Work Text:
"You're gonna do great, Zuko."
Zuko smiles up at Sokka meekly. He's sitting in the Green Room and his show is starting in five minutes, but he's not thinking about that. He's played these songs a million times; of course he's gonna do great.
But Sokka is here. Sokka is here, in the Green Room, because he's Zuko's best friend and wants to support him.
Sokka doesn't normally come to shows. He used to come to every one, but then Zuko got bigger and the shows got further away. Now, he comes when Zuko plays in their hometown, which Sokka still lives in. Which Zuko doesn't. Because Sokka still lives here.
People always say his best shows are here, though, and Zuko supposes it's because his muse is in the audience. How can he not sing with feeling when the source of it all is three feet from the stage?
The five minutes are nearly up. Zuko stands, readying himself to go onstage once he's introduced.
"Hey," Sokka says, and pulls him into a hug, "break a leg."
"Thanks," Zuko manages, and hopes the blush will fade before he goes onstage.
Your show was so good!!! Sorry I had to run out early. We should grab dinner before you leave!
Zuko stared down at the text.
It hurt to have Sokka there, so close to him, but it hurt more to have him leave in the middle of the show with no explanation. He hadn't known until it was over and Sokka was nowhere to be found. Katara said he'd just run out in the middle of a song. In the middle of a song. That was just bad etiquette.
Zuko considered Sokka's offer.
They talked nearly every day (Zuko didn't move across the country to avoid his feelings just to talk to them every day, but he wasn't going to not pick up when Sokka called), but being in person was a whole different thing. With each visit, Zuko was less and less sure he could keep up this facade.
I'm exhausted, sorry. Next time.
Zuko was leaving his hometown again. This was the sixth time he'd left. The first had been moving to New York state. The last four times had occurred in the past two years, once a year for his tour and another for the holidays.
Zuko was leaving Sokka again. It was different this time. The past four visits, he had spent nearly all his time with the other man. This time, he'd barely seen him for five minutes.
It was too painful. Zuko couldn't do this anymore.
Maybe next tour he'd skip his hometown.
"Zuko?"
"'M here," Zuko said through the phone. He had been in a meeting with his agent, but, when Sokka calls, he picks up.
"Katara said you aren't coming home for Candlenights."
Zuko sighed. He knew he would have to have this conversation eventually, but had avoided it desperately.
"Yeah."
"Why?" Sokka sounded genuinely hurt.
"I just- can't this year."
A pause on the other end.
"Then I'll come up there."
And that was that.
Sokka had never been to New York City before. Neither had Zuko -- he lived in Rochester. But it was Candlenights, and Sokka insisted on going.
So Zuko was in New York City. With his best friend. Who he was in love with.
If nothing else, he could at least get half an album out of this.
Sokka held his hand and pulled him through the streets. Sokka danced with Zuko when he took them ice skating. Sokka insisted they go to fancy restaurants and then would insist on paying.
Sokka did not seem to notice the effect this had on Zuko.
Zuko had moved across the country to get away from his problems, but his problems didn't want to be rid of him. And it wasn't fair.
Zuko tried the same thing the next year.
Sokka immediately booked the first flight to New York. Zuko should've known better.
Zuko released his new album.
Sokka didn't call that week.
Zuko thought back to that show two years ago, when Sokka had walked out. To the show last year, when Sokka had said he was sick and couldn't come.
This new album was the entirety of their two New York Candlenights.
He should've known Sokka, the poet, would be able to tell.
"Why don't you listen to my music anymore?"
"What? Of course I listen to your music."
It was their daily phone call, which had resumed after a short hiatus following the release of Zuko's newest album.
Zuko was tired of this.
"It's okay if you don't like it. It's not for everyone."
"No!" Sokka insisted. "No, I love your music. I listen to it all the time at home, I just..."
"You just what?"
"I have to go, sorry. I'll text you later."
beep
"Katara, your brother's being weird."
"When is he not?" Katara sounded tired, probably just clocking out of a long shift at the hospital. Zuko felt a pang of guilt, but this had to be done.
"Does he listen to my music?"
"Yes," Katara answered definitely.
"Why doesn't he come to my shows anymore?" This was the second year in a row that Sokka had just not showed at all.
"He gets..." Katara hesitated. "Emotional," she decided.
"Emotional? What do you mean?"
"I don't know, Zuko, ask him."
It's incredibly tacky to play your own music. In fact, Zuko even hates just listening to it in general; no one likes the sound of their own voice.
But how else is he going to see what Katara means by "emotional"?
But Sokka could just change the song. Or leave the room.
Which is how Zuko ends up dragging Sokka to the only grocery store he's ever heard play his music the next time he comes for Candlenights. It's a small business, with local products -- a great place to shop, if you have the money. Zuko doesn't, not really, but he has enough to shop at least once. Once and a few prayers to Agni are all he needs.
Sokka is crying. They're silent tears he wipes away so fast Zuko almost misses them -- almost, but not quite. He wants to ask what's wrong, but he can't bring himself to speak.
"Why did you leave, Zuko?"
Sokka's voice is small, and it breaks Zuko's heart.
"I needed to get out."
"Why?" Sokka's voice is rough and his eyes are wet when he looks at Zuko. They've had this conversation before, but not like this. Never like this.
Zuko doesn't know what to say, so he says nothing. Sokka continues.
"I miss you, Zuko. I miss you so much I feel it in my bones. I can't focus, I can't think, I can't do anything, I just-"
Sokka is cut off. This is likely because Zuko has leaned over and kissed him, a very effective tool to shut someone up.
For a moment, Zuko's brain goes into panic mode, because this what not what he planned to do-
Then Sokka's kissing him back. And holding the back of his neck, pulling him closer.
And Zuko realizes why Sokka has stopped coming to his shows. He hopes he'll come to them now; he thinks the music might sound a little different.