"Did Jet just….die?"
"You know, it was really unclear."
The young prince's heart stopped and his lungs ceased to function properly. He hadn't felt this way since he woke to find his mother missing all those years ago. Confusion and disbelief clouded his mind, rendering him unable to pay any attention whatsoever to the mediocre Ember Island Players as a heavy weight tugged at his chest. Was the air growing thinner or was it just him? He looked at his comrades, feeling dizzy, but he found them still engrossed in the play.
Soon the actors' voices were drowned out and the world faded away. As Zuko sat in the dark theater staring at his feet, his mind's eye took him back to the day he actually listened to his uncle and set Appa free beneath the very lake where a certain warrior lost his life. A warrior that had seemed immortal and unstoppable and unbreakable to Zuko. The tanned, mischievous face that had been ingrained in his mind after weeks of working side by side in the tea shop was suddenly all he could see. His ratty clothes, his eclectic armor, his confident strut, the stupid grass he chewed on, his mesmerizing chestnut eyes that could light up with devilish charm, with passion, or with rage…..his firm grip and rough hands that always felt so right against Zuko's pale skin….Until the night that Jet's aggressive side wasn't enjoyable in the least. The night that Zuko could no longer contain his guilt or uphold his fake identity. The memory flooded his consciousness in vivid detail. He remembered how his sweaty palms wouldn't stop fidgeting with each other as he approached the boy to whom he'd grown as close as his lies would allow. He'd pulled him aside once the tea shop was empty, his heart pounding as he counted on the trust that had been built between them, regardless of how false, it was all he had. With his eyes pleading for acceptance, he revealed his origins, hoping to relieve his anxiety and close the distance between the two of them. Zuko would never forget the evolution of expressions on Jet's face after the prince confirmed that, yes, he was serious. The warrior's incredulous smile faded into pure shock, and Zuko could no longer hear the boy's breath, making the room silent as death. Jet looked as if he'd been stabbed in the stomach. His face then displayed pain, betrayal, and finally, a rage that chilled Zuko to this day. He never imagined that Jet could be so frighteningly angry, that his brown eyes could burn hotter than fire.
Zuko remembered the ringing of swords and the swears that were thrown every which way. He remembered the tears that stung his eyes, tears of shame and self-loathing that were hidden by the partial darkness of the city street. When the Dai Li arrived, Iroh vouched for Zuko, and the crowd in turn came to the defense of the popular tea shop owner, leaving Jet helpless against the police. The look of disgust on his face was too much for Zuko to bear, so he looked away as the Dai Li dragged him into the cart, but the firebender could feel Jet's eyes burning into him still. He felt hollow after that night, retreating further into himself than ever.
The intermission came unexpectedly, shaking Zuko out of his daydreams. He went outside to get some air, which helped to ease his dizziness, but his chest and stomach remained heavy, along with an unbearable knot in his throat. As he leaned against the wooden railing, he stared at the ocean in the distance, then up at the night sky, something he used to do when he'd assumed his mother's death, Zuko longed for his freedom fighter more than he had in a long time. The yearning feeling overcame his entire body until tears rolled down his cheeks and he buried his face in his red silk sleeves.
Jet wasn't there. He couldn't hear his sobs. He wasn't up in the sky looking back at him because he was gone. And the prince had only just found out because the stage crew poorly lowered a prop on top of a bug-eyed, hook-handed poser.