A/N: This started out as a spontaneous idea for a drabble while on the bus back from university, and then suddenly got bigger – I've even written an analysis for the song. I guess all these years of analysing poems and texts did pay off... somehow. But not all parts fitted and in the end I ended up with something different then what I planned at first... Hope you enjoy it anyway!
When I open the door to the coffee shop, the familiar smells and noise well up toward me. I make my way through to the queue to order some tea. Uncle surely would give its flavour some unfriendly name (which certainly wouldn't be 'Jasmine').
To meet with Katara I have chosen this shop because it is, compared to Uncle's tea shop, neutral ground.
She and Aang had been dating for almost three years before suddenly, one day, he decided to leave his position in the local hospital to... go save the world, or whatever it is that he does now. Being a member of Doctors without Borders doesn't exactly include regularly meeting a girlfriend at home in your time-table.
They tried to keep their relationship up, but in the end it proved to much.
Katara had been heart-broken. She still is. Maybe she will stay that way forever, constantly worrying about him, waiting for him to come back, while she's trying to pick up the pieces.
She isn't talking that much about him any more, but whenever his name does come up, her eyes get that special, Aang-related expression which tells me that, if he ever does come back, and stands at her door, she will most definitely let him in and give him another (undeserved!) chance.
I settle down in a corner, face to the door, and take a careful sip of the hot tea. Yes, this is definitely an... interesting blend.
The bell at the door rings, and I think I hear Katara's voice, but upon looking up, I see it is some other girl, blonde, petite, not in the least resembling Katara. Her boyfriend is accompanying her. She laughs about something he said, and he grins down at her with his eyes shining and this special posture that tells every other, possibly interested male within sight: Stay away. She belongs to me.
I take another sip and check my watch for the time, not because I worry Katara might be too late (if there was a problem with the time, she'd texted me hours in advance, and if something immediate had come up, she would've called), but to tear my eyes away from the couple.
Couples irritate me. They remember me of what I can't have.
Another sip of tea. Next time I'll try mocha – can't be much worse.
"Hi, Zuko", a quiet voice greets me and Katara slips into the seat opposite of me. She hasn't ordered anything. Her face is pale and she looks like she hasn't been sleeping. Again. I feel anger bubbling up in me but try to appear calm on the outside. This is actually something I know I'm good at.
I really wish I could get a grip on Aang and hit him in his stupid, smiling face for making her this miserable.
Giving her a wide smile I hope doesn't look forced, I ask about her day. Her face lights up a bit when she starts talking about the children in her class and how one of them tried to make her believe Ba Sing Se is a real place, up in the north.
While she talks, I can't help but notice how different she's looking. Her vibrant, confident self is only barely visible underneath her sadness, and even while she talks about how decided the boy was that he was right and his teacher had no idea about this sort of things, her smiles never really reach her eyes.
We continue to talk about nothing of importance, carefully tiptoeing around the whole Aang-business, until her phone rings about half an hour later.
"Sorry, I have to get this."
She raises and quickly makes her way out of the shop to escape the noise.
My tea has gone cold and tastes even worse than before, but I paid for it, so I drink up anyway before looking up again. I can see Katara standing outside the shop. Her shoulders are tense, and she's gesturing with her left, mobile-free hand, like she's really angry at someone or something.
Maybe it's her work, demanding yet another extra-hour of her time.
I know I'm staring, but I can't help it. Looking at her like this, when she can't see it, has become a regular habit. Just like meeting her every Tuesday evening, calling every Saturday morning to make sure she's okay for the weekend, and answering her texts in the middle of the night. Whenever she feels the need to talk (about anything), I'm there for her.
I'm trying to help her get over Aang. Whenever I take a last look at myself in the mirror before going to meet her, I try to convince myself of that. I'm only there to help her. Just as any friend would do.
Only I don't really want to be 'just friends'. I have been aware of that feeling for quite some time now, but still not have gotten used to it. After breaking up with Mai last year, I was sure I would never trouble myself with the drama of relationships ever again. But now I'm right in the middle once more, without seeing a way to tell Katara what I feel.
I guess there could've been a moment to confess to her in these last three months – but I must have missed it. And she isn't ready to move on yet.
But maybe, I sigh and empty the cup, maybe one day she'll notice me in another way and then I'll be ready.
Katara ends the call, pockets the phone and then she just stands outside the shop for another few moments before coming back in. There are new tears on her face, and she moves slowly. She sits down and takes a shaky breath, while I wait impatiently. Something important has happened.
When she looks up, she's beaming, finally looking like herself again, making my heart skip a beat because she's so beautiful.
"He's coming back!", she exclaims. While I stare at her in disbelief, feeling like my whole world is crashing down, Katara takes my numb hand and squeezes it over the table, excitedly laughing: "Aang's coming back!"
Surrender – every word, every thought every sound.
Surrender – every touch, every smile, every frown.
Surrender – all the pain we've endured until now.
Surrender – all the hope that I lost you have found.
Surrender - I never had the nerve to ask,
Surrender - Has my moment come and passed?
Surrender – I never had the nerve to ask.
