Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot of this story.
This is just a one-shot I came up with when I couldn't sleep the other night. It's set in modern time, in an AU. Be aware that it is in fact Zutara. Enjoy! :)
The bus continued downtown, passing by clubs and run down restaurants that were alight with activity in the late evening. Most people had retired for the night, but the roads became crowded with business men and women enjoying some downtime, middle aged adults out for a drink, and young people looking for fun.
Zuko gazed out the window, watching the people go by. He shifted slightly, adjusting into a comfortable position while trying not to disturb the girl asleep on his shoulder. His eyes turned to glance at his best friend.
With her closed, thick lashed eyes, mass of curly hair, and the little line of drool coming from her mouth, Katara was the perfect picture of contentedness. Zuko suppressed a chuckle, and gently pushed a tangled strand of hair from her face. She really was hopeless.
He looked at her, really looked at her, and was once again reminded of their friendship. He remembered how much of a jerk he had been to her in elementary and middle school, how he had teased and laughed at her, and how even then when she had been a 'nerd', she would always bite back with a sarcastic remark that left him with no response. He remembered their first year of high school, when Mrs. Carson made them science lab partners, and they had fought every day in and out of class. How their teacher actually thought they were being serious in their death threats and had them each attend counseling sessions for a month. He recalled the summer of sophomore year, when they had run into each other at a friend's party, and he had poured pink soda all down her white blouse, everybody pointing and laughing. How she had held back tears, and calmly smashed a plate of cake right in his face. He had a black eye for two weeks. She laughed at him for every second of it.
He remembered sophomore year's homecoming night, and how when she had found him standing alone in the hallway, angry tears down his face with bloody knuckles and a text that said his mom had been victim of a hit and run, she had wordlessly abandoned the dance and her friends, driven him to the hospital, and held his hand all night while his mom was operated on. How she had cried with him for three straight hours, breaking down with him when the doctor said his mom hadn't made it. He remembered how vibrant, blue, blue, blue her eyes were, and how he couldn't figure out for the life of him why she was so sad about this. It's not like this was her mother.
He remembered never thanking her for that night. And how even when he became angry, and twice as much of a jerk to her, she had never told anyone of the time she had held a sobbing boy in her arms and seen how weak he really was.
He remembered the one time he had really made her mad, the one time that he had actually crossed a line that never should have been violated. How one day in their junior year, in front of the whole lunch room, he had told her that he bet 'even her mom thought she was stupid and ugly, and wished that she had never given birth to her,' and how she, for the first time ever, didn't say a single word back, but had just turned and walked away. It was the first time he ever saw her cry.
And it would be six months later when he discovered that her mom had died during childbirth.
He remembered the night he found out. His Uncle was a surgeon five states away. Zuko's favorite time of the year had always been when Iroh came to visit. One night they were sitting at the table, drinking tea, and his Uncle had seemed wearier than usual. When he had inquired his Uncle about it, Iroh had stated that one of his patients had died during an operation. No matter how often it happened, it was always, always painful when someone died on his watch.
Zuko stayed up late into the night, listening to his Uncle recall every one of his deceased patients with a hurting heart. He remembered it was around three in the morning when his Uncle mentioned a woman with blue, blue eyes.
How Iroh had said she was only in the middle of her third trimester when she went into an unexpected labor.
How he had been called in early in the morning to operate a C-section on this woman.
How everything had gone wrong from the start.
How the baby had been choked by the umbilical chord.
How there was so much blood.
How the woman's eyes had opened, and she had been crying.
How the color of her eyes were electric, unlike anything he'd ever seen before, and how utterly broken they had been.
How they had been unforgettable.
How the monitor started flatlining.
How the doctors had panicked.
How they had finally freed the baby.
How the mother never woke up.
How she had never seen her baby.
How the father and the brother had been torn between unbelievable happiness, and uncontrollable grief.
How the woman's name was Kya.
How the baby was named Katara.
Zuko remembered not being able to breathe. He remembered his heart literally stopping, and then starting up again at a speed that made him feel like his chest was going to rip open. He remembered blacking out for a second, and his Uncle calling his name. He remembered sprinting out of the house, grabbing the car keys, and speeding down the highway. He remembered everything except for the moment he made the decision to go to her house.
He remembered knocking on the door, and when Hakoda had answered, quite disgruntled at finding a rugged teenage boy at his home in the middle of the night, he had apologized for the late hour and had begged to talk to Katara. He remembered her father becoming very protective, and slamming the door shut, telling him to either come back at a more decent time, or to go away. He remembered sitting outside on the porch steps, head in his hands, and waiting until morning. And then he waited some more, because apparently she wasn't a morning person.
And he remembered when she finally woke up, and her father informed her of the delinquent outside their home that was eager to speak with her. He remembered that she had stepped out of the house, face guarded, and in an overly big t-shirt and shorts, asking him what he wanted.
He remembered crying. It was the first time he had cried since homecoming night two years prior. He remembered actually getting on his knees, and apologizing over and over again for how he had treated her, what he had said to her, and when he had hurt her during their whole childhood. He remembered the surprise and disbelief on her face when he was apologizing, the soft compassion. He remembered her saying that she forgave him, that she never hated him at all, that she didn't understand where this was all coming from.
And in that moment, he remembered thinking that maybe this was all going to be okay.
He didn't understand how she could just forgive him so easily. How she was able to just forget all the terrible, horrible things he had done to her. How she could be so strong. He recalls once when his Uncle told him that, 'Those that are kind are often the ones that are hurt and taken advantage of the most,' and he knows that this is true.
He remembered her saying that she didn't know why he was bringing this up all of a sudden, why the change of heart. And then he opened his big fat mouth and told her.
He remembered the rage that filled her eyes the moment he mentioned her mother.
It was then that she had yelled at him. She screamed and shrieked, shoving him backwards and off her porch. She told him to go away, and accused him of mocking her. She was horrified that he knew about her mother. She was infuriated that he had come to her in the first place.
She had said that she forgave him, so why why why did she suddenly take it back?
He remembered senior year. All of it. How they no longer interacted at all. Not even insults, or comebacks. Just awkward glances and furiously hurting blue eyes. The guilt ate him alive. He went out of his way to do things for her. If she wouldn't talk to him, then he would make a point to show his intentions through his deeds. After all, actions speak louder than words. Nobody, not Zuko's friends, not the teachers, not their classmates, no one knew what had happened that summer, or why things between the two had suddenly changed.
He didn't remember how it happened. But somehow, two and a half months before senior year was over, he ended up on Prom committee. With Katara. And fate must love messing with him, because somehow they were both left alone at the school together a week before Prom to finish the decorations. He felt like he wanted to go crawl in a hole and die.
Once again, he doesn't remember how it happened. It's funny that he remembers everything else except the crucial moments. Around midnight, things had blown up. All the pent up tension, all the hurt feelings, all the wounds that had collected over the years, everything just blew up. Katara blew up. There was screaming, shoving, throwing, and of course, crying.
And somehow, she was right in front of him. He remembered her punching him over and over again in the chest, and he remembers thinking that she had awfully hard punches for a girl. He remembered grabbing her and hugging her tightly, mostly to avoid her punches rather than anything else. He remembered her yelling at him, screaming things he didn't understand.
Something about it being all her fault. Something about her being a murderer. Something about her wishing she was never born.
Zuko remembered the moment it all clicked. Everything came into place. How she really wasn't mad at him.
How she was really mad at herself.
She screamed at him to let her go. It was then that he actually managed to do something right, for once in his life. He didn't let her go. He held on with everything he had, crushing her to him and refusing to back down until this whole mess was resolved.
He just held on while she yelled at him, crying uncontrollably and finally, finally letting go of everything she had locked inside. It was okay if she hurt him, if she yelled and hit him. He figured that sometimes the strong ones need someone to rely on too, and that he deserved the pain anyways.
When she exhausted herself, he had just held her, saying over and over once again that he was sorry, for everything, and that he wished he could take back everything that he had every done to her. And he told her that it wasn't her fault. That she wasn't a murderer, that it wasn't her fault that her mom died.
And she had cried more, but it was a good kind of crying. It was the kind that gets all the bad stuff out. The kind that leaves you breathless, and bitter, and relieved, and free all at the same time.
It meant that she was finally letting go.
The Prom decorations never did get finished that night, and they both got into trouble with the other committee members, but to Zuko, it was worth it, because that night, he finally discovered who he was. And Katara finally found her closure. Besides, if they were really that upset, they could just do it themselves...
The rest of senior year went great. Prom was perfect, colleges sent in scholarships, tensions had disappeared, but most importantly, Katara and him became best friends. Thinking back on it now, Zuko could laugh at how completely confusing it must have been to others watching. In the span of a year, the two had gone from total disengagement, to a bond that nobody could comprehend. It must have been utterly mind trucking.
Turns out, they were both offered places at Omashu Capital University, although, Katara recieved a full scholarship, and Zuko only got half. He wasn't really all that bothered though. She deserved it.
And here they are now. Seniors in college, each planning on getting their masters as soon as possible, and they're still best friends. Over the years, there were ups and downs, but their friendship lasted through it all. Zuko couldn't have been more grateful for these times.
He remembered all of it. Every painful, angry, sad, happy, hopeful moment. He remembered it all. And even though it started out with a lot of negative and not much positive, he's still grateful for everything that's happened, because if even one event had changed, if one second had been altered, he wouldn't be sure if this friendship would've even come into place.
Destiny is fragile like that. One moment could make the whole difference. Zuko was just glad that his destiny had all the right moments at the right times.
The bus lurched as it turned a corner, and Zuko was jerked from his reminiscing. He reached one arm out, wrapping it around the girl's shoulders so she wouldn't fall. His gaze once again found the face of his companion.
Her eyelids fluttered momentarily before she muttered something incomprehensible and wiggled closer to him. He smiled slightly. She was beautiful.
It's not like he had never seen it before, because he had. Oh, yes indeed, he had. But in that moment, carelessly asleep and leaning on his shoulder with her hair a mess and her tanned cheeks colored rosily, she looked stunning. Zuko studied her face. Every angle, slant, curve, and shadow, etching it into his memory.
Her presence in his life was something irreplacable. He honestly wasn't sure if he would be able to live without her. She had become his rock in this world. She was his world.
He loved her.
The revelation dawned on him as if he had read it in a textbook. It was a simple fact, an obvious option, an uncomplicated idea. It represented every tangled and complex factor in his life in such a basic, effortless way.
He was in love with his best friend.
His chest swelled, and a sudden wave of excitedness swept over him. It was new, it was intriguing, it was perfect.
Zuko remembered every emotion he'd every felt in his life. He remembered the childlike joy that would shroud his worries and fears. He remembered the exhiliarating nervousness that made him want to shrink and grow all at once. He remembered the unbearable pain that sent him spiralling into an abyss. He remembered the white hot anger that kept his determination going. He remembered the cold indifference that froze his bones. He remembered the gripping passion that filled him to the brim with energy. He remembered the unending sadness that constantly nagged at his conscious. He remembered all of these, and so much more. Every one branded on his heart. Yet, he could never remember feeling something like this.
It made him proud and humble, mighty and dependent, powerful and helpless, confident and insecure, strong and vulnerable. It found every paradox that existed in his jumbled mind and thrust it to the surface to be felt all over. He was confused and at peace altogether. Nothing made sense, yet everything made sense. It was simple, and complicated, and exact, yet vague. He felt it tumble through his veins, crack in his bones, and dance on his heart.
If this is what love felt like, Zuko didn't want it to stop.
The bus began to slow as it pulled to the right, coming to a gradual stop at the sidwalk. The few people boarded got up and prepared to exit.
Zuko could see their apartment buildings just across the block from the bus station. It was about a five minute walk. They could both be at home, laying peacefully in bed, dreaming dreams. But a selfish, irrational, impractical voice spoke to Zuko.
Katara stirred against him. Her eyes blearily opened halfway, and she titled her head back to look at him.
"Mmmm. Are we here? Are we home?" She yawned sleepily. Zuko smiled and soothingly pulled her head back down to lean back on his shoulder, her nose fitting in the crook of his neck. She gave in easily and snuggled closer, wrapping slim arms around his waist.
"Nah," Zuko whispered as she began to surrender to sleep. "We're still pretty far away. Just go back to sleep, Tara."
He had barely finished when a little snore escaped her mouth. This time, he did chuckle.
Later, he would find a way to excuse their long detour. Later, he would explain how they ended up all the way on the other side of town. Later, he would laugh and tell her it was a mistake.
Later, he would tell her he loved her.
But for now, he allowed himself to be a little selfish. He leaned back in his seat as the bus wheels squealed and began to move again. He rested his cheek against her forehead and closed his eyes.
"I love you, Katara." He whispered softly before lulling to sleep.
Later, he would remember her smiling into his neck and whispering back, "I love you too."
Authot's Note: Okay, so I wrote this when I was like half asleep, so if it doesn't make a lot of sense, just keep in mind that I was running on a half hour of sleep XD
Also, I wanted to point out that if anyone thought that Zuko was being a huge jerk (which he was) after his mom died, and that it seems OC that he wouldn't thank Katara for her help, also keep in mind that he was devastated by his mother's death, and that, much like the show, it seriously changed his personality. He resorted to anger in order to cover up his pain and embarrasment that Katara was the one to see him in such a state.
Some of you might also think it was OC for Katara to react so strongly to Zuko when he mentioned her mother in his apology, but you also have to remember that she was humiliated and deeply hurt by Zuko's insult in the cafeteria. When he revealed to her that he knew all about her mother's death and how it occurred, she was immediately feeling anger in order to cover up her guilt and self-blame, much like how Zuko did.
The ending is super cliche, but I felt that it was needed, lol. I hope you guys enjoyed reading this! It was super dramatic, and sorta depressing in the middle, but I really had fun writing this oneshot. If you have any questions or anything, feel free to leave a review or PM me! :)
Thanks for reading!
MI3