I'M so glad so many of you enjoyed yesterday's prompt :D haha it was just a random idea that I took off with on a limb, so it's always great to hear such positive feedback C:

summary: He is sixteen, and it is summer, and they can last forever.

- these are disconnected drabbles and one-shots, all AU modern zutara -

genre: AU, Humor, Romance, Surrealism

rating: K

zutara week, day six

alternate universe

.

.

take i.

The gate opens, long-rusted hinges creaking private sorrows in a language nobody understands. Opening the way to a desolate desert of nothing, a mountain composed of the used and discarded, abused and unwanted.

And it is all mine, because nobody wants it.

I am the king of this castle with no court but silence. Pilgrim to this holy mountain, where none pay homage. This graveyard where nobody mourns, and the only flowers left are already long dead.

I climb to the top, steadily. Rust pipes bend at the waist, marking my passage, and oil drums slip under my feet. Discarded teddy-bears smile as I pass, and every broken television reflects my image carelessly, for my entire kingdom to see.

I reach the top, and recline in my sedan chair – plastic of the refrigerator door refreshingly cool in the heat of the summer night. I lay back with a sigh, and open my eyes.

The stars fly by above, gliding like chariots, trot-trotting through the sky. A hidden splendor, unmarked by all but me, incalculable to all but those who are privy to this place. This damaged stretch of land, home only to the broken.

It is my home. My castle. My church. My grave.

I smile as the stars wheel by above, balls of fire ready to crash to earth and destroy all of its insignificant life, and yet somehow they hang in the sky and refrain. I look at that sky, filled with brilliance, and I am free.

My hand stretches out above my face, as I try to reach that luminous universe above, only to learn that I am grounded.

A sigh.

I am no longer a child. I cannot touch the sky.

For hours, I watch the stars wheel above, leaving me behind.

A sound, a crash, and then a girl climbs my mountain.

She is all fluid and grace, balanced and regal – forehead a bit too wide for her face, lips too thin for beauty, nose a button of a thing. And her eyes –

"Like the sky," I whisper.

And then she smiles at me.

With her dark curls and cobalt cotton weave dress, she is a spectacle to behold.

"Who are you?" she asks.

"I'm Zuko," I say, "and I'm king here."

"I'm just Katara," she says as her eyes catch mine – blue, blue like the sky I watch for hours and hours.

I am lost.

She dips me a curtsy. "Do you mind, Your Majesty?" No mocking in her voice.

This place all my own and no one to share it with.

I move over.

She sits.

She smiles in that annoying way she has.

"You're kind of cool, you know," she says, carefree to whisper, a dreamer with dreams too big for her.

Her eyes catch mine, clear summery skies and carefree, filled with brilliance and suddenly I am free. My hand touches hers, and once more I can fly.

"Thank you."

I am sixteen, and it is summer, and we can last forever.

But for now we watch the stars burn.

.

.

take ii.

"I can see much of your future," she says in what could only be her mystical voice. "A great love awaits you."

Zuko gives the old lady a skeptical look, golden eyes unimpressed, but he remains still and silent as she traces a wrinkled, fragile finger along the lines upon his palm. He resists the urge to wrench his hand away and storm off, making a mental note to blame his uncle for dragging him to the street fair that would surely be a waste of time.

"And – can it be? Yes!" The woman continues, gasping in her theatrical glory, "You will have many, many children!"

The young boy rolls his eyes, reclaiming his hand and stands from the too-comfortable chair that all but swallowed him whole as he sunk into it. He glares at his uncle who engages the fortune teller with his charm and wit and decides to wait outside of the ridiculous gypsy booth shaped like a crystal ball.

He steps outside onto the busy street and is thankful for the fresh air after drowning in perfumes and scented candles, and looks around at the hanging lights, the carnival rides, the families and children laughing and smiling and buying giant puffs of cotton candy and winning various prizes at rigged festival games.

Music plays faintly from every direction, special music to accompany a ride, but the songs mesh together as though it is one, rather than a handful of clashing harmonies.

Zuko sighs, impatiently waiting for his uncle to finish with the fortune-teller. He wants nothing more than to leave because street fairs were stupid and immature and a thing only of his past – when his mother was alive. Ever since she passed, he and his sister stopped going. And their father had stopped taking them.

Now Zuko is seventeen and he thinks everything is childish—

"You are not filling in for her!"

—his attention is drawn to the source of the yell, for some strange reason the voice stands out from the din. His eyes find a boy, not much different in age, reprimanding a young girl standing behind a booth. It is clear that they are related, if not siblings, and he is arguing and the girl is laughing.

"That's what Be Right Back signs are for!" That strange boy goes on, waving his arms frantically, "I want you out of that booth, now! I'm serious!"

But the girl only smiles and gestures towards a passerby the brother and sister seem to know and Sokka goes off with the girl, all stutters and blushes, and his sister shakes her head in amusement as she watches them disappear into the crowd.

Before he realizes what he is doing, Zuko's feet take him towards this girl behind her booth and she looks up to see him and she smiles and it is as though he knows her already. But that can't be because he's never seen such blue, blue eyes.

"Hi," she greets him as he approaches. "Would you like one? It's only a dollar."

And Zuko doesn't know what is only a dollar, only aware of the way her dark hair curls around her face and the way her smile reaches her eyes, and the way her skin is tan and flawless, but he still doesn't smile, only stares, as if he doesn't hear her.

She reaches out a hand then, across the booth, and catches his fingers, her own curling about them and she draws him nearer and her touch is warm and comforting, just like her smile, just like her eyes – familiar, and Zuko welcomes this strange girl and her soft, soft hands and blue, blue eyes and warm, warm smile.

"Just one dollar," she repeats, and she is still holding his hand and Zuko doesn't pull away.

It is not like that fortune-teller's hand.

It is not like anyone's.

But he swears he has held her hand before.

And so he withdraws a dollar, his final dollar, and stuffs it into the jar sitting on the booth table, and she leans forwards and soon their lips touch and Zuko wonders if the fireworks are going off in the sky – but it doesn't matter because his eyes are closed anyways, and she pulls away and he watches her, almost afraid of the way she intrigues him so.

Something is exchanged between them as their eyes study each other, and slowly, he returns her smile, and then she leans forward again so they might see the fireworks once more.

Zuko is confused because he doesn't have another dollar to give, and she shrugs. "First kiss is on the house," she explains.

And he decides that he knows that smile and if he doesn't he will because hers is the smile that he will know forever.

.

.

take iii.

What did he want from her anyway?

The girl paced the floor of her apartment, striding steps beating rhythmically along the carpet, reverberating the ceiling of the occupants below. But she didn't care. She was much too stressed to care. She ignored the complaints of the annoying people beneath, ignored the landlord's warnings…and most importantly ignored her roommate's incessant whining. No…Katara was in an increasingly foul mood, and not even her dear brother could soothe her rising temper.

"Katara, at least he told you!" Sokka offered from his seat upon the couch, large, circular eyes following his companion's movements. Back and forth and back again went her form, down an imaginary line. She stared at the ground, muttering under her breath a list of obscenities Sokka could just pick out. The girl was not amused, and he had never seen her so flustered. "Katara—?"

He nearly fell backwards when the college student spun onto him, blue eyes flaring with an aggravated blaze. "Would you shut up?" The girl hissed impatiently cracking a knuckle to restrain from taking a swing. The shock clear in Sokka's eyes triggered instant regret, and Katara let out a heavy sigh, resting a hand to her forehead and letting it wipe down her face in the attempt of ridding herself of the contempt, the envy…

But to no avail.

"Look, he can't get out of it," Sokka tried to console his simmering friend, gingerly inching himself up from the couch towards her. "And you know how Zuko is, his family is all traditions."

"He's barely twenty-two," Katara groused irritably, shrugging away from the boy's comforting pat. She hugged herself, wondering how she even got herself into such a mess, and shook her head. "Whatever, I'm over it," she lied.

Sokka said nothing, but only peered at her, unconvinced.

"I am." Katara insisted upon glancing back at her suddenly silent roommate. "Really."

Sokka, however, said nothing, only irking the young woman off. Katara huffed, taking sharp swings through the air. Aiming at nothing and hitting nothing, she moved on out of the room and towards the door. Each jab drew out a restrained breath from her tightly pursed lips. Her roommate watched wordlessly, listening, as the girl continued on in a frenzied manner. "I—AM—OVER—HIM!"

Knock, knock.

She hesitated, glancing over at the door, and dropped her arms at her sides, feeling utterly juvenile. What was she, thirteen? Trudging on to the entrance, Katara peered back to Sokka who shrugged, before tossing the door open. "Look, now's not the best time—" Whatever she was going to say was cut short by the breathtaking image standing, displeased, in her doorway. Katara sucked in a breath of fresh air, curling her toes in her shoes in his mere presence and felt all anger, all frustration, dissipate at once. "Zuko," she breathed out almost dreamily.

The man looked beyond her, amber eyes settling on Sokka, and he moved, glided, through the door without so much as a passing glance the love-struck woman's way. "Hey," Zuko demanded the other male's attention, who's brows were knit together in disapproval of his friend's treatment towards Katara. "I have to ask you something."

Sokka waited a second, eyes flickering back to Katara who shut the door and rolled her eyes, making a face that plainly said shut up, and stalked on out of the room, down the hall, and into her own sanctuary. Finally, the roommate nodded. "Shoot."

"Well," Zuko began, scowling lightly in his search of words. He had practiced it diligently the day before and on the car ride there, but for once, the man was flustered. "My wedding, it's—"

"You have some nerve, you know that?" Sokka interjected crudely, keeping his voice low so as not to be overheard, "Waltzing in here without so much as an acknowledging look towards her. Do you have any idea how broken up she is about this whole affair?"

"Well—"

"And you have the audacity to bring up the subject of your wedding in her household?"

Zuko looked away, not used to being reprimanded, let alone by Sokka. He took the critiques, however, feeling that he at least owed that much to the boy. Once Sokka was done, he decidedly ignored the lecture, expression holding nothing of affect at the soft-spoken scolding and lifted a chin. His voice was cool, calm, when he asked, "Aang dropped out as My Best Man—something a family emergency. Will you take the part?"

.

.

Katara sat in the swing, letting her feet drag along the sand. It was chilly out, and the park was empty save for the one or two passers-by. She sighed, a deep and heavy sigh of defeat, dropping her shoulders in the process. It had been just about two weeks since she was informed of Zuko's wedding…and said event was barely a month away. How was she to know that he was engaged? That he left for China to bring his betrothed to America? How was she to know that before he could even speak, his wife was chosen?

She had no means of having known any of that…and still, she blamed herself.

Zuko was the Heir to the Agni Family's fortune…he was the son of some great man in China who did something or other, and was of a much higher status than she. Why would he ever, engaged or not, be interested in the likes of her? The young woman stifled a sob into the rusted chain of the swing, pressing her lips against the cool metal until she felt blood trickle onto her tongue. Katara blinked and sniffed, shaking her head, forgetting the sorrow, but to no avail.

All she could hear, all she could see, was Zuko…his voice when he told her he had a fiancée, his face when she finally confessed her love to him…

How it hurt when he refused her heart.

At least he invited her to his wedding?

Katara stared bitterly into the sand beneath her feet, watching as droplets slowly darkened splotches of the sediments. Wiping at her tears, the girl stood abruptly, causing the swing to rattle, and hugged her arms about herself, unsure of what to do. What could she do? She did all that she was able to already…there was nothing left but to accept it. She told him she loved him, he didn't care.

She lost.

She lost before the game ever even began.

The tears doubled, and Katara crumpled into the sand, wrapping her arms about her legs and drawing her knees to her chest. She sat there and wept, the swing gently pressing into her back as it moved back and forth by the push of the breeze.

Sokka was the Best Man.

Ty Lee, the Maid of Honor.

Sokka and Toph's daughter was the flower girl.

Jet and Suki's son was the ring-bearer.

Azula was the wedding planner.

And she?

She was nothing…

Like always.

Katara cupped a handful of sand in her palm and lifted it, opening her fingers to let it sift out of her grasp and dance with the cooling wind that swept it from her palm. The woman watched it idly, the beautiful flow of sand into the sky, and told herself that it was over. She lost Zuko. Rather, she never had him to lose to even begin with…

That thought in mind, the young woman stood, brushing off the sand from her posterior, and walked through the park towards her car, as the first raindrops of April came streaming down from the sky, giving hope, life, to everything and anything…

Except Katara.

.

.

Zuko stood before his mirror, idolizing the white tux. With swift and crisp motions he smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles, gazing distractedly at his reflection. It was May. It was his wedding day. And it was raining.

It had been a few months since he's finally brought Mai to the States, and she was instantly welcomed into his group of, friends, if you will, much to his delight. The girl was approved by everyone that mattered…except one. Zuko's smooth motions hesitated for but a moment at the thought, before he let his hands run down his side to straighten the jacket that wasn't disheveled at all.

Don't get him wrong, it wasn't that Katara disliked his bride-to-be…on the contrary, she and Mai got along exceedingly well, until she realized that her new friend was his fiancée. It was then that Katara distanced herself not only from Mai, but him as well…and though he hated to admit it, he missed her company.

He missed her constant praise.

He missed the look on her face when he'd step into the room.

He missed everything that he used to hate about her, and then some.

Maybe this was a mistake? Maybe it wasn't too late?

Zuko scoffed at his own visage, turning away from the mirror and readjusting the bow-tie about his neck, loosening it, then tightening, then taking it off all-together. The man sighed, raking his fingers through his un-brushed tendrils. What was he doing, wondering about Katara? Pre-marriage jitters…that's all this was. He was getting cold-feet. Nothing more.

Besides, even if it wasn't the typical reaction to getting married, even if he truly felt that wedding Mai wasn't in his best interest, what would it matter? Katara made it clear that she had moved on, that she came to accept he was engaged. The groom's eyes hazed over at the memory…on that raining April day…

Knock, knock.

Zuko looked up from the kitchen table of his modest little apartment (a rented room to escape the hectic life of the mansion) and scowled in agitation. His wedding was a month away, and nothing seemed to go as planned. The ninnies hired to organize the whole affair were far too incompetent and his own sister fired the lot. Mai was out choosing a dress, accompanied by Haru on Zuko's command – what if something happened to her?

She was new to this place after all and knew nothing of the American culture and customs. Admittedly, the Haru wasn't Zuko's first choice of accompaniment for his fiancée, but no one else was available, and he jumped at the opportunity.

Zuko sighed heavily, dropping the phonebook onto the table and stood from his chair, rubbing a tired eye with his fist.

Knock, knock.

"Coming, coming!" He shot inanely, frowning even before he opened the door. The man was startled to find a drenched Katara at his doorstep, and froze, caught off-guard by her unexpected visit. Sand freckled her clothes and shoes, eyes red and puffy. "What are you doing here?" Then, after realizing that wasn't the most hospitable greeting, he opened the door further and stepped aside to let her in, "You're going to catch your death. Come in, I'll get you dried off."

She didn't budge.

"Katara—?"

"Don't," the word was strained, as if it took all of her energy to utter it, "Don't say my name." Zuko, confused, opted not to say anything, and his guest continued on, without moving into the apartment, or making any indication that she was to come in. "I dropped by here to…to let you know that I will be attending your wedding. I'm okay with it, you being engaged…getting married. I'm sorry for how I've acted, it's not my place to be so angry, to have been so frustrated. But I'm okay now…I just complicated what never needed to be brought up. Really, it's just as simple as black and white—but I looked too much into the gray and made my own problems. And…"

What?

"I just…I'll be there."

She failed to elaborate, and turned to leave, compelling Zuko to call her back. "Wait," he sputtered out before he could stop himself. Katara glanced briefly over her shoulder, a storm brewing behind those cobalt eyes. At a loss for words, he lowered his gaze and murmured a curt, "Thank you," before slamming the door shut.

Knock, knock.

Zuko swirled around to the door, where Sokka peered into his dressing room with an expectant face. Despite the usually joyous occasion, the Best Man was not smiling. "Just thought to make sure you didn't run away." He sounded disappointed. "Lots of people here," he stated, purposefully avoiding letting the groom on whether or not Katara had arrived. "Don't want to keep them waiting."

When the man made a move to leave, Zuko had no choice but to inquire, "Is she there?"

Sokka paused, and a cat-like grin spread along his lips. "Is…who there?" He asked knowingly, a glint of mischief flashing in his blue eyes.

His antics were maddening and Zuko scowled, turning away. "Nevermind."

At the sudden disinterest, Sokka shook his head. "No, no!" He said in a fluster, laughing in a manner befitting no one else but hi,, "She's here, she's here! She's sitting near the front, too! Right by Jet and Suki!"

The groom nodded and waved Sokka away, returning his eyes to the mirror.

To his surprise, his features mimicked that of Sokka upon his first entrance.

Disappointment.

.

.

The wedding proceeded as a normal wedding would, and Zuko did his best not to glance back at the audience, at his family, at her family, at their friends. He found that his gaze wandered aimlessly towards Jet and Suki, however (of course it wasn't because Katara sat with them, that thought is ludicrous!) and he had to constantly return his attention to the blushing bride, who's own smile seemed forced.

Vows were exchanged, but spoken with cold and unfeeling tones, not just on his end, but the woman's as well. Did anyone notice? Maybe, not that it was of any importance. Mai was hesitant to pledge her love, hesitant to accept the ring, or place it on Zuko's finger, but she did, just as he went through the motions, the process, as though they were basic movements, like walking.

The whole affair seemed dismal rather than cheerful, but it wasn't until he was about to kiss the bride did anyone say anything about it.

"I can't take it anymore—I love you! And there's no way I'm letting you get married to someone who doesn't return your feelings!"

A collective gasp came from the room as all heads turned to a teeming dark-haired boy with fierce dark eyes. He stepped over the aisles and marched up to the altar with such abrasive steps that no one dared get in his way. "Mai, I've loved you the damned moment I saw you, and there's no way in hell I'll let you marry anyone else!"

Katara's eyes eyebrows rose high on her forehead as she watched, with a gaping mouth, Haru steal the bride from Zuko's hold and profess his love for her. The girl seemed unable to contain herself, the smile on her face entirely uncharacteristic of the bride evidence enough that the wedding was clearly off. Though a great murmur of shock and dismay filtered through families and guests, Sokka only laughed and stepped forward.

"Well, clearly these two aren't in love!"

No one knew how to take it.

"Now you can get back to Katara!"

The girl blushed furiously under the sudden intense stares shifting to her, and she ducked, pathetically, behind Suki. Her gaze met Zuko's, but he said nothing. Embarrassed, ashamed, and anything else that would explain her redness of face, Katara squeezed past the seated people and rushed down the aisle and out the doors of the church.

.

.

Katara let her eyes flutter open as a ray of sunlight trickled through the shutters of the window, and she smiled softly into the new morning. Yawning, the girl shifted in the bed, holding the covers over her chest as the chill bit against her bare skin. The large smile on her lips remained there as she turned on her side and found a sleeping Zuko tucked beneath the sheets. Katara idolized him, tilting her head to the side, and restrained the want to laugh.

She couldn't remember when she's ever been so happy…being with Zuko was more than she had ever hoped for.

They were on their honeymoon…their wedding?

Why, he proposed the day after he was to be wed to Mai…

Their wedding took place the following summer, a little more than a year after.

And now they were on their honeymoon.

Katara reached out a hand to tuck back a strand of his hair, when he caught her wrist with reflexes that bewildered any human mind. He peeked at her from the corner of his eyes and smirked. "Morning," he murmured intelligibly, but his new wife could make out his words. Sitting up, the man blinked the sleep from his eyes, before stretching his arms high above his head.

"Morning," she replied earnestly, taking the opportunity to wrap her arms about his exposed chest. Placing a chaste kiss at the base of his neck, Katara sighed happily. "Should we go meet them for breakfast?" By them she meant, of course, the other honeymooners, the newlyweds, Haru and Mai.

Zuko ruffled a hand through her silken brown locks, before pressing his lips against her temple and muttering an almost sinister, "They ditched us yesterday…it's our turn to have some fun." With that said, he tackled the girl onto the bed, lifting the covers over both of them and tickled his wife mercilessly.

Katara giggled, struggling against his hold, before submitting herself to him.

She traced a finger along his face, down his jaw-line, and grinned saucily, "Say it."

"Say what?" Zuko questioned automatically, mirroring her smirk.

"Say my name."

The man lowered his lips to hers, trailing kisses gently, potently, along her cheek, before finally letting his breath explore the caves of her ear and whispering the name that brought shivers down her spine,

"Katara Agni."

WEE, how was it?

today's prompt was difficult.
not because I couldn't think of anything
but because there were so many ideas D:

i might just devote and entire drabbles / one-shots series to AU zutara
because it was so hard to choose one idea D:

these aren't even the best, but they're the ones I came up with first
before everything else bombarded my mind

look out for a drabbles series for AU zutara !

and let me know what you thought C:

day seven; storm