I love the "Avatar: The Last Airbender" story. And I hope I can do it justice. Just as a heads up, the slight mixing up of tenses was done on purpose, a sort of stylistic representation of Zuko's inner state of mind lol. As for the romance, I guess it's more friendship with undertones of romance or promises of romance but those are just technicalities aren't they? hahaha
"This. I could heal this."
She touches his face. On the edge of his scar. The touch is gentle despite all of their encounters before.
Before this.
Maybe it's because they are trapped here together. He isn't sure. But he is sure that his time will be measured by this moment. What occurred before. What will happen later. After. This is one of those defining moments.
This is one of those things that Uncle goes on forever about. He thinks he might understand that now. At least a little.
The background fades away. Well, it doesn't fade exactly, he just doesn't pay anymore attention to it. Not to the crystals glowing faintly among the crags in the rock. Not the tunnel that he, and she as well, had been dumped unceremoniously into. He doesn't see the minerals shimmering in the wall from the green glow of the crystals. These things just don't matter right now.
What he sees is the blue in her eyes. He can see his face in them.
He isn't sure he likes it.
After all this time, why is this happening? Why is this happening now? He's angry, he's confused. He doesn't think this is supposed to happen this way. He isn't sure if he deserves even this small comfort or whether he deserves everything. Of her. He isn't sure at all.
And she's touching his scar. The mark of his shame, fear, courage, anger. All these things that he can't quite sort out. Why is she touching that? What gives her the right? What does she think she's doing anyway?
He's so confused.
What is he to her? What is she to him?
He touches her fingers. And he finds that they're soft. They haven't felt hardship like his has. They haven't been burned by hate or suffering. They haven't been banished by their own father.
His hands are coarse.
He draws them away. Ashamed.
And his anger flares once more. Why should he have to be the one ashamed? And ashamed of what anyway? She's the one touching him after all!
But she takes those hands, he watches as though they are not his own, she takes them and puts them on her throat. He doesn't know why that one gesture means so much, or what exactly it's supposed to mean in the first place. Is this submission? Why would she do that for him?
Because he isn't Firelord? Because his honor and his home and his family had all been taken away from him? Does she pity him?
He halfheartedly considers just killing her now. Wasn't that part of his plan anyway? Catch the Avatar? Permanently remove him and his misfit team as threats to the Fire Nation?
He can feel her pulse, hot, beneath his fingertips. He can feel the cool smoothness of the stone in her necklace as it brushes against his knuckles. He can feel all these things, yet they seem distant.
They had both lost their mothers to this war. She had told him that, something like that... to an almost-stranger. That was something they had in common. He had seen something flicker in her eyes when he told her. He felt bad about her mother, and yet some part of him was also glad. That she was in pain like that. Like he was. Did that make him the monster she called him?
Even now?
Had he really changed? Did he know what he really wanted?
He didn't know.
He didn't know and that scared him.
It seemed like all he had was anger.
He was disgusted with himself. But he was angrier at everyone for making him feel that way. He was angry with himself.
He just didn't understand it.
She ran her cool hand higher up his cheek till her fingertips rested right beneath his eye. Her thumb ran slow circles around the edge of his scar, back to his ear. It was strangely comforting, even though that was where she was touching. He leaned into her hand slightly. She let it drop to his shoulder.
She was calm, steady. And she was watching him.
"I could heal this."
He turns his face away.
She is his opposite in every way. Not merely fire and water. She heals and he destroys. She is optimistic and caring and full of life. It seems that all he can see is anger and doubt. She believes in herself, in her friends. He wants that too. He wants to belong like everything in her life seems to belong. To have a place. A purpose.
Maybe that was why he didn't feel so restless when she was near. He still is, but it's more for other reasons. More for her herself.
He realizes that she wasn't just talking about his scar, she was talking about himself. Just him. She saw him.
It's balance.
It's assurance.
It's security.
He looks again into those eyes. He can see what she sees.
It's also hope.
He takes her hands and draws them away from his face. He holds them loosely in his own hands, he feels that assurance already. He doesn't have to be so confused about her at least.
He's grateful.
"You already have."
And she smiles at him.