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It’s been a long time, just seeing the shape of your name still spells out pain
It wasn’t right, the way it all went down, at least you know that now
Aang understands the irony of losing his home and his people and now being here, ten years later, 22 and tall and tired, spending his days on an inhabited island that he hopes no one will find. He spends his days meditating on Appa going over what he could have possibly missed a trillion times.
He was so unsure of his place in the universe ever since he picked up airbending a little too quickly, when his peers started leaving him out of games, when they wanted to force him away from Gyatso all because he was the Avatar, of course. Even though he knows in his bones and in his heart and in his soul that everything had happened in his life for a reason, he still regrets leaving in that storm. He regrets being the Avatar and ever being born.
Even though he was unsure about everything, he was so fucking sure about her. And how—how—could he have been so wrong?
Yes, I got your letter; Yes, I’m doing better
It cut deep down to know you right to the bone
I know that it’s over, I don’t need your closure.
Aang,
It’s been a long time. I miss you. I’ve been thinking about that first year during the war, sleeping wherever we landed, Appa’s snoring, the eccentric people we could come across. Since it’s been years and my nightmares have stopped, I’ve allowed myself to reminisce—because what kind of person misses wartime?
I know you’re reading through the fluff, but Aang, it really has been years. Are you ready to be friends again? I don’t know how many times I could say sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll say it again for another hundred years.
I am so sorry.
Please let us know where are.
Love,
Katara
Aang stares at Katara’s name for a beat too long. He’s written her name in the sand, engraved it on a volcano, and drew it in the sky. He would have gotten her name permanently etched in his skin if that meant she would’ve stayed.
As he clutches bitterness in his palms, he thinks of all the times in their adolescence Katara used her grudges as a knife. At the man who slain her mother. At her father for leaving them as he grieved and avenged the loss of his wife. At Jet for having succumbed into his deceitful charm. At Hama even though she uses blood bending as a healing method now. And, a joke to end all jokes: Prince fucking Zuko.
She held her hate towards him like a badge of honor. The man who used her mother’s necklace as a bargaining tool. He thinks, briefly, that maybe that’s why they’re so perfect for each other. He thinks, briefly, that if he were to end up with Katara, her bitterness towards him would grow like a slow poison deteriorating her body. Briefly, it makes him feel better to know that she is Zuko’s problem now.
Don’t treat me like some situation that needs to be handled
I’m fine with my spite, and my tears and my beers and my candles
Aang,
Look, what’s done is done. I can apologize to you a million more times, but I’m not going to. You know and I know things are the way they are supposed to be. Now stop making Katara feel bad and forgive us already.
The world, you know, the one that we saved together, the one that we are supposed to be building together, is bigger than us and all that’s happened. We are supposed to be a team. We are supposed to symbolize peace and how can we do that if you want to hold on to your grudges and your disgust?
I miss you and you know I love you, Aang, but I cannot condone this behavior. I cannot enable you as you choose to ignore us and your responsibilities as the Avatar. And, yes, I could feel your disdain and your sarcastic retort, what do you know about being the Avatar. I know that an Avatar does not leave their duties to sulk.
We all lose things. We are not entitled to anything. Not even the Avatar.
Write back when you get that through your thick skull.
-z.
Sometimes, Aang reflects on the night he got captured by Commander Zhao when he was seeking frozen wood frogs to heal Sokka and Katara’s ailment. He remembers how he felt when he learned that Zuko was under the mask like it was yesterday. He carried him to safety, built him a bed of leaves, and laid him down. He watched his chest rise and fall as he rested. He thought about loss. He felt his scar under his fingertips. He then thought about resurrection.
Perhaps he felt something for him, even then.
But now Prince—or Fire Lord Zuko now rests in the bed that Aang had made and doesn’t feel an ounce of remorse. Doesn’t even remember the time Aang held him so gently in the woods and watched him breathe. He never gave Aang credit for being the first one who was vulnerable with him, believed in him, made him an object in his dreams. He doesn’t know that Aang kept his identity as his own little secret.
I can feel you smoothing me over
Aang,
I am furious with the both of them. You know that. But she is my sister and Zuko is right. We saved the world and we need to stick together despite our personal feelings.
The Fire Lord understands that and the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe understands that. Please, I’m begging the Avatar to understand that.
You can be mad, but please. Show up.
Sokka
I know I’m just a wrinkle in your new life
Staying friends would iron it out so nice
Guilty! Guilty! Reaching across the sea, that you put between you and me
But it’s fake and it's oh so unnecessary
When Aang isn’t meditating for hours thinking of everything that could have possibly gone wrong on top of Appa, he likes to walk towards the edge of the shore and breathes in through his diaphragm like it’ll be his last breath. He takes in the salt, sun, and breeze and lets go.
He listens to the grains of sand beneath his feet, channels energy from the sun, sings with the waves crashing, and with the air that lives in his bones, he calls the elements and bursts.
He builds the cities he’s visited in the sand, crashing them with the waves he creates from the ocean water, sends tornados across the beach and screams fire.
Even though he was so unsure about everything, he was so fucking sure about her. And even though he regretted being the Avatar and ever being born, he found solace and peace in bending the elements at the same time.
When the earth crumbles in rows he’s created, when flames erupt from his fists, when the ocean moves on his accord, and when he flies in the air, he is home. He is alive. He feels all the souls who have inhabited this body before. He thinks about nothing at all.
He writes to Toph.
Hey Toph,
I’m writing to you because you’re the only who isn’t forcing me to speak against my will. Or do anything really. Ironic, since you used to throw entire boulders at me, which could’ve killed me, you know.
I know I’m being stupid. I know how I’m acting isn’t right. I know I will forgive them eventually; but I just need time. I froze myself trying to run away from my problems and when I woke up, I was expected to save the world. My problems didn’t go away—they got bigger. That was only ten years ago and I’m tired.
I’m tired of being strong. I’m not as carefree as I used to be. I’m hurt. And I am allowed to feel that way. And sometimes I feel like that twelve-year-old who drowned himself to avoid living his life and I want to be him.
But you can tell them that I’ll be there. Seriously. And I’ll act civil. Trust me.
Sincerely,
Aang
Aang didn’t bother to shave his beard or use the steaming trick Zuko once showed him to get the wrinkles out of his clothes. He didn’t really want to be here anyways.
After a few polite bows and greetings, the happy couple came into view and, Spirits, they were so beautiful.