over to the other girl. “... hi, Mai.”
Mai just rolls her eyes. They’ve been a little iffy ever since Zuko dumped her through a text. Never mind that both of them are incredibly gay, it was still a rude gesture. The good news is that she hasn’t flayed him alive with her knives. The bad news is, he still has to see her every now and again.
“Great, Zuko’s here,” Azula grumbles. “May we please start the movie?”
“Patience, Azula,” Uncle Iroh says in that gravelly, gentle voice of his. He helps Zuko sit down on the couch. Embarrassingly (more embarrassing than needing help to sit down ), he runs a hand through Zuko’s hair. Then he puts Zuko’s crutches aside and sits down next to him. “There. You may start your film now, niece.”
Azula, predictably, puts on a thriller. Zuko sighs. He hates these. They’re all predictable. Azula says they aren’t, but they are. They follow the same basic structure. Azula says the point isn’t the structure, it’s the minute details behind why who is what and chose what and blah blah blah enter detective-y bullshit here. But Zuko is the film analyst of the family, and so if he finds these boring and repetitive, then they are.
Zuko watches his sister and friends at first. Azula has that look on her face - the one Zuko used to recognise as “I’m having fun watching you get beat up.” It now just means “I’m having fun watching other people get beat up.” Still makes him feel weird inside, even after two years of intense psychotherapy.
Mai, on the other hand, looks absolutely bored. But then again, when doesn’t she? And Ty Lee predictably looks excited, watching with wide eyes and tiny gasps as things unfold before her.
Uncle Iroh falls asleep within minutes of the movie starting. He snores quietly beside Zuko. If Zuko wants out, now is his chance. Problem is, he’s kind of stuck. Also, if he does move, Uncle Iroh would more than likely wake up and make him sit back down.
He sighs. What the hell is he supposed to do for the next hour and a half? Zone out, he supposes.
It’s a little hard to dig his phone out of his pocket, but he manages. He scrolls through apps, not really absorbing anything. Then he checks his messages, even though he knows nothing new has come through in hours.
One way to remedy that, though.
He texts Aang. Aang doesn’t reply. He texts Toph. Toph tells him to fuck off (normal, for her. She’d rather call). Teo also doesn’t reply.
Desperate, he turns to the one other person he can think of that would distract him enough.
Zuko: Help.
The response is almost immediate. He blinks, surprised. He hadn’t expected that, really. The two of them don’t text enough for him to gauge response times, but this does seem a bit hurried. Though, the message of the text does seem to explain the haste.
Sokka: whats wrong??? r u ok??
Zuko: Yes and no. I’m stuck watching a terrible thriller with Azula.
Zuko watches Sokka’s typing bubble appear and disappear a few times.
Sokka: tui and la, you jerk, i thot u were dying or something
Zuko: Why would I be dying?
Sokka: i dont know!!! maybe you drank poison? or started choking? got hit by a car?? fell down an ice hole and didn’t come back up???
Zuko : That last one is very specific.
Sokka: welcome to my nightmares, man
Sokka: stuck watching a bad thriller sounds horrible tho. which one?
Zuko: Kemurikage.
Sokka: oh the creepy baby-stealers? yikes. toph and i watched it together. didnt sleep for a week.
Sokka: which is not an exaggeration btw. i seriously lived on coffee and anxiety alone
Zuko snorts, amused. The image of Sokka highly caffeinated and sleep deprived stumbles around his head.
Three heads turn to him. Oops. He hadn’t realised they had heard him.
“What’s so funny?” Azula asks, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow. Mai simply glares as Ty Lee sits leans toward him, intrigued.
“Who are you texting?” she asks, sweet voice attempting to pry the answer out of him.
“Nothing and no one,” he snaps.
Azula joins Mai in glaring while Ty Lee simply looks bummed. They turn back to the film, losing themselves in it again.
Zuko: I would do anything to get out of here, but I think my sister and her friends would murder me if I distracted them again.
Sokka: oof. i know the feeling.
The next text is completely unrelated. Zuko wonders how the hell Sokka jumped to the topic. Wait, Sokka has ADHD, right? Never mind, then. That makes sense.
Sokka: hey, you know that gallery i was talking about? want to go?
Zuko’s heart rate increases. The answer is obviously yes. Duh. But how does he say that? How is he supposed to respond?
Zuko: Sure.
That shamefully took him five minutes to settle upon.
Sokka: great! How does monday work?
Zuko: That would be fine. Same time as usual?
He rethinks that after he sends it. Usual? They’ve only met twice… it was just chance that both were at the same time. It’s not like their meetings are a set thing.
But Sokka seems to understand.
Sokka: yeah, sure!! I’ll drive us there this time, okay?
Zuko: Alright.
Sokka: perfect!
And then Aang texts back, so Zuko drops the conversation with Sokka, because his cheeks just keep heating up and he has no idea how deal with that. Aang doesn’t make Zuko feel like his face is on fire every five seconds.
***
Monday comes both too slowly and too quickly. Zuko has spent the weekend waiting for this, but also he still doesn’t feel ready for it.
“You are to call me if you feel any discomfort at all,” Uncle Iroh instructs him.
“I know,” Zuko says. “It’s not like this is new to me.”
Uncle Iroh’s face gives nothing away. “Still, I feel I must warn you. You often show little regard for yourself. It is best I remind you, least you find yourself stranded on a bench for hours, waiting until you feel you can get up again.”
“That happened once!”
“Once too many.” Uncle Iroh fixes Zuko’s topknot. Zuko pulls away, just in time, as Sokka comes through the teashop doors.
“Zuko!” Sokka calls. “My man!”
Zuko’s face heated up. My man? What the hell.
“Ready to go?” Sokka asks, reaching the counter. He has a grin plastered across his face. It looks lovely on him.
Shit. Agni. Fuck. Zuko needs to stop thinking about that.
“Yes,” Zuko says. “Let’s go.”
Uncle Iroh gives Zuko a meaningful look that he can’t escape. Then he turns, and Zuko hurries off (as fast as he can - which is not very fast at all) with Sokka.
Zuko halts as soon as they get to the parking lot.
“This is your car?” he asks, eyeing the thing.
It’s an old car, gold and rusted at the bottom. Zuko bets it can drive no more than fifteen miles an hour. It would be lucky if it can even start, really. How many more miles can that thing drive.
But Sokka looks at it with gleaming eyes and a glowing smile.
“Yeah,” he says, mistaking Zuko’s tone. “Isn’t she beautiful? I call her: The Gold Comet.” He sweeps a hand through the air for added effect.
“... why?” is all Zuko can think to ask.
Sokka thinks for a moment, then shrugs and hums and “I don’t know.”
He unlocks the car, then gets inside. He hops out immediately, apologising and offering Zuko help. Zuko doesn’t exactly need the help today, but it would be… helpful. So he accepts. And then tries not to think about how gently Sokka holds him, how kind his hands are, how they fit just nicely on Zuko’s waist.
Agni, Zuko’s just an absolute mess.
They drive to campus in silence, Zuko too nervous to say anything. For whatever reason, conversations in a car just always feel that bit more personal. Sokka doesn’t try to initiate any sort of talk, so Zuko feels justified in not saying anything either, because Sokka is the talker, and Zuko is the listener. Zuko is never the talker, anywhere. Talking is stupidly hard. And awkward.
When Sokka parks, they sit still for a few moments. Silence passes over them. Zuko sits as tense as can be (not hard, considering his spastic cerebral palsy).
“Soooo,” Sokka says.
“So,” Zuko says. It’s hard not to, at this point.
“Ready to go inside?”
Zuko nods slowly. “Yeah.”
“... need help?”
“... yeah.”
And Sokka helps Zuko out of the car the same way he helped him in. Zuko hopes to Agni Sokka won’t look him in the face. It’s probably beet red right now. Sokka’s hands are so gentle on him, and Zuko can’t stop thinking about them, and now Zuko just wishes he could die. This is embarrassing - what if Sokka hears his thoughts?
Not that that’s likely to happen. But still.
“It’s only about three rooms,” Sokka says as they make their way into Ba Sing Se University’s art building. Kuei Hall of Arts is its name. Zuko can guess who made the biggest contribution there. Hell, half the halls are probably named after the Earth King. “Resident artists, student works, and then famous stuff that’s just on exhibition here for a bit.”
“I see,” Zuko says.
“My favourite is the student works,” Sokka says. “Because those people aren’t all pretentious yet, you know? Their works do actually have meaning, not just ‘oh look at me, my art has meaning’ meaning. I hate artists like that. And it’s like they’re everywhere! I mean, how hard is it to actually make your work have meaning!”
He gestures his hands wildly in the air when he talks, something Zuko has noticed in the past few weeks. It’s absolutely endearing, he thinks.
“Does your work have meaning?” Zuko asks.
“Of course it does!” Sokka says. “It’s meaning is: it’s fun! And I also made Appa a wanted poster!”
“A… wanted poster?” Zuko asks. “For a dog?”
“Okay, okay, I guess it was more a ‘lost’ poster. But wanted poster sounds so much better! He was wanted! Aang wanted him!”
“Wait, I remember those posters. You painted that?”
Sokka pulls a face. “Uh… no. Mine didn’t get used…”
“Oh,” Zuko says. “I’m… sorry?”
Sokka waves it off. “Eh, it’s whatever.”
Then they enter the building, and Sokka immediately directs them to an elevator. Nice of him. Half the time, people don’t realise that Zuko can’t exactly do stairs. They’ll just lead him to them and then suddenly go “oh!” when they’re halfway up and Zuko just stares at them. Sad that it’s such a low bar, but it’s still nice that Sokka has gone beyond it.
The first room they stop in is the resident artist gallery.
“This,” Sokka says, stopping in front of the first painting, “is my favourite piece.”
“I thought you liked the student art more?” Zuko says.
“Favourite room,” Sokka says, flapping a hand to brush it off. “This is my favourite piece.”
Zuko stares at it. It’s just a nice painting of the moon. Nothing more. Well, no. If he squints, he can make out a vague outline of two strange figures in the moon, a crater on each of their heads.
“Are those… koi fish?”
“Yeah,” Sokka says softly. His fingers reach out and brush the placard that names the work and artist. He looks wistful for a second, then sighs deeply. As soon as the exhale stops, though, he has his usual wide grin on his face again. “Right. Onward!”
Zuko frowns at Sokka’s turned back, confused. What was that about?
He glances at the placard. The piece is titled “Yue in the Full Moon” by someone named Pakku. He has absolutely no idea what that means or who the painter is.
“Do you need me to walk slower?” Sokka calls back.
Zuko zones back in. “Oh, uh. No. Sorry, just looking a bit longer.” He moves on to join Sokka again.
“Yeah, I get it,” Sokka says. He has a soft smile on his face. “It’s a nice painting.”
“Yeah.” And a confusing one.
“Anyway, this is possibly the stupidest piece I have ever seen,” Sokka says, pointing to the next piece.
“Is that just… corn?”
“Yep,” Sokka says, placing his fists on his hips as he stares down at the pile of loose corn kernels on the ground. “Corn.”
“What for?” Zuko asks, bewildered.
“Who knows?” Sokka says. “I’ve been asking the same thing myself.”
“It’s just called ‘My Father,’” Zuko says, reading the placard on the wall. “What the hell does this have to do with fathers?”
“Maybe his father was a scarecrow?” Sokka suggests.
Zuko can’t help the snort of laughter that escapes him. In return, Sokka lights up like a little candle’s flame - pure and bright.
“Okay, okay, the next one is also stupid,” Sokka says, leading Zuko off again.
Sokka takes him through the rest of the room, then starts all over again with the visiting art. They mock the ridiculous ones, puzzle at the confusing ones, stare at the occasionally quite talented ones. Sokka tells jokes as easily as Azula used to lie, Zuko finds. That is to say, he doesn’t stop. And Zuko also finds that he likes it. A lot.
Zuko likes Sokka. A lot. He wants this moment to go on and on and never end, just the two of them, laughing at the stupidest art they have ever seen.
But Zuko also is kind of hurting. His left leg has been being a bitch for the past week, for who even knows why. Agni wants to smite him, probably.
“Zuko?” Sokka asks as they reach the last display in the visiting art gallery. It’s a clay pot. Zuko cares nothing for clay pots. Why is it even here? It’s boring. “Are you alright?”
“It’s fine,” Zuko says.
“No, really,” Sokka says. “You kinda look like you’re in pain.”
“It’s fine,” Zuko says again.
“Remember how I told you I have chronic pain?” Sokka says. His expression is sympathetic. “You don’t have to lie. I know you’re hurting. I make that face, too. Or, so Katara says. I’ve never seen my own face, you know? Unless it’s in a mirror. But I’m not really in front of mirrors when–” He cuts off. “Oops. Sorry. But my point is… do you need to take a break?”
Zuko gnaws at his lip, then nods. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry!” Sokka says. “Remember: chronic pain guy! I need to sit down a lot, too. I was probably going to suggest it for myself soon, really.”
That’s a very obvious lie, the kind Zuko usually tells. But it’s nice, having that affirmation, nonetheless.
They sit outside the resident artist gallery, where the closest bench is. Sokka sprawls backwards, leaning his body against the wall and flopping into the weirdest shape. He’s barely on the bench at all, really. Zuko has to sit more carefully, because Agni only knows he would never get up again if he sat anywhere near what Sokka is sitting like. He’d get so stuck. Or he’d just collapse to the floor and get stuck there. Or something even worse.
“The moon painting is about my first girlfriend,” Sokka says after a bit. His voice is serious in a way it hadn’t been a few minutes ago.
“Oh?” Zuko asks. His heart sinks a bit. Two girlfriends. That still doesn’t prove anything, but Zuko hasn’t heard anything about a boyfriend , so…
“Did you hear about Princess Yue of the Northern Water Tribe?” Sokka asks.
“The name sounds familiar,” Zuko says. But maybe that’s just because of the title of the painting.
Sokka pulls himself up into a sitting position. His face is stony, bordering on sad. Zuko feels his own mood drop to meet Sokka’s.
“She drowned,” Sokka says, staring at his hands as his fingers fiddled together. “A year ago.”
Zuko’s heart twists and falls. “I’m sorry.”
“She loved the moon,” Sokka says. “Her hair was white when she was born, so she always joked… I don’t know, that the moon blessed her. Or something.” He scrubs a hand at his face. “And she drowned, and it’s like… It couldn’t have been more ironic, you know? Like. Tui and La. Moon and Ocean.” He sighs. “And I miss her.”
“That’s rough, buddy,” Zuko says, then cringes.
Fuck.
He wants to shrivel into a little bug and crawl into the wall and never be seen again.
To make up for himself, he reaches over and pats Sokka’s shoulder. Sokka looks up and gives Zuko a watery smile.
“Sorry,” Sokka says, sniffing a little. “I shouldn’t have unloaded that on you.”
“No, no,” Zuko says quickly. “I’m glad you trusted me enough to share.” Because that’s what you’re supposed to say, right? He had rehearsed a few of those lines to himself before Katara once told him something sad. So it’s probably what he’s supposed to say. Either way, Sokka seems to appreciate it.
“Aaaanyway,” Sokka says, perking back up. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” Zuko says.
“You sure? Don’t wanna push you before you’re ready,” Sokka says, light yet sincere.
“I’m sure,” Zuko insists.
“Okay, great! I have to show you my other favourite piece!” Sokka hops to his feet, then helps Zuko to his own.
Zuko follows Sokka to the student gallery, vaguely musing about the people Sokka attracts to himself. Yue had been a princess. Suki’s mother had been the head of Kyoshi Island. And if you ask the right people from the Fire Nation, Zuko’s blood is technically still rightfully monarchical.
What is it about royalty that Sokka pulls in?
“Look!” Sokka cries as they enter the room, pulling Zuko from his thoughts. “The Boulder!”
He points to a giant, bronzey statue in the very center of the room, then rushes towards it.
“Isn’t it great?” he asks as Zuko catches up. “They got his likeness perfectly!”
Zuko squints up at it. “Isn’t that the guy Toph beat up?”
“Shhhhh,” Sokka hisses, finger pressed to his lips. “We don’t talk about that in front of me!”
“Why?” Zuko asks.
“Because I’m sensitive!” Sokka says. He folds his arms. “Toph beat him up after knowing full well that’s my favourite Earth Rumble fighter!”
“How is he that good if Toph can beat him with Tai Chi?”
“You say that like you don’t know how freakishly good Toph is at Tai Chi,” Sokka says. He reaches out and reverently pats the metallic sculpture’s knee. “I’m so sorry for his hurtful words, The Boulder. You’re a great fighter.”
“Have a crush on him or something?” Zuko deadpans, raising an eyebrow at Sokka’s antics.
Sokka sputters, a blush forming on his cheeks. “What! Nooo. Says who? You have a crush on him!”
“I don’t,” Zuko says, now confused. “I’ve never seen the guy before!”
“No, I was… I was teasing,” Sokka says. “I’m just.. I don’t have a crush on The Boulder! That would be… that would.. haha…” He breaks off into nervous laughter. Then he jabs a finger into Zuko’s chest. “You can’t tell anyone.”
Zuko’s good eye widens. He nods. He, better than anyone, knows how serious keeping this sort of secret is.
“Katara would laugh so hard ,” Sokka moans.
Zuko blinks. This… is not the sincerity Zuko expects from someone wishing not to be outed.
“I’ve been denying it for so long,” Sokka continues, unaware of Zuko’s complete confusion. “She’ll just say ‘I told you so!’ in that bossy, mean little voice of hers, and then she’ll never believe me on anything ever again!” He sighs, slumping over. “I really need to get rid of the poster in my room, don’t I?”
All Zuko can think to say is, “... so you’re bi?”
“What?” Sokka stands straight up again. “Oh! Yeah!”
“Oh,” Zuko says.
Oh…
“Got a problem with that?” Sokka says, eyes narrowing.
“No, no!” Zuko says. “I’m… uh. No problem here.”
Just like that, Sokka’s sunny smile is back. “Great!” Then he gets stern again. “But seriously. Don’t tell Katara. I will never live this down.”
“I won’t say a thing,” Zuko says.
He is both confused and delighted, and suddenly he feels a newfound fondness for The Boulder, the guy Toph beat up and Zuko has never seen before.