Iroh sighs, discards his helmet and collapses in a nearby chair.
He has exhausted himself throughout the day, firebending until his limbs are sore and only stopping for fear of permanently burning himself. It was supposed to be a distraction, but pointless is all it proved to be. Despite everything, he cannot make himself forget tonight is Korra's wedding night.
And the man she has taken to bed is not him.
It stings, but he really should have known.
After all, he is just an outdated model. An old man with a young soul. It should not shock him so, after all they have been through, that she chose him - Mako, her pro-bending teammate and firebending confidant.
Iroh has seen Korra spill many tears over the indecisive boy. He has held her hand, caressed her cheek and patted her back during times of great sadness. He built her back up again, made her realize her inner strength and beauty. And he had thought…
But he had been wrong.
Mako had sauntered back into her life like a flame that refuses to be put out, poisoned her mind with affection and what he thought were empty promises. But Iroh kept his distance, out of respect. She is a grown woman, after all. Who is he to tell her how to live her life?
Even if she is the only woman in the world who lit his heart ablaze. Who made him feel with a simple smile or touch. Even if she is the tomboy that always managed to stir up trouble with her abrasive attitude but… but he loves her for it.
Still.
It is not him that stole her breath away.
So, on this night, it is Mako who steals her innocence. Who caresses her, holds her close and promises to love her for all of time. Not him. Never him.
Iroh throws his fist into the nearest wall, fire swirling around it and burning the paint to a crisp. He gives in then, drops his arm to his side, and weeps for what never will be.
The next day, he sets sail with Bumi. He needs time away from the Avatar and her new groom.
Bumi pats him on the back.
It is the only comfort he receives.