"I love you," he would murmur to her in the darkness of their bedroom. His words were hollow; they tasted of nothing, carried no meaning, but they were so easy, so weightless, and they were 'correct'. They were 'right'. And she would drink them in night after night, swallowing them whole, leaving not a single drop behind. When she recited them, they were different. They were heavy with heart, assailing his ears with promises of a devotion he could no longer requite.
He knew it was wrong.
He was supposed to belong to Mai.
But he did not.
She wasn't the girl who made his heart do that thing.
That stupid thing.
Thump ba-dum thump.
Of all the women to fall in love in, why couldn't he have chosen the one he was betrothed to?
Why did it have to be her?
Katara.
Her name was forbidden fruit, the reddest apple on the tallest of trees, and oh how he yearned for a taste. He would roll the syllables over his tongue, one by one, ka-ta-ra, building them up, fleshing them out until they were plump and bursting with flavour. But he would never speak them aloud, no, for to do so would betray what he so desperately kept concealed.
Everything about her made his heart do that thing.
That stupid thing.
Thump ba-dum thump.
In the same way a child would overenthusiastically bang on a drum, his heart disregarded all the rules of rhythm and designed a composition of its own, a fanfare which sounded only in her presence.
"Greetings, O Great Fire Lord," she would say to him, a roguish smile playing upon her lips. Her body would dip into a curtsy, his into a bow, and then they would embrace. Her visits were a regular occurrence; she had spare time, and for her, he would create it, pull it out of thin air, if only to be able to share it with her.
Their relationship was one of playful nudges, one of lighthearted punches and witty retorts, of stolen glances and unspoken musings. He craved so much more; he wished to lose himself in the bottomless blue trenches of her eyes, to feel her fingers entwined with his own, to know her as intimately as she knew herself – he wanted her to belong to him and no-one else.
More than anything, he wished not to be in love with her.
Mai was beautiful.
She was tenacious and loyal to a fault. Her hand-to-hand combat skills were unrivaled, her intelligence unmatched, and judgment fair. She could crush a man's confidence with only her stare; a skill she'd exercised on him upon multiple occasions. She was a warrior, and a lover.
But she wasn't the girl who made his heart do that thing.
That stupid thing.
Thump ba-dum thump.