5 Cups of Chamomile Tea

by sasannisa

(AU) When five days of sleepless nights drew them together.

4. Primrose Path

Chapter 4 – Primrose Path

Okay, so, I take my words back about chapter 3 being the longest chapter hihazuki and I have ever written. This one's way much longer. Hopefully, this is the longest.

I forgot to mention about the character's ages, so let me clarify now: Zuko is twenty-four, Katara's twenty-two, Aang's age is mentioned here (he's twenty), and Sokka and Suki are twenty-three (and married, too!).

Anyways, by reason of some …goodies, this story is now rated 'M'.

Oh, and I've changed and revised some parts in chapter 3, too. (Thank you, Lunatique, for the awesome critique!) Check it out before you read this one. Enjoy!

Seven had always been Zuko's lucky number.

He made seven home runs on the little league baseball tournament with seven as his jersey number.

He was titled the most honorable student and was nominated for the Student Council President in seventh grade.

He was given a Ducati Monster for his seventeenth birthday on July 7th.

He was seventh in line to inherit his family's long running business whose unparalleled success branched beyond the limits of the sky.

So far, he always felt at the top of his game whenever it came to seven. And today was no exception.

It was March 7th.

A smile slowly made its way to his face. He had a feeling it was going to stay for awhile.

Like with all days that had 'seven' in it, his superstitions leaned in his favor. Things ran even smoother than usual; he wouldn't be surprised if there was actually a deity spinning the wheels of fate for him –no matter how terribly cliché that sounded.

One by one, with his ordeals shrinking and his mind clearing, one thing became even more certain.

Unlike the previous sevens, he intuited this day was slightly more altered, having its own distinguishable touch to it. It didn't seem as if fortune was the only one gracing him with its presence. This time, it brought along a centerpiece, a cynosure in the midst of his personal idyll.

He didn't want to believe it, didn't think it possible. He couldn't lie to his heart, though. Deep inside, he knew the one thing that even the miraculous number seven couldn't cover.

The truth. And as sullen as he was to acknowledge it, there was no other way to make peace with himself than to face his greatest revelation.

He had fallen for Katara.

The sheer absurdity of the situation baffled him. How was it that it only took three days for a complete stranger to claim his heart? Was she really a godsend that he was so easily captivated by her? Or was he just that impressionable?

He suspected that he even fell for her the day they had met, yet the realization dawned upon him only now. Moments progressed, and eventually his initial bewilderment receded into grudging acceptance.

There was no use moping about it. Besides, it was his lucky day. Something good was bound to come out of this.

His conviction in superstitions was firm beyond belief, and from it he drew the strength in remaining steadfast.

So when he took strides to reach the entrance of his favorite tea shop throughout Ba Sing Se, he wasn't surprised to see the lack of circumspection that usually accompanied him wherever he went. Right now he felt secure, level headed and self-assured.

He went in and sat down at their usual table, proceeding to wait. His heart thudded in anticipation of her arrival. They hadn't made any actual plans to rendezvous at the location, nor was she a regular customer, but he was certain she would come. Something in his gut told him so.

Agni tell how his surge of confidence had bordered into startling complacence. His ego was overwhelming even himself.

She did show up. The recognition in her eyes as she noticed him immediately upon her arrival was enough to elicit a growing smile on his face. He lit up more with each step she took his way. It seemed as if nothing could stop him from brimming over.

Until he saw her up close.

In this world, people often express emotion their face, more often than not, in the form of a smile. Although some are proficient enough to conceal it, but anyone with a keen eye could discern the subtlest change in a person's countenance or the atmosphere surrounding them. There are many smiles that have the ability to illustrate what a person could be feeling; craftiness, avarice, demureness, or jubilance, like the one Zuko was evidently wearing with a lack of significant shame.

He noticed her smile was brooding, woeful. It was that small, contrite curve alone that whisked away Zuko's own smile and cheer clear off his face.

He could only stare at her dumbly as she seated herself and gave out her order in what seemed to be an undertone; a caramel milk tea. Following the order, he half-expected her to brighten up, or at least acknowledge him by telling him what was wrong.

But no, her dispirited aura lingered, shoulders slightly hunched and eyes downcast in a mellow expression of languor, and silence reigned supreme.

Slowly, he felt his ego sap out of him like a sewage drain. It was the first time that day that he hesitated, uncertain of what to say or do that would relieve her. Feeling markedly helpless, he found nothing else to do than to continue his bashful staring.

Their eyes met. She held his gaze for a few moments as he felt his cheeks beginning to burn.

She really was beautiful. His eyes weren't just playing tricks on him. Not only was she mesmerizing, but her personality was like none other he'd seen in his lifetime.

For all practical purposes, he had seen and met with more than his fair share of women, most of them shallow, who would rather play nice to get what they sought after, mastering the art of deception in order to effortlessly turn tides to their favor. Much like his ex-girlfriend, Mai. They were manipulative, ungrateful harpies only capable of abusing their wealth. Granted, he had often been associated with daughters of aristocrats that he was coerced to spend time with by having his relations —in terms of commerce, thank Agni— to them exploited, but that enough gave him a cohesive idea of females in general.

Yet, Katara changed that. True, he was initially attracted to her physically. He doubted if he would even spare her a glance if he didn't see his mother in her. They both shared the same long, dark hair that shimmered in the moonlight. Both of their smiles were dazzling, warm, and inviting. However, as he got to know her, the less he thought of her as his mother's lookalike and more of her own self.

Her compassion was undeniably fascinating. Although she wasn't in her best yesterday and came off as a little bit meddlesome, he knew she only meant well. Her nudging him to tell her his deepest, most well-kept tribulations made him feel much lighter than he had in years.

He understood that she sympathized with him. Normally, he would detest all those who did so, embedded in his understanding that it was all artificial, and utterly convinced they did so towards a certain end.

But she looked so genuine in such a raw way, and it touched him. It was nice to find someone patient enough to listen to him and not get frightened initially by his scar. She was open-minded, which was probably due to their similar pasts, but that in itself was greatly comforting. She could understand him, and not shower him with fake condolences like most people who thought they could get away with pretending they knew how he felt.

Although he wasn't much for talking, and would much prefer to stay away from people who talked too much, he found her to an anomaly. She was garrulous, but in a good way. She respected his boundaries well and he, in return, respected that as well. She never ceased to bring up new things to say that didn't sound completely forced and irrelevant, or transparent enough that he could see her effort in catching his attention - which countless had attempted and succeeded on grating his nerves instead.

The main concern for tonight was how lacking she was in the vocals department, which was unusual.

Silent moments weren't unusual for them, yet this kind of silence that hung even after they poured refills for their tea was stifling. Neither one spoke; one merely taciturn and the other for reasons yet unknown.

For the life of him, he wasn't a natural conversationalist. He couldn't let words smoothly flow out of his mouth like his Uncle could. At times like these he wished he inherited more of Iroh's innate eloquence.

So they lay there in silence, stirring their tea tediously, listening in dully on snippets of other people's conversations all around them.

At least, Zuko was. Apparently, his young lady companion was too lost in her own thoughts to take into account of his fraught demeanor.

It killed him, not having the courage to initiate a conversation. If he did, they wouldn't be stuck here like sitting ducks. He would be able to listen to her vivacious chatter that would never cease to occupy his attention, her wondrous blue eyes rippling as she rambled on in that luscious, mellifluous timbre of hers.

The slight tapping of his feet that he had been doing subconsciously became more frantic –a low thumping sound that was thankfully only audible to him- as the time passed, and the consciousness of it all began blanketing him thrice fold.

He was starting to deeply doubt the existence of his lucky number.

Finally, the clock struck ten, and he made up his mind. Rather than busying his mind to the point that he wanted to pull out his hair in frustration with thoughts of something that he knew he was incapable of doing, he might as well do some early packing. He was going back tomorrow night, following his success in building yet another joint enterprise.

It was a shame that their camaraderie -or more, he had foolishly hoped- had to end so soon. It was a given that very soon he would mull it over, bash his head against the wall, condemn, weep, and cradle the remains of his broken dignity. But for now, his mind had automatically kicked itself into evasive mode.

He had to stop making a fool out of himself. A hasty retreat was in order.

Of course, being Zuko, he couldn't just stand up and storm off. There was no honor in that. He needed to do it subtly and as nonchalant as possible. He had started with the day with composure; he was determined to end it with composure.

He looked around and motioned to a nearby waitress for the bill. He numbly shifted in his chair to finger the silver coins in his pocket, unaware of Katara now fixing him an intense cerulean stare.

She didn't look away when he finally caught her eye.

A part of him was confused. Another was enthralled. The need to strike up a conversation was all but forgotten as he once again found himself lost in the turmoil of her snowstorm. Her arctic blue orbs churned with a deep, hidden desire, glistening like the moon, vivid and striking, chaotic and slightly delirious, telling an obscure tale in itself as it steadily held his gaze.

He blinked, regaining composure as he stood up. He was a fool to think that this was going anywhere.

Farewell was just on the tip of his tongue when she finally opened her mouth.

"Can I...come over?"

oOo

He was there, reclining on the far end of his bed, arms folded behind his head as he kept his gaze straight to the ceiling. However, he couldn't escape the feeling of being rigid yet skittish for some unexplained reason, feeling the acute desire to be anywhere but his room. Just looking around felt dangerous to him even though it was his own room that he rented himself. It was as if a single glance at a wrong region would inspire a certain doom.

He was back in his suite. None of his things were stolen, and he was just a shut-eye away from slipping into the realm of dreams.

Yet he wasn't alone. There was no mistaking the sound of the shower running and the fog that spilled through the door to the bathroom.

He sighed again, his anxiety once again getting the best of him. What had he got himself to now?

The spirits must be holding a grudge against him or something. Why else would they invoke a sudden downpour just when they were just a couple ways away from the hotel he resided in? It successfully drenched them and further dampened his mood, which had already demeaned the moment awkward silence ensued between the two of them back at the shop.

Whatever happened to his enforced desire to escape her? He remembered making a bolt for it, when all of a sudden, she managed to corner him with a request he knew he could not reject. She had swiftly caged him and now he felt like being leashed as he conceded to bringing her back with him. What was going to happen from here?

Then the accursed rain just had to happen, and being totally unprepared, they had to make a run for it, the moisture soaking into their pores so fast the fabric clung to their skin, and hers, in particular, left little to the imagination. It was moments later when she was fully ahead of him that he realized he had been staring.

He groaned and hit his head on his chest, chin colliding painfully in jarring impact. What a way to nurse his indignity. It was a good thing she hadn't been paying attention, else he'd seem like an utter degenerate, and he swore if it ever had to come to that, he would never reveal his face to society again.

Now, considerably cleaner and better groomed, he had to endure the excruciating wait until she was done showering, which proved to be very compromising and nonplussing in its own right; his mind wandering to depths he dared not venture, conjuring the wildest fantasies as it unwillingly replayed the event where she was running in front of him, drenched in the rain, her previously dry and silky pleated long skirt that fluttered lightly with every movement now soaked thoroughly, its paper-thin material plastered on every visible curve and crevice of her body, restricted free movement as it was forced to move along with her skin—

Snap out of it, you dumbass! He chastised himself as he cleanly severed his line of thought, horrified at how he was so easily enamored by her. It was just in time too, as he heard the shower knob turn and the sound of muffled water stop entirely.

He held his breath as the tormenting seconds before her opening the door stretched far longer than it needed to be. There was no helping the stir of something he didn't dare mention in his lower abdomen as he cursed his own body that seemed to betray him. He couldn't think about it. He refused to. It was lewd and lecherous, not to mention indubitably inappropriate, and there was no doubt she'd be disgusted by him; if she found out. The recent, fresh-out-of-the-oven occurrence at the teashop flickered in his mind before he subsequently banished it to the far recesses in his mind.

A few moments later, the door opened, and steam instantly flooded into the room. The bathroom was bright, and he had to squint to make out the figure that emerged from it. His mind failed to process in a civil manner as he took in the sight before him.

Clad in only a towel, Katara looked ultimately divine. Her shapely figure, he couldn't help but notice, was accentuated by the bathrobe that hung precariously and oh-so tantalizingly on her hips. It was as if she meant for that to happen. Her skin was a stark contrast to the white towel she had on, and it made her look more alluring. Her dark, luscious hair was matted and wild, giving her a feral appeal. It was a quintessential combination with her deep blue eyes that seemed to electrify his very core.

He couldn't believe what was happening. The woman standing in front of him was the very epitome of his dreams. Countless times had she crossed his mind and blatantly refused to leave. The girl of his dreams, the woman he realized he had fallen for, the pinnacle of his reverie, was right there.

And he was at a loss on what to do.

Less than innocent images ran through his head and he had to force himself to stay composed. She had no idea what she was doing to him by merely standing there, her intense stare on him not receding.

He snapped his head back down, feigning a sudden interest in the texture of the velvety carpet. It felt sinful to look at her that way. She had a boyfriend. He would never dream of compromising on his morals, no matter how much of a jerk the guy was made out to be.

Yet, it had been her decision. Why else would a woman want to come over to a man's residence in the middle of the night, if not to look for reprieve and pleasure? She was obviously depressed, and he doubted if whatever she had in plan for them now was the right thing to do. He never seemed to know what was right and wrong.

Only a few seconds past before he felt the bed creak -or was it just his imagination?- and dip. Was she actually getting in with him? He prayed fervently that she had some clothes on, or at least looked decent enough so he wouldn't have mental images of ravaging her. He wasn't sure if she knew what kind of power she had over him, with what current state she was in.

To his surprise and horror, and a strange giddiness he couldn't identify, a small pair of hands caressed his back gently and in rubbed slow circles on them as he felt her come close, her body heat making it excruciatingly difficult for him to keep his hands to himself. He dared himself to dart his eyes to the door where she came out from, and was dismayed to find that her towels had not been discarded, and the clothes he put out for her in replacement of her wet ones were untouched.

Katara leaned towards him and pressed her forehead on his back. It was warm. Yes, she needed warmth. She needed his warmth. What she felt during the past three days. She wanted him to know, before he went back to his homeland, where they might as well never see each other again.

She knew from the first time she caught him staring at her like an idiot he was at the teashop that he was different, although she couldn't place a finger on what, exactly. It wasn't until later she began to realize his value was singular. Before she knew it, he had become the focal point of her thoughts, sidelining everything else, even Aang. He swallowed up her mind in only three days.

How was that even possible? She didn't understand herself. She didn't know if her rapidly growing feelings were based on the impression that she had no one else she could relate to.

She was confused, terribly confused. Her mind was warring against each other, two halves vying for dominion.

She had what she wanted, but why was it not enough?

She could think no longer. She only did what she thought would give her the answer she so ardently sought for the past few days. This was screaming stupidity, lunacy in every syllable, but her mind refused to be budged. Under normal circumstances, being this reckless, much less thinking about it, was preposterous to her; an aberrant atrocity in itself.

But she had never felt so torn between a man she had only met for days she could count with her fingers, and another she had known virtually her entire life. The concept was dishearteningly farcical. What she had in mind had the ability to scar both Aang and Zuko for life.

Oh Zuko, dear Zuko. What was he to her?

She sighed delicately, the soft whoosh of air that exited her mouth tingling his heightened senses and he shivered involuntarily. He didn't like what she was doing to him. But he stayed still and frigid, deathly silent. The sound of his heartbeat was a little louder than he preferred it to be.

He caught her murmuring under her breath, words nearly inaudible to him until he calmed down and struggled to tune in.

"I'm sorry..." In that rare moment of clarity, he paused to ponder what she meant. Or maybe he heard wrong. What was there to apologize for?

"I'm sorry." She whispered again, and his back felt strangely moist.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, and he felt his curiosity getting the better of him.

Slowly shifting his head, he caught a glimpse of her head buried on the folds of his shirt with fingers tensed into small, taut fists, both quivering and fragile. He paid extra care as he reached back and delicately pried her fists off his back, facing her.

Her fingers were cold despite the fact that she came out of a hot shower. From his peripheral vision, he saw the wisps of fog still hovering sluggishly at the door to the bathroom, the heat just barely reaching him.

He dragged his thumbs across her palm, kneading it in continuous circles in an attempt to warm them up. They felt so soft, so smooth, even for a girl's. He didn't mind rubbing them any time, all the time.

She still didn't look up as he did his ministrations. He had hoped she would finish her sentence, but it seemed that this was a conversation that would be more appropriate discussed while upright.

Easing himself up, he slid his hands from hers to her forearms, gently pulling her up with him. She obliged with little resistance. He couldn't help spotting the tiny vista of cleavage as she pulled herself up with his support.

His eyes darted away for a split second, breath hitching slightly in his throat before turning towards her again, restricting his line of sight solely to her visage. This position was hardly any less awkward than the one they were in just the moment before, but it had to make do. After all, it would be foolish of him to think they could hold a genial conversation on a bed, of all places.

Especially with her choice of outfit, which had apparently turned optional.

Of course he had tried goading her to the table that was more than enough to occupy for two people, but she didn't budge. She had seemed so out of it that he felt guilty if he had to pursue his request, regardless of it being for their own good.

"What for?" He forced out after a moment's silence, vaguely surprised that his voice came out hoarse.

"Because… we didn't talk, back at the teashop. I made things more awkward than it needed to be." She murmured, hell bent on staring down at the satin red of his comforter. Who knew what was going through her mind at that moment?

"Well, don't be. You had something on your mind, I understand," He comforted, a rueful smile starting to grace his features. Somehow, he found this timid side of her adorable beyond words. "Besides, I didn't talk either. So it was only fair that you didn't." He had meant the last sentence as part humor, part consolation for her, yet the silence did not break.

Well, he was aware that he wasn't exactly gifted in that department.

But be it far for him to give up that easily. A nagging feeling tugged at the pit of his stomach, insisting that he assuage the young woman at all costs.

"Hey. Look at me." He whispered as softly, as soothingly as he could. He put his fingers under her chin and lifted them up gently, eliciting her desired eye contact. "It's all right. There's nothing you need to be sorry for."

His heart stopped beating. Whatever had prepared him for her was gone as it fast as it came. From up close, at an even closer angle than ever before, her supernal beauty was transcendent beyond words. Glistering oceanic eyes coupled with long, luxuriant lashes that he could count if he wanted to, the contour of her nose, the delicate yet sensual curves of her incarnadine lips, the rosiness of her cheeks, and the sultry outline of her jaw stirred something unimaginable inside him. Not only was her skin appealing to him in its natural cacao complexion, it was also still very moist, with tiny droplets of water gliding down her skin that made his blood race.

At that very moment, she had captured his gaze as well as his heart. Something was building up rapidly inside him, and he could barely hold himself back as he stared at her for what seemed like a lifetime longer.

It all happened in a heartbeat.

Before he knew it, gentle, soft lips were pressed against his. Instantly, his mind went blank, and he could only blink as he struggled to process this sudden turn of events.

It was light and feathery. He didn't know that women's lips could feel that soft. But then again, now wasn't the time to revel in that. He had to do something. This was against his morals, a contradiction to the principles that ruled his life thus far.

But he couldn't find it in him to resist. She deepened the kiss and something wet prodded his lips gently, demanding entrance.

Whatever little restraint he had been able to avail himself with went out the window as pure instinct kicked in, a feral firestorm that brew deep in his viscera finally arising with that single gesture.

Regaining sight of the circumstances, he indulged in her kiss, returning it with his own, albeit more hesitantly. He was in his final stages of contemplating his options one more time; although he knew without a shred of doubt which choice he was drastically leaning towards. He was teetering on the brink of their tentative friendship, ambivalent yet enlivened to the idea of delving into a territory far more foreign and intimate.

He wasn't sure how to go about this; it was his first time acting in such intimacy. He had always been so aloof and driven that notions of romance were forgone in favor of pleasing his father and forgiven for his past sins. He considered handing the reigns to Katara, who seemed to be much more versed than he was, but when her fingers started sliding up to the tousled hair on the nape of his neck and entangling them in his thick, raven hair, he gave in to compulsion. Growling quietly, he administered more force in his kiss as his desire began to surface akin to that of an enkindling dragon.

It was obvious she wasn't prepared for the sudden pressure. She was becoming more erratic, her gasp between kisses providing the perfect opportunity for him to sense the opening of her mouth and navigate his way in. Though unversed in this particular field, his prowess all but disparaging. He could likely adapt to any kind of situation presented to him swiftly, including this. He smirked slightly at the thought and brought her closer, intent on tasting every bit of her there was.

The sweet tang of caramel milk tea that she ordered that afternoon invaded his senses as he prodded her upper caverns and explored her crevices; faintly curious at how the taste could have lingered for so long. His unbidden tongue glided across hers in a passionate fervor as she eagerly returned the favor, both locking in a fervent dance to a frenetic rhythm, along with the occasional tweak and nibbling.

Just when he was about to lose himself in the kiss, he felt her hands, which was previously encircled around his neck, start to probe his clothing. He froze.

She wasn't actually thinking of going further.

With a sharp inhale to quell his raging hormones, he caught her wrists and pulled away.

"Wait," He looked away, suddenly very embarrassed, the scandalous nature of his actions sinking in. Spirits, what has he been doing? "I don't think we should be doing this. What about your boyfriend?"

All was quiet. When he dared himself to look at her, she looked... absolutely broken. Her body spoke volumes; her shoulder sagged, face paled, and it seemed life itself deserted her. Something told him he had hit a sore subject, and it became obvious to him that all of this was because of the infamous boyfriend.

He knew he wasn't going to get an answer from her. He had tried, but it was obvious she didn't want to talk. Then again, if it just happened, like the night before, he wouldn't have expected her to. He understood that talking about it would only encourage her breakdown. And the last thing she needed was further disintegration.

He knew that if she were in her right frame of mind, what they were doing now wouldn't have happened; the possibility of it simply wouldn't exist. She was too overcome by bereavement by whatever had plagued her the other day that she was blindly turning to any method of reprieve, anything to get her mind off that tragedy. And she was using him for it.

He knew he should be offended that he meant so little to her. But it surprised him to know that he wasn't. When could he find someone like her again? Never. No one had ever treated him like she did; no one had ever gathered him into their arms and held them for that was worth. But she was. She was there for him. She embraced him, with all of his flaws and scars, his temper and ill-mannerisms. She knew his pain, she understood, she was genuine. If he could at least mean something to her, even if only just a little, it would be better than nothing.

He was absolutely willing to do anything for her to make her happy. If he couldn't make her talk, the least he could do was appease her. He was treading on a primrose path, yet he couldn't care less.

Her happiness was his first priority.

She continued on, despite the half-baked thoughts in his head finally coming to a solution. Her voice was subdued, but there was no mistaking the sheer desperation in it. "Please…don't make me beg. Don't make me into more of the pathetic wench than I already am. I can't help deciding things with my own body without any regards to my self-esteem, and I don't care if you think-"

His blood seemed to halt, and his heart gave one large thud before everything went still, like the calm before the storm. What did she just say? Did she just refer to herself as a prostitute?

The rest of her rambling went unregistered as the impact of her words finally settled in him. All of a sudden, he was shaking. Not from fear, but from indignation. A deep fury manifested itself in him and it was all it took for him to shove her down and pin her hands above her head, breaking her off with a surprised yelp.

He towered above her, staring down on her and taking heavy breaths as if to calm himself, vaguely noticing the flush clouding her cheeks as she looked back at him, bewildered and vulnerable. He absolutely refused to see her condemn herself to something of such low worth.

She was so much more than that, couldn't she see how he held her in such high regard?

Couldn't she see with what she had just said hurt him to no end?

"You," He exhaled between clenched teeth, and brought his head closer to her with every word. "Are. Not. A. Prostitute. Don't ever say that about yourself." He ended with his mouth just barely grazing her left ear, to get the point through. He pulled back. "And… don't regret this."

Before she could reply, he lunged and captured her lips with his, a needy desire building in his tightly conformed body. He could no longer feel anything else as his pulse thundered through his entire body, setting it ablaze with the untamed fire he had been struggling to hold in all this time, finally willing to set it loose.

He was willing to give it all to her. Offer himself as a whole. She had him in the palm of her hands and it was up to her how she wanted to deal with him; whether she wanted to stroke his heart or crush it between those long, sinewy fingers.

Making full use of his tongue, he licked her across her lips, aiming for that particular slit where he could enter. Either her reaction was too slow, or he was too impatient as he forced his tongue through and once again tasted the idyll that was her mouth. The ferocity of him left her whimpering, and he took that as a cue to move to her chin, his lips grazing them lightly.

Using his hand to tilt her head, he proceeded to leave a trail of kisses up to her jaw, ending up at a spot just below her ears where his tongue massaged and sucked fervently. Her gasps grew more frequent and he felt her fist his clothes in a death grip. Before long, he found that special, sensitive spot and focused his small ministrations there, wanting to elicit more of her vivifying moans and shuddering.

His hand previously occupying the side of her head moved up to cradle her head and the other roamed down to meet the edges of her robe. He made to unfasten them, but before he could do so, he felt his hand being yanked away. Surprised, he began to wonder if he did something wrong but grinned in relief when he saw her feverishly undo her own cords and guide his hand back to her.

Feeling around the now loose fabric, he tugged it open, and it fell limply to her sides.

He took a sharp intake of breath by what he saw before him. This is what he had been afraid of dreaming of, deeming it forbidden, but he knew it was there. And this is what he got.

Her body lay in front of him, unadorned in all its glory for his eyes to feed on. The maelstrom in his heart sought to devour him whole as he took in the rich, dark plane of skin that mounded into two equally stunning breasts whose nipples of a darker, more enticing shape stood erect on both apexes, inviting him to immerse his head between them and feel the texture against his skin, willing to suffocate for the pleasure of it. His gaze followed the skin down to a finely sculpted waist that fitted just right on her, molding into refined, slender thighs that he was sure if he parted just a fraction, it would shatter. She looked so fragile and delicate he couldn't bear to lay a finger on her, in fear of crumbling her like a porcelain doll.

He hadn't realized he had eyed her longer than she thought was normal and only realized it when she reached to cover herself, her face flushing crimson as she stuttered and tried to articulate words. He caught her, shaking his head subtly, and lowered his mouth to her ears, whispering: "You're divine."

Feeling her breath hitch from the compliment she obviously didn't see coming, he buried his head in her hair and smiled softly, letting the aquatic aroma and a hint of musk drift over his nostrils before resuming his kisses.

After coating her earlobe with his saliva, he let his tongue run down the expanse of her jaw down to her collarbone, taking his time to enjoy the sounds he wrung out of her. It stimulated and submerged him into overlapping of pleasure. He traced her shoulder blades with feather-light butterfly kisses, inching his way down, down to her chest.

She couldn't control the tides of pleasure he inflicted on her relentlessly. She could feel his hot breath on her breasts and her skin kicked into hypersensitivity and she tensed, feeling every nerve and sensor on alert. Every little touch, even a slight brush of him sent up flares on her skin, tingling her all over. Before she had time to catch her breath, he cupped one with her hand and slowly kneaded it, his thumb making even tinier circles near the crown of her mound. She hissed in ecstasy as he lowered himself and took the other into his mouth, kissing around the nipples gently before enveloping them whole.

A surge of white hot heat blinded her vision, filling up every part of her body. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't talk. He was too good, too gentle, and she wanted –no, she needed more. There was no way she could hold on like this, with him teasing her so much. She craved him, she needed more than his slow, sensual touches, she lusted for aggression, she needed him to –before she could—it was coming so soon, too soon, any moment—

Moaning, she clawed at him, pulling him up to her, frantically calling his name over and over as she felt herself loosen up, her thighs slick with release. "Zuko!"

He took a moment to process what happened.

His name.

She had cried out his name.

Not her boyfriend's.

His name.

Thrilled, he continued tracing his fingers south, letting them dance over the smooth expanse of her skin during the time her entire frame heaved up and down from shortness of breath and exhilaration. Every so often he would nibble a piece of her; wandering from the outline of her ribs to her belly button and the curve of her hips.

The liquid coating her nether regions was slick, and he let his hands reach the opening of her thighs and part them open, slipping just a bit. He still couldn't get over the fear of opening her too much, afraid that she'd break in half.

His face burned as he took in the lushness that was her vagina. It was terribly inviting and he found himself biting back his lips in order to catch himself from ravaging her entirely. Catching her eye, she gave a tentative nod, and that was all the permission he needed before smiling and taking her hands, kissing her knuckles in turn. Then he dipped his head down between her thighs.

Her eyes rolled back in blissful rapture as he placed his mouth on her clit and gave her an experimental lick. The reaction was instantaneous as she arched above the bed, her hands the only thing anchoring her to the bed. He smirked and plunged into her folding, made easier with her grinding her hips towards him in reflex.

She felt his touches transforming her, clouding her hazy mind with his name only, losing count of how much she cried it out like a prayer, in that single word alone portrayed constant pleading and begging for him, him, him. His name became a mantra her mouth had chosen to recite over and over again, regardless of it beginning to put a strain on her voice. Her throat began to throb, but it was nothing compared to the rapture he had incited within her.

His tongue began stirring in her insides, prodding and nipping his way through her ridges and breathing in her at the same time, making her squirm to no end. How he managed to spread spasms throughout her entire body by just concentrating on one area eluded her.

He could feel her starting to build up again, the way her body jolted every now and then as he sucked and massaged her already swollen clit. There was no gentle, merciful Zuko now. She had brought out the demon in him, and he was intent on bringing her to the brink of delirium.

It was too much. She couldn't breathe. Her agape mouth unable to form words as her vision went white. Her entire body went rigid, forced over its limits. Her knuckles were white with strain, and she was immobilized. He was giving her too much to take in; never had she expected such ferocity out of the quiet man.

For a moment, he held his breath. Had he been too rough on her? At times like these he cursed his lack of experience and his inability to control himself when he got too carried away. But then her eyes fluttered as she managed to take in a shuddering breath, and from there he knew she was coming back to reality. His eyes swept over her body once more, and he couldn't help but worship it, reveling in the fact that he had placed his mark on every part of her.

Wiping his mouth, he slowly assumed a kneeling position, forming an arc over her and going up to kiss her forehead with a tenderness that contrasted his previous fire. He pecked her temples, her nose, and her cheeks, all the while letting her recover. Then, akin to the princes in fairy tales, he crouched over her and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, bringing his princess back to life.

Her eyes were half-lidded and in them he could see unyielding desire. Her blatant yearning for him ignited his own intent to state his feelings for her, but he bit them back. He didn't know what benefit it brought him to hold back, now that he stole her innocence away from her boyfriend. Yet he still couldn't bring himself to say it. It felt forbidden.

His golden irises widened as she suddenly grabbed his collar and pulled him down into a heated kiss. Apparently, she wasn't done with him yet. With strength unbeknownst to him, she gripped the back of his neck and turned him around with a force that had him pressed against the headboard of his bed in a span of two seconds. Bewildered, he could only watch as she proceeded to straddle him and unbutton his shirt. Not long after, his shirt joined hers on the ground, revealing his own toned musculature.

He could see her admiring him for a moment before running her hands down his midsection, savoring the dips and cupped his appendage, her lips occupying itself by tracing down his jaw to his neck, biting the soft skin of muscle there where the pulse was located. It thrummed under her teeth, and she swirled her tongue over it, sucking and nipping until it was swollen red.

Satisfied at him trying to hold back his gratification, she adjusted her position on him, determined to get more out of him. His slacks tightened more in response, pain evident as he struggled to say her name, his voice low and husky. "K-Katara…"

"Take me, Zuko." Her breath tickled in his ears. "You can't stop now."

What lax he exuded earlier vanished as he unceremoniously threw her off him and flipped her around, switching their position once again. Taking advantage of her surprise, he took off his pants, throwing them to the carpet and took his position, letting his carnal side get the best of him.

He didn't let her see his painfully erect length as he rested the head on the tip of her lubricated opening. Slowly, he glided into her, earning a soft gasp before he settled in her comfortably. The muscles surrounding him bunched together in response, and she circled her arms around his neck, resuming her work. He took this as a cue to thrust in deeper. As if by instinct, he pulled himself slightly out before repeating it, the awkward and choppy thrusts slowly catching into a rhythm with the pounding of her hips.

As he got the hang of it, he let his hands wander from gripping her waist for leverage to exploring her frame once again; he could never get enough of her. He did everything to get her to call for him between her moans. Zuko, Zuko. It sounded so right when she said it, so beautiful and bewitching to the ears.

Before long, he found himself pounding harder into her, fulfilling his growing desire. With each stroke, she whimpered louder, and served as a fuel for him to go faster. Every thrust, every stroke sent searing, white-hot sensations up his body, stoking the fire to his blistering conscious. His eyes were shut, face buried in her collarbone to muffle his grunts and he grimaced when he felt her nails dig into him. By this point, he could no longer tell the difference between pain and pleasure, both already mixed with the other so deep.

After what felt like an hour, she went rigid once again, coming close to her limit. He delivered a few more thrusts, not quite coming to his yet. Her limbs shook and her body lifted, her head thrown back, her lips forming in a soundless scream. After one final shudder, they both embraced the sensuous elation of climax and he collapsed breathlessly on top of her, her arms tangled over his neck.

He rolled over to his side of the bed, staring at the ceiling. He could hear her giggling as she rolled to him and planted a kiss on his cheeks and curled up to him.

This was it. There was no way he could hide it now.

Just as he was about to declare his feelings to the woman beside him, he turned to find her already deep in slumber.

oOo

Zuko didn't feel right. Sure, having Katara right next to him was the best thing that could have ever happened to him, but this feeling was different.

He was feeling more insecure than ever, the pieces of the puzzle scattering farther rather than falling into place. It was strangely unnerving.

When he saw the pitch-black sky brighten with the first strokes of daylight, a part of him feverishly hoping that what happened the other night was just a dream. He didn't want to deal with the aftermath of such actions, if it truly happened. He couldn't trust himself to make the right decision.

Reality dropped on him like a boulder when he caught sight of the Water Tribe citizen sound asleep next to him, her breath tickling his neck and an arm draped lazily over his abdomen. She was unclothed, save for the thick covers pulled up to cover her necessary parts.

Everything was real. It wasn't a dream.

He saw it coming, but dreaded it anyway. He knew he couldn't hold this back. Now he couldn't help falling even harder for her.

He knew this was futile, that he was resigning himself to impending ruin. He should have been content with watching her from afar, but he just pounce on the chance she had presented to him like a rabid dog. What good did this interim rapture bring him, if it was only the overture to more anguish and desolation?

It was nice to wake up to a woman he loved next to him. But that was it. He could only love her. It was a certain love that would not prevail, an affliction fated to be just that. He would only be left hoping for something that would most certainly not be granted.

He could only stare at her, never truly touch her and embrace her into his arms, knowing that she belonged to someone else.

He ripped off the blanket coating him and made his way to the bathroom. He didn't spare a glance back to her; he couldn't. It stung.

It stung like the cold water that hailed on him in a relentless barrage, pelting him with torrent after torrent of cold truth, waking him up to the crashing waves of actuality.

Once out of the bathroom, he went straight to packing, solely thinking of his flight back home, ignoring the soft snores of a delicate young woman curled up on his bed.

A few hours later, with most of his clothes folded and belongings organized, he remembered the last thing he needed to do before leaving Ba Sing Se. He was reaching for his wallet next to the bed when she stirred from her sleep.

She sat up slowly, pulling up the sheets with her, frame basking against the soft light of the sun streaming in pastel shades behind her, defining her curves in ornate motifs.

Tenderly, she smiled, her voice dulcet with the soft exhale of breath escaping from the slight opening of her lips. "Hey."

No, he couldn't let it show.

He smiled back, praying it at least looked sincere. It wasn't so hard to pull off, since it was directed to her. "Hey."

Silence.

Her discerning orbs seemed to pierce through his defenses the longer they occupied his.

He felt his resolve melting under the heat of her scrutiny. The urge came out of nowhere as he went to the bed and sat down carefully on the edge, a sense of conservation washing over him. He didn't know how she would take what he was about to say next, after all. If she rejected him…then it would just confirm his suspicions.

It didn't help that he still felt a stirring of hope that maybe –just maybe she might recipocrate.

She eyed him curiously. Swallowing, he slowly brought a hand to her cheek, gathering his willpower and forced himself to hold her eye contact steady.

"I love you."

As soon as the words left him, her eyes widened and he was too panicked to decipher the meaning behind them. It left him feeling ridiculous.

Tearing away his gaze, he could feel a blush overflow his face. It was too late to go back on his words now. It was out in the open, and now he was completely at her mercy. "I know it's absurd since we've only just met three nights ago..." He faltered before forcing himself to meet her eyes again.

"But you made me feel things that I've never felt, that no one else had ever made me feel." He could see her averting her gaze by that sentence. Quickly, he added, "And I'm not talking about last night."

She still refused to look at him, a red tint starting to form on her cheeks. What did she make of this?

Suddenly his heart began to suffocate him with its hammering and he wanted nothing else than for her to just do something, rather than leaving him hanging like this. It wasn't that he expected her to accept, but anything would be better than this suspense.

After what seemed like ages, she inhaled, deep and slow, as if letting the air in to fill her entire body. Ducking her head, she formed a sheepish smile. It was time. He could spite and leave her, and she would understand entirely. "I guess... I do owe you an explanation now."

She shifted on the bed, leaving a very stupefied Zuko to follow her movements as she reached past him for the purse lying beside the bedpost. Reaching into it, she fished out a piece of white ribbon made of silk, letting it dangle from her hand before flashing it to him.

She laid it flat on her palm, the shape and pattern emblazoned on the pendant that dangled from it was painfully commonplace. It was a custom reserved for native Water Tribe people, but he was aware of what it was. He clenched his jaw, putting two and two together.

It was a betrothal necklace.

It wasn't so hard to figure out who had presented it to her.

"Something happened between me and... Aang, my boyfriend...yesterday." She started hesitantly, fingering the pendant nervously. "I didn't get any calls or texts from in the past two days we had the fi— misunderstanding. I told my friend about it and she invited me to come over for… you know, girls talk. So I went there, and apparently, she had told Aang I would be there without my knowing so he came to pick me up that afternoon. I was surprised, angry and hurt that they would plot this behind my back but I went with him, anyway. I wanted to know what he had to say."

She closed her eyes, feeling herself being pulled back in time. The memory was fresh, as if it had happened just a few moments before.

"Will you please talk to me, Katara?" He had pleaded to her for the umpteenth time, his eyes flickering back and forth between the road in front of him and the passenger who was currently giving him the cold shoulder.

She stayed quiet, refusing to acknowledge him due to the recent treachery he had been involved in, regardless of its triviality. She stared at the buildings that whizzed past them as if it were the most interesting phenomenon that ever occurred to her.

All if a sudden, her body was thrown forward, nearly crashing into the dashboard if she hadn't been held back by her seat belt. The sound of wheels screeching tore through her defenses. Gasping, she frantically looked to her surroundings, a surge of panic washing over her like a tide. What had just happened?

The street was clear and no car was in sight, except for one behind them, who had begun honking angrily at their abrupt halt, accompanied by articulate curses and shouting. No pedestrian was crossing the street and they weren't in an intersection. All was clear.

Fuming, she whipped her head to face the man next to her, whose foot was still placed calmly on the brakes. "What the hell, Aang? Are you trying to get us killed?" Her voice had upped a notch, and she was nearly shouting.

His response to her outburst wasn't anything like she imagined. Instead of being apologetic or frightened, or anything to denote a sense of wrongness, he was smiling. And a rather triumphant one, at that.

She felt her temper boil as she prepared herself for another bout of thrashing. Had he legitimately lost his mind? "What? Do you think this is funny?"

With a degree of leisure that was entirely inappropriate from a life-or-death situation, he lifted his foot almost lazily from the brakes and pressed on the accelerator, urging the car forward from its immobile state. "You talked."

She avidly wondered why she hadn't broken up with this puerile juvenile already.

They slowly pulled up in front of a house; a rather large one, not much different with the other houses in the upper tier of Ba Sing Se, yet the light blue paint coupled with dark gray roofs stood out from the cluster of monotonous, broken white and ginger colored roofs. In addition to the quirk, a gigantic moon peach tree towered beside the porch, bearing the favorite fruit of one person she knew so dearly loved. It was unmistakable.

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"Why are we at Sokka's place? You aren't telling on me, are you? Don't you dare bring my brother into our problem!" She snapped, but he ignored her as he got out of the car and weaved his way to her door to open it.

"You'll see, Katara." He offered his hand, almost as a peace offering. "Trust me, okay?"

She wanted to insist on learning more. What other reason had he to bring her here? There was no other reason to come here, no special occasion or holiday, nothing. He was hiding so many secrets and owed her too many explanations. He was making it significantly hard for her to trust him, but she knew she still wanted to. She still wanted to trust him, to take his outstretched hand and let him guide her out to do whatever he wanted to do and get this over with. She was tired of being at odds with him, tired of dwelling on their problems because it was nothing new.

Yet, held back by a sense of recalcitrant pride, she crossed her arms instead. She would not allow this guy to do whatever he pleased with her. At least she'd have the pleasure of not making things easy for him, just as he had with her a few days ago.

But this was Aang, and turtle seals would run before he ever gave in. Taking her wrist, he gently tugged her out of the car, and she had no choice but to comply, albeit with great reluctance.

She knew something was very strange was brewing from the atmosphere that surrounded her the minute she stepped into the house. For one, it wasn't only Sokka and his wife, Suki, greeting her in the living room, but also her whole family.

Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of her father and Gran-gran sitting together on the couch, standing up as they saw her, with Hakoda helping the elder woman to her feet.

"Dad? Gran-gran?" She repeated in slight disbelief, a part of her elated yet wary of just running up and hugging them both. "What are you doing here?" Aang must have something to do with this. Feeling her previous indignation bubble up in her again, she whirled towards her accused boyfriend. "This is your doing, isn't it? You know my dad has work and Gran-gran is the mayor—"

"Katara," Hakoda briskly cut in. Mouth still open, she glanced at her father, whose sharp gaze seemed to bore into her. "You might want to sit for awhile and let the young man explain."

"But, Dad, he—"

"Katara." He said again, his glare hinting at finality. Defying him at that point would be like digging her own grave.

Scoffing, she stepped back and dropped to the nearest seat, crossing her legs. She glared expectantly at Aang. "Well? Explain, then."

A few seconds passed and no one spoke. The young man bit his lip and scratched the back of his head, letting his gaze dart to the floor, his voice sheepish and timid. "Er…I don't…I don't know how to start…" Katara rolled her eyes by his gauche admission.

"Let me help with that!" Sokka voiced in restively, apparently irritated by his ineptitude as well. The difference was he knew something she didn't. Katara turned towards him, urging him to continue.

"So, two nights ago, your boyfriend came here, at around midnight. Can you imagine that? I mean, who in their right mind would come barging in at someone's house without a moment's notice—" He stopped rambling as soon as he caught Suki glaring at him. "Well, anyway, I was having this really philosophical dream about seal jerky when he began telling me what happened lately between you guys. And so yeah, I told him that he was being a jerk and all of the other things you would say to him, no need to worry about that. And since I'm such a loving and enthusiastic older brother who cares for his baby sister, I was just prepping myself up to endow upon him the knowledge to woo you back to him but it turned out he was just asking for Dad and Gran-gran's address back in the South Pole. Really, I thought he would have known by now since he knows practically everything about you, like the time he surprised you with that low-cut, skin-tight polar dress you've always wanted for your birthday that would have been impossible for you to wear unless it exactly matched your measurements—"

"Sokka!" Her face heated up as that particular incident jumped to mind. She had been so thrown off track by his most recent turn from the topic that she couldn't cut him off sooner, and she could only shoot him her most murderous glare that promised a slow death as Hakoda and Kana started giving her fascinated looks.

"He has something in mind, that's for sure. He promised me that this had something to do with fixing this tiff between the two of you, and I'm sure holding him to it. I told him if it somehow made things worse –made you cry or hurt you in any way possible, I would castrate—oof!" He was met with a sharp elbow to his gut from his wife.

Thankfully, Hakoda had the decency to take the reign from his son. "The first thing I found the next morning when I wanted to grab the newspaper was this young man in front of my doorstep." He gestured to Aang, who grinned despite feeling very self-conscious.

He blushed as he saw Katara look at him, her hardened features softened from the assertion. "I…took a plane to the South Pole the night I came to apologize to your father." He looked away, embarrassed.

She blinked. Now she knew why she didn't receive any texts or calls from him on Wednesday. She thought he was being ignorant as usual.

But she still wasn't ready to admit her faults yet. "Okay, so you were being ridiculously irrational and went all the way to the South Pole and earned my dad's forgiveness. I still don't understand why you had to bring them all the way here."

"In the evening, he was at my door." Kanna piped in, smiling warmly at Aang, who was sitting across from her.

"He invited us here for a very special occasion, Katara." Hakoda continued, his face bright. "I even took a sabbatical leave for this."

Seeing her granddaughter's confusion etched clearly on her face, Kana chuckled quietly, deciding to torment her no longer, since the young man seemed too overwrought to bring it up himself. "We weren't going to miss my own granddaughter's engagement."

Katara's jaws dropped.

Engagement?

Flabbergasted, she looked ahead as all of a sudden Aang had moved closer and stopped right in front of her before falling to one knee.

She couldn't believe this was happening. How did it turn out like this? One minute, they were fighting, and she was angry, and all of a sudden, now…

Her hands were feeble as she felt him take one of them into his hands, squeezing it softly. She could only stare at it uncomprehendingly.

It all seemed like a dream when he looked up at her with those swirling silvery-grey eyes of his, entrancing her. They looked different, more mature somehow. It held a gaze filled with countless years of experience, even though he was only twenty. She never realized. He was too often away than with her that she was unable to see the transition between the childish Aang she had known all her life and this new, more refined, sensible Aang. Even the posture he assumed now seemed regal.

Just a few moments ago, he was still acting so very immature. Where had that gone? How had he grown up so much that he was already considering an engagement?

It all began to click. She had been left behind in the past. Everyone else was moving forward, embracing the roles that they had carved for themselves while she was still viewing everyone the same way as they were before. Aang was no longer the boy she thought he was. He had grown, and so should she.

"Katara," He began. His voice steady and solemn. "I am truly sorry for having disgraced you and your father. I admit to being foolish to put up work when it is clear you are much more important than that. I should have known better, and I regret it more than anything. I want nothing more than to have your forgiveness. I can't afford to lose you; I love you too much for that." Not once did he look away.

She couldn't even think of opening her mouth to answer him before he let one of his hands wander to his backpocket and retrieve a tiny, velvet box the color of rich ultramarine.

Her heart stopped. "Oh…oh my gosh." She brought her hand to her chest, and the other to cover her mouth, and her deeply coloring face. Everyone was here, everyone was watching, and Aang…the jerk…

The adorable jerk…

"Katara," He began to unravel the object inside. A gemstone began to peek out, an iridescent glow of pure silver and topaz catching her breath. For a single breathless moment, it reminded her of the eyes of a young man she found to be idiosyncratic, and she quickly recognized the intricate carving of swirling waves that orbited the stone's circular edge; reminiscent of the necklace handed down to her through the generations. The waves were linked to each other, united in an endless circlet. Though the edge of the pendant was ornately designed, it was the heart of the pendant that ignited feelings in her that would have flooded that instant if she hadn't been smothering it.

A single gem, so bright, so yellow, so pure and lustrous, glistening for all his chaste feelings encompassed within, the beauty of his prudent love that he managed to embody within a matrix of promise.

"Will you marry me?"

Before she knew it, her vision went blurry, and any feelings of resentment she had harbored towards him was swept away like the river currents breaking through her every defense. She didn't think it possible to be able to feel this kind of happiness that seemed to transcend above all that had brought her joy to this day. Sweeping her gaze across the room to the other members of her family and seeing them all mouth agreement and excited nods, she turned back to Aang.

A long moment seemed to pass before Katara made her decision, with all eyes on her.

"Yes."

It was a small, tiny whisper that was easily lost in the thick atmosphere of suspense that surrounded them. No one was budging, either not hearing her near-inaudible voice or unsure if they were hearing right. Aang was staring right at her, uncomprehending, his eyes wide and deadly curious.

A full-fledged smile slowly bloomed on her face. "Yes, Aang. I will marry you." Her voice was louder and straining with joy as she pulled him up with her, and the room burst into rambunctious cheering.

The air was mixed with heartfelt applauding and teary exchanges as they surged around her, their congratulations lost in a flurry of words and hugging.

He looked positively ecstatic, and it seemed obvious he wanted to attack her and crush her in his embrace. But he maintained his cool posture and only grinned as he waited for the crowd to clear before taking the topaz pendant out of the box and circling around her to fasten it around her neck.

The cool stone of the pendant resting slightly above her collarbone seemed unreal to her, and she reached up to finger it. It was real and smooth. It was there, and it was reality. Pure joy radiated on her face as she turned to face the flourished, profound young man that seemed to shine like the brightest star in her universe at the moment.

"Aang, I…" The stricken young woman trailed off as she could only look at Aang, who brushed away a strand of her hair fallen out of place and pressed a soft, chaste kiss on her lips before facing the rest of Katara's and his soon-to-be relatives. Grinning widely, he bowed, a deep arc that signified his deepest gratitude.

Remembering what had transpired between them that day brought tears to her eyes again, although it shocked her to know it was now accompanied by a sting of hurt.

Zuko looked as if he had been slapped; he was frozen in place and was making a point to look anywhere else but her. A hail of arrows felt like it had permanently lodged itself in his chest as he strove to make sense of what she had told him. Not that he had been expecting anything otherwise, but it still pained him to have his speculations confirmed. It should have been better off left unsaid.

He gritted his teeth in an attempt to hold back anything that might slip through him. He didn't trust himself to make a comment. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure if he even had anything to say.

She felt like the vilest creature alive. "It was then that evening when I realized something. I had been too carried away in the significance and atmosphere of the event that it came to me too late. When I was told to organize the guest list for our wedding, the first person that came to mind was you, Zuko. The moment I remembered you, I…" She inhaled a sharp breath, looking pointedly at the window beside her, remembering the rush of emotions that had flooded her the instant she was reminded of the scarred, handsome young man with the striking gold eyes. "…I began to doubt myself. I began to doubt the entire thing. I'm horrible, I know. If I had thought about it better, if I hadn't just gone ahead and accepted Aang's proposal and had more time to think it through…" Her eyes watered as she looked at him again.

"If only I hadn't met you, Zuko. Things wouldn't be this complicated. I wouldn't be having these strange feelings for you whenever I think of you. I don't know what's gotten into me. It's ridiculous, having only met you for three days…" She finally trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

The gears in his head moved so painstakingly slow, as if it were rusting. "So I take it you're confused." His voice was low, like a snake coiling to strike.

"To be honest…" She breathed, aware of the change in his tone. "Yes. And I don't know how to deal with this."

Whatever expression she had seen on him seemed to melt away, a stony expression in its place. Or at least, that was what it seemed. She was never able to decipher what he was actually feeling behind his façade, the ultimate mystery to his appeal that initially drew her in.

"So you were looking for a rebound." His voice was cautious, as though picking its way through the illusive mines dotting the ground.

There was a moment of silence before her hand developed a will of its own, reaching towards his face, dropping it to his shoulder at the last minute. "No. I was looking for you."

He looked away.

"This isn't getting any clearer." He whispered, his voice even lower than before, a rasp creeping into it.

"I did that because I wanted to, Zuko. I wanted to sort out how I felt for you and Aang. And for whatever reason I thought that I might get an answer out of this, it isn't working. But I can't deny this major part of me that's practically screaming to be with you, and I just had to have this…with you. Before you left. This could very well be our last time together. That's why I had to look for you, because somehow I couldn't accept that this was as far as we could go."

Her voice had risen with each sentence, and he could see the turmoil revolving, twisting, thrashing in those deep-set blue eyes like raging water. He wanted nothing more than to swallow her in his embrace, rid her of her insecurities, kiss her confusion away. He yearned to give her the right answer that somehow involved having him in her life. Having her for himself. There was nothing holding him back from following his inner desires and compel her to leave Aang for him, to cancel the engagement and burn the pendant she was holding to a crisp.

But he couldn't. There was no way he could make her leave the one who cared for her the most, who Aang loved for far longer than he. He couldn't be that heartless, to rip away what was meant to be. He would be no better than his father.

If he was only meant to be a stumbling block in her life, then it wouldn't get any farther than that. His purpose was to lead her back to the right direction, to remove himself from the equation so her happiness would be ensured. He hadn't missed the small flicker of raw joy in her voice and the way her eyes lit up, however slight it had been, when she told him of her engagement.

Carefully, he removed his static mask with a tentative smile. "Listen."

She was silently weeping as he made to brush her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ears. "I love you. But I'm not demanding you to return it."

Even though there was nothing more he wanted than her to requite his feelings for her.

He lifted her chin with slightly trembling fingers he desperately tried to hide. "Aang…is a great guy."

Even though he wanted nothing more than to hate the guy.

He brought her face closer so their foreheads touched, her scent and tears, mixing with his. "Don't risk it for me. You deserve nothing but happiness and I know you'll find it with him."

Even though he wanted nothing more than to give her that happiness.

His voice was steady, but he wasn't sure if he looked as convincing as he wanted to. His emotions were boiling and restless inside him and that itself took a lot of effort to quell. He was slowly working his way into the hole he had dug for himself from the beginning, and there was no way to go back up.

He was such a hypocrite.

Regardless of his expression, she nodded, as if trying to understand him. He knew she didn't, but chose not to show it nonetheless.

"You're going to have to tell Aang about this." He gestured between them. "About us. He deserves to know. Judging from what you told me about him, he would understand. He sounds like a reliable man." There was only so much lying he could take. This was more than enough.

Without waiting for a response –he wasn't sure if he could bear to listen to her reply– he moved to the entryway with the intent of putting on his shoes. He wasted enough time.

Seeing that she wasn't moving, and didn't seem as if she wanted to, he sighed. "You can stay for as long as you like. I'll be back around noon, alright? If you're leaving, just lock the door behind you when you go out." He earned an absentminded nod to that, and stepped out.

Outside, in the hallway, he leaned against the door. He needed to catch his breath. The stifling atmosphere was now behind him, and there was nothing holding him back as he crumpled to his knees, his face in his hands, silent sobs wracking his entire frame.

Never had he felt so tormented in his life. The infernal beating his father burned into him was nothing compared to this purgatory.

Perhaps he was wrong about his lucky number. Seven was nothing special. He was being too superstitious, putting too much belief in something that was never actually there. In the end, seven would just be another number.

His seven homeruns in the little league baseball didn't matter, since his team lost anyway.

He was nominated as student president in seventh grade, but he didn't end up assuming the position.

His sister's birthday was also on the same day, July 7th, and she was given a Porsche. A 911 Carrera S.

He got the scar on March 7th, ten years ago, when he lost his mother.

His father's efforts to oust him as the seventh in line was evident in favor for his sister who displayed a talent of prodigy in the solvent world of business.

In addition to his collection of the numerous encounters with number seven, he had sex with a girl he loved yet could never be his on March 7th.

Seven was definitely not his lucky number.

Phew! This is our first time writing a smut scene. I hope we didn't fail.

Despite everything that happened in this story, seven is actually my lucky number, and that's one of the inspirations in writing this chapter. So, I hope I'm getting some more reviews regarding to this chapter. :D