"You're not mad at me, are you?"
The question caught Aang completely off-guard. He turned around to see a still deflated-looking Zuko standing behind him.
"What? Why would I be mad at you?"
"Well, during that scene where the actors playing Katara and I got all romantic, you kind of stormed off," Zuko said. "You know I-"
"That you don't have feelings for Katara and never did," Aang finished. "Yeah, I know that. It wasn't you I was upset about, Zuko, I...it's me, it's her, and it's istupid/i when we've got bigger things to worry about."
Zuko sat down and wrapped an arm around Aang's shoulders.
"You love her, it's not stupid. It shouldn't be your top priority right now, but it's not stupid," he said. "If I knew it was gonna upset you that much, though, I would've let you sit next to her in the first place."
"No, it's all right. The play was awful and I just couldn't wait to get out of there," Aang said.
"Tell me about it. Watching the guy playing me tell the guy playing my uncle I hate you for all time was like being punched in the gut with everything I ever did wrong..."
Aang felt his friend tremble a little and pulled closer; Zuko smiled a little, grateful for the warmth.
"Let's face it, the whole thing was written to make us look bad and the enemy look good," Aang sighed.
"Yeah."
They sat in silence for the rest of the night, trying to squash the underlying fear that the play's rendition of the upcoming fight would be the truth.