Chapter Text
“— But can we actually compare that overhyped unrealistic copycatting of a classic with the golden original where every detail, every word and every scene has much deeper meaning than we could imagine, brings up to our senses and shatters something inside our hearts? I do not think so.
Watch it or abandon it — it’s up to you. And while you decide I’d rather rewatch the masterpiece again.
Stay safe and tuned.
Yours, Blue Spirit.”
Simple click on a small post button, and the last update has appeared in his blog. Zuko pushes off from his desk, stretching his strained limbs, a satisfied smirk curves on his lips. He finally has edited and posted his last article about a new horrible adaption of “Love amongst the Dragons” by Ember Island Pictures, and now when he has finished his work and shed some light on why adaptations of old movies are a bad idea in the first place, he is able to relax a little.
The sun has almost set down, the last rays have been immersing his bedroom in a soft orange light. Orange is an awful color, suddenly pumps in his head although Zuko cannot remember where he heard it.
The familiar sound of notification pulls him out from his thoughts, Zuko fixes his glasses. FireLily149 left the following comment under your post.
Zuko smiles, skimming through the new comments. He started to run his blog only half a year ago, and was pleasantly surprised when it got first followers — people reacted and shared his articles, thanking him for good reviews or movie recommendations. Every post has been accompanied by a bunch of likes and comments, usually turned into long discussions.
Discussing old movies and plays always reminds him of peaceful cozy winter evenings with his mom when she was cooking her favorite fire flakes and turned on an old DVD, watching on repeat her favorite movies. They had been sitting on the sofa, only the two of them, little Zuko curled around mom, sinking into her warmth and sweet smell, pretending that he watched intently at all what’s going on the screen. He always drifted off eventually, lulled by mother’s gentle embraces and soft voice.
Now “The Blue Spirit Notes” is his secret space of safety and comfort, where he can be himself, speaking aloud about his favorite things, and getting feedback — no matter which one. And every comment and like can light his day and brings a grateful smile on his face.
His stomach growls like a wounded tiger and Zuko suddenly remembers that he hasn’t had a bite after lunch.
“Uncle!” he screams from upstairs. No reply. “Uncle!” Zuko tries again, getting irritated when only silence meets his pointless calls.
Uncle for sure is busy with his favorite weekly TV program about tea, he tried only once to force Zuko to watch with him that nonsense about leaves and plantations, but failed immediately. The growl in the stomach repeats, intensified, and Zuko has no choice but go downstairs and find some food in the kitchen by himself. He’s almost there when a hardly audible rustle near the entrance door catches his attention.
When he approaches, his sister is sitting on the small poof and slowly ties her shoelaces. Zuko sends a quick glance over her clothes and heavy make-up, all bright red lipstick and dark shades above long lashes.
“Where are you going?” he demands, crossing arms over his chest.
“None of your business, Zuzu,” she cuts off, the tone as demanding as his.
She finishes with shoes and gets up slowly, reaching for the jacket from a rack. Zuko notices that a black skirt on her barely covers her mid-thigh, and his frown deepens.
“Azula! Where. Are. You. Going?!”
She lets out an exasperated sigh. “Okay, let’s pretend I go for a walk.”
“At the night?”
“I need some fresh air,” she shrugs and mutters to herself. “I’m done sitting here with you two weirdos.”
“Does your walk include returning home till dawn?”
Azula lays at him her mastered sceptic glance, he doesn’t avoid her eyes either. The tension grows, they hear the familiar humming on the TV from the living room which means the uncle’s program should end soon, but none of them pay no mind. Zuko feels on some higher, experienced level that Azula plays with him, hiding something more important.
“Does uncle know at least?” He asks, defeated, knowing very well that his attempts wouldn’t stop his sister anyway.
“Gosh, Zuzu. Grow up already,” she replies and pushes the door, going outside. He follows her instinctively, feeling how anger is boiling inside him when he sees an unfamiliar car stopped near their house. Zuko narrows eyes, trying to look up better who’s sitting in the driver seat, but gives up after a moment — obviously, he shouldn’t have left his glasses in his room.
“You look like crap since Lu Ten went to college,” Azula informs him and stomps to the car, sending him an amused glance as a goodbye. “See you at school, loser!”
And with that she’s out, leaving him to stand there alone and watch until the car gets out of his blurred sight. Zuko takes a deep breath of crisp evening air, trying to calm down the fire dancing on his nerves. One day Azula definitely will get in big trouble, and he won’t be able to drag her out. He should stop it from happening now, while he still can do something — anything — to reach her.
She hasn’t been like that before, they both haven’t been, but fate has played dirty tricks with their lives.
His own breakdown happened one early morning when he was eleven. He woke up from Azula’s terrifying crazy screams and jumped out of the bed, rushing to help with whatever his little sister was struggling with. He didn’t expect to see this, neither of them expected. The lifeless pale body of their mother was lying beside the ladder, her eyes were shut, her mouth slightly opened and a thin trickle of blood dried out on her temple.
“Mom?” Zuko whispered, his heart skipped a beat. Azula still was screaming.
That couldn’t be. That couldn’t. The night before mom was sitting on his bed and smiling fondly while sleepy Zuko was convincing her to take him to the movie. She even promised him to think about it, then kissed his forehead and wished him goodnight. He heard screams through the sleep, but thought that was just a dream.
Mom didn’t reply, mom didn’t breathe.
“Az-zula,” he was all shaking. “C-come here.”
That scene has stayed in his mind for eternity, has carved on the back of his eyes and followed him in every nightmare, every darkness. All what had been next — the funeral, mourning, sympathetic glances, loneliness — went in a blur.
After that morning his life turned into the hell, carefully provided by his father. The evidence of that is spreading across Zuko’s face — rough, pale red and ugly.
But his internal turmoil cannot compare to Azula’s. The loss of their mother didn’t affect her like her brother, didn’t break her, leaving a deep hollowness inside her soul.
Azula’s breakdown happened several years after.
That night fifteen years old Zuko was standing on the front steps of their former, big house and watched with determination how red and blue lights of police cars illuminated the dark night. The financial empire of his father failed, his father — the man who had never had a kind word for his only son, who called Zuko a failure who was lucky to be born — failed. The accuser became the accused, and Zuko didn’t feel sympathy. He knew that meant father will pay for his acts, maybe not for all, maybe in other ways, but will pay. He met Ozai’s cruel gaze for the last time, it seemed that the skin on his face was burning again for a moment. They took him, and Zuko has never seen him again.
Azula couldn’t accept it as easily as her brother. For her loss of Ozai was equal to loss of the purpose of her life. The prodigy, the gifted child, the perfect daughter — all her life was chained around their father’s approval, both their lives were. But while Zuko was falling down helplessly, Azula was rising higher and higher.
She roared and kicked them, when they with uncle Iroh tried to calm her. They lost the estate, lost Ozai’s wealth and lost their father in one night.
When they moved into the uncle’s small house on the other side of town, Azula’s hysteria turned to rejection, she locked in her new room and refused to go out, refused even to eat, and neither Zuko, nor Uncle didn’t know what to do. Good for them, their cousin Lu Ten was here.
To this day Zuko has no idea what Lu Ten told her then, but slowly and cautiously they started to see the glimmers of previous Azula in the following days. Lu Ten went with her to visit Ozai in a jail, Lu Ten went with her to a therapist, Lu Ten controlled her meals and cooked her favorite mochi, Lu Ten encouraged her to correct her grades. Azula found a new important figure whose approval she could have been achieving.
Lu Ten is only a few years older than they are, but they looked up to him more than to anybody. Their life remained almost perfect back to those days, when everything was organized and scheduled by their cousin. The early mornings in their kitchen smell of pancakes and cacao — Lu Ten prepared breakfast for them. A loud “disgusting” music in uncle’s old car — Lu Ten drove them to the school. Grounding for a week and domestic work, followed by Zuko’s frowns and Azula’s hisses, — Lu Ten broke their fights and scolded them both. The loud whistles and cheering — they visited all Azula’s volleyball matches.
It felt like a betrayal when Lu Ten decided to go to Ba Sing Se University. It was a complete devastation when Lu Ten packed his baggage, hugged them both and sat on the train, leaving the siblings with their uncle. And after Lu Ten’s leaving their life has turned into a mess once again. Uncle cried and sniffled for two weeks, Azula became out of control totally, Zuko at the beginning tried to be the responsible one, like his cousin, but failed miserably.
Zuko isn’t sure who looks more like crap since Lu Ten went to the university — he, or Azula who rarely sleeps at home and every weekend spends at parties, even on those dangerous ones with college guys. Only three months to the summer break. Zuko hopes they will manage to hold on till Lu Ten’s arrives for holidays.
Zuko winces from a wave of picked wind and returns to the house. He finds uncle is still sitting in the living room and sipping ginseng tea.
“Do you know where Azula is?”
Uncle beams at him. “Of course. She said she has a sleepover with that lovely friend of hers, Ty Lee, if I remember correctly.”
Something strange and heavy lays in Zuko’s chest when he looks at uncle who’s completely unaware where his niece can be missing. It has been stupid of him to hope Azula would act honestly — Azula always lies. Zuko only shakes his head, grabs a snack from the fridge to ease his hunger and goes upstairs, putting out the phone from his pocket. He looks at the list of contacts perceptively. Sokka is out of the town, Aang is impossible to reach even if Zuko tries to — at the weekends Aang with his guardian Gyatso have something similar to digital shabbat when they turn off all screens and taking walks to the forest nearby or meditate on the backyard, renewing and gathering the energy for the next week. There is only one option.
“Hey, Toph! Any info on who’s making a party tonight?” Zuko sends a voice message and plops on the bed tiredly.
The reply comes after a few seconds. “I DUNNO, SPARKY! I STUCK WITH MY FOLKS SINCE FRIDAY!”
The second message is full of swearing, and only in the third Toph says, “Maybe someone from FFF.”
Of course, Freedom Fighters Football Club — the most popular guys in the school.
Zuko makes a face, but nonetheless reaches for glasses from his desk. Agni knows he doesn’t want to check Jet’s stories in social media, but his insufferable sister hasn’t left him a choice. Next fifteen minutes he is going through all their accounts, even watches all The Duke’s stories though this boy is merely fourteen and hardly can be invited to a serious party. Nothing. Azula is nowhere to be seen. How on earth will he find his sister when it comes to ride her home, perhaps drunk, and to put her to bed? And she isn’t even sixteen yet, for Agni’s sake!
Zuko postpones the phone and closes eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose; Azula will make him go gray before he even graduates from the school.
Through the next minutes nothing has changed, and Zuko decides enough. It has settled. If Azula doesn’t return home till midnight he sounds the alarm, but until then he can prepare for tomorrow’s classes and rest a little.
Zuko’s going through evening routine automatically: exercises on a backyard, then a shower, preparing a lunch for tomorrow (after a brief hesitation with muttered “damn” he puts rice and vegetables in Azula’s lunchbox too), checking his blog for the 100th time, exchanging voice messages with frustrated Toph, taking from uncle the schedule of his shifts for the week. Zuko finds himself watching in the window expectantly, anxiety grows more with every minute. The clock says ten to eleven when he surrenders completely.
Zuko:
pls tell me she’s with you guys
Ty Lee:
Hi, Zuko!!!
Don’t worry!!!
She’s here <33
*sent a photo*
*sent a photo*
*sent a photo*
She has fallen asleep already <3
Zuko:
thx
you’re a lifesaver
Ty Lee:
;)
Before the sleep Zuko goes downstairs one more time, uncle drifts off right on the sofa. Zuko scowls annoyingly, but nonetheless brings a blanket and checks if the old man hasn’t forgotten to set the alarm. Then he turns off the lights and returns to his room as quietly as possible.
When a few minutes later he opens his closet to pull a pajama, the box is falling from the upper shelf. Right. The damn letters.
Zuko bends down to pick them all and throw them into the box again, intending to hide them and lock for good somewhere in his closet again, as he locked his feelings a long time ago. He holds all letters in hands, five in total, looking at beautiful envelopes with accurate characters.
The red hat box with an embroidered dragon is another thing which reminds him of his mother, she bought it at a vintage shop somewhere in the town. Mom gifted it to him and said that he can keep inside all that he wanted, all his treasures, and little Zuko got it seriously.
His letters — love letters — are his most secret possessions. There’s one for every girl he’s ever loved — five in all. Zuko wrote a letter when he had a crush so intense, he didn’t know what to do. When he wrote, nothing couldn’t hold him back — every feeling, every observation, every emotion he put it all in the letter, then sealed it, signed, and put it in the box. These letters were for when he was so tired and overwhelmed that he decided to reject his feelings and not to love anymore. These letters are sentimental goodbye, like in his favorite drama shows. He knows he’ll never send them even in the pain of death; these letters were for him only as a reminder of how powerful his emotions can be, how all-consuming.
The first one he wrote when he was twelve and his poor young heart was beating wildly for a quiet girl with ribbons in her dark hair — Mai. She lived nearby on their former street and played with Azula and Ty Lee occasionally, and while they were playing in their stupid girls’ games, she always sent to Zuko curios glances. She was his first friend, she was his first awkward kiss, Zuko wrote to her the longest teary letter, describing in detail how much he hates everything, but doesn’t hate her. That first letter for Mai is a golden classic so far.
The second letter was for Song, a really short one. He was fourteen and a half, and he was deeply frustrated and angry. Uncle Iroh brought him to the hospital to see if they could do something with Zuko’s big ugly scar, and there he met Song. She was older than him, maybe seventeen, maybe eighteen, but she had those round beautiful eyes and a kind smile, so devastated Zuko caught a little crush. They spent two weeks in the hospital, healing their scars — Song got them because of the fire which destroyed her home. Zuko doesn’t remember what exactly he wrote to Song, it was barely a note when he promised to remember forever that night where she agreed to sit with him in the hospital lobby and watch a program about ostriches.
The third letter contained a wave of romance. After father’s imprisonment, uncle Iroh suggested to them both to go somewhere on vacation to distract them a little and cheer them up. Azula rejected it straight away, Lu Ten said he would stay with her while uncle and Zuko brought a one-week trip to Ba Sing Se. That was a terrible trip, honestly. Uncle found new friends really quickly and almost every evening they spent in a small cafeteria playing Pai Sho with old people. Well, uncle played while Zuko was dying from boredom in the corner.
Jin appeared in this cafeteria like a magic fairy with beautiful long braids and green eyes, glimmering with curiosity. It was Zuko’s first proper date, although it ended up not so properly. He always remembers with a fondness that one night with Jin, how loudly and sincerely she laughed from his awkwardness, and how her eyes shone from the excitement when they found that fountain with lanterns. When Zuko remembers their hesitant pecks on the lips he gets red from embarrassment, though his first kiss with Mai was way more awkward. They with uncle returned home the next morning, but regardless Zuko is grateful to Jin for that tiny drop of freedom and stardust.
The fourth is more similar to a bussiness arrangement than to the love letter. Last year Zuko visited Model Four Nations for the whole semester. They all met in the auditorium and debated, he delegated Fire Nation proudly and confidently, but this girl, Suki, sat a few chairs away from him, delegating from Kyoshi Island. She is pretty, of course, but what impressed Zuko more is her intellect and courage. They fought only once, throwing at each other arguments by arguments, and when she shut him up strictly and determinately, all that Zuko could think was "That’s some girl". Maybe he just has a thing for girls which can kick his ass, he isn’t sure. His obsession by Suki blew away soon after his leaving Model FN, turning into a quality friendship, full of respect.
A sharp, cruel feeling crushes Zuko’s chest for a moment when he’s looking at the sky-blue envelope, the fifth letter. He wrote it only a few months ago, completely ruined and depressed. That is not a love letter, not something bright and adorable, but a sign of betrayal, evidence of his awfulness. Because this last letter he wrote to the girlfriend of his best friend. To Katara.
Their interaction with Katara was a roller-coaster, from an unbearable sense of hatred to warmth of friendship. At the beginning they couldn’t stand each other, always fought, always found a way to insult one another more creatively. Azula’s habit of claiming everyone a peasant didn’t help Zuko either. When he realized the depth of his obnoxiousness and tried to change for the better, to gain new friends, to do something honorable, all their friends accepted him and forgave in no time. Everyone, except Katara. She kept hating him, her beautiful blue eyes looked at him with anger and hurt, and Zuko hadn’t a single idea what to do.
Katara was mad when Mr. Pakku forced them both to a biological project. They bored each other with annoyed glances, but agreed to be at least civil, for the sake of their grades.
A day after a day, meeting after a meeting their hostility melted slowly, giving a way to something similar to understanding and acceptance. It started when Zuko made a dry remark about their teachers, and Katara giggled quietly. Almost immediately she stopped smiling and sent him a startled, confused glance. Zuko only shrugged, still smiling, and Katara beamed at him. Little by little their conversations were filled with more personal things: they talked about siblings, favorite food, travels. Katara talked about her Gran-Gran, Zuko replied about his uncle.
Till this day Zuko cannot forget that afternoon in the schoolyard when they talked about their mothers. He never imagined someone could understand him so fully and exceptionally, all this pain, all this sorrow which he kept inside. But Katara, and it seemed only Katara in the entire world, understood. It felt like a touch to his soul, like a gentle embrace, a wonderful feeling of recovery.
The biological project was done after several weeks, and Zuko thought maybe they would step backwards, return to the previous antipathy and distance. Despite his fears, the next time they saw each other Katara greeted him with a kind smile. When she heard about his struggles with chemistry, she offered to help him with some especially difficult topics.
Zuko knows when he felt it for the first time. It was a snowy day, they were sitting in the uncle’s teashop, doing homework. Katara looked at the windows, noticed children who played outside in the snow, and admitted fondly how much she adores this type of weather. Zuko raised his head from the notes, but instead of looking at kids he stared at the girl opposite him. The pink blush on her cheeks, the twinkling in her eyes, the soft smile on her lips — it hit him like a thunderbolt, suddenly. Wow, Zuko thought belatedly, just wow. In no time this feeling strengthened in him, flourished in his heart.
He can say for sure that every other guy in their school is a little in love with Katara. Haru from the senior class, Jet from the football team, Aang who was her best friend for eternity, even Zuko. No wonder, Katara is an amazing girl — strong, and passionate, and kind, and beautiful; and a dozen of other words cannot even briefly describe how special she is.
Zuko has never had much luck. While he was maintaining courage to ask Katara out, someone else did it before him. Someone who was the purest and kindest person in Zuko’s surroundings — his best friend Aang. The way it happened was predictable. Aang was fond of her since they met, and it was only a matter of time before he made a move. He called Zuko late at night and babbled a happy, excited speech about how Katara agreed to go with him ice-skating. Zuko felt a sudden sickness to those words, venomous jealousy dripped in his veins.
It’s not that he wanted to steal his friend’s girlfriend or anything. He was happy for Aang, really. Aang deserves only the best, including a great girl like Katara. But seeing them lovey-dovey with each other in the school the next day clouded Zuko’s mood. So, he wrote a letter.
He threw at this poor piece of paper all his anger, disappointment and despair. All sweet, bright feelings which he wanted to abandon forever, all adoration to this charming girl must be wiped out from his heart and stay hidden in the sealed envelope.
That was over. It was over before Zuko even had a chance.
He has tried not to think about Katara in that way since. He feels horrible every time when he catches Katara’s glance and his stupid heart misses a beat. More than anything in the world, Zuko doesn’t want to betray his friendship with Aang.
As much as he likes his letters, he hates them at the same time. They are a proof of each failure, each unfulfilled dream. He fails over and over and over again, sometimes Zuko thinks father was right — Zuko would never be enough.
With a sad sigh Zuko puts the letters back in the box, and settles it in the upper shelf on the closet, hides in the dark dusted corner where they belong — pointless and forgotten, as his feelings.
Before falling into an anxious, short dream, Zuko still wonders for a moment if he would see Katara tomorrow in school.