Chapter Text
The sun was out and the wind could barely push through the humid haze of Minneapolis in summer. It was June, and Zuko sat below the Witch’s Hat smoking a cigarette and brooding. He took a long drag, holding the smoke in his lungs. Despite the rainbow flags he could see hanging from apartment windows or flying from distant flag poles, he wasn’t feeling particularly out-and-proud.
A hand fell on the back of the bench, and then Sokka vaulted over it to sit next to him. He was handsome today just like most days, which annoyed Zuko. Being attracted to one’s ex had the effect of casting doubt on one’s very good reasons for breaking up with him. Sokka stretched out with a groan and then flopped back so he was looking at Zuko with a wry grin.
“I knew I’d find you here,” he said.
“Did you, now?” Zuko said, exhaling the smoke through his nose. “To what do I owe the honor?”
“Do I need a reason to visit one of my closest friends?” he scoffed, punching Zuko’s arm.
“Are we friends, though?” Zuko asked, flicking him in retaliation.
“Well, we would be if someone didn’t keep ghosting the group chat,” Sokka replied. There was a moment of silence. Zuko puffed his cigarette. The moment dragged. Sokka waited until it was clear that he was going to have to carry the conversation. “Look, I’m sorry, and I’ll keep apologizing as long as it takes for you to forgive me. I meant it when I said I wanted us to stay friends. And if you still need time, I get it, but the others miss you, too.”
Zuko didn’t reply.
“Alright, I can take a hint,” Sokka said. “Look, everyone’s going out tonight for a drag show and then we’ll probably hit up Bumi’s after.”
“I don’t really feel like it,” Zuko said. “...but thanks for the invite.”
“Are you sure? Because I haven’t told you the best part,” Sokka said. “Nanouk’s visiting. And you know what that means, don’t you?”
Zuko stiffened, sitting up slightly. He forced himself to relax, attempting nonchalance that he was pretty sure Sokka could see through anyway.
“Yura’s here, too, isn’t he,” Zuko said.
“Yep!” Sokka grinned. “And we’re showing them all the sights.”
“How long are they in town for?” Zuko asked.
“The whole month,” Sokka said. “The ship they’re with is in for repairs. I think they hit a reef? Anyway, they decided to bum around my apartment instead of hanging out on the rez all summer.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Zuko asked.
“You haven’t seen Yura’s tattoo, yet, have you?” Sokka asked, and something about his tone suggested that this was supposed to explain everything. It didn’t. Zuko glared at him.
“I haven’t spoken to Yura since your graduation party,” he groused. “Why would I know he has tattoos?”
“Tattoo. Singular,” Sokka said. “Anyway, they’re here, he’s queer, and we’re all going out to get drunk, so…”
He let his voice trail off significantly. Zuko took a final, contemplative pull on his cigarette, memories swirling like smoke in still, humid air.
He had met Yura, and his best friend Nanouk, one Christmas break during high school. He and his Uncle had gone on a skiing trip to Alaska near Sokka and Katara’s hometown on the reservation, and Uncle had insisted on visiting. They were then stranded by a blizzard.
Yura had been, among other things, a loud, boisterous annoyance whose impulsivity and recklessness had been a plague on the whole town. Yura’s idea of a good time invariably meant mischief, to everyone’s chagrin, but especially Zuko’s. Their first impressions of each other were mutually terrible.
Yura had also been, among other things, a kind, compassionate, and extraordinarily attentive idiot who was far too attractive for his—or anyone’s—good. He had been many of Zuko’s firsts, that Christmas, and they spent several nights together in secret exploring each other’s bodies. Zuko had been sure he was in love, but was too afraid to admit it by the time the snow plows reached them and cleared the roads. And then he didn’t see Yura again until he and Nanouk came to visit Katara at the university she attended with Azula. Nothing had happened because Zuko had been dating Jet at the time, but old feelings rekindled old questions about what could have been.
He exhaled, scattering the smoky whorls, and put out his cigarette on the paved path that circled the hilltop. It might be nice to see Yura again. Maybe revisit some of those questions one last time.
“Fine, I’ll go,” he said. “But I’m just going to say hi.”
“Hey, I’ll take it,” Sokka said. “Club Ember, Warehouse District, 7 o’clock. Be there or be square.”