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The night air of Ba Sing Se is cooler than the night of back home.
It comes like a whisper, exhaled gently on a breeze. Cool air that swirls around her, beating the flush from her cheeks. Iroh’s tea shop is large, but with all of their friends inside, it can get a little warm. A little overwhelming too, if she’s honest. Mai welcomes the opportunity to just breathe.
She links her fingers together, intertwining them loosely as she rests her hands on the balcony wall. The stone, too, is a little cool under her skin, something that begins to ground her. She takes another breath and allows her eyes to wander out across this city. Streets upon streets, lining each other in a circle and expanding out, out. It’s massive, Ba Sing Se – the biggest city she’s ever seen. Its size is intimidating, more so now than before, even if she’s with people that know this city better. There’s no way she could get lost here, unless she went out on her own, an unlikely prospect really.
The city itself looks different at night than during the day. The daylight shows everything but the night just points out how busy this place truly is. Even now she sees lights scattered across the streets extending out in front of her. Shop fronts still open. Homes still awake. Does this city ever truly sleep?
Though she supposes she’s one to talk. Things never seem to go completely still back home either. And it is the eve of an anniversary. Perhaps noise and celebration should be on the air – it’s why they’re even here. On this trip, which is already proving to be as busy as she imagined. One glance over the itinerary for the next few days had Mai grimacing while equally feeling lucky that she’s not quite a leader of a state. It seems the Earth Kingdom are getting as much as they can out of what is supposed to be some sort of peace celebration. A celebration arranged by the Earth King’s advisors, but when Mai had flicked her eyes over the letter they’d sent, she’d sensed Aang’s fingers all over the idea. Most probably, he’d suggested it to Katara while not knowing who’d be listening in; then those people turned it into some sort of affair. When Katara had sent a letter suggesting they all get in a day early, as if by ‘accident’, so they might celebrate the anniversary in some sort of way with the people that actually mattered – Mai had been all in.
Even knowing that would mean an evening of Zuko’s… their friends.
Still a strange though, really. Knowing that the people in the room behind her consider her a friend now. Even after she spent quite a few months trying to hunt them down.
But she guesses they’re the forgiving type.
Mai takes another breath. Contemplates going back inside. She can hear the group even now: their loud laughing, muffled by the walls. When she’d slipped away, they were engaging in a rather aggressive game of Pai Sho – Mai’s never seen such competition over a board game before. But she’s finding the peace of the balcony rather appealing still, in the face of the boundless emotion inside, and the hectic nature that the following day will bring. Tomorrow will be meetings - generals and politicians, turning a celebration gathering into a two-for-one sort of deal – and then the actual celebration will follow, where she’ll likely spend most of it bored and too warm from the crowds, one arm linked with Zuko’s arm as she listens in on all the conversations people will try and corner him in, and all the while she’ll be pressing her fingertips into the crook of his elbow to remind him that she’s at his side. So maybe she’ll stay out here for a few moments longer.
She takes another breath, her moments slipping calmly by. Soon enough, they’re interrupted by the inside coming out. From behind her, someone’s stepping out onto the balcony, and she doesn’t even need to consider glancing over her shoulder to see who it is. She already knows the answer: it’s Zuko.
She knows it's him because she knows him, and, more accurately at this moment, she knows his footsteps. Lighter than some might expect, so perfect for sneaking up on people - people who aren't her, of course. Hyper vigilance is a skill she's had to develop and equally takes pride in how good she is with it too.
She doesn't turn her head to greet him, even when she feels his eyes graze her back. No, she's curious to what he might do. Break the silence with some sort of awkward comment? That's more likely if he thinks she's overwhelmed or irritated and that's why she's come out here. He's awkward around the whole concept of emotion, especially sad or depressing sorts. They both are, really. What are you even meant to say to someone having a moment anyway? Aang and Katara, naturally, have it down to a tee. Show offs, maybe.
The hesitation, as slight as it is, tells her he might have another reason for coming out here; one other than him just stumbling out here, looking curiously for her. So, when he decides to walk up quietly behind her and take a position standing next to her, leaning his hands on the balcony wall - she's not surprised. He's deduced her true reason for being out here, or he's feeling some of what she is and needs the breather too.
His body isn’t that far from hers. A few breaths, perhaps, and she could easily push her arm to his, her leg to his. It's be easy for him to close the gap too, for his hands to let go of the stone and try and curl his fingers around hers. He doesn't - she's grateful. She likes him touching her - more than she likes anyone touching her really - and she likes touching him too, but she's not quite ready to shatter this quiet in her views yet. His touch is fire, after all, and it'll break this glass faster than anything.
But perhaps he doesn’t touch her because he feels the atmosphere like she does. He stands quietly, though a silence with Zuko isn’t ever just a silence. There’s always the unspoken words that hum beneath the surface of his skin. A never-ending feeling that’s become quite familiar to her now, though it is frustrating when it is his worries building up inside his head. Tonight, though, she thinks his unspoken silence is of a different kind. Melancholia.
Expected, perhaps, knowing what the gathering tomorrow will be celebrating. It’s a relieving, joyous, great day: but it’s also weighty too.
He exhales. So does she. His head tilts upwards slightly. A breeze touches his hair, loosed from the formal style he'll be wearing all day tomorrow, and makes as if to carry the strands off. Gravity stops that. It does nothing against her lingering look, which stares until she starts to think he’ll feel her eyes on him and take it as permission to start talking. So she looks away. Out of necessity.
It’s quiet between them. For how many minutes, she loses track. Eventually, even silence must come to a lapse.
“The stars looks different here,” he says quietly. The best compromise perhaps. Words that will disturb this moment, but just enough that the moment can just adjust. A slightly less silent quiet. Mai tears her eyes away from the horizon line she’s found her eyes drifting to and instead glances curiously up at him. Whatever she expected him to lead with, it wasn’t that. He’s still gazing off into the dark, his head angled slightly towards the sky – and the stars, she realises.
She makes a small sound in the back of her throat, enough to tell him she’s listening without committing to anything. Right now, she’s not ready to break her silence. She doesn’t mind him talking though.
And Zuko’s gotten good at understanding her now. Like she knows most facets of his silences, he knows hers. It’s nice, being known like that.
“It’s because we’re in a different place in the world, obviously,” he continues. “They shift slightly wherever you go. It’s still strange to me though. Looking up and seeing a different star pattern – one that’s the only pattern some people here have ever seen.”
Mai follows his gaze to the night sky. A dark rippling of blue-black, tossed with a few handfuls of silver sparkles, and of course the moon. The light she’s noticed previously from the city doesn’t seem to affect the clarity of the stars, though she’s sure they’re brighter, more eye-catching without any sort of light around – perhaps off in the desert or some other part of the wilderness that Mai was dragged around in back on the hunt for the Avatar, but she can’t say she looked up enough times to truly notice. Melancholia, nostalgia. It's certainly on the air. It's not the first time Zuko's spoken to her about the stars. One day, he'd spent a good hour telling her about navigation by them, all while avoiding any mention of why he'd had to learn that. She'd known, of course, but he'd preferred not dwelling on the years he was banished. Back then, when his father still at on the throne, and she couldn't blame him. Anyway, his words still made sense, even if he'd lost her about three sentences in. She'd found herself enjoying it anyway, and the subsequent talks, just for how he sounded and looked. Confident and oddly wistful. She can’t say she’d ever thought she’d be entertained by such conversation, though she’s very certain she’s only entertained by it because it came from him. It’s less about the knowledge and more about listening to him.
It’s all sickeningly romantic, really.
She wonders, briefly, what stargazing might be like with Zuko. They've had picnics at sunset; isn't the next stage stargazing, late at night where the quiet feels fragile and the moment warm? Most likely, it’d be even more romantic than her looks when he gets talking about something he knows well. But, then again, this is probably the closest they'll get for ages. He's busy, and a security risk at night. She shouldn't encourage him to sneak out, especially when it's for an activity that's likely to make her back stiff, lying on hard ground.
Anyway. The feeling she supposes such an activity might give her, well- she's sure she can find another way to capture that.
“It’s a nice view they’ve got here though,” he continues, breaking her from her brief reverie. She realises she’s been staring at the sky sightlessly for the last few moments, letting his words and her thoughts wash over her. So she flicks her gaze back down from the heavens and her eyes, much by chance, collide with his jaw.
It’s a family trait, his jawline. It looks best on him. The light from behind them barely finds them here, and the lights from somewhere below them don’t reach either. It’s only the faint glow of the moon that catches off the sharp line. It doesn’t fit perfectly to her hand but well enough anyway, and she’s kissed the length of it enough times to know it even blind.
“Don’t you think?” he says, looking at her now. Mai blinks and slowly, as not to draw attention to the fact she was, once again, staring, just at him this time, looks at him.
His eyes border more towards grey in this lighting than fiery brown. She wonders what she must look like. Washed out in shades of darkness? Or invigorated instead? She’s always suited the darker colours. And the way he’s looking at her makes it seem like he wouldn’t care either way. As in, he likes her both ways, and that’s a thought that gets her heart beating that much faster.
It’s somehow a novel concept, someone just liking her, even after almost a year solid of them being together like this.
“Sure,” Mai says after a pause. “They’re… nice. Pretty.” Her eyes glance back up for a moment. A scattering of silver dots in a velvet sky. Pretty indeed.
“Beautiful,” he agrees. And they’ve been interacting now, so when his shoulder bumps into hers, a pretence of an accident but very much on purpose, she’s not surprised. She allows it, because the stillness of the night’s changed and she doesn’t mind it now. Anyway. Maybe it’s a little chiller than she expected.
“I know something that’s even more beautiful than the stars though,” he says with that tone of his, and Mai already knows where this is going. She rolls her eyes. He’s hardly not obvious.
“Zuko.”
“What?” He feigns innocence, but like the glimmering embers of a dying fire, she sees the amusement dancing around in his eyes.
“You know what.”
“I’m just being truthful. There is something even more beautiful than the stars,” and she knows what’s coming, obviously, and she’d deny it if anyone asked, but she still blushes when he looks at her and says, “you.”
“You’re an idiot,” she replies. Her cheeks burn pleasantly. He leans in and kisses her forehead, probably getting a mouthful of hair for his trouble.
“Your idiot.” He doesn’t have the right to sound so smug. She’d scowl at him, but it’d just make him grin harder at her.
And honestly. She supposes she doesn’t mind it, really.
So she lets him start to wrap his arms around her and she goes with it, sinking into his embrace – because, honestly, it is a little chilly but mostly she just likes how his arms feel around her – and he tucks his chin onto her head, like it belongs there.
And they're just standing here, breathing, watching the stars, and she can feel his chest rise and fall with every breath, ruffling the top of her hair. Maybe it's the atmosphere. Maybe she just feels it's time. It's not like it’s really a secret - Ty Lee was more than enthusiastic with her retelling of the events that got Mai and her chucked into prison, and left no parts out, including her technical confession – but she's not said it to his face. Hasn't needed to, really. He knows how she feels about him. She knows how he feels about her. It's all shown in little acts and half-truths, a familiar way of communicating with families like theirs.
But maybe it's the stars, or the celebrations of their friends, it even just the fact it's been a year. A year, and neither of them are dead.
So she turns slightly, twisting in his arms - he pulls a frown, more adorable than irritated, and it all fades when he reads the faint smile off her lips - and one hand comes up to cup his familiar jaw and-
"I love you," she says. Quiet in the night, where everything seems better.
He shouldn’t really be surprised – he knows, like she knows about his feelings – but maybe it’s the verbal acknowledgement. She traces the edges of his eyes with her own and thinks absentmindedly about how she’s the first one to say it. Should that be a big deal? Honestly, it doesn’t feel like one. It just feels like a completion, to her at least.
He’s staring at her, of course. His expression is one half frozen, between one thought and the next, and she waits with patience for his systems to come back online. When they do, finally, his arms tighten around her and he swallows, nerves breaking out across his face and before he does something stupid she kisses him.
After all, she’s very aware he’s not at the verbal confession stage.
He kisses her back. Of course. And the way he kisses her is enough to confirm his feelings.
“You know I-” he starts as soon as her lips have left his. Mai shushes him.
“Yes, I know.” It’s better to cut him off before he starts some sort of anxious waffling, as he tries to figure out the best way to convey his feelings without actually saying the words. She’s certain it’s how he feels about her too, but again. He’s not there yet. The kiss, apparently, wasn’t enough to tell him that she gets it, so her direct words will have to do.
It’s enough. His mouth twitches into a small smile, all warm like the sun.
It’s terrible how much she likes him smiling. It’s more terrible that she’s smiling, like a giddy child.
But then again. It’s not every day she confesses her feelings to the love of her life under the stars.