Chapter Text
Zuko hated physical touch. Whenever someone raised their hands near him, he always found himself flinching before he could stop himself. Even when the touch was accidental.
Especially when it was harmless.
His father believed discipline built character. And oftentimes, discipline meant violence. It also meant learning to adapt very quickly and being obedient. When orders weren’t followed a specific way, the right way, that was being defiant, Zuko learn that defiance by any means meant consequences. Meaning Zuko had to be quiet and on his best behavior
And judging by how often Zuko was personally greeted with violence, he wasn’t even sure what this best behavior was anymore. If he ever knew it at all.
He had become so accustomed to the hands that pained him, that he wasn’t even sure he’d classify it as violence now. It was just a routine. Part of this routine often involved other people who took advantage of him, his timid nature. He couldn’t come to terms with it yet his body remembers everything so vividly.
With everything going on, he didn't ask for help, he couldn’t. His father reluctantly hurt him when he tried to tell him while the perpetrators continued. It felt like a never ending cycle of hurt. Eventually, he stopped counting. He stopped being surprised by it all.
His demeanor changed, he became a hot-headed person, setting him apart from all of the other kids, nobody wanted to hang out with him. He didn’t have a chance to be a fun kid anymore, he was just angry and misunderstood. When he noticed that kids were purposely avoiding him, it made him feel more furious with himself. Other kids called him intense, and he let them.
He never made any friends, he couldn't. Some were always curious about things that he didn’t want to answer. So he stayed near his sister, Azula, and her small group of friends. These friends consisted of two other girls, Ty Lee and Mai. They were people who didn’t ask questions and enjoyed his company.
They didn’t pry. But he wasn’t Zuko around them, just Azula’s brother.
And Zuko was satisfied with that.
Uncle Iroh had been out of the country. He decided to drop everything to properly grieve his passing son for a few months which stretched for years, longer than he should. Zuko couldn’t remember a moment when his uncle was in the picture, everything blurred together at this point.
Zuko couldn’t remember much from this time. His brain didn’t want to remember it. The moment his uncle came into the picture, him and Azula were out of there.
Azula was never at Iroh’s house. The moment she was out of that hellhole, she stayed with Ty Lee, which Iroh figured was better than his brother’s house. When Zuko moved in with his uncle, it was the start of his sophomore year.
During this time, he felt like he was dying.
Figures came and went in his vision, there were voices lingering around him, cool hands on his skin. He didn’t have the strength to fight them off, let alone speak up. He drifted in and out of consciousness, letting the darkness take him as it came.
Even in a new environment away from his father, he still had recurring nightmares reminding him of that place. Waking up in the middle of the night, in constant pain, stomach churring against itself as he hurled his entire meal.
Iroh stuck around.
Not close enough to startle him, not touching without warning. Just a steady, warm presence in the room.
Doctors and nurses moved around him, adjusting IV lines, voices low that Zuko couldn’t understand. They kept a close eye on him, giving him medicine through IV as he couldn’t properly stomach anything.
Iroh didn’t force him to talk. He just offered him space, food and some homemade tea by leaving it by the side table.
Once Zuko started to come back to reality, the world didn’t feel right. His vision lagged, his left eye was weaker than his right. The strain settled into sharp, persistent headache that lingered for hours. Zuko had been prescribed more medications, more routines and more things to endure. Nurses and doctors are still drifting in and out of the room again.
His memory wasn’t consistent, at the hospital and back to Iroh’s place. He never was able to tell where one ended and the other began.
For the next few months, Iroh helped Zuko adjust to his new surroundings. The small two story townhouse Iroh had been living in. Iroh cleared out his office space to make a room for Zuko. He barely left the house, let alone his new room. It was a difficult change, settling into an environment where he didn’t have to have his guard up constantly and be in constant fear.
They both learned a lot of things, closed doors and darkness were unsettling to Zuko. The quiet behind them was too heavy, too suffocating for him to ignore. He kept himself isolated, taking his medicine, using prescribed creams and taking small portions of food.
Around his uncle, there was a gentleness that made Zuko relax. He stayed quiet around his uncle, words catching somewhere in his throat. Iroh never pushed, he did not force any communication with him. Instead, he offered him space, left food and brewed tea on his bedside table.
xx
Once Zuko had adapted to living with Iroh and feeling physically stable, Iroh enrolled him into school and arranged for him to start therapy. From overhearing conversations with his uncle, he had been in and out of the hospital for nearly seven months. To Zuko, most of it still blurred together.
Therapy was difficult for him, especially when it came to finding the right one. He had gone through more than he could count, many were either too gentle, too pushy, or just treated him like he was something fragile waiting to break. As someone who couldn’t vocalize himself, it was a difficult process to find the right therapist for him. Eventually, he found someone who never treated him that way. She called him out when he tried to dodge questions but knew exactly when to sit in silence.
Still, talking was something Zuko struggled with. He had a habit of staying quiet, avoiding confrontation and shutting down completely when conversations got too close to things he didn’t want to talk about. Even with the struggle, therapy had taught him a few things, how to sit with discomfort instead of running away, when to recognize he was spiraling and ways to de-escalate it. It was indeed a learning process and Zuko was still learning. With his various therapy sessions, it definitely took his energy, he'd come home either emotional or apathetic. There was a period where Zuko would go non-verbal for hours on end and he was grateful his uncle never pried him about it.
In terms of school, Zuko was many classes behind after being hospitalized for so long. Missing nearly six months left gaps he couldn’t ignore, he had to return back to a life that was in motion without him. Still, he was ahead of his courses while being homeschooled before everything happened, thankfully he didn’t need to take extra classes.
His hair was another reminder of how much time had passed. He hadn’t noticed his hair buzzed off, whether it was at the hospital or done beforehand. It had grown out to an awkward, uneven length, a fuzzy buzz cut, way too short to style it.
Before he knew, it was the first day of his sophomore year for him but the third day of the winter semester for the school.
His uncle didn’t rush him at all, he patiently waited as Zuko put on a comfortable sweatshirt they had thrift, baggy jeans, his brand new backpack and school supplies. They took their time driving there, keeping the radio off to let the wind harshly whistle into their ears.
They were a few minutes late and when Zuko walked into the office to get his schedule, he was greeted by the principal.
He wore a black cap to cover his face, to cover the semi-healed scar on his face. His eyes fell on the counter in front of him, avoiding eye contact with the principal. The principal began to ramble, no words were being comprehended by Zuko.
The principal began to talk about the school’s morals, the ethics and how grateful she was to work at this ‘spectacular school.’ Zuko pressed his lips together, letting his uncle chat with the principal. He was grateful that his uncle was there with him and continued about how thankful he was to bring his nephew to this school. Zuko stood there, nodding in hopes that he can leave the conversation.
“Here is your schedule. You can head to your homeroom first.” The principal smiled as she slid Zuko his schedule. Zuko pressed his lips together and nodded as he took his schedule, bowing his head over to his uncle before slipping his way out of the office.
As he walked out and into through the hallway, he realized he doesn't know the location of any of his classes on his schedule. He squinted at the page in front of him, he made out that he had homeroom, three core classes and an elective this semester. Zuko cursed under his breath as he strides forward, attempting to find his classes by himself.
It took him a while but he found his class. It was all the way on the other side of the entrance, second floor, at the end of the hallway.
He dragged his legs against the ground, exhaustion getting to him. By the time he made it to the door, he peeked his head through the semi-foggy glass window. The students in class were chatting amongst each other. Zuko crossed his arms, he took a step back with his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him. A part of him wanted to go up and knock on the door, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. The harsh hum of the overhead lights rang in his ears, sharp and relentless as he stood there, frozen.
The door swung open suddenly, knocking him right in the head. Zuko stumbled back, barely catching himself but a hand caught his arm before falling. His cap falling off his head, dropping on the floor next to him.
“Spirits!” A voice called out. “I’m so sorry- I didn’t see you there. Are you…”
“Don’t.” His words came out harsh. Zuko jerked his arm out of the other boy’s grip, taking a step back. “I’m fine.” His heart was racing as the touch sent shivers up his spine, the noises in the quiet hallway felt louder, pulsating in his ears aggressively. His eyes flickered up to the other boy and stilled.
For a second, everything went away, all the noises, the lights, the pressure of his head faded. His nose was invaded with a sweet smell of coconut and a hint of vanilla, invading his nose like a candle. The noises all dulled down at the weight of steady, light blue pearls fixed on him. The stranger’s eyes filled with concern instead of irritation.
Not frustration, not anger, genuine concern.
Zuko looked away, shaking that feeling from him, completely ignoring the worried boy in front of him. He didn’t have the energy for this. He walked over to pick up his cap, putting it on before entering the class. He avoided eye contact with anyone as he made a beeline for the empty desk near the back. There was a girl seated in front of him, she had short, light brown hair with a few highlight streaks. Zuko kept his head down, avoiding eye contact and conversing with anyone.
Thankfully, the homeroom teacher didn’t realize that Zuko walked in late to class as he was busy looking over at his computer.
He felt his heart beating out of his chest by that interaction, making a mental note about how his body somewhat relaxed at the glance of this mysterious boy. Zuko didn't want to ponder on it too much, planning to leave it that way and not get too attached.
In means of a distraction, his eyes flickered up and began to make mental notes of the people in his homeroom. Everyone had their small circles, already created their own groups in the class except for the girl in front of him. He wondered if she had her own set of friends outside of this homeroom section.
His eyes shoot up to the front door, the boy from before entered the class again and made his way back to his seat, directly across from Zuko. He could feel his face scrunching up, unable to control his facial expressions. From staring at the back, he notice his overgrown undercut from the back and his hair tied into a little ponytail.
The brunette turned her body to face the tanned boy.
“Did you get your schedule changed?” She leaned in, pulling his chair closer. The tanned boy only shook his head, whispering back to her while keeping his gaze fixed in front of him.
Zuko scoffed under his breath. Weirdo. He dropped his head into his arms. Still, he found himself listening to them.
The girl sighed. “Speak up. They couldn’t give it to you? Or did they?”
“It’s not that deep.” The boy spoke out. There was a rustling sound of paper.
“You still have Art as an elective?” The girl chuckled. “Should’ve chosen the foods option like me and Yue.”
Zuko stared at this schedule beneath him. He also had Art.
“I tried to switch, Suki, but the class was full.”
The brunette, Suki, laughed at him. “Well time to make new friends. At least we have gym, math and science.”
Zuko looked at his schedule, his classes aligned with that guy. The three of them appeared to have the same stream of core classes.
“We need to find more people in our classes.” Suki laughed softly. “We can’t stay partners with each other forever.”
“I’m not a wuss.” The boy exhaled loudly. “I might be doomed because you will definitely leave me for Yue.”
“And I will. What about him?”
“Well I’m not sure, I don’t know what classes he has.”
Zuko noticed the conversation becoming shifted, or the boy attempting to shift the conversation as he kept shushing the girl. Zuko kept quiet, his head down until the bell rang to dismiss them. And as soon as it did, he lifted himself up and adjusted his cap pulling it further over his face. He felt glances from the two people in front of him before rushing out of the room, eager to disappear into the next class, which he had no clue where it was.
xx
Zuko kept this distance from that guy and his friends. By being quite observant, he noticed that the boy, Suki and this white haired girl, which he assumed was Yue, often hung out together. They sat near each other, when there wasn’t a seating plan and chatted loudly amongst one another during the class period. It infuriated him that he was intrigued by these people.
At lunch, there was a younger girl who joined them at the lunch table. She had similar features to the boy, similar light blue eyes and tanned skin. Zuko deduced that she was his sister. The group all sat outside on the picnic table, having a distant conversation from the rest of the cafeteria. Carefully, Zuko watched them from inside. He sat at an isolated cafeteria table, preoccupying his brain by scrolling through YouTube shorts but his gaze fixed on the group of friends outside.
The rest of his classes went smoothly, but then came Art class.
Zuko found the class with about 2 minutes to spare, despite leaving lunch early to find it. He felt out of place once again as there were already a few students in class seated near their friends. No sign of the other boy yet.
Zuko carried himself towards the back of the class where no one was seated. The art class had the two desks next to each other, allowing for students to work together. He put his headphones over his ears to listen to ‘calming music’, keeping his mind preoccupied with something. He brought out his pencil case filled with pencils, pens and sharpies.
The art teacher stood at her table, stacking the sketchbooks in front of her. He watched as students walked up to her, asking her a few questions. Zuko felt the classroom fill up as the bell rang, few students still scurrying in and taking their seats. There were a few students who were obnoxiously loud which made Zuko turn up the volume.
Zuko took off his headphones and adjust to the buzz of students around. His eyes glance to see a certain familiar face, however, he was nowhere to be found. He felt a sigh of relief.
But not for long.
He noticed the familiar figure at the doorway. The boy jogged into class late. He scratched the back of his head as he talked to the art teacher, who immediately got on him when he stepped foot into the door.
After spouting out apologies to the teacher, the tanned boy looked around and locked eyes with Zuko. He began to slowly make his way over.
Zuko’s eyes darted around to the other seats that were full. The only free seat being the one next to him. Zuko exhaled, reorganizing his stuff before the boy sat down. He dropped the stack of textbooks on the desk.
The boy next to him was out of breath. But he still had the energy to glance over to Zuko, offering a small, easy smile.
Zuko didn’t return the smile, his eyes fixed back on his table. He pulled his cap over his face, fingers grazing over his headphones.
“Here are your sketchbooks, they finally arrived. Now we can finally talk about the 12 sketches of different people this entire semester. Well 14 if we include our start and end of the year self portraits.” The teacher addressed the entire class as she began to pass out the sketchbooks to the front row. “Now that course switching is done, we will start off by going over the course online all together.” She grabbed a sheet of paper from the front desk and handed it to the first row of students. The art teacher made her way towards the computer to pull the course outline on the smart board.
Zuko felt eyes piercing into him.
“You’re new, aren’t you? Door guy.”
Zuko’s eyes twitched. “Door guy?” He muttered out, grabbing the sketchbook from the person in front of him.
“Yeah I accidentally hit you with the door… in homeroom.” The boy ran a hand through his hair, keeping his voice low. “Which I’m so sorry for. Spirits… you’re okay, right?”
He exhaled sharply. “I’m fine.” Zuko took a sharpie from his pencil case, writing his name in the corner of the cover.
The tanned boy leaned his head in closer to look at Zuko’s sketchbook. “Whoa, that's a cool name. Zuko. What does it mean?”
Zuko hummed, grip tightening around the pen.
The boy huffed out as he continued. “Well, I’m Sokka,” he smiled softly as he grabbed a pen to label his own sketchbook. “It’s quite rare that students join in the middle of the school year.”
Zuko nodded once. Why is this guy still talking?
“I do have a bad habit of talking too much.” Sokka muttered out, scratching the back of his neck. “This class is super chill so no need to worry too much, teach really loves all her students.”
Zuko’s eye twitched in response. He’s so talkative that he could barely hear the teacher in front talking, even with him staring at her lips. He’s so–
“Nosy.” Zuko muttered under his breath.
“Oh—okay, yeah, that’s fair.” Sokka winced. “Sorry. That was—yeah. I’ll stop.”
“Whatever.” Zuko said bitterly. He noticed the Art teacher in front of them, holding two copies of the course outline.
“Since you two want to be chatting in the back, why don’t you both read the second page of the course outline?” The art teacher handed the course outlines to them before returning back to the front of class.
“Yes ma’am.” Sokka straightened up immediately as he began to scan the piece of paper.
Zuko exhaled as he dropped his head to his desk.
This is going to be a long semester.
xx
Zuko sat at the table across from Iroh, chopsticks gliding across his full plate. His eyes were fixed on the table, he was exhausted from the first day of all his classes. But he still found himself sitting at the table with his uncle.
“How was the first day of classes?” Iroh cleared his throat, breaking the silence between them.
His chopsticks stilled and he lifted his eyes up. “It was fine.” Zuko shrugged, eyes back on his plate as he brought one of the cooked broccoli to his mouth.
There was a pause, Iroh brought his cup of tea to his lips to drink. “Just fine?”
Zuko slammed his hand on the table. “It was fine. It was loud, annoying and people don’t watch where they are going.”
Iroh barely reacted to Zuko’s reaction, a soft smile grew on his face. “So you met someone.”
“He doesn’t know when to shut up.” Zuko’s grip tightened around his chopsticks. “And he hit me with a door. Kept calling me the door guy.”
Iroh’s eyes softened. “That sounds like a difficult day.”
Zuko’s eyes shot back at his uncle. “Don’t pity me.”
“I’m not.” His voice was gentle, not to agitate him, but to reassure him. “I’m listening.”
There was a pause, Zuko’s eyes fell back on his now cold food. “He just keeps trying to talk to me and it’s just super annoying.”
“Does that bother you?”
Zuko stayed silent, ignoring the question for as long as he could.
It didn’t bother him. Not really. It just felt… different. It felt new and he wasn’t sure what to do.
Iroh raised an eyebrow, chuckled breathlessly to himself. The scratching of their chopsticks filled the air around them. Iroh let his question linger, not forcing the conversation further.
Zuko tightened his jaw, biting at the end of his chopstick. “He’s just… there.”
“I think that you did not mind his company as much as you say.” Iroh spoke slowly. He began to pick up his cutlery and empty plate.
“I never said that.” His head snapped up, voice was sharp.
“You’re right.” Iroh spoke, leading into the kitchen. “You didn’t.”
Zuko took his plate and followed his uncle into the kitchen. “He just doesn’t know when to stop. He might just annoy me all semester.”
Iroh placed his plate in the sink, pouring the remaining tea into the kettle to reheat. “And yet, you are still talking about him.”
Zuko’s brows furrowed. “I just…” He stared at his cup of tea, watching the ripples in tea slow down.
Frustrated flickered over his face. He despised this, not being able to find his words to communicate how he felt. He cursed under this breath.
His uncle didn’t say anything at first. He let silence fill the air, then the sounds of the kettle distracted them, again, not forcing Zuko to explain himself.
“It must be a new feeling for you. This guy sounds kind…” Iroh turned to face his nephew.
Zuko stayed quiet, eyes fixed on his tea. “He’s just… him.” His words came out tense.
Iroh’s eyes softened, understanding his nephew. “And you aren’t used to this.”
He shook his head immediately.
“And that’s okay.” Iroh smiled, his hand holding the kettle handle to swirl the tea. “You don't know where it can take you and that's okay that you feel this way. Take this with a grain of salt and see where it takes you.”
Zuko’s eyes stayed fixed on his tea, watching the ripples still.
Iroh gaze softened. "If you look for the light you will often find it, maybe he might be your light." He whispered out the last part as he turned away from his nephew. Zuko stood there, hearing it all but not wanting to feed the delusions. He blew on his tea before taking a sip, letting the richness touch his taste buds.
xx
It had been a week after their first interaction with Sokka. Zuko had now become adjusted to his classes but still fascinated by the boy next to him. He wouldn't admit it, but he subconsciously became aware of the boy and his every move. He found himself watching the group, especially Sokka.
Sokka was consistently late to all of his classes but he always came in with a toothy grin. His smile immediately lightened the mood of every classroom he stepped foot in. Greeting his teachers with a smile to try to avoid getting a late slip.
Zuko watched as Sokka walked into class late, greeted the chemistry teacher who was grabbing the notes for the day. The teacher stopped him from taking a seat, scolded him for being late and handed Sokka all the paper.
Sokka sighed, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling before passing out the paper to the first row. The teacher stood by the smart board, connecting his computer to start the slideshow. Once he finished, Sokka made his way over to sit in the seat in front of Zuko.
Zuko stayed silent, eyes fixed on the folder in front of him.
“Hey Z! How’s it going?” Sokka’s pout switched to a soft genuine smile. “Can I call you that? Or should I just call you Zuko?”
Zuko snapped his head up. “It’s fine.” He spoke flatly.
“Z it is!” Sokka cheered, he turned to Suki who sat in the seat next to Sokka. He began to whisper his complaints about how the teacher didn’t let him take off his backpack and had him handing out all the notes for being 3 minutes late.
Zuko sighed while he fixed his gaze to slideshow and take notes on everything the teacher had said once he began his lesson.
Near the end of the presentation, the teacher had assigned them some practice questions to complete based on the information he had explained.
“Can I borrow your eraser?”
Zuko raised his head to see Sokka’s blue eyes piercing at him, which happened more times than he would like to admit. Zuko didn’t say a word back, his eyes travelled from Sokka to Suki.
Following Zuko’s gaze, Sokka looked at Suki, who smirked back at him. “Um… she also doesn't have an eraser.”
Zuko sighed and handed the eraser over, careful to not touch him. “You never have an eraser.”
Sokka’s fingers accidentally brushed against him and Zuko’s eyes twitched. Immediately, Sokka turned around and frantically erased the question he was working on.
His touch made Zuko feel… sick. He noticed the room around him get smaller. He exhaled shakily, barely able to focus on anything else in class, just the subtle brush of warmth against his cold hands.
A wave of nausea flowed through his body as his mind wandered elsewhere, subconsciously. His vision blurred as his eyes unfocused, he began to dissociate badly.
He needed to wash this feeling off.
“Zuko?” Sokka snapped him out of his thoughts, only for a mere second. “Are you okay?” He returned the eraser to Zuko’s desk.
Zuko didn’t realize how long he had been staring at Sokka. He swallowed thickly, trying to push down the anxiety rising in his throat. He nodded towards Sokka and shoved his hands into his pockets, eyes flickered down to his notes. He could barely remember his train of thought.
He could feel eyes on him, he didn’t dare to look up.
Luckily, a girl’s voice rang through to talk to Sokka. Zuko took that as an opportunity to pull out his headphones from his bag and place them over his head. Anything to get rid of the feeling.
He thought back to the coping strategies his therapist taught him. Have some sort of distraction to separate himself from his thoughts but his thoughts were too loud.
He scrolled through his phone to play ‘calming music’ however it wasn’t calming him. His brain kept going back, a shiver travelled up his spine. He stood up, fast, and made his way to the class sink. He needed to wash his hands. To wash this uncomfortable feeling off.
He hated how something so small triggers him. He bit his lip to stop them from quivering.
It wasn’t even because of Sokka, there is nothing particularly wrong with his hands. He just hated the touch in general.
All because of his—
He cursed under his breath as he aggressively rubbed at his hands.
He stood there for a while. He didn’t realize how much time had passed.
Once Zuko got back to his seat, he pulled out his sketchbook. By talking to his therapist, he learned that art was a way to calm him from his horrible thoughts. It did help, Zuko began to calm down for a moment, but was still feeling on edge.
Carefully dragging his pencil against his page. With every line, he felt himself in more control, more stable in his body.
But it didn’t look right, something was off. It looked at the reference, which was taped right next to his drawing. He grabbed the eraser to rub the line he made, which remained on the page faintly.
There was a sticky note that fell on his sketchbook. He noticed it was folded into a little boat. There was movement in front of him, Sokka quickly turned himself forward. Suki was no longer seated next to him. He opened the note and looked at what was written.
Your sketch
looks so AMAZING !! ^^
Zuko stared at Sokka’s handwriting, barely legible. He pressed his lips together before looking at his stretch. He kept noticing all the differences between the photo and his sketch. His eyes snap away from his stretch, pondering on how to respond back.
thanks.
He paused, staring at his response before folding the paper back. He tossed it over Sokka and bounced onto the other’s table. Zuko dropped his head in humiliation, focusing on his art instead of Sokka’s eyes on him.
A few minutes go by and the same sticky-note was dropped on his sketchbook, this time it was folded into a little crane and placed in front of Zuko. Zuko’s expression faltered, almost in awe of the little crane. A part of him didn’t want to open it. He paused before opening it up.
you are welcome :D
who are you planning to draw next?
Zuko began to ponder, he usually didn’t think about what he was planning to draw next. He often didn’t think about who he was drawing next, he needed to finish the first before planning the next. He didn't want to give himself that luxury.
idk.
He wrote before folding the paper neatly. He tossed it and chucked it with too much power over Sokka’s head, landing on the floor instead. Embarrassed, Zuko’s face scrunched up as his eyes faltered to his sketchbook. From his peripheral vision, he watched as Sokka dropped his head and shoulders bouncing up and down. A small chuckle left his mouth.
Zuko pressed his lips together, fighting the urge to look up.
A minute ago, his thoughts had been too loud, picking apart every mistake from his unfinished sketch, thinking about thoughts that almost made him spiral.
Now all he could focus on was the quiet sound of ambient noise from his headphones and Sokka laughing. Instead of those thoughts invading his brain, he was waiting for the sticky note to drop on his sketchbook. He wasn't even paying attention to his drawing.
The small gesture did help take his mind away, even if it was temporary.
xx
Zuko found him spending his lunch period in the art room. The cafeteria was definitely overwhelming for him, he lasted for a few weeks before searching for a new lunch spot.
There were a few students who did the same, often seated with their friends while asking the art teacher some questions. Sometimes the other students would hang out there, sit at the table while doodling and eating their lunch. The art teacher provided that space for her students.
When she noticed Zuko wandering around the hallways, she invited him to come in and take a seat for lunch. He sat by himself at his desk. Sometimes he would work on his sketches, sit with his headphones in listening to a podcast while eating lunch.
But today, he stared at the new unopened eraser in front of him.
Mentally, he was preparing himself to give the eraser to Sokka. He had a chat with his uncle and his therapist about how every interaction felt daunting to him. His therapist fixed his mindset of viewing conversation starters and trying to find a common denominator between the two of them.
The eraser was all he could think of, outside of making origami cranes which Zuko was incapable of.
He cleared his throat, thinking about his responses. He tapped at his sketchbook beneath him while music softly played through his headphones.
Here, I got you an eraser, you look like you need one.
Zuko shook his head. That seemed backhanded.
Take this, since you always want to steal mine.
Zuko pressed his lips into a thin line.
Here, for you. Since you are always losing your eraser.
Zuko cringed, rubbing his hand over his face. He slammed his fist on the table, he didn’t realize how many students were in the art room now and how they all turned to look at him. He pressed his head on the cool surface on the desk, ears burning up.
Why was he so bad at being good?
He slowly took his headphones off and heard a familiar chuckle from across the room. He had just got to class, a few minutes late. Zuko lifted his head to glare at him.
Zuko snatched the eraser off his desk before thinking about what to say, pointing his hand towards the boy who made his way over to Zuko. But apparently, he had no control over his body or the grip of the eraser.
Because the eraser flung from his hand and smacked him right middle of his forehead.
Sokka blinked, stopped in his tracks as he looked down at the eraser that bounced away from him. His gaze followed the eraser until it stopped in its tracks before turning to Zuko, his grin creeping back on his face. “Did you just throw an eraser at me?”
Zuko’s face turned red. “Well… you kept taking mine.”
No… that’s not how it was supposed to go.
“I only borrowed it for a bit.” He crouched down to pick up the eraser, making his way to his seat. He stared at the eraser, which was still in its packaging.
Thankfully it was a work period for the first 15 minutes and the teacher let the students work amongst each other. Zuko looked away, his eyes fixed on his sketchbook.
“You could’ve just handed it to me Z.” Sokka spoke softly, pulling out his own sketchbook.
Zuko pressed his lips into a thin line. “Whatever, now you have your own.” His hand came up to tug his baseball cap lower, to cover his eyes. “Now you can leave me alone.”
“If that’s what you want.” There was a pause, as he rubbed at the place of impact. “You gotta repay me somehow, you just attacked me, Spirits.” Sokka spoke softly, slowly opening the packaging of the eraser.
Zuko clicked his tongue, annoyed but still feeling apologetic. “What do you want?” His eyes glance over to the other boy, who pouted back at him.
“Well firstly, we have matching erasers.” He held up the eraser, like it was his prized possession. “You can repay me by being my friend now.” A smile plastered on his face.
Zuko blinked at him before he sighed. “Whatever floats your boat.”
Sokka chucked out. “Good thing my boat is already afloat, new friend.”
The art teacher caught their attention to the front, to give them an brief introduction. A short announcement about their next project, their hyper realism painting project with a twist, while also taking attendance.
Zuko’s eyes focused on the teacher but did notice a little sticky note from Sokka. This time it was folded into a crane once again. Then came another seconds later. Zuko took the first origami crane and unwrapped it, reading the message inside.
Do you often eat lunch
In the art room?
Zuko slowly pulled out a pen before replying back.
Sometimes…
the cafeteria is too much
He folded back the sticky note and slid it over to Sokka. As he went over to open the second crane, Sokka raised a hand towards him and shook his finger. “That’s for you.”
Zuko pressed his lips together, an unfamiliar feeling began to brew in his gut.
He left the paper crane on the table.
Sokka slide back the previous sticky note.
You should sit with me next time
Zuko’s eyes twitched.
Are you patronizing me?
Sokka gasped softly while he opened the note. Zuko’s eyes were fixed on the whiteboard, acting as if he wasn't waiting for a response.
No no never. I just think you
Would get along with them
Really well…
Also your handwriting is really nice.
Zuko rolled his eyes, watching as Sokka chuckled to himself. “I feel like you might really get along with everyone else.”
The teacher finished her spiel and made her way to her desk. “Whatever you say.” Zuko mumbled out, as he flipped a page of his sketchbook.
Zuko took the sticky note and folded it neatly next to the crane. He watched as Sokka took out another sticky note, writing down another question. Zuko put his headphones in, trying to drown out the ambient noises around him but attentive on Sokka’s notes.
xx
It became habitual.
They conversed through little notes during the day. Especially during Science and Art.
Usually Zuko is in the groove and just listening to music while he was drawing but still made sure to reply to the origami notes Sokka made for him.
It became creative too, Sokka bought origami paper to make different crafts. It started off with one crane to now five cranes, seven boats and a ton of tiny stars. Zuko kept them all in origami things that had no notes in them in his art bag.
They began to learn more about each other, how they both have a younger sister, lost their mother at a relatively young age and are the oldest brother. Zuko had confided in Sokka in telling him that he lives with his uncle now, but didn’t elaborate why.
Zuko didn’t speak about his father or if it was brought up, he would open the note, read it but would not reply to it at all. Zuko noticed how Sokka never took that personally, when he would take out another origami paper and ask another question.
One day, the art teacher was absent. There was a sub that gave out simple instructions from the primary art teacher and then he began to wander about, taking attendance and seeing everyone’s progress with their art. It had been about 2 months of the boys getting more acquainted with each other. They had been working on a big canvas painting that was worth a huge chunk of their grade.
The concept of the project is a hyper realism with a twist, hyper realistic painting similar to a photograph but random elements that wouldn’t make it realistic. Zuko’s artwork was focused on the hyper realism of a field of flowers with a UFO landing in the middle (which was Sokka’s idea).
Sokka’s painting was about a living room where humans and animals with human bodies were seated together and watching TV.
They had both sketched out their painting and have started with paints. They had both been using acrylic paint, so they were extra careful. Zuko had been extremely careful to pay attention to detail. They continued to pass notes to each other, their own form of communication but it was slower this time.
The sub teacher reached to the back row where both Zuko and Sokka were. Zuko replied to the origami note while Sokka was scrolling through his phone, choosing a new song to play. They both weren’t aware of the sub teacher standing behind them, they had music playing through their headphones.
Zuko barely heard the teacher behind him, his eyes widened to the hand that was placed on his back. His breath hitched as he stopped writing the note. He was frozen in fear as he slowly turned his head towards the sub. Sokka noticed Zuko’s eyes widened and mouth agape, the shift in Zuko’s expression as the sub stood right behind him. Sokka pulled out his Air Pod as he turned towards the sub teacher.
His brain felt fuzzy. He barely paid attention to the conversation, remembering the touch that lingered on his back. Chills ran through his body, he felt the prickling sensation against his skin as a way to mock him. A wave of nausea flew through him, stronger than before. He didn’t carry any anti nausea medication. He cursed under his breath as his tears brimmed in his eyes.
Once Sokka had finished talking to sub to confirm their attendance, he turned his attention to Zuko, who looked like a deer staring at headlights. His skin had turned pale, all the colour was drained off of his face.
Zuko felt his throat begin to close up, unable to breathe properly. All the sounds felt so distant from him, he could see Sokka’s lips moving but he couldn’t comprehend anything. Zuko covered his mouth as he ran to the washroom.
He didn’t even ask the teacher, he just needed to get out of there.
He vomited his entire lunch into the toilet, unable to stomach anything anymore. He was in a hurry, he didn’t have a chance to close the stall behind him. From his countless therapy sessions, it couldn’t help him get over it, he was growing frustrated with himself. He couldn’t stop the tears that fell from his eyes. He began to aggressively wipe away the tears that stained his face, leaving his scar irritated and puffy.
His mind wandered, drifted farther away to here to a place he could never name, a person he didn’t want to see. His vision almost went in and out, from the school bathroom back to the backyard at that house.
His own clothes itched at his skin, like a needle pricking at his skin. He needed to get his clothes off. He scratched himself through his clothes, to relieve the itchiness but it only made him more itchy, more irritated. Zuko wished he could get rid of the sensation all together. He hated the fact he was like this, he just wanted to get out of his own body.
“Z?” Zuko heard a voice behind him, echoing through his head. He didn’t have the energy to turn around yet he knew who that voice belonged to. The familiar candle fragrance bringing him back from that place, grounding him back to the school washrooms. He hurled himself over the toilet to vomit, yet nothing came out of him.
Zuko wiped the sides of his mouth with the cuff of his button up. Once he finished emptying out his entire stomach, he sat himself on the floor, leaning against the bathroom wall.
“Spirits Z,” Sokka ran to the paper towel dispenser to grab him a couple of paper towels. He handed them to Zuko. “Try to breathe, Zuko.”
He wanted to cuss at him, tell the other boy to leave, not to come any closer but his words were trapped. No words came out of Zuko’s throat. He wouldn’t even look at Sokka. Zuko didn’t even realize he was hyperventilating, he attempted to breath as he scratched at his chest.
“Hey it’s okay. You are okay.” Sokka attempted to reassure him vocally. He was careful, he kept his hands to his side as he crouched next to Zuko.
Zuko's breath hitched. He felt so embarrassed, tears began to form in his eyes again. He felt his body temperature increasing with all the small hives appearing on his body. He fisted his clothes, attempting to catch his breath while pulling his clothes away from him.
It felt as if Sokka’s gaze was piercing through him, staring down at him. He felt his breath quickening. All he could think about was the hand on his back, pushing him down, forcing him to obey, forcing him to do something he didn’t want to.
“Z, are you here? Hey, it’s okay.” Zuko looked up to Sokka, who smiled softly at him. Almost in a way grounding him back to reality, away from the bad thoughts.
His gaze wasn’t filled with anger nor irritation, but it was gentle like the cool breeze on a peaceful night. Tears covered Zuko’s face as he grasped at his chest.
“I—“ Zuko attempted to speak up but a sob built up in his throat.
“I’m not leaving you Z.” Sokka took a seat on the bathroom floor next to Zuko, leaving a gap of space between them. “You are okay, I got you. Just follow my breathing.” Sokka took an exaggerated deep breath, inhaling and exhaling slowly.
Zuko inhaled shakily, his hands trembling next to him, attempting to follow Sokka’s breath.
“There we go. Good job Z.” Sokka smiled as he continued, eyes fixed on Zuko. “Inhale…” He took a slow breath in through his nose, which Zuko followed. “And exhale…” Sokka took a deep breath out. Zuko’s eyes travelled everywhere from the bathroom stall to Sokka, his sea blue eyes, his golden brown hair, his wrinkled shirt beneath his sweater.
Sokka continued slowly until Zuko had finally caught his breath.
Zuko opened his mouth to speak but Sokka beat him to it. “Don’t apologize. Are you okay?”
Zuko hummed. Sokka’s arms twitched towards Zuko as he slowly pulled himself up, using the toilet seat as support. Sokka just kept his hands by his side. The AC in the washroom filled the room around them, other boys came into the washroom but kept their distance between them.
Zuko walked over to the sink, he began to aggressively wash his hands. Sokka followed, washing his own hands on the sink next to them. The tanned boy kept his eyes on Zuko, watching him.
The sound of the tap filled the silence between them. Zuko muttered curses under his breath as he aggressively scrubbed his hands with soap.
“I told the sub that you were not feeling well.” Sokka whispered out, breaking the silence as he wiped his hands with a paper towel. He threw the used paper towel into the trash. “Would your uncle pick you up?”
Zuko kept quiet for a while. “I’m fine.” He sniffed, his voice was quite raspy as he continued to wash his hands. Zuko scrubbed his hands with more soap and rinsed it with water, continuously.
“You always say that.” Sokka stood back, leaning on the counter.
“I am. You don’t have to pity me, okay?” Zuko’s voice was sharp, harsher than he meant. He aggressively scrubbed his hands under the cold water, he just wanted to get this feeling off of him.
“I’m not pitying you.” Sokka pressed his lips into a thin line. “I’ll stay here until you are ready to go.” He crossed his arms and leaned his body against the sink.
“Do whatever you want.” He walked over to the paper towel dispenser to grab a few to dry off his hands and the beads of sweat that travelled down his face. He threw the used paper towel out and stood back at the sink to repeat the process of washing his hands again.
He kept his gaze away from Sokka. He was still angry but somewhere under it, he was a tad bit grateful Sokka stayed. He would never vocalize it.