Lack of capitalization is a stylistic thing. Doing that to make a point. If there's any lack of punctuation, it's probably just something I missed while proof-reading. Originally, this was going to be a really long one-shot but I wasn't sure how it was going so I'll be posting it as chapters, and once I'm done and totally satisfied, I'll either reupload as a one-shot, or upload it on ao3 as such on instead. Anyways, any sort of feedback is appreciated. If you think it sucks, pls tell me as I have no emotions anyway. Kidding, but seriously, I only seek to improve so lmk what you think!
your stomach is feeling more than a little queasy, but you cannot tell if it is from all those jalapenos you ordered in your subway sandwich earlier on or if this just matters to you more than you care to admit. for the record, you admit nothing.
Katara's dad had to pull some "serious" strings to get you this interview and it is all you have and you are shaking because how could She even do this to you? no, no, no, you are angry. you care. you care too much.
you do not want to go to nyu. Who gives a fuckabout nyu? You want to sit at home and finish season 7 of how i met your mother, and you want to wake up late and eat chocolate-coated pop-em's with milk and maybe even give nutella another try and mostly you want Katara, but she has dreams. Dreams you cannot even begin to fathom because you are - dare i say it - pathetic. you are Pathetic. maybe in another life or whatever, you helped save the world and you got the girl, and even if you didn't, you weren't bitter about it because you saved the world, but you are sososososo bitter right now you and this is all you have and you can taste the bile rising up in your throat and you wonder for the hundredth time that day who are you even kidding?
You had dreams too, once, you know. those sat practice books you used as footstools can tell you that. you wanted to be an architect. you still want to be an architect. but you accept that you cannot be an architect. Katara cannot. She is all about following your heart and being true to yourself and treating yourself right and all that feel-good crap. you don't have low self-esteem per se, you don't think you deserve the world.
(or rather, you don't think the world deserves you because you are such a conceited bastard, according to aang. and aang is practically a monk, he doesn't curse).
your guidance counselor this year was ridiculous and her unchanging mantra seemed to be the universe works in mysterious ways, zuko. as a matter of fact, that's the bullshit she decided to go with when uncle iroh was hospitalized.
the universe works in mysterious ways, zuko. you got up out of your seat and let yourself out, gently shutting the door behind you. well, not-so-gently shutting the door behind you. it went on your permanent record. aang gave you that disappointed holier-than-thou look and Katara just didn't look at all. you felt like crying. you felt like screaming. you felt like doing both. not because of aang, obviously.
aang's like 12.
you can't stand it when she starts talking about the future. yeah, she'll be a doctor. yeah, she'll be saving lives. yeah, her life will have meaning. isn't that worth something zuko? isnt that what you want? maybe it is, but you don't think you need to save lives to be happy. you dont even need to be an architect, really, (although, it would be pretty nice. but, you'll never let katara and aang know that).
all that you've ever really wanted, is katara. you've seen the way aang looks at her though, and you cant help but get this cold feeling in your stomach like oh my god aang deserves her. because, really, aang isn't 12. you just wish he was.
if he were really 12, he wouldn't make for much competition, and that'd be nice. you just want katara and you just want to make her happy and you just want her to hug you in a completely unplatonic way and seriously, all you want is to run your fingers through her hair because shit have you seen her hair?
so when the friendly admissions guy with the expensive-looking tie (woah! nice rhyme, man) asks if you're zuko, you smile, and say yes.
it's the end of the month and you're barely making end's meet and damn it, you were officially supposed to hear from nyu a week ago. the thought boils your blood. the first time katara asked you of the news, her eyes alight with hope, you couldn't look directly at her. it was like staring into the sun - it hurt.
nothing yet.
she didn't falter. no big deal. im sure you'll hear soon!
and two days later, when she asked you again, and you, again, found yourself staring at your shoes, you wondered how it was that a 16 year old girl came to be the sun, and you, a boy with a distinctly unsunny scar on the left side of his face could feel like his lungs were just punctured by his ribs. or maybe you mean his heart. or whatever. she made you feel some type of way and it put you on edge because fuck you knew the feeling wasnt mutual.
she stopped asking on the sixth day.
you stopped checking.
on the ninth day, when you got a flimsy little envelope postmarked from NY, NY, your heart sped a little faster, until you realized what a flimsy envelope means. your heart kind of slowed and you felt this coldness spread through your stomach. you suddenly needed a jacket. or maybe hot tea. whatever it was, it made sure of one thing: you didn't open it. you left it on the counter for her to see for herself.
Zuko, are you not driving to school this morning? you heard Her steps leave the foyer and enter the kitchen.
you marveled at how important your name sounded when her lips formed the letters and slowly, you made your way down the stairs. you watched her make her way to the island. the counter was just a few feet away.
zuko! what the hell are you- she stopped.
oh.
it was a word like any other, but it didnt feel like it.
why havent you opened it yet? her voice was small, so small you had to strain your ears to hear it.
you knew what it meant, you told her, you didn't have to open it to find out.
what the hell do you mean, you know what it means? she stuck out her chin in that way she always did and you didn't know whether you wanted to punch yourself or kiss her. probably both. it could be an accepta- scoff.
scoff scoff scoff.
can you hear youself? you know i didn't get it but you still want me to open it. what the fuck, katara? it's a tiny-ass envelope. life sucks, alright? that's okay. im fine with it.
did you even check your email? do you know for sure? she kept pressing you and god, you hated her. you hated her so much.
you heard this garbled mess of a laugh come out of your mouth.
do i need to, though? when has anyone ever gotten an acceptance letter in a small envelope, katara? tell me. fucking tell me, and ill open it.
i- she faltered and your heart crumbled.
well, um, there we have it, you said, turning away so she couldn't see your eyes get all watery and gross. behind you, you heard the sound of the envelope being torn open. when you heard that sharp intake of breath, a speck of dust found its way to your eye. your contacts malfunctioned. someone was chopping onions for a breakfast omelette. somethingwas happening but it was not you.
fucking hell, try not to sound so surprised, you remarked bitterly, trying hard to wipe at your face without letting her see.
zuko it's an acceptance. what. Zuko iT'S AN ACCEPTANCE OH MY GOD.
no. no. no. it was a tiny envelope.
rejections are what tiny envelopes mean.
did they want to kill you? 'cos you kind of wanted to kill them.
what kind of college sends an acceptance in a tiny envelope? you asked through the lump in your throat.
katara didn't answer, but she did put her arms around you. you tried not to feel pathetic when you whispered an apology in her ear. she hugged you tighter, and you loved her for it.
fuck.
Hopefully, there is more to come. I do think I prefer this as a one-shot, but I got impatient. oops? Lmk what you think!