AN: At the title and summary: chemistry - get it? I know, I'm so witty it hurts. Horrible pun aside, I just want to say that I enjoyed writing this and I hope you guys like reading it. I feel like a total drama-maker for having written Toph as I did (she may sound OC, I realize this) but I couldn't resist. I really liked this in the beginning, then it got choppy and I finished it a little abruptly (in my opinion). I really wanted to write something fulfilling/get-together for this awesome ship but this came out instead. Oh wells; next time! Reviews are, as always, love.

I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender.

Catalyst

It was the little things that really got to me.

I thought at first I wouldn't give heed to him having a girlfriend because it didn't really matter to me. I had already known about her from Katara's jokes for some time before seeing her. It was a little shocking (this is the boomerang-idiot we're talking about) but when I heard about the girl herself, she seemed amazing; he was lucky.

During that winding pass, when I saw and met her, that was where everything was realized.

How I liked him; how he liked her and she did back.

I can easily remember the most horrifying and embarrassing moment of my life. Surprisingly, it wasn't when I accidentally kissed Suki and suddenly came to the crashing conclusion that I did, indeed, have a stupid crush on him. No, that wasn't the moment but that night, when I felt them sitting so close and their heartbeats so fast. I couldn't make out the conversation but their body language was all that I needed. Then came the kiss, and that was the most horrific moment of my life.

The moment I realized I couldn't win what I wanted no matter how many rocks I flew, no matter how many mountains I could move or make. Earthbending, one of the few things I had going for me, for once in my life couldn't solve my problems.

Everything went downhill from there, even with my expert mask.

The way they would sneak into each other's tents, thinking they were so stealthy. For once in my life I wish I was truly blind. Then I wouldn't have to see the tremors their hands and bodies made for each other. It made me stuff mud into my ears and lift my feet off the ground. I hated the way they were so happy together.

I know, I'm a horrible person. I've already come to that conclusion at the first spike of jealousy and envy. I began hating myself then, and began to feel claustrophobic in my own skin.

My bangs finally came in handy as they would hide the narrowed eyebrows and frustrated twitches. And my green garb was good for something other than showing off my nation's pride, if any of those says of 'turning green with envy' were anything to go on.

I just smiled, I just laughed and I just joked, even if the usual person I did this with wasn't around as much anymore. I'm eternally grateful, if any good came out of them being together for me, was that Suki had no sense of humor whatsoever. That meant that if he wanted to get a good, belly-aching laugh he would have to come to me.

Even though he could laugh so freely, I didn't. I was too busy trying to memorize the vibrations of his face and body and of the way his voice would crack when he laughed and how wide his mouth got when he was attempting to tell me off.

Because I knew, even in my immature head, that one day I wouldn't have the opportunity to.

When we had been riding the eel-hound to our very-likely doom, the comfort I felt with my arms around his waist and feeling his heartbeat and chest expand and retract as he took big, calming breaths for air was blinding. I felt that, even in the worse circumstance, it was going to be alright. But then there was the third body, that person who looked like the third wheel but was anything but.

I was only twelve, and I had almost lost my life for the unaccountable time. It was saved by my self-proclaimed enemy. She had saved my life twice now, and I still disliked her. Once again, I know I'm a horrible person. This self-loathing keeps me up at night when the world is still and solitary and I'm still breathing and dreaming for a different reality.

I was only a kid, barely over five-feet, and yet my heart was already bleeding out.

In the victory I watched the others around me hold hands and blush and feel a reassurance of love and happiness. I watched Zuko and Mai hold each other close as Aang and Katara finally connected. Even through my jokes of 'finally,' it still stung like nothing else.

Why did I have to be the odd one out? Wasn't I one of the heroes, too? Didn't I deserve what I wanted?

Life was so unfair. I could buy anything with money and do anything with my abilities except what I give longing glances for and that denial of something so simple made me yell and choke.

I especially watched him and Suki. Now they weren't just sneaking into each other's tents, they were sneaking into each other's rooms down winding hallways. They kissed more often, as if they were still worried that their time might be cut short. The way they handled themselves was more frantic than they had during the war, and for a moment I felt hope.

I think that hope made it sting all the more when they began to mellow out, for themselves to grow into the other.

And through the months of war meetings and political debates, I felt my own self independently grow.

I felt my legs lengthen and my hands grow calloused; I felt my hair thicken and my bangs hide my face even more. One day he commented on how I should pull them back, so people could see my now-pretty face.

I told him not to touch me and jerked away from him and his fingertips. I crawled a few feet away from him for good measure. Even though he sounded mildly offended with a joke, I couldn't let him touch me. Because then I'm sure my mask would crack and crumble.

He would comment on how I was growing from time to time, and he offhandedly agreed with Katara on how beautiful I was becoming (even if I should smile more). I bit my tongue back to retort that he didn't care, but I knew he wasn't lying. And that sucked just as much as the false hope because it meant that even if I was pretty, so breathtakingly beautiful that I was able to make a man fall for me just with a look, that man would never be him.

I want to erupt, make him feel the weight of these feelings on his own shoulders, but I hold it back. I let it fester and grow within me. I don't care if it consumes my entire being, because I won't let it consume him.

He doesn't need to feel buried in an ever-growing mountain. He doesn't need to know his best friend doesn't only feel platonic emotions; that I wish he would slam our hips together and mash our lips. I always want it to be drastic and harsh, so I can feel something. So I can feel the sweet pain and know that it's real.

But it isn't real, and I'm reminded of that every time his touch is light and innocent. There's no passion, not like the kind that grows and aches inside.

I know I'll always be that one who looks rough and impenetrable on the outside with my spitting and curses, but who is really just another girl stuck in something too big for her on the inside. I'll play the part of his best friend with everything I have, because that's what I've been offered; I'll take it. I'll laugh and I'll smile and I'll make jokes at him and Suki (especially about them breaking up), because that's all I have.

I've been able to make do for this long- what's the difference in another second, another minute, another day or year? I survived a war before I was a teenager and I've won every tournament ever attended. I don't plan on winning this hopeless infatuation, but I know I'll be able to control it so no one else has to know and no one has to push me away.

I know he'll always love my earthbending and our friendship of belly-laughs and clinking glasses.

But Sokka won't love me.