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Sokka can't sleep.
He doesn't know how late it is, but he's been tossing and turning for what feels like hours. The entire village is quiet, but his thoughts are as loud as ever.
That's sort of how it's been ever since he came back home to the South Pole. It's hard to settle back into his life here, because nothing is like it used to be.
Everything feels suffocating. The walls, the people, the mind-numbing routine. He loves his tribe, of course he does, but it doesn't quite feel like home like it used to. Sokka's not sure where he would rather be instead, but he has a burning desire to just get out of here.
He never thought he would miss the time before the comet, but he had grown quite fond of traveling and hanging out with his friends and meeting new people. If you ignore the fact that more often than not someone was trying to kill them, it was actually quite fun. A different kind of home.
Now all of his friends are out there changing the world, and he's just stuck here. At home. Doing chores with Gran Gran. Like nothing ever happened. Like they didn't just end the war and save the world.
It feels like everyone and everything moved on without him, and he's still just the same he was at the age of fifteen, before they left home to help Aang. It hurts to think about. He was almost something great.
Aang and Katara are out there building a whole new city. Toph is doing who knows what. The last Sokka heard of her, she was thinking of starting a school for metalbending. Suki is splitting her time between Kyoshi Island and the Fire Nation. And Zuko… well, Sokka tries not to think about him too much.
The problem is, Sokka seems to be thinking about him all the time.
Every time he sees two people on the street kissing or holding hands, every time someone laughs at his stupid jokes, every time someone checks up on him regarding his knee. Zuko is everywhere, except physically next to him.
His treacherous mind plays back his time in the Fire Nation like a tragic play. A play specifically made to make him suffer.
Sokka had stayed in the Fire Nation for a couple months after the war, just to see how things developed. Their other friends stayed for a while too, but Sokka stayed the longest. Him and Zuko gradually became closer, as the others left to do their own things one by one.
There are two nights that plague him. The first night, they had been laying in Zuko's bed. Well, Zuko had been laying in his bed on his back, and Sokka had been laying on top of his chest. Surely they had talked about something, but he can't even remember what at this point.
He remembers Zuko's eyes, each little fleck of gold in the brown staring back at him. His own eyes darting between Zuko's eyes and lips, afraid to make a move. Afraid to break the unspoken closeness that had been brewing between them for months. Looking away right before the desire to lean in and kiss him took over completely.
So they never did. And then Sokka had to leave, because Zuko had to wake up early for some diplomatic trip the next morning. He had kissed Zuko on the cheek as a temporary goodbye, and he remembers the way Zuko had smiled at him after. It had felt like a promise for after the trip.
The second night was the day Zuko came back. They had met up at the gardens like they often did, and sat on a bench in front of a small pond. Not the one with the turtleducks, but a smaller one filled with colorful fish that kept jumping out of the water.
Zuko had once told him that they almost suffocate with each jump, diving back in just before they run out of air. Sokka had never understood why they would ever leave the comfort of the water.
In front of that pond, Zuko had also told him it was never going to work out. He had to find someone to produce an heir with, specifically from the Fire Nation. The way he had emphasized the last part had left no arguments. It was never going to be him.
Sokka, who prides himself in always having a witty response, had been speechless for once. And holding back the tears burning behind his eyes.
He had left a couple days later, in the middle of the night. Mostly so that Zuko could avoid the burden of goodbyes, and Sokka could preserve the last of his ego, in case Zuko didn't show up at all. At least this way they could both pretend he was sleeping.
If only that could've been it. Sure it would've sucked, but it's as if the universe keeps finding new ways to twist a knife in the wound.
Sokka is obviously the one in charge of taking care of Zuko whenever he has business in the Southern water tribe. They did sort of save the world together after all. The visits have only happened twice, but still.
It's all so weird. They aren't that awkward with each other, but Sokka can't help the deep longing that settles into his chest whenever Zuko is in the room. The kind of ache that makes you feel like you're about to throw up at any moment.
And they're still close. They hug when they see each other, sit with their knees touching, lean their heads together when talking quietly. Too close, yet still not close enough.
There are also the letters. The fucking letters Sokka can't wrap his mind around. He honestly thinks he would've made peace with all of this if it weren't for the letters.
Zuko keeps telling him about all of the daughters of diplomats he's been going on dates with, (there have been three girls so far, not that Sokka is keeping count) yet he keeps writing things that imply he's still into Sokka.
At least that's what Suki had said, when she came to visit Sokka, who had pulled out every single one of Zuko's letters for them to analyze together. Maybe it hadn't been the best idea to have her validate his delusions, but hearing someone else say that had made him feel slightly less insane.
Zuko literally called him hot in one letter. He pays attention to even the smallest of details in Sokka's letters, bringing up stuff from multiple letters ago Sokka had completely forgotten about. He praises Sokka in ways "no one that awkward does platonically." (Suki's words, not his.) It seems pretty clear.
Unfortunately, it's anything but clear. Zuko has made it known that he's not interested. But still, every time Sokka starts to accept things are never going back to the way they were before, there's a new letter titled "Dear Sokka" to keep his hopes up. There's a specific kind of thrill to it, one that other things barely bring him anymore.
He thinks he's starting to understand the fish in Zuko's pond now.
His mind keeps wandering back to almost kissing Zuko. What would have happened if he had actually done it? Would it have changed things? There's a voice in the back of his head that keeps telling him everything would be fixed if he had. Maybe they could have lived happily ever after if Sokka hadn't been such a coward.
And now it's too late, and Zuko has moved on with his life, and Sokka is left here wondering about the 'what if's and 'maybe's.
It's unfair.
The logical part of his brain keeps telling him how stupid it all is. To be this hung up on a boy who he's known for only two years. They didn't even kiss for fuck's sake. But still, something about Zuko just felt real.
If only he had someone to distract him here. Even just a friend. There's really no one his age, and he mostly hangs out with his dad or Gran Gran. It's just not the same. He did flirt with one of the youngest guys from his dad's fleet at a gathering a while back, before the guy revealed he was engaged. Salt in the wound.
Sokka desperately needs a task. A quest. Hell, he'd take up babysitting if someone offered. Just something with any purpose at all. It's not like he doesn't have options.
There was talk of him training to become the next chief. Or becoming their tribe's ambassador to the Fire Nation. That one is the lowest on his list right now for Zuko-related reasons. He could also move to Ba Sing Se and go to university. Or he could write to the Mechanist and ask if he could become his apprentice.
He just can't find it in himself to do any of that. Not that he doesn't care, he thinks about it almost constantly. It's just almost impossible to do anything. Aang says Sokka's depressed, Dad says he's just seventeen and it'll pass.
The thing is, he's not sure if he wants it to pass. There's a sort of sick comfort in the melancholy. Comfort in knowing that when he's still in bed by dinnertime and hasn't washed himself in nearly a week, he's at rock bottom. And you can't sink any lower than that.
Well, he could always stay here. Never leave, and never do anything worthwhile. Wouldn't that be something? A man who peaked at fifteen. That would be the actual rock bottom.
A part of him just wants to leave. Find the furthest point on a map and just go. Make a new life for himself in some little town where nobody knows him, and he knows nobody. It would be nice to be the one leaving people behind for once.
A wolf howls somewhere in the distance. Sokka looks out the window to see the sun rising over the horizon. It sucks, because the sun has started reminding him of Zuko too. The fucking sun. There really is no escape.
The prophecy by that crazy fortuneteller woman keeps haunting him. It's gotten to the point that he has almost started believing in it. Misery does sound like a pretty accurate description of his life right now. One could even call it self-inflicted with the way his mind keeps gnawing on the same thoughts over and over again.
In the darkest moments, he has even considered going back to her, and asking for another prediction about his future. Surely he can't feel like this forever. He also has another question for her. About his love life.
That's a thought he would've never had a year ago. Not even six month ago. And it's never leaving the confines of his mind if he has anything to say about it. The others would probably think he has finally lost his mind. Or maybe he already has, and that would just be the final straw.
It's clear he's not getting any sleep tonight. Wouldn't be the first time. He's lost count on how many times Dad or Gran Gran have found him sitting in the kitchen in the morning, staring out of the window without having gotten a wink of sleep. Sokka stumbles out of bed.
He can't breathe. It feels like walls are closing in. He needs to get out. Now.
He falls to his knees just outside the door, right as the first rays of the sun hit his face, almost mocking him with their presence. He scoops up snow with his bare hands and presses it against his face. It burns in that hellish way only snow can, but the sting of it quiets his mind almost immediately.
Sokka leans his back against the freezing wall of the house. He didn't take his parka, and it's been colder than it usually is around this time of year, but that's all secondary.
He inhales deeply, and holds the air in his lungs as long as possible before exhaling again. He can finally breathe. Even if it's just for a moment.