Azula can never seem to find the right words, but it means more than anything to know that she still tries. Perhaps because he knows that it isn't in her nature to do so. And just seeing her put the effort in is a comfort in itself.

She doesn't talk very much at all actually, not after a certain point. A few failed words and she stops altogether. It is strange to him because she always seems to know that right things to say in most situations. Sometimes he feels as though she heads in the right direction when consoling him but just…stops.

She has a steady flow, and then it wavers. Perhaps because she isn't sure of herself. Isn't sure if she's doing this comforting thing right.

But he knows that she is. He doesn't know how but she is oddly reassuring in her own way. She isn't emotionally reassuring, not outright. And her physical gestures only go so far as covering his hand with her own.

He wants her to do more just as much as he doesn't want any change at all.

He rather enjoys when she just sits silently and listens to him prattle on and on about things that bother him and sometimes things that don't matter at all. As much as he loves Aang and his sister and Zuko they always seemed to spill their own problems instead of helping him with his.

Because Sokka's problems are never as bad as Aang's; he doesn't have to save the world, he doesn't have that kind of awful pressure on him.

His problems aren't as bad as Katara's who has to constantly worry about losing her lover.

His problems aren't as bad as Zuko's who has a deep past to overcome and a throne with all the pressures that come with a throne.

His problems aren't as bad as Toph's who was born blind. "And she hasn't complained about it once!"

But it was different with Azula who seemed to have a collection of her own struggles and still put them aside to talk about his. In fact, he thinks that she goes out of her way to avoid talking about herself. Maybe that is what possessed him to hug the woman very tightly, and practically unannounced.

He can't quite gauge how she feels about this new arrangement. So he asks, he supposes that it can't hurt to ask and he wonders if anyone has asked her about how she feels or if she is like him. A woman of problems swept under the rug because someone has it much worse.

He doesn't really know what to say, so he just holds her. Holds her and waits for her to speak. He doesn't actually expect an answer so when she—begrudgingly—admits that she rather enjoys it, he is taken aback some.

He can't help but smile though. Because he doesn't think that she has let anyone so close for so long. He also thinks that this might be the first time that she has truly opened up to someone. The first time that she has listed the things that are on her mind. Some of them aren't pretty and some managed to be less pretty still. But she lists them. And he listens to them.

Because she has listned to him for so long.

It is her turn to have a voice and his turn to lend an ear.

He knows what it is like to be shot down and shut down. To be reduced to only an ear or a shoulder. He doesn't want her to be that, he wants her to feel as comforted and warm as she makes him feel. He wants to have just one more thing to remind him that she has changed, that she is no longer evil. That she never was. He wants another reminder that she was hurt just they way everyone else has been and he wants Katara and Aang and Toph and Zuko to know too.

She needs it.

She needs the love and the solace as much as he did.

He thinks that she needs it more.

Now that she has listened to him, he will listen to her. He will cradle her close and let her keep talking until she runs out of things to say and let her continue after that, even if it is mundane and trivial. He kisses the crook of her neck and prompts her to keep speaking.

And he gets it and more—the reminder he needed that she was just as afraid as any of them. That she is still worried; worried for the state of herself, worried that her mind might slip again, worried that she simply isn't good enough and that all of her achievements are for naught.

He finds that it feels just as well to reassure her as it was to be reassured by her. Because—just as she knew that he would be okay—he knows that she will be. He can't picture Azula fading away from herself for good.

Just like anyone else, all she needs is a shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen. Just like anyone else, all she needs is a hand to hold hers or arms to wrap around her. Just like anyone else, she just needs compassion and affection.

Just like him, she craves it.

Just like him, she gets it.