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Sokka took a shaky breath in the mirror, watching as the carefully constructed smile fell from his face. This brief bathroom break had been some of his first alone time all day. He wondered whether it was wise to take it when he still had a couple hours of dancing and socializing to do. Putting the facade back together would be no small feat. Even weddings came with his political duties, and this was no place to be dwelling on anything personal.
He had hoped that at some point in the day, he might feel relieved. That in between the pre-wedding mayhem and the vows, the tightness that had long lived in his chest might finally loosen. He had some naive idea about closure, about the finality of Zuko getting married that might finally set him free. He should have known better.
How could he have thought this wouldn’t hurt the way it does?
When Zuko told him he was getting married, Sokka had been expecting it for a while- probably ever since the first time Zuko asked him what he thought of Ayo. In two years, Sokka had never found it in himself to hate her. Truth was, Ayo was pretty great. She was headstrong and a total badass who could hold her own in policy meetings with men twice her age more than eager to talk down to her. And she was gentle in a way that Zuko deserved after a lifetime of not knowing what it’s like to be treated that way. She made him happy.
Ayo was able to make him happy in a way Sokka could never be able to. There was no reason for Zuko to feel guilty for loving her. She was everything the firelord should want. Educated, noble, and a powerful firebender. Able to give him an heir. Her family were strong supporters in the early days of Zuko’s reign. It was Zuko that inspired Ayo’s pursuit of politics in the first place, and within a few years she found herself with a seat on his council.
Sokka had found it funny when Zuko told him he had gotten a suggestion or two from his advisors to marry Ayo. He remembered scoffing and telling Zuko to ignore those old assholes and their antiquated ideas about marriage. But then Zuko had asked him what he thought of Ayo.
He didn’t allow himself any time to feel the hurt before he answered.
Sokka cursed himself for dwelling so much. His best friend had just gotten married. His closest family and friends were outside celebrating, and he was in here wallowing. He should be outside being the supportive best friend. Outside there were foreign dignitaries and wealthy business owners to schmooze. There were speeches to be given.
He had maybe five more minutes before he was supposed to stand before everyone and tell them how happy he was for Zuko. That he was honored to witness the man - the leader - he has become. He had carefully chosen exactly two embarrassing stories - one of their time in the war and one years later about how happy he’d been after his first date with Ayo. These stories would make everyone laugh and be endeared by the happy couple. Sokka would continue being the life of the party. In the morning, he would be leaving for Republic City.
Rationally, he knew life had to go on. He couldn’t afford to take time to mourn something that was never his in the first place. Nothing of consequence had ever even happened between them. Sokka had dedicated himself to a one-sided love affair fueled by the tiniest bits of inspiration through the years.
Small gestures showing care of remembrance - certain foods imported for Sokka’s stays at the palace, furs purchased from a Northern merchant to make his quarters more like his home at the South Pole. An awkward and confusing not-date to a festival of love. The odd comments about Sokka’s appearance or a touch that lasted too long.
There were more significant moments than that. The time Zuko had gotten a bit too drunk at a small party when Sokka ended up taking care of him. And as Sokka finally got Zuko into a bed after an hour of Zuko’s stumbling and arguing in between puking his guts out, Zuko had looked up at him with so much frustration and asked why he wouldn’t do anything. Sokka had curtly explained he wasn’t exactly interested in making a move when Zuko was too drunk to walk a straight line.
There was one the drunken kiss at the afterparty for Aang and Katara’s wedding. Or kisses? Makeout session? Much of the night laid under a haze of alcohol, Sokka never knowing who kissed who. He only remembered becoming aware he was kissing Zuko. He remembered the moment Zuko pulled away, the awful sinking feeling when he thought he’d ruined everything. And then Zuko slammed the door, leaving them in total darkness while their friends celebrated outside. He remembered asking Zuko with tear-filled eyes not to leave and falling asleep with his arm on Zuko’s waist.
And he remembered coming back from the bathroom the next morning to find his bed empty.
When he laid it all out, he could admit it didn’t amount to much. There was nothing really to suggest that Zuko ever loved him. At least not in the same way Sokka loved him. For years, Sokka held on to the idea of “if things were different.” If Zuko wasn’t the firelord. If Zuko hadn’t had to fight so much to repeal Sozin’s decency laws. If Sokka didn’t have to split his time between the fire nation and Republic City.
If Sokka wasn’t a man.
It should sting less than it does. He remembers how much work he had to do to actually accept himself. He knows how hard he has fought for acceptance from others and still feels the sting from the memory of those who do not offer it. He knows all too well that in his career he had to work twice as hard to prove himself to some people.
He also knows how much Zuko hasn’t accepted about himself. There is so much that goes unsaid between them, but one thing Sokka knows is that Zuko wishes a lot for things to be different too. Zuko talked about his short time in Ba Sing Se with such a longing it made Sokka ache. There had been a brief period of time where Prince Zuko became Lee. And Lee had so much more freedom than Zuko would ever have. Lee loved a boy.
Zuko called it a phase.
Sokka often wondered how Zuko labeled whatever he and Sokka were. Another phase? It would certainly be a long one. The timeline of the significant moments was long and drawn out, and dwelling on it only made Sokka feel worse. It didn’t matter how many months were in between the time someone mistook them for a couple and the time he and Zuko took that solo vacation and-
Well, it didn’t matter now, did it?
Those three days were pure bliss, but Sokka spent every moment knowing they were temporary. Every touch felt like a goodbye. Every kiss felt like the last. The actual last one felt even worse. When they got back, life went on how Sokka expected. Zuko started dating Ayo. Sokka just kept feeling the way he always had.
Since the wedding hadn’t given him the closure he’d hoped for, he wondered if perhaps it would always be this way. That at forty, seventy, when Zuko had children and grandchildren - his legacy truly cemented - that he would still be loving Zuko. Never falling in love again, never marrying. Would his only legacy be this? Loving someone so helplessly that it forever remains an unspoken curse? Decades from now, would he still find himself in so deep?
A knock on the bathroom door finally released him from the spiral his thoughts had taken him on.
“Just a sec!” he called as he turned on the sink to wash his hands.
Sokka made it through his best man speech without a hitch. Zuko and Ayo were beaming at each other as Sokka told the story of the night after their first date. Zuko sheepishly buried his face in his hands as Sokka recounted Zuko’s poor attempt at comfort on their journey to Boiling Rock. After his speech, Zuko wrapped him in a tight hug, thanking him for being there for him.
“Always,” Sokka found himself saying.
Sokka made it another half hour into the party before he finally gave himself permission to leave. A part of him felt guilty for bowing out early, but he didn’t think he could handle seeing Zuko and Ayo dance again. He helped himself to a bottle of plum wine on his way and thankfully managed to sneak out undetected. It wasn’t like he was doing anything wrong. He just wasn’t sure he could handle being seen by anyone just now.
He had planned on going back to his quarters and packing. Drowning his sorrows in a bottle of wine and maybe a warm bath. But instead he found himself lying on the ground in the gardens, staring up at the moon. He thought of the night he’d laid on this ground next to Zuko, pointing out constellations and telling Zuko epic stories of the heroes in the stars. This was where Sokka fell in love. It was where he realized exactly how much Zuko meant to him. Being here now was only rubbing salt in the wound.
“I was wondering if I’d find you here,” a voice spoke. Sokka closed his eyes, sighing in annoyance before sitting up to see Azula approaching him. “What are you doing out here?”
“Needed to get away for a bit I guess,” he said glumly. “You?”
“I’m no good at parties,” Azula said. “I prefer quiet anyways.”
“Well, lucky you. I don’t feel like talking,” Sokka said, taking a sip from the bottle of wine.
“Come here to sulk then?” Azula asked.
Sokka only rolled his eyes and sat his head back against the tree. On the surface it was mean, but years of experience told him this was Azula’s way of actually asking about him. It was sweet in its own way, and she’d done it more than once through the years when it came to Zuko.
He should have known that someone would do this at the wedding. It wasn’t as if people weren’t aware of how Sokka felt about Zuko. There’d been hints dropped through the years, knowing or pitying looks, and even an outright intervention from Katara. He had expected it to be Katara to track him down after his disappearing act, and Azula was somewhat a relief in comparison.
“I think I’ve earned the right to sulk a bit, don’t you?” Sokka asked. He held out the wine to Azula who accepted it, taking a gulp before sitting on the ground next to him.
“Your speech was sweet,” Azula said.
“Wow! Is that an actual compliment?” Sokka asked. “Where’s Azula, and what have you done with her?”
“Don’t get used to it,” she said. “I’ve gotta hand it to you, Sokka. You do manage never to let your emotions get the best of you.”
“That’s not really the compliment you think it is,” Sokka said flatly.
“And compliments can also be insults when used correctly,” Azula responded. “I have to hand it to you though. You seem to be handling this much better than others in your position would. You have far more grace for my brother than perhaps you should.”
“What do you mean ‘grace?’”
“Am I mistaken in thinking perhaps you’ve received some…mixed signals?” Azula asked.
“My feelings aren’t his responsibility,” Sokka said. “It’s not about grace. I’m just…being his friend.”
“And when you turned down your father’s offer to become chieftan to take the ambassadorship, were you just being a friend?” Azula asked.
“You’ve been talking to Katara, I see,” he said. “I didn’t take the job because of…that. He just needed help. There weren't a lot of people he could trust back then. And I was available.”
“Do you plan on always being available when he needs someone?” Azula asked.
At that, Sokka took another gulp of wine, letting the heat settle in his stomach.
“Well my term is up. I’ll be back in Republic City before the honeymoon ends,” Sokka said bitterly.
“I suppose that’s for the best. Ayo might find it a bit crowded if her marriage had three people,” Azula said.
“Fuck off,” Sokka sighed. “We’re not-“
That was the problem wasn’t it? There wasn’t even a word to describe exactly what Sokka and Zuko were to each other. Sokka couldn’t say he thought things were entirely one-sided. Or maybe they didn’t used to be. His mind drifted once again to the idea of things being different. All the tantalizing what-ifs that mattered little now.
Sokka couldn’t help but wonder what exactly Zuko thought of him now. Did it even cross his mind that Sokka was leaving? Would Zuko even miss him? He didn’t want to think about the answer.
“My brother is a lot of things, Sokka,” Azula said. “We were taught to be a lot of things. Stubborn. Proud. Cruel even. But we were also taught shame. Shame for anything too human, not perfect enough. But I imagine that offers you little consolation. Especially when he’s hurt you so much.”
“He hasn’t-“
“Even if someone doesn’t mean to hurt you, they can still hurt you. It’s okay to be upset - even angry,” Azula said. “And I know he’s my brother, and I love him very much, but I have noticed he doesn’t treat you very fairly.”
Sokka was taken aback. Typically when a well-meaning member of their little family cornered Sokka on this issue, it was less…gentle. It was often him being met with frustration at his seemingly blind devotion to someone who would never offer him the same. He’d been lectured by Katara on his lack of self-respect. He’d been called pathetic by Toph. Suki was a little more gentle, but ultimately, the message was the same: Sokka was only hurting himself by not moving on.
“I’m not angry at him. Never have been able to be,” Sokka admitted. “I do wonder sometimes if he feels guilty though.”
“Guilty?”
“It’s stupid,” Sokka dismissed. Azula raised her brow impatiently, beckoning for a real answer. “It’s not easy for me to admit…how he’s made me feel. The not so good parts. I’ve felt like an experiment and a plaything and just disposable. And I know that there are a lot of things he can’t change, and I know the things he isn’t in control of. I just wonder if he feels bad for making me feel bad. Which is totally unfair because I’ve never actually told him anything about how I feel, so yeah. Stupid.”
Azula pursed her lips and nodded.
“I don’t think that’s stupid at all,” Azula said. “Would it help?”
“Would what help?”
“If he felt guilty,” Azula said.
Sokka sat back and took in her expression. It had taken years for him to learn to read Azula. Now, she seemed to be holding back. She knew something, and she wasn’t sure if she should share it. Zuko had acknowledged the unnamed something between the two of them to Azula. What did she know? Did he even want to know?
“I don’t think it would help,” he admitted. “I think this just hurts either way.”
Maybe one day it wouldn’t anymore. Maybe one day he would be an old man and look back and laugh at himself and be able just to write this off as a crush. Or maybe it would always be like this. Maybe this was forever.
And that, he’d concluded, would be okay. Because at least he would spend his whole life loving Zuko - even if he could never get that in return. That would be enough. It had to be enough.