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Aang froze, the boy in the iceberg again, in the doorway. The sound was beautiful. Freedom was music. Two tender feet babbling on the floor like a stream giggling over a riverbed. It was dancing, a private party between the body and the spirit, and Bumi’s face finally knew why it was born to smile when he pushed out of Katara’s arms, steadying himself with knees that wobbled and showed him what a rhythm was.
Bumi almost didn’t give Aang enough time to ease into a crouch. Once, he lost his newborn balance and stumbled onto all fours, but never once did he lose his mad smile, not caring that he walked about as well as a skybison with six left feet and no tail. The world became real again when Bumi’s whole hands wrapped around a few of Aang’s fingers. He patted from Aang’s hands to Katara’s and back again, breathless and panting because he couldn’t speak yet and didn’t know how to say I’m free! with anything but his feet.
Bumi’s new world was hardly two feet across, just big enough for Aang to kneel on one side and Katara to sit on the other. They let him fall (but not too hard), and his smile thanked them for it. Aang thought he might burst with pride every time Bumi picked himself back up. His son’s very first acts of courage. And Aang was here to see it. All he and Katara stood at the ready for were the chances to hold Bumi’s hands when he clapped, wanting to dance in place with them. Aang had never seen a spirit puff out its chest so much. Bumi was king of his own world; he was in love, even if it was just the distance between his mother and his father.
Aang couldn’t stop smiling. He just…He just couldn’t. His son had cursed him. Stolen his face. His heart. Every bit and ash that Aang could or would ever be. It was the chilly tingle when stepping into the sea, in the cool minute before the blood recognized the ocean. It was the slight thinning of his vision, whenever his smile reached his eyes, cutting out his periphery and putting his family into focus.
He laughed and was scared because Bumi was laughing scared. It was an imbalance to dance to. It was dizzy freedom. Aang owed everything he had to every tragedy he had ever known, because he couldn’t imagine going back to the prison of not knowing the freedom that Bumi had.
“Look at you, Bumi,” Aang cooed. Bumi stomped in a circle and laughed, spinning by one hand’s hold on Aang’s fingers. “Walking all on your own. What do you think about that, bud?”
“He’s a very good dancer.”
“Of course. He’s your son.”
Everything about Katara softened, from her eyes to how she held her shoulders. She looked between his and Bumi’s smiles. “It’s like I’m seeing double.”
Bumi threw his hands up and would have fallen without Katara’s hand gently pressing at the middle of his back. Aang laughed harder, emptying his lungs so that he didn’t float away. Katara shared his efforts, looking for her words. Their little boy was free, and Bumi held his hands up like he powered the moon and held up the sky all on his own.
Bumi spun in a circle again, dancing in his crossroads, held in the safe foot of space closest to Katara. His eyes were wide and searching. So many directions. So many places to go.
Aang never felt more honored in his entire life than that moment when Bumi, having a whole new world, decided to run to him first.
Aang cried. Of course he did. What else was a father to do?
Bumi was king of his two feet, the distance between his parents, and the only things he allowed in his kingdom were dances and happy roars.