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─── ⋅ ⋅ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
The joy in the air is palpable, with excited chattering in a million different dialects that make his head spin trying to understand, a four piece band led by a talented flutist that was in the middle of a heart-stirring solo, and a table lined with most mouth-watering morsels, savory and sweet, with all their ingredients sourced from the abundant fields and farms right here in the Fire Nation.
It was, for all intents and purposes, a great party.
Kavik, however, was not having a great time.
“You’ll get wrinkles if you keep making that face.”
Without even making a sound, somehow Avatar Yangchen has appeared at his side. Kavik still doesn’t understand how she was able to keep her footsteps so silent. Were all Air Nomads so light on their feet? He shuddered to think of how long a game of hide-and-seek could continue for at one of the Air Temples.
The sensation of fingers on his face, specifically both of Yangchen’s index fingers, pulls him from his thoughts. She’s attempting to quirk the corners of his lips from their present frown into a smile. To no avail, as he settles his face back into a scowl after she removes his hands, just to spite her.
“I’m not the one who pores over documents for hours on end, squinting over illegible handwriting, using a minuscule flame as my only source of light. Straining your eyes like that is going to give you wrinkles. Plus, you already get this little crinkle in your forehead when you focus.”
He takes his right hand and flicks her lightly on the forehead, at the tip of her arrow. She grimaces for a second but then, in one swift motion, grabs his wrist with such force that he’s astounded, and holds her other hand out before him. In a flash, there’s a flame in her palm.
“Would you like to revise your previous statement?” she asks, voice saccharine sweet. She inches the flame closer to him and his definitely-flammable clothes. He gulps, oblivious to the way Yangchen’s mouth dries upon seeing the movement in his neck.
“Fine fine!” he relents tried to raise his hands in protest, forgetting that one is still firmly in the Avatar’s grasp. “You’re a diligent Avatar, you’re beautiful, you’ll never get wrinkles and I’m absolutely happy to be here.”
The mischievous glint in her eyes disappears and delight paints her face. She releases his arm, which he promptly takes back. She was gripping his forearm tight enough to leave a faint mark, which, for some reason, sends a thrill through his body.
Yangchen holds the still-burning flame in front of him, motioning with her head. Kavik, unsure, hesitates, but eventually holds her forearm with a more gentler touch than she afforded him earlier, and blows the flame out.
“Happy birthday,” Yangchen says softly, and finally, Kavik lets out a chuckle, punctuated with a real smile.
“Do you seriously not know when my birthday is?” he questions, shaking his head at her.
“Of course I do. It’s exactly three months and twelve days after mine.”
“But I figured maybe no one had given you a cake with candles to blow out on your last birthday, and that’s why you were in such a terrible mood.”
Not quite. It was true that his last birthday had been celebrated without a cake and candles, but that was more because he was in hiding as a member-in-training of the White Lotus, his parents having been sent back to Long Stretch for their protection. But even before that, birthday were a small affair in his household. Though his parents had made sure to give him a small gift and a sweet treat with candles, the atmosphere at such celebrations had notably soured since Kalyaan had left. Try as he might, in between platitudes and hugs from his parents, he couldn’t ignore the empty place for his older brother at their table.
But he wasn’t about to dump all of his thoughts onto the Avatar like that, not when she had to maintain appearances. Plus, a small part of Kavik worried that she would pity him if he told her, and that was so far from how he wanted Yangchen to view him.
“Maybe I’m just not a fan of parties,” Kavik mutters, affixing a more neutral expression so Yangchen won’t point out his frown.
Yangchen ponders for a moment before responding. He’s expecting some enlightened, introspective modicum of wisdom, but instead—
“Leave it to Long Stretch to raise a waterbender who hates birthday parties.”
Now that gets a laugh out of him. A genuine, full-bodied laugh that makes a few people stop their conversations to stare for a moment before resuming their chatter.
“Luckily it’s just me with that affliction. All the other villagers seem to love birthdays just fine.”
“So what about them do you dislike? Not a fan of sweets, or do you think presents are pointless. Or, wait, I’ve got it! You hate when everyone sings and all the attention is on you.”
“It’s astounding how many times you can be wrong in under a minute. Really, I thought the Avatar would have a sixth sense for these sorts of things.”
“Absolutely hysterical,” she deadpans. “So what’s the real reason?”
Kavik looks out into the crowd, the people scattered every which way with glittering smiles adorning their faces. There’s no shortage of laughter at this celebration, the chuckles of the upper echelons of Fire Nation society harmonizing perfectly with the band’s melodies.
“It’s all a bit morbid isn’t it?” he states after a bit of silence. Yangchen quirks her head at him, so he continues.
“One year older, one year wiser, but also one year closer to dying.”
“Wow,” Yangchen nods, taking in this information. With that reaction, Kavik is sure she understands, and that she’ll finally leave him alone and talk to one of the million attendees whose name, occupation, family tree she’s inexplicably able to remember, but she stays put.
“You’re way too young to be that cynical.”
Not exactly what he was expecting her to say. At this point, he’s betting that if he annoys her enough, she’ll get exasperated and leave. So he uses one of his favorite quips.
“What can I say? I’m wise beyond my years. But you would know all about that, wouldn’t you Avatar? Master of all four elements, bridge between both worlds—”
“Do not make me strike you at a birthday party.”
He hesitates, because the way she was gripping his arm, ready to incinerate him with the blaze in her hands, he knows she’s all too willing. But she’s getting annoyed, which is a step in the right direction.
“I thought Air Nomads were supposed to be nonviolent,” he persists.
“And I could’ve sworn that watertribesmen were supposed to be respectful. Guess we’re both wrong,” she fires back.
He groans internally. Truthfully, he should’ve expected this. Yangchen is not the type to back down, and when it comes to insults, the two of them could go at it all night.
A round of applause grabs both of their attention, tearing their eyes away from the glares trained on each other to the four piece band, who are all bowing. As the guest of honor is wheeled out, the band sits back down and starts playing a Fire nation melody that is familiar even to Kavik’s ears. The notes of the erhu and flute blend together in perfect harmony, punctuated with notes from tsungi horn. It relaxes him just a bit, enough for him to drop some of the hostility.
“It really is amazing,” Kavik admits, “living to a hundred. I can’t deny that it’s something to be celebrated.”
“Especially in a field as volatile as the military. General Reezam is either incredibly intelligent, or ridiculously lucky.”
“The best tacticians are a little bit of both, wouldn’t you say?” Kavik punctuates his sentence with a wink and Yangchen rolls her eyes.
“So you agree that reaching this age is something to be celebrated?”
“Reaching triple digits in age, absolutely is. But every birthday should be celebrated, it doesn’t need to be limited to milestones like this one,” Kavik answers with certainty.
Having worked for the White Lotus, the Avatar, and even his time as an errand runner had taught him that the little things always matter, as unimportant as they might seem in the moment. In a life that seemed to be just a rat-viper race full of people angling for money, status, power, or any advantage they could exert over others, how much harm could it be to smell the roses? If everyone was going to end up being a pile of bones one day, what was the harm in having a party every year to celebrate your existence?
Kavik knows that what other people choose to do with their time and money is none of his business. And he knows that, having been invited to this centennial celebration as a companion of an Avatar, he has a certain image to uphold, so he ought to fix his attitude. But this negativity that’s been brewing inside him for the past few days keeps rearing it’s ugly head and he’s teetering into an uncharacteristically hot-headed personality.
Yangchen, though, is not privy to the inner machinations of his mind. There must be some limits to her powers, of course. So, she presses the matter again.
“So then, earlier, when you were—”
Something about her tone, her relentlessness, her eyebrows knitting together with an expression that tells him that she cares, she really truly cares, sets him off. The handle he had on his temper before goes flying off into the distance as he speaks, well really snarls before he thinks.
“Why are you so obsessed with finding out what I’m thinking?! I’m not a book you can pluck off the shelf, pages to be read at your whim! There are just some things I don’t want to share!”
The overlapping conversations of the partygoers have gotten loud enough that no one notices how Kavik just shouted at the Avatar. Or maybe they’re deliberately averting eye-contact at this shipwreck of a conversation that is sounding more and more like a lover’s quarrel with every passing minute.
Kavik does not like to yell. He doesn’t even like raising his voice if he can help it. This ferocity is something new for him, and he’s practically panting afterwards, feeling like uttering those words have drained all the oxygen from his lungs. He’s clutching at his chest, heart beating faster than a rabbit-leopard, and he’s bracing himself for Yangchen’s response. His goal was simply to get her to leave him alone, but he’s always been an overachiever. It’s looking more likely that she’ll be banishing him from the Fire Nation entirely.
Did the Avatar have the jurisdiction to do that? She had enough pull that she could probably hand over a few secrets to FIre Lord Gonryu in exchange for him pulling a few strings to get Kavik permanently barred from the Fire Nation. Not that he was particularly a fan of the more tropical climate here anyway; Kavik had always been a fan of colder weather, preferring to be wrapped up in a parka during a torrential blizzard instead of sweating buckets in the lightweight fabric of the Fire Nation during a heat wave. Though he predicted that Yangchen was cruel, or rather petty, enough to ensure that Kavik would be exiled somewhere that was sweltering year-round.
“If you’re not going to apologize, you could at least have the decency to listen while I’m talking.”
For the second time that day, Yangchen pulls Kavik from his thoughts. His catastrophizing has wrecked his mind enough that he’s staring at the Avatar like an open-mouthed penguin-fish. With one eyebrow raised, she looks slightly annoyed, but in the same way she does when Kavik misplaces her favorite calligraphy brush. Like he committed a minor transgression due to being absent-minded. He stupidly yelled at The Avatar, yet she’s not reacting with the malice he rightly deserves.
“You were scared weren’t you?” She teases with a sly grin.
“Absolutely not,” he lies through his teeth.
At that, she lets out a breathy laugh, with Kavik releasing a few choked chuckles of his own. She turns her body to the right, crossing her arms as she faces the dance floor. She rocks up on her heels once, then twice, matching the beat of the music, and, to Kavik, it looks like she’s psyching herself up for something. She then spins on her heel, facing him once again. She has to tilt her head upwards slightly to face him, so he’s certain she catches the way he gulps nervously.
“You asked why I’m so obsessed with what you’re thinking,” she says. His scathing words flood through his mind, and he has to resist the urge to cover his face in embarrassment. Heat is rising to his face, and the thought of being exiled from the Fire Nation is seeming more palatable by the second.
“There’s a million more pressing matters that I should be focusing on instead,” she continues, and Kavik is certain that a reprimand of epic proportions is in his near future. At least General Reezam will be getting dinner and a show on his 100th birthday.
“So, why do I focus so much on what my immature and inexperienced companion is worrying about?” She punctuates her words by pointing a finger at his chest. Kavik can feel her touch through his formalware, painfully aware of the shivers that run through his body from the sensation.
Her hand turns into a fist, and Kavik braces himself. Bringing her other hand up, she lifts both hands and…fixes his collar? Yangchen tugs at parts of his tunic to smoothen out some wrinkles, and then dusts off his shoulders. Satisfied, she crosses her arms again and looks up at him.
Her eyes are luminous, shining like the pearls that are only found in the darkest depths of the ocean. For a moment, Kavik feels like the wind has been knocked out of him.
“I care about you because you’re my friend,” she states, looking at him intently. For good measure, she takes one of his hands in hers, bringing it to her pulse on her neck, the same way he did all those months ago. It might as well have been another lifetime, for how distant that memory felt. As his fingers brush over her skin, his heartbeat quickens, and that familiar rouge creeps across his face again. Her heartbeat, however, is stable and unwavering. Proof that she’s telling the truth. She holds his hand there as she continues.
“You’re my companion, my partner, and one of the most important people in my life. You were perfectly happy three days ago and now you’ve suddenly got a storm cloud following you wherever you go.”
She takes a breath, Kavik watching the way her chest rises and falls.
“So forgive me if I worry.”
At that, he crumbles. She removes his hand from her neck and immediately he misses her warmth, the feeling of her smooth skin under his fingers. He wanted to be stoic, keeping his expression neutral and burrowing his feelings so far inside of himself that no one could ever discover them. But, he had a weakness.
It was her.
“I’m—” his breath catches when she looks at him, and he has to look away to recollect his thoughts.
“I’m sorry I raised my voice at you,” Kavik apologizes, his eyes trained on some partygoer’s extravagant headpiece.
“I’m not great at being emotionally vulnerable,” he admits.
“No, really? You?” Yangchen responds, sarcastically, the smile never leaving her lips. He lets out a laugh, rubbing a hand on his neck nervously.
“The reasoning is so stupid. Like, incredibly stupid. It’s so stupid that the words are stuck in my throat, and there’s no way I could tell you even if I downed all the sorghum liquor at that table.”
At this point, Kavik is babbling, because of course he is. Errand runners who were desperately searching for a brother who vanished into thin air don’t talk about their feelings. Little brothers who were constantly made to feel inadequate and pathetic by the person they admired most in the world don’t talk about their feelings. Kavik, when forced to decide between a brother who he couldn’t trust and a girl he couldn’t help but love, chose wrong.
His regrets have rendered him incapable of discussing his feelings. His guilt weighs on him with every step he takes, every move he makes.
“So getting you drunk isn’t an option, got it,” Yangchen thinks aloud.
Unaware of how terribly Kavik is spiraling, Yangchen maintains her air of poise. How tiresome it must be, to have to be the one constantly comforting and reassuring others. A symphony of energy coursing through her veins, powers far surpassing any mortal for miles, yet she was being reduced to a caregiver in this moment. Lowering herself in order to uplift her embarrassment of a companion.
If the guilt wasn’t drowning him already, Kavik knew he would soon be gasping for air.
“Dance with me.”
For a moment, Kavik is sure he’s heard a snippet from a random conversation. Surely, those must be the words of some miscellaneous Fire Nation official. Except, the Avatar is looking at him, eyes shining, expression expectant. Kavik wades through the fog of surprise enough to bumble a response.
“What?! I can’t. I’m a terrible dancer.”
Granted, he didn’t have much experience. In Agna Qel’a, there were certainly children with enough free time to devote to such artistic pursuits, and parents with the disposable income to invest in said pursuits. But in his igloo in Long Stretch, dance lessons were the furthest thing from his family’s minds. Even if Kavik had shown an interest in dance, there certainly weren’t any instructors in his village offering lessons. And during their time in Bin-Er, his family had been so melancholic that frivolous things like singing and dancing hadn’t even entered his mind for years.
If he joined Yangchen on the dance floor, his terrible skills would certainly cause an international incident. Or, at the very least, ruin the party. He couldn’t do that to General Reezam.
“Are you feeling…anxious?” Yangchen’s got a mischievous glint in her eyes, rocking back and forth on her heels. Why does she do that, Kavik ponders. She could certainly float in the air for as much effort as that action requires.
“I guess?” His tone is unsure.
“Even better!” Yangchen exclaims, breaking into a grin as she stays perched on the tips of her toes.
“If you’re feeling anxious about dancing, it’ll override the anxiety at talking about your feelings!”
How long can she stay like that? Kavik wonders as his eyes fixate on her feet, which are firmly positioned en pointe. There’s no way that can be comfortable.
“I don’t think that’s how that works,” Kavik responds, his tone flippant as he prepares to catch Yangchen if her legs decide to give out.
“Your brain isn’t advanced enough to worry about two things at once.”
Now that gets his attention. His eyes snap up to face hers, and it’s as if she’s almost daring him to argue, to challenge her. He might not be able to match her spiritual prowess, but he could certainly rival her tenacity.
“I highly disagree with that.”
Kavik crosses his arms for good measure, the same way his older brother used to do to show he meant business. Kavik’s not going to be pushed around, not today.
“So you don’t want to dance with me?”
For the second time today, he crumbles. Because he doesn’t want to flail about, making a fool of himself in front of the numerous partygoers, and ruin what truly is a wonderful centennial celebration. But the thought of holding Yangchen in his arms, gazing into her eyes as their bodies brush against one another, it’s enough to intoxicate him. His brain will be so muddled that he won’t be able to think, but it won’t matter. Because she will be in his arms, and everything will be okay.
His response can’t be that heart-wrenchingly pathetic, of course. Because if she knew how he felt, oh, he knows she would lord it over his head every chance she got. Though that conceit has its own merits.
“Fine. May I have this dance?”
Kavik attempts to play up the disgruntled attitude, even hanging his head for a moment for good measure. Yangchen’s not a sucker, but since Kavik was able to nearly fool her on their first encounter, he still has some faith in his acting skills.
“As long as you follow my lead.” Yangchen’s tone is low, sweet yet demanding. She places a finger under his chin, raising his face until he’s looking at her. Just that one touch send a shockwave through his system, and Kavik is suddenly doubting his ability to get through a whole dance number with her. He buries that doubt under a mountain of over-confidence, flashing a smirk at the Avatar.
“I always do.” His voice is nearly a whisper.
“Liar.”
His smirk transforms into a grin, and he sees a smile pulling at Yangchen’s lips as well. They stay like that for about half a second, before she grabs his hand and all but drags him to the middle of the dance floor. Really, it would’ve been less embarrassing if she had just yanked him by his collar.
With her golden-colored robes and his cerulean-shaded formalware, the two of them stick out like sore thumbs in the sea of crimson and maroon-clad attendees. Kavik glances at the band, who look to be shuffling through sheet music as they prepare for their next song. He wonders what it would feel like to excel in instrumentation; to create such beautiful music that people can’t help but move their bodies. To be admired for something you create, well Kavik wouldn’t mind that at all.
Yangchen grabs his attention as she positions both of them. His right hand on her waist, fingertips grazing the small of her back. Her left hand on his shoulder, heat blooming under her grasp. Her right hand grasps his left, and Kavik is suddenly worried about how clammy his palms will be in a matter of minutes. Their height difference is minor, only a few inches; yet with her having to lift her chin slightly to look him in the eyes, Kavik can’t deny the fireworks show rendering his heart incapable of anything but pure adoration in this moment. What would it be like, he thinks, for her to look up to him? For her to admire his skills and capabilities. The musical instruments he’ll never master, the poetry that’ll never flow from his brush, and these feet that’ll never be able to move on beat.
What he wouldn’t give to earn the Avatar’s praise.
“Still willing to follow my lead?” Yangchen teases, and Kavik is now acutely aware of the space, or lack thereof, between their bodies.
“Absolutely,” he responds without hesitation. She quirks an eyebrow at his eagerness, with him mentally chiding himself for being so pathetic.
The band begins playing a new song, with the tsungi horn having a solo at the start. True to her word, Yangchen takes the lead, with Kavik’s eyes staying fixed on the floor so he doesn’t accidentally step on her toes.
“This is a box step,” Yangchen explains, rubbing his shoulder affectionately, but eyes are focused on the ground. “It’s almost impossible to mess up.”
“Nothing’s impossible for a fool,” Kavik mutters. At that statement, Yangchen shifts her hand so she’s got a hold on his chin, essentially forcing him to look at her.
She’s got a knack for being ridiculously attractive and terrifying at the same time. Not that he’s complaining.
“Where’s all of your bravado gone?” Yangchen teases, returning her hand to its original position on his shoulder.
“Probably oozed out of me after Jujinta stabbed me and I nearly bled to death.”
“Spirits, you’re still mad about that? He apologized already.”
“No, I don’t think he did.”
He furrows his brows together because he wants to return his focus to the ground to ensure he doesn’t mess up, but he knows Yangchen will just force his face upward again.
“What are you thinking?”
“What happens if I trip?”
“Then you trip. Who cares?”
“Of course. It’s not like you’re the most important person at this party or anything.”
“You’re overthinking this. Really, dancing isn’t too different from bending.”
“Ah, so that’s why you’re so good at this.”
She blushes red at the compliment.
“Quite a few Avatars have been accomplished dancers, actually.” She leans in close, her breath tickling his ears.
“And you haven’t seen anything yet.”
She gives him a look that he takes to mean that he should continue to follow her lead. So he does. Diving headfirst into an ocean of an unknown depth, the chances of peril staggeringly high. And yet, he doesn’t feel scared. Because he has faith in her.
They haven’t known each other for that long, really. But their moments together have been so intense, life or death situations where they’ve had to rely on nothing but their trust of one another. Maybe it’s that trust that allows his worries to cascade off his shoulders to be carried off by the current, enabling him to, for the first time, dance with reckless abandon.
Granted, he’s still no choreography aficionado. Even an Avatar as great as Yangchen has their limits. But, as she moves her body from one side to the next, he feels the two of them falling in sync. Matching her movements, her footsteps, their hands naturally finding each other as the music speeds up, Kavik finds him enjoying this more than he thought he would. His eyes are steady, his gaze on his partner rather than the ground beneath them, and her smile is bright enough to light up the deepest patch of the ocean. Perhaps that’s why he’s able make his body move in the exact right way and think clearly for the first time all night. His muddled thoughts are a thing of the past as the beat swells, each musician playing in perfect harmony.
Where there is light, there is life, and there is no brighter reason to live than the woman in his arms.
All too soon, the instrumentalists peter down their intensity as the song ends. Though, with the way both Kavik and Yangchen are sweating and slightly out of breath, it’s probably for the best. Dancing is a form of physical activity quite foreign to Kavik, and while he’s certainly capable, it’s better to not test the limits of his abilities with such dignified people surrounding him.
“How do you feel?” Yangchen asks, her voice breathy. Kavik’s lucky that his face is tinged red from all the physical exertion, so Yangchen can’t tell how her voice heats up his face even more.
“I could go another round,” Kavik bluffs, his panting giving him away.
“What will it take for my companion to be honest with me?” Yangchen queries as she naturally takes his hand and leads him from the dance floor. Distinguished people are complimenting her dance skills left and right, with Kavik catching some praise as well, which he humbly denies.
She leads him to the refreshment table, which is relatively free of people. Steering clear of the alcoholic drinks which would only dehydrate them more, Kavik pours the two of them some watermelon juice, which they finish in seconds. It’s only after he ladles them each another helping, that Kavik speaks.
“I think being a dancer is your true calling.”
Yangchen lets out an undignified snort, not even apologizing for the sound before drinking from her glass. With a stupidly happy grin on his face, Kavik determines that this is the moment where his feelings for Yangchen have reached the point of no return. He’d be terrified if he wasn’t brimming with affection.
“For the sake of world peace, I beg to differ.”
“Was that all you? Or was there a burst of Avatar State energy in there at some point?”
“You’re doubting my capabilities?”
“Of course not. I mean, you’re Yangchen, you’re capable of anything.” His tone is resolute; he might disagree with her actions at times, but he would never underestimate her. When he had found out how young she was when she got her tattoos, therefore becoming an airbending master, he wasn’t even mildly surprised. Innately, Yangchen was talented at just about everything, but her dedication to always improve and learn about things that were foreign to her, well, that’s what really set her apart.
“I just thought it would be…” He scrunches his face slightly as he searches for the right words.
“I don’t know, cute if the other Avatars were helping somehow? Like when you’re little and you put your feet over your parents’ while they dance.”
“So you have danced before,” she muses, a teasing edge to her voice.
“Only a few times.”
“You’re just full of surprises aren’t you?”
Volleying quips back and forth like this, Kavik knows he’d be content talking with her all night. The way she tends to trip over her words when she gets excited, or how she tries her best to mask her expression but her eyebrows will always give her away. Things that the average person wouldn’t ever get to know because she only really lets her walls down around him. She feels safe around him, enough that she allows herself to drop the title, forget the accolades, and simply exist as a girl. One with a razor sharp mind and a fountain of talent, mind you, but a girl all the same.
It’s in this moment that Kavik feels like he can finally tell her what’s been bothering him the whole night. She’s let down her walls for him already, so, as uncomfortable as it feels, like wearing scratchy clothes you otherwise wouldn’t be caught dead in, he decides to do it for her. All good relationships rely on give and take, right?
There’s no perfect way to start off his confession, so he decides to just open his mouth and see how things go.
“You know there’s a tradition we do in Long Stretch.” The undercurrent of levity has vanished from his voice. Though he’s smiling as he brings the glass to his lips, Yangchen knows his next words will be devoid of any humor. Unbridled honesty, for the first time all night. What a treat.
“I don’t know if they do it in the rest of the North,” he continues. “I’ve never really asked. For a child’s first birthday, family members and close members will each individually prepare a small toy or trinket. We place them all in front of the child and see which one they end up choosing. Whichever one the baby crawls to and picks up first, well, it’s believed that person will become a mentor, confidant or even partner in crime for the child.”
Kavik chuckles as the memories come rushing back to him, his chest aching with a homesickness, more intense than it’s ever been before. His laughs are wistful, with the kind of longing poets write verses about.
“Whoever is chosen is meant to be an incredibly important person in that child’s life.”
He looks at the vermilion-tinted reflection in his glass, suddenly having lost all desire to drink anything. He looks at Yangchen, his eyes pleading, his expression desperate, and she knows he has torn his own walls down.
Kavik braces himself for the words he can’t take back.
“I got a letter three days ago. My nephew is one.”
Looking at Yangchen, the kindness in her eyes, her eyebrows knitted together in reassurance, he allows the words to fall from his lips.
“And he doesn’t have his person.”
Tears prick the corners of his eyes and he scrunches up his face as if the action will somehow shove the liquid back into his tear ducts. Yangchen eyes are also glossy, and as a single tear trails down her face until she wipes her cheek, his heart twists. He feels guilty for making her cry; seeing her sad is like a stab to the heart. But, he can’t help but find joy in the fact that what he said resonated with her. The master of all four elements is an empathetic person, first and foremost.
“Kavik,” she says, or tries to say really. Her voice is ragged, the way it sounds when you try to talk after crying. No more tears are falling, though Kavik knows there must be a lump in her throat.
“I told you it was stupid.” He rearranges his face into his usual easygoing grin, reverting back to what is easy rather than what is vulnerable.
“It’s not stupid,” Yangchen insists. She holds his gaze for one beat, then two, and Kavik has to look away before he does something crazy like kiss her. His emotions are heightened, boundaries decimated, and he decides he might as well go all in and say what he’s really thinking.
“Yes it is!” He’s not yelling, keeping his volume level. But he’s speaking with an intensity, a ferocity that signifies these words are coming from the depths of his soul.
“Kalyaan and Chaisee almost killed thousands of people! I haven’t forgotten that. They were hungry for power, and they didn’t care who got in their way. And who knows if Chaisee would’ve even cared to do that stupid tradition anyway? I thought I didn’t care. I thought I was over it. But that fucking letter.”
He leans back against the wall, with chuckles that sound suspiciously like sobs racking his body.
He thinks he’s finally done it. He’s finally rendered the Avatar speechless. To catch someone with wisdom going back millennia off-guard is something Kavik believes he should be proud of. But all he wants in this moment is to be comforted.
For a second, he doesn’t notice it. Too wrapped up in his own thoughts, it seems. But as he feels her thumb tracing circles on his hand, he looks down to find their fingers intertwined. Yangchen’s got her back against the wall too, wearing an expression he’s seen so many times, yet rarely directed at himself.
I see you. I’m here for you.
It’s now that Kavik realizes it was silly for him to worry about Yangchen judging him. She’s his best friend, of course she was going to judge him. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t love lurking behind her eyes and intertwined in her words. To cast a judgment on someone means you see who they are, watch what they do, and you can’t help but envision more. And isn’t that true essence of closeness? To love someone so fondly that their actions inspire your thoughts.
Kavik felt his logic and reasoning getting muddled as his emotions got more intense. He wasn’t sure if he believed everything he was thinking, but he certainly believed in Yangchen enough to let her shoulder some of his burden. What were friends for, right?
“Who did you end up choosing at your first birthday?” Yangchen asks, her voice steady like a weathered sailor in a storm. Kavik answers without hesitation.
“Kalyaan, of course. Who else could it have ever been?”
She gives his hand a squeeze, transfusing reassurance from her heart to his.
“It’s not easy being the youngest sibling,” she admits, and Kavik lets out a hollow laugh. She could say that again.
“Especially when your older sibling is larger than life itself,” Kavik adds. He glances at Yangchen, who’s looking out into the crowd at no one in particular.
“Was Jetsun like that?” The question pops into his mind suddenly. Yangchen had the (dis)pleasure of meeting Kavik’s older brother, but Kavik had never gotten the chance to meet Yangchen’s older sister who had ‘died’ a number of years ago. Technically, she was still around in the Spirit World, though Kavik had already had some bad experiences with spirits, and going all the way to another realm felt like an awful lot of trouble just to say hello. So his knowledge of Jetsun was limited to what Yangchen had to say about her, and little tidbits he overheard while they were in the various Air Temples.
Yangchen’s lids flutter shut as she lets out a giggle, probably reminiscing on a comforting memory. She opens her eyes and turns to face her companion before she responds.
“Jetsun was encouraging. Dependable, reliable, and undeniably personable.” She quirks her head to the side for a moment, pondering as her eyes travel upward before she looks back at Kavik.
“Since you told me about one of your traditions, I’ll tell you about one of mine.” As Yangchen goes to resume her position against the wall, Kavik tugs on her hand, which is still wrapped around his.
“Hm?”
“Can you-” Kavik hesitates, deliberating if he feels like sounding extra pathetic. Though, he’d already yelled, danced, and nearly cried in front of Yangchen today, so how much damage could a little begging do?
“Can you look at me as you tell your story?”
That seems to catch Yangchen off-guard, as a blush instantly blooms across her face. Her eyes flit around the room, before settling on the refreshment table to her right. She was going to comply, she just needed a minute to compose herself, that’s all.
She clears her throat, swallows, and then, having regained her confidence, hoping the blush has mostly receded, looks Kavik in the eye. Scrunching up her face for a second to show that being vulnerable is hard for her too sometimes, the two share a quiet moment as they gaze longingly at each other.
“So your story,” Kavik prompts, voice unintentionally sultry, causing Yangchen’s heartbeat to quicken.
“Right, my story. So Air Nomads aren’t too big on birthdays, thought it depends on who you ask, or the person really. Jetsun, for what it’s worth, loved birthdays. There’s a tradition we have for babies that happens the first time they laugh. Whoever makes a baby laugh for the first time are then in charge of throwing a party for the baby. It goes back to this belief that babies come into this world with part of their essence still in the Spirit World. When a baby laughs for the first time, we see it as the baby making the choice to stay in our world, with their friends and family.”
“Let me guess: Jetsun threw a few of these parties back in the day?”
“That would be an understatement,” Yangchen chuckles. “Jetsun was notorious for eliciting these first laughs. One month there were maybe twelve babies born? And Jetsun ended up throwing parties for ten of them.”
“That’s…impressive,” Kavik says, pausing to find the right word. It also seems time-consuming and exhausting, enough for him, if he were in her shoes, to avoid the nursery entirely for a few months if not years.
“Yeah, well Jetsun loved to take care of others. And sometimes it felt like overachieving was one of her favorite pastimes.”
Kavik thinks about pointing out the similarity between the two like how Yangchen’s standards for herself are ridiculously high. She’s always been able to achieve the impossible somehow; maybe she got that tenacity from her sister. Though, Kavik knows Yangchen would just shrug off any such compliment he offered, so he picks a different path.
“How many parties have you thrown?”
“Ha! Have you met me?” Yangchen points at herself for emphasis.
“I might be great with animals, but me and babies don’t really mesh. I don’t make them cry at least, but they’re very neutral whenever they see me. Not screaming, but not really smiling either.”
“Hm, maybe your calming presence puts them at ease?” Kavik suggests, and Yangchen responds with a knowing look.
“Try again.”
Kavik rubs his chin as he tries to think of another reason. “They might be confused what you’re doing here instead of the Spirit World?”
“Perhaps,” Yangchen defers, rubbing her thumb in circles around Kavik’s hand.
“Or maybe they know I’m not as impressive as everyone seems to think.”
“Yangchen, they’re babies,” Kavik states. “They spend most of their days drooling. It doesn’t mean anything.”
The airbender nods at his words, eyes trained on her shoes, and while Kavik surmises this is the end of their discussion, these thoughts will be rolling around in Yangchen’s mind for weeks to come.
“All that to say,” she starts, her gaze drifting upwards to reach his, “I understand the importance of such traditions and milestones. To grow up without knowing one’s culture is a tragedy I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy. So, if it would make you happy and bring back that beautiful smile of yours, I have a proposition.”
“Oh?” Kavik can’t help the way his lips naturally settle into a smirk as a million scenarios run through his mind. He’s thanking the spirits that mind-reading is not a gift bestowed upon Avatars.
“Perhaps we could arrange a way for you to meet the newest addition to your family.”
He blinks slowly as the words sink in.
“You’d do that for me?”
Latching onto Kavik’s other hand, she intertwines their fingers and looks up at the waterbender with such adoration you’d think he’d hung the moon and decorated the night sky with stars just for her. Given the opportunity, Kavik would gladly do that and so much more.
“Anything for my favorite companion, master of just one element, and the most charming attendee at this party.” Her eyes are shimmering like the first rays of sunshine after a thunderstorm.
“Aw, General Reezam will be heartbroken if he hears that.”
Yangchen rolls her eyes at him, adding a playful shake of her head for good measure.
“Can you be serious for more than five minutes?” Yangchen teases. He certainly could, but making her smile gives her a thrill like no other. If every word he said could make her laugh, he’d talk forever.
Squeezing their intertwined hands, Kavik decides that every obstacle he’s faced in his life has been worth it, for each difficulty has led him to this exact moment in this exact spot, in the orbit of the most wonderful woman in the world.
“I’ll spoil you with six minutes of seriousness tonight,” Kavik responds with a wink. “In the birthday spirit, of course.”
“I hope you keep that positive spirit,” Yangchen’s expression is pensive. “Because finding a way for you to meet your nephew will be ridiculously complicated.”
“I have faith in you,” Kavik states.
“Because I’m the Avatar?”
“Because you’re my best friend.”
─── ⋅ ⋅ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───