A red pen made an uneven line across a small white box. There was a small number seven located in the top left corner. Iroh closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the calendar that hung on the wall. He tried to catch his wavering breath that threatened to betray the emotions he felt. Counting to five, he took a deep breath. Inhale, exhale. He counted to five again before taking another deep breath. Inhale, exhale. Iroh did this until he was breathing evenly.
When Iroh opened his eyes again, he tried not to look at the seven sitting in the left corner. There was no hiding from the date, though. The seventh of March resonated in every part of Iroh's body, from his internal clock to his aching heart. Even if Iroh did not keep a calendar next to his bed to look at every morning, he would still know today was the seventh.
Iroh began to get ready for the dreadful day. He passed a picture hanging on the wall in the hallway between the bathroom and bedroom. There were two young men standing with their arms wrapped around each other's wastes, large smiles on their faces. Iroh raised his fingertips to his lips and then touched the face of the shorter of the two men. Iroh was a man of habit, and this was part of his daily ritual.
When Iroh looked in the mirror in the bathroom, the differences between the man he was now and the man he was in the picture were prominent. Iroh had grown a beard since the picture was taken, and it had long since grayed. He still held himself the same way, shoulders back and with a leadership stance. The only difference was that his head was lower and he did not look as proud as he did standing next to the love of his life.
The other man in the picture, though, hadn't changed a bit.
Iroh rushed through the shower, doing everything on this day in fast forward. Some part of him was hoping that if he rushed through everything, the day would be over and he could move on to March 8. Iroh was tired of living through March 7. For twenty-five years, he had to suffer through the worst day of his life. He wanted today to never come again.
It was pouring outside, the perfect fit for Iroh's mood. He walked through the rain to the Jasmine Dragon teashop. Every morning he had a cup of jasmine tea at the Jasmine Dragon, and a little bit of rain was not going to stop him from going there this morning, especially on the anniversary of the most important day of his life.
Jin Lou, his best friend, was there to greet him at his usual table. She did not smile, she too felt his sadness.
"Hello, Jin Lou. No Anya today?" asked Iroh, the first words he had spoken all morning.
"She's a hard working girl, she deserved a day off." Both Jin Lou and Iroh knew that was not why she let her granddaughter off her usual serving duty. Jin Lou knew how hard today would be for her best friend, and she wanted a friendly face to be there to greet him in the morning.
"Two cups of jasmine tea, please. One steaming hot, the other luke-warm."
"Iroh, it's been twenty five years. Ordering Bolin a cup of tea on the day he died will not bring him back." Jin Lou's voice was full of concern. Iroh could not look in her eyes. He was used to the pity from everyone else; he could not take it from her too.
"I know. I just have to let him know that I have not forgotten him. I still love him."
"Bolin is watching you every day. I know there can be no doubt in his mind that you still love him. It shows in all of your actions."
"Just get the tea," said Iroh, the stress making him shorter with his long time friend than he intended.
Iroh drank the steaming cup of jasmine tea quickly before heading back outside into the rain. He left the luke-warm cup sitting next to him, right where Bolin used to sit every morning since the day their relationship began.
The cemetery was on the outskirts of the city. It was a large cemetery to accommodate the large population of Republic City. Bolin's grave was in a remote corner of the cemetery. His tombstone read: "Here lies Bolin, one of the most influential earth benders of all times. However, his heart overshadows his talent. He had a heart with room for everyone he met." Iroh knew those words by heart. He would say them in his sleep, waking up just as he whispered the last few words.
Iroh spent the entire day sitting in front of Bolin's grave. He loyally stuck it out through the rain, ignoring his soaked clothes and the bitter cold. Iroh told Bolin about his year. He talked so fast, trying to get everything in, that he stumbled over his words. Often Iroh broke down in tears, losing train of thought, and he would have to start all over again.
People came and left. Some came to visit Bolin's grave, others came to visit people Iroh did not know. It did not matter who came, though, because Iroh did not stop talking.
One thing was clear to everyone who saw Iroh that day: he was still completely and hopelessly devoted to his lover that died at the young age of twenty-two.