Graphic depictions of self-harm and a large serving of suicide ideation.
"there's no end to the love you can give
when you change your point of view to underfoot
very good
you may be flat but you're breathing"
The train ride to Zuko's dorm on Sunday morning seemed to take no time at all. Mai stood, though there were seats free, and stared out the window. Her heart was pounding as if she was climbing a hill on a roller coaster, about to plunge down. The unreality of the previous night hadn't left her, so still it was as if she was watching somebody else control her body. Someone else had texted Zuko she was coming, left her house, and gotten on the train.
It was the most beautiful day Kyoto had seen in a long while. The sky was blue and cloudless and infinite, blue enough to drown in. The air was still cold, but it wasn't reasonable to expect anything else in the midst of winter.
She was there. Mai exited the train and stood on the platform until the train left again. She looked at the other people, each with their own destination, and hesitated. It would be a simple thing to get on a different train and ride it away. She could run.
She didn't run. She exited the platform and then the station on leaden legs.
Zuko met her at the door of his building. He wasn't smiling. He didn't immediately invite her in, a small blessing she was grateful for.
"Are you going to explain that text, or what?" were the first words out of his mouth. Mai blinked and then remembered. In all that had happened, she had completely forgotten their argument. Maybe it would make things easier. Maybe it would make them harder.
"No," she said, She wondered what he would do if she told him all of her secrets. She wondered if he would worship his father any less.
Zuko sighed. He looked unhappy. "Mai, it's cold, and I've got a lot of work to do."
"I'm sorry." It was probably good to start with an apology.
He waited. She tried to say something. She hadn't practiced. A thousand idiotic scenarios had occurred to her, each more moronic than the last. She should have given it time, written a script and memorized it. This way, she was bound to say something stupid.
"...I'm sorry," she said again. Zuko was starting to look alarmed. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the look on her face, and forced herself to open them again. If she was doing this to him, it served her right to look him in the face while she did it.
"Mai, what's wrong?"
"I..." She sighed herself. She remembered dates and study sessions at Iroh's apartment. She remembered Zuko holding her and kissing her. She remembered that he was the most important person in her life, the only one who made her happy. Then she remembered that he deserved so much better, and she didn't even deserve to look him in the eye. "This has to end."
"What? What does?" He sounded alarmed now.
"This," she repeated, gesturing vaguely between the two of them. We need to break up sounded too juvenile. This relationship has to end sounded too critical. "I can't be with you anymore." And of all the available options, she'd chosen the most melodramatic, the most cliché. God, she was horrible.
"What?" Zuko seemed frozen, staring at her, his body half-inside the door and half-out. "Mai, is this about the fight? I wasn't that angry at you. I'm so sorry if I said something that hurt you. I was just really confused, and you didn't give me a reason—"
"It's not about the texts," she said. She wished she would cry, could cry, but she just felt cold and empty. Callous. Monstrous.
"I'm sure we can talk about it. Is it your parents? Do they want you to? Please, Mai, is it something I did? I'm so sorry for anything." He sounded desperate. She remembered loving him, but still she felt nothing, even as she desperately wished to feel something, anything.
"It's not you," she said. "I promise." She wanted to say they could still be friends, but that was another cliché, and besides she didn't deserve that.
"Then give me a reason! You have to! You owe me that!"
His voice carried on the thin, cold air. The sun beat down from on high, merciless and devoid of warmth. Goosebumps had long since appeared on Zuko's exposed wrists.
She did owe him that. She took a deep breath. "There's...someone else."
He appeared uncomprehending, and then anger took over his features. "The fuck do you mean, there's someone else?"
She said nothing.
"Where? At school? Who is he?"
She wouldn't say it. He could ask all the questions he wanted, rail at her, say he hated her, but she would never say Azula's name. She would tell him this last pathetic lie to protect him.
"I'm sorry." She looked away from him now.
"How long have you been seeing someone else?"
"Just December," she said. Just.
"That's why you've been acting so weird? Is that why you told me you were unhappy?" Zuko ran a hand through his hair. He looked lost. "I thought we were good."
"No! That time was something else. It had nothing to do with you. We were good," she said. "It was never you, Zuko."
"Then why'd you do this? We could have talked! We could have done something, anything! Mai, I care about you!"
"I l—" She cut herself off. She couldn't say she loved him. Not anymore.
A sort of wild smile crossed his face. "Is this a joke? Please, Mai. Say you're just kidding around."
"I'm sorry." She should probably stop apologizing, she thought. It wouldn't help either of them. What use were words against pain and feeling?
He stared at her for a few more seconds, slowly shaking his head. Then he slammed the door in her face.
She stood there for a while longer. She didn't know whether she was waiting for something, hoping he would open the door again and take her back, say everything was all right. She couldn't be waiting for that, not when she had ended it.
She thought about the years they had spent together. He always smiled when he saw her. In the beginning he'd blush too and try to cover his smile. She remembered thinking of him as her favorite person. He'd been there whenever she had needed him, and she'd tried to return the favor.
But in the end she'd failed. She had brought this upon herself, and now she needed to deal with it.
Her feet weighed her down as she finally turned away. She didn't want to leave. Sadness clung, thick and heavy, to the back of her throat. Still there were no tears.
She got on the train and pulled out her phone. With shaking fingers, she texted Azula. I need to see you, now.
And though she'd left one person behind, Mai thought about the person she'd chosen, and the sadness lifted somewhat. It wasn't Azula's style to comfort her, but a few minutes in her presence and probably she'd forget anyway.
Azula responded fairly quickly.
Can't. Father's here.
Mai tried her hardest to ignore the potential implications of that statement.
Please. I can just come to the door.
She could almost hear Azula's sigh of impatience.
Fine. There's a park a few blocks from my house. I'll be there.
Mai held her phone to her chest and breathed in and out. She tried not to think about the past. The sun was still very bright and the sky was still very blue, and sadness was a temporary thing. She looked at the other people on the train, reading newspapers or using their own phones or just staring off into space, and she wondered what life was like for each of them. There were so many people around her, each living their own life, none of them having any idea of who she was or what she had just done. She hoped they were happy where they were. When she thought of them, all of the other people, her self and her problems both seemed to diminish. She was nothing really, just another random collection of cells sitting on the train and waiting for life to act upon her.
It was her stop already. Mai got off. The streets of Azula's neighborhood looked much the same as they had the day before, except that the sunlight threw everything into sharp relief. It was beautiful. Mai walked slowly through the streets. Her heart was beating very fast; her hands were shaking. She didn't know what she was waiting for. She didn't know what to expect.
The park was very small. Azula was immediately visible, seated on a bench facing away from Mai. Mai approached her and sat down beside her.
"Thanks for coming. I'm sorry this was so last minute."
"You're lucky I was able to come," Azula said. Her voice was sharp. Her breath made clouds of smoke puff away from her lips, reminiscent of whenever she took a drag on a cigarette. Mai watched her chest rise and fall. "If Father gets mad at me, I'm blaming you."
"That's fair." Mai leaned back and stared at the park. There was someone out walking their dog on the far side of the grass. She didn't want to say why she'd come. She just wanted to sit here with Azula under dead trees as the sun beat down. She didn't want to go home. She was feeling better than she had in a long time. Maybe it was that the burden of guilt had, at long last, been lifted from her chest.
"Well?"
"I broke up with Zuko." It was strange to say it out loud.
Azula looked at her. There was something like fear on her face. "Why would you do a thing like that?"
"Because it was the right thing to do." Mai was a little surprised. She'd expected Azula to be happy. She supposed she should have realized that Azula lived to defy her expectations. "I should have done it a long time ago, after...the first time."
"Did you tell him it was me?" Azula's eyebrows were furrowed.
"No. And you shouldn't either. Please."
"Well, if you say please..." Azula's eyes roamed around the park. Her expression refused to lighten. Finally she folded her hands in her lap with a sigh and sat back. "What are you going to do now?"
"What do you mean?"
"Isn't he your rock? Your anchor? The only person who can make you happy?" She sounded vicious, mocking, still cold.
"That's not what's important. I cheated on him, Azula. It had to end for his sake."
"Who cares about my brother? Just keep lying to him. He'll never figure it out. He'll never ask too many questions. He'll just take what he's given."
Azula's hands were white in her lap. Mai had ceased feeling so good.
"I know you hate him, but I don't. I care about him. But he's...not the only person I care about anymore, and that's why I'm here."
Azula attempted a smile that failed miserably. She still was staring out at the park rather than facing Mai. The person walking their dog was long gone. It was just two girls and the cold morning. Mai's nerves had temporarily eased when she'd told Azula of the breakup, but now they were returning. She was afraid and she didn't know why.
"Right. You care about me." Her scorn became, if possible, more pronounced.
"You can laugh at it all you want, Azula. I like being with you. I like spending time with you. I want...you laughed at it before, but I want to know you better."
"Don't lie. You were crying yesterday. You were disgusted. You didn't want to know me. You wanted to run away and forget it had ever happened. Anything but to think about Daddy's little girl, right? You think you want more, Mai? Don't be so delusional."
Mai didn't flinch at the harsh words. "I don't want to run away from it, Azula." She wasn't good at saying these things aloud. She'd found it difficult to say how she felt even to Zuko, who would listen. Laying herself bare in front of Azula, who would laugh, was a million times harder, but she needed to. She wanted to. "I want to be there for you." Azula's nostrils flared. "I broke up with Zuko for him, yes, and because it was the right thing to do, but that wasn't the only reason. It was never the only reason. I did it for you, too."
"Oh?"
"I want to be with you." She'd finally said it. Mai's heart was racing. Her hands were shaking. She looked at Azula and then away again, with no idea of what she was supposed to do now.
"I'm going to stop you right there." Azula's furrowed brow was gone. She was smiling now. Mai didn't know what to think, what to feel, what to expect. "Well, Mai, sad to say that this is going to have to conclude this little game of ours."
Once more Mai felt as if she was poised at the top of a roller coaster and waiting for the plunge. She could hear her heartbeat echoing in her ears. Everything else but for Azula's voice had gone curiously silent.
"Game," she repeated flatly.
"I'll give you credit. It took you a lot longer than I ever expected. I'll be honest; I expected you to cave after the first time. I suppose you were more stubborn than I gave you credit for. Maybe you got it from my brother. Not that it really matters, does it? I won in the end. I always do."
"Stop fucking around, Azula." Mai had gone very cold. The bench seemed insubstantial beneath her. She might as well have been hovering in thin air.
"I called you perceptive, didn't I? Maybe that was a bit kind. I never expected you to actually show up with some declaration of love. It took a lot of effort not to laugh in your face." Azula's eyes were the warmest Mai had ever seen them. Her whole face was alight with glee. "You'd have been much better off if you listened to the rumors, or even my brother. Azula always lies, don't you know?"
"Are you trying to pretend this was all some elaborate scam?" Mai forced her lips to move. She felt frozen, and not because of the cold.
"Pretend? Oh, don't continue to be delusional, Mai. It's boring." Azula waved one hand grandly, dismissively. "If you really want to make me say it, then yes, this was a scam. Well, I prefer game, but...I couldn't pass up the chance to do something so delightfully awful to Zuzu."
"I followed you. I started this."
"Please! You really think I'm stupid enough to regularly skip class to smoke? I was waiting for you. I wanted you to find me."
"Stop lying!" Mai brought her hands to her eyes. She didn't feel as if she had a stomach any longer. She was slowly floating up, drifting away, and the only anchor was Azula's voice. Mai dug her nails into her skin to try to keep herself grounded. She didn't feel anything. She wanted to feel something. She didn't know what to think.
"You had to see a weakness. A vulnerability. Something to make me seem more human."
"And Ozai? And your rib?" She hadn't actually seen anything incriminating, Mai realized. The bruise could so easily have been painted on. The box of pills could so easily have been a prop. Even Ozai's text could be explained away.
Azula just smiled. "Vulnerability."
Mai closed her eyes. She was weightless. She couldn't feel anything, not the bench underneath her nor the sun on her skin. It didn't matter.
"I loved you," she said very quietly, without opening her eyes. It didn't matter. What consequences could there be now? Azula might laugh and laugh and laugh, mock her, but it didn't matter. Gravity had ceased to impact Mai.
"I know." She felt and heard Azula getting up from the bench. She didn't open her eyes. She didn't want to open her eyes. There was a hand on her shoulder. It helped bring her back down. "Look. Go beg at Zuzu's doorstep. He adores you. He'll take you back."
Mai said nothing. It was so nice to not feel anything again. She'd forgotten what it was like.
Her eyes were closed, and so it came as a surprise when Azula was kissing her. Only then did Mai open them, but too soon Azula was pulling away, a smirk on her face.
"Goodbye, Mai. It was fun while it lasted."
She walked.
Mai watched her go. Mai didn't move. She wasn't entirely sure she still could move. All her strings had been cut. There was nothing left to hold her down, and she was drifting away. Emptiness felt so good. Weightlessness felt so good. She didn't have to care about Zuko or about Azula. All she had to do was sit on the bench and not think and not feel.
How odd, she thought, that she'd begun the day with two lovers and would end it with none at all.
There didn't seem to be much point in getting up. She'd already done everything she was supposed to do. She'd taken her entrance exams, as her parents had wanted, and she'd done the right thing by breaking up with Zuko, and now there wasn't even Azula to bother with. There was nothing. Would there be any consequence at all if she was just to sit there forever? Her parents might worry, but they'd get over it. They still had Tom-Tom. And he'd forget her too.
Her fingers had gone completely numb. Mai didn't have the energy to move her legs. Even just thinking seemed to require more energy than she possessed. She looked at the barren trees and the yellowed grass of the park, and the houses across the way, and wondered how much longer she would sit there.
She should have worked to find meaning in something other than people before it was too late, she supposed.
Her ears, too, were freezing. Her nose would probably be next. How long would it take to develop hypothermia? It wasn't even that cold. She'd just been out there too long. The sun was there, but it was useless, just staring down at her with indifference.
Come on. You have to get up eventually.
She was the only one she had left now. It helped, a little, to speak to herself.
Move your legs.
It took a great deal of effort, but eventually she stood. She wobbled on her feet and took a few steps. The lethargy wasn't physical, after all.
The necessity of walking was annoying. She thought of going to the train station, but if she sat down on a train she might never get up again, so she was left to walk home. She took step after step after step after step. Her limbs felt disjointed. She wanted nothing more than to lie face down on the pavement. Passersby would stare at her and step around her. Maybe someone would call an ambulance. It wouldn't matter even if they did.
Eventually Mai found her way home. It was easier than she expected. She unlocked the door. She opened it. She took off her coat. She hung her coat up. She took off her shoes. She unwound her scarf. She hung it up too. She opened the door to the next room. She went in. Her mother was there.
"Mai! You're home earlier than I expected. I thought you'd spend all day with Zuko how you normally do."
Maybe Michi noticed that Mai's fingers were bright red, or that she was even less talkative than usual. Whatever the reason, her expression changed to one of concern.
"What is it? What's wrong?"
Ukano had risen from his chair too. Only Tom-Tom, on the floor and occupied with his toys, remained undisturbed.
"I broke up with Zuko," Mai said. It was the only thing she could think to say.
"Oh, Mai!" Michi hugged her. It was a strange feeling. Mai stood still and let herself be hugged. Ukano hurried over, placing a hand on his daughter's shoulder. They felt cold, insubstantial. Just like her.
"What happened?" her father asked.
"It had to happen." Mai closed her eyes. It was dizzying; without the familiar sights of her home, it was very easy to feel as if she was floating away. She already wished she hadn't told them. She should have just kept another stupid secret.
"Did he hurt you?" Michi pulled back a little. Her hands were rubbing circles on Mai's back. "Did you two have a fight?"
"No, nothing like that." Mai really should have thought of a cover story, but it didn't matter. None of this mattered. She'd ceased making ripples. Her words floated up and away. "I thought he deserved better than me."
"Mai," came a voice from down below. Tom-Tom was hugging her leg and staring up at her. Mai smiled down at him. He still mattered.
"I'm all right," she promised, though her voice was impalpable.
"I'll make you some tea," Ukano said, disappearing off into the kitchen.
"Dear, what do you mean, you thought he deserved better? You're a beautiful, intelligent girl. Anybody would be blessed to have you for a girlfriend. Don't you know that?"
Her mother's compliments rang so insincere. Mai kept smiling blandly.
"I know I'm neither of those things."
"Mai, don't be ridiculous." Michi pulled her close again. Mai was starting to find the contact annoying. She wanted to disappear into her room. She didn't want to have to listen to her mother's voice anymore. She didn't want to have to speak.
"I'm sorry." What was she apologizing for?
"It's all right. I'm sure you two will make up. You've always been such a good pair. I'm sure you'll be back together before you know it."
"What if I don't want that?" Mai pulled away. Her voice was still perfectly calm. She didn't feel angry at her mother. She didn't really feel anything at all. "I broke up with him. It was the right thing to do. We're never making up. Sorry."
She turned her back on her mother.
"Oh, and I don't need any tea. Sorry, Dad."
They let her go.
Time was a strange thing. Each moment seemed to last an eternity, but when she looked back, it had already been a day, a week, a month. Time sped by when there was nothing memorable, when school was a haze and she spent her evenings at home asleep or in a stupor. Mai took to listening to music too-loud in her headphones, so loud that her mother would call and call and then finally slide her door open and yell at her daughter. The lectures were a pain, but they passed time. Mai wished she'd still been studying for her exams when it had happened. That way she would have had a distraction.
She did everything she was supposed to do. She controlled herself as if from a distance, watching from afar as she got up in the mornings, went to school, and came home again. She forced herself to eat, though she mostly lacked an appetite. She forced herself to shower. Sleep came harder than it ever had before. She would find herself still awake at two in the morning, loud beats drilling into her eardrums.
It was a weird feeling. She was used to a heavy numbness, but this was again different. Before, she'd felt as if she was living in a thick fog. She still could feel things, but they were dulled by the mist. Now, though, she was as light as the sky itself. She had shed her emotions and dropped them. Without the weight, she was free. Now it was as if she was incapable of feeling anything at all.
The emptiness got old very quickly. A week in she was tempting fate. She looked through her pictures of Zuko, looked at the presents he'd given her, but she didn't feel sadness. She didn't feel nostalgia. She relived her conversations with Azula in her head, but they didn't awaken anything in her either. Once or twice she even made detours to downtown to stand near smokers. The smell did nothing.
So it had been a dream. How foolish to believe it could last. How foolish not to think about the ending. She hadn't prepared herself for this, but it didn't matter.
Zuko called. He never texted, never left a message, but he called. Mai never answered. He deserved someone better. It was easiest if it was a clean break, right? His calls grew less frequent, and after a couple of weeks they stopped altogether. He never came to her house, for which she was grateful. He knew what her parents were like. He was staying away out of respect for her. He was a better person than she'd ever be.
Azula never called. Mai didn't delete the number from her phone because seeing it didn't bother her. She thought about Azula, thought about what Azula had said, but it didn't bother her. She'd deserved it. It didn't matter where the lies began and ended. It was over.
When she thought about the things she'd done with Azula, it was like looking through rippled glass. The images were distorted and meaningless. She tried to imagine Azula's tongue on her clit, but the thought did nothing for her. Even when she stroked herself, arched her back and imagined someone else was there, she felt nothing. Lust, like everything else, was gone.
It was odd. During their affair, she'd seemed to see Azula very frequently at school, but now she never did. She kept eating lunch on the roof, but there was never anybody to join her. She spent her time eyeing the fence around the edge.
One time she did see Azula. She was on her way to her classroom, and Azula and Ty Lee were walking the other way. Azula's eyes slid over Mai as if she didn't exist. Mai caught Ty Lee's eye. Ty Lee looked sad, a bit perplexed. Then they kept walking, and the moment was gone. Mai wondered what Azula had told Ty about the break.
If she had been feeling things, she might have been sad to lose her friends.
A month passed in this way, catching Mai in the current and dragging her along until it was almost March. Her last year of high school was nearing completion. There was a new energy among her classmates; talk began of which universities her peers would attend. Mai never joined in. She waited, as she always had, for her parents to tell her which direction her future would take.
She started applying to schools, barely noticing the names, taking her parents' advice. What did it matter where she went? She already knew she wouldn't be happy there.
The last weekend of February, the local chapter of the party to which Ukano belonged was holding a dinner. Ukano's colleagues, their families, and potential candidates would all be in attendance. Of course, Mai and Michi were expected to attend too, while Tom-Tom stayed home with a sitter.
Mai didn't want to go. It was hard enough to feign interest in her family's conversations these days, let alone in the discussions of politics and laws and gossip that were sure to dominate the evening. Mai had been to enough of these functions to know how it would go. She would be introduced, expected to smile and say nothing, and then be forgotten about. She would have to put on a happy face all evening, or at least not to look, as Michi put it, as if she was engulfed in abject misery.
Mai stood in front of her mirror and practiced smiling. She forced her lips upward over and over again until it didn't feel so foreign. The girl in the mirror with the fake smile wasn't really her. Mai looked at her and felt no connection, no sense of self.
It was difficult to attempt to force herself to cooperate with her parents' expectations when she didn't fear what would happen if she didn't. All she knew was that she would prefer to stay home, to listen to music as loud as possible until she drifted off to sleep. No matter how hard she tried, feigning emotions was a challenge when she hadn't felt what she was trying to emulate in what seemed like an eternity.
Tonight she wore purple, a dress chosen by Michi in the hopes that the color might remind Mai to act happy. All Mai could think about was Ty Lee and synesthesia and the colors of Azula's room.
They took the car rather than the train. Michi and Ukano, in the front seat, had a discussion of what the evening was likely to look like and who would be important to talk to. Mai, in the back, knew she was expected to listen, but she couldn't be bothered. It was so much easier, so much more pleasant, to stare out the windows at the passing streets, the passing lights, the people. She preferred the train and its smooth, steady speed over the stopping and starting of a car, but either way it was nice to sit back and let the world roll by. Mai had no immediate intentions of getting her own license or her own car. She didn't think it would be as lovely if she was in the driver's seat.
Despite the clog of traffic downtown, they were there soon enough. Ukano led the way out of the car and into the building, shining with lights. Mai followed her parents, though she'd rather stay outside. They met a couple Ukano knew on their way in, and soon her parents were talking away. Mai stayed quiet, looked away, didn't think too much.
They settled down in a vast room filled with circular tables and white tablecloths underneath a high ceiling. Mai focused her attention on the overflowing vase of flowers in the center of their table instead of paying adequate attention to the people her father was greeting, until Michi gave her a harsh elbow in the ribs and hissed that she would be sorry if she didn't start acting more personable.
So Mai smiled and let herself be introduced. She nodded and bowed and did everything that was expected of her. Faces and names blurred together until each new person just became a disjointed conglomeration of all the other people she had met. Resentment was building somewhere deep inside of her. She didn't want to be here. She didn't want to smile. She imagined the cavernous roof of the hall caving in on all of them. The man currently standing in front of her and speaking to her father, with his wrinkles and sparse white hair, would look better with a brick of cement crushing his skull.
Mai was starting to feel a headache pulsing behind her eyes. Smiling was becoming more and more of an effort. She was tired, so very tired. She didn't want to be introduced. She didn't want to have to pretend she cared about any of this. She was just a prop to her parents. That was all she had ever been. She hated everybody there, every one of them, with their expensive clothes and their waffling speeches and their willingness to use each other. She wanted time to stop, for everybody to stop speaking. She just wanted silence.
At last dinner was served, and everybody returned to their tables. Somebody important got on stage to speak. Mai glanced up at him, let her gaze wander a bit, and then she saw them.
Across the hall, seated far closer to the stage than Mai's family, sat Ozai and Azula.
She couldn't look away. Mai's hands inadvertently contracted in her lap. A pit opened in her stomach. The rest of the people didn't matter anymore.
Ozai looked bored. He was wearing another dark suit. When she looked at him, Mai wished they were seated beside each other, so she could lean in and rip his throat out. She looked at him, sitting there as if he didn't have a care in the world, and she had never known hatred like this before.
Azula wore blue tonight, and it looked good on her. She was smiling her cynical smile as she gazed up at the stage and the speaker. To Mai it felt as if eons might have passed since they'd last seen each other, and yet Azula looked the same. There was nothing on her face or in her posture to suggest what Mai knew about her. Her secrets burned through Mai's mind. Had any of it even been real? Had the two months of their affair been nothing more than a fever dream? How could Azula sit there, looking as if everything was fine, when Mai's mind had just gone into overdrive?
"Mai, pay attention!" Michi's cross voice finally registered. Mai tore her eyes away from her erstwhile lover with difficulty.
"Sorry," she said automatically. Her heart was still racing.
"Tell Mr. Shimura how you did on your exams."
"They went well," Mai said. She wasn't thinking about what she was saying. She couldn't think about what she was saying. "I mean, I think they did. They weren't as hard as I expected."
She turned to her father. "I didn't know Ozai was coming."
"Don't call him that, it's rude," Ukano said, before following her gaze. "Oh! Yes, I invited him. I'm glad he made it. I forgot to thank you for putting in a good word. I think it's looking very promising. I've had several conversations with his office."
"What?" But the conversation had moved on without her. Mai, now bemused, kept staring across the hall. Why was Ozai there? Certainly it wasn't because of anything she had said. Indeed, by process of elimination, the only person who could have influenced Ozai was—
Their eyes met even across the distance. Mai couldn't keep looking. She couldn't look away. She didn't want to feel the things she was feeling. After being numb, pain seemed much sharper.
"I'm going to the bathroom," she said abruptly and stood. Before she could hear her parents objecting or asking what was wrong, she was striding across the room, heading for the door. She couldn't be in there any longer. She didn't want to have to keep looking at Azula, not when it hurt.
She didn't really know where the bathroom was, but once she was out of the hall, she relaxed. The door closed behind her, and out here it was quiet. There was nobody at all down the long white hall. Mai stood still, breathing in and out, and tried not to feel too many things.
She couldn't have been standing there long at all when she heard the click of heels against the tile floor. Mai already thought she knew who it was. She didn't look.
"Do you need help finding the toilet?" Azula's voice contained that familiar hint of repressed laughter. Mai closed her eyes and imagined she was alone. It didn't work. Nothing worked. Now that she'd started feeling things, it was hard to stop. Azula was real. Her dreams had been real. Now she was beginning to feel some of the pain that she hadn't felt on that cold January morning when she'd broken up with Zuko.
"Why did you bring your father here?"
"I keep my promises."
Mai looked at her and wished she hadn't. Azula was beautiful, impeccable, draped in blue, her jacket framing her neck. She was smiling. Mai hated her.
"I don't know what..." Then Mai remembered. She closed her eyes and bit her lip. She couldn't cry. Not now. Not here. Not in front of her.
"You didn't take my advice," Azula said. "Zuko would take you back, you know. Why are you so determined to be unhappy?"
"I have a sense of right and wrong," Mai said through gritted teeth.
"Ah. Let me know how that works out for you. Morality and happiness are diametrically opposed in my experience." Azula leaned against the wall next to her. They weren't close enough that Mai could feel her heat, but they were still too close.
"Why did you follow me?"
"You're more interesting than whoever was speaking. Seriously, I couldn't care less about feelings of Japanese nationalism among young people."
"People aren't toys, Azula."
"People are whatever you want them to be." Azula pulled something from her pocket and tossed it in the air. Mai recognized it as her lighter. It spun, glinting in the light, before Azula caught it and threw it again. Mai wondered why she hadn't thrown it away. Mai wondered what was real and what wasn't. She wished she'd never met Azula.
"How's your rib?"
"Almost all healed." Azula patted her side. "Thank you for your concern."
"Did he stop after it broke?"
Azula laughed. "Eight years, and you think a broken rib would stop him? You think you finding out would stop him? Don't be stupid, Mai."
Mai stared at her and felt very cold. She'd tried not to think about it. Of all the messy pieces of her affair, it was the messiest. She'd tried to convince herself it had been a lie, just like Azula said. But now she couldn't. And if that wasn't a lie, what else wasn't?
...Eight years. She tried not to think very hard about what that meant. She couldn't help herself, of course. She thought too much. She thought too intensely. She wished she could return to feeling nothing at all. What a hypocrite she was, wishing for emotion when it abandoned her and despising it when it returned. She should have just wished for happiness.
But she'd had happiness, and somehow it had slipped away.
"Anyway, Father will be missing me. Here. You look cold." Azula pulled the coat from her shoulders and draped it carelessly over Mai's head. Mai pulled it off, ready to throw it back to its owner. Azula was walking away.
And Mai saw them.
She ran to catch up, almost slipping on the tile floor. It didn't matter. Azula half-turned to look at her, no longer smiling.
"It was real," Mai said. She held the coat so tightly in her hands that she thought it might rip apart. She refused to let go. She didn't look away from Azula. "I know it was real, Azula."
There were pretty red lines on Azula's shoulders, neat and even. Azula looked down at them. Her nostrils flared. Her eyes were lightless.
"It doesn't matter," she said after a pause. "It's over."
"Please, Azula. Please. You don't have to do this. You didn't have to. I won't hurt you. I would never hurt you. You can try."
"Desperation doesn't suit you, Mai," Azula said with a ghost of a smirk. She took her coat from Mai's hands, found the lighter, and lit it. Mai watched her put it out and wanted to scream. "Try seduction next time. It's much more effective."
She looked a few seconds longer. Mai didn't look away.
Then Azula turned away for a last time, and she was gone.
Mai pressed her palms into her eyes. It didn't matter; it was too late to stop the tears. She didn't know how to deal with what she was feeling. It felt as if all the things she hadn't felt for the past month were being let loose all at once. She wasn't strong enough to contain them.
Here she was, out in public, supposed to be making a good impression for her parents, but all she could do was stand against the white wall and try not to cry out. She needed to be somewhere, anywhere else. She needed to be someone else. She forced her hands harder against her face. Her nails dug into her forehead. Anyone could come out of the hall and see her. Anyone at all. It didn't matter. She'd already lost everyone she cared about.
She wanted to call after Azula, but it wouldn't make a difference. It was over. It was the end. Somehow all her bad choices, all the lust and guilt and exhilaration, had led her here. Her choices had mattered. If she'd done something different, would the end still have been the same? If she'd just hung onto Zuko, maybe she wouldn't be here. If only she'd...
She hadn't cried like this in a long time. The hallway was blurry and shiny through her tears. Her nose was running, too, forcing her breath to come in harsh little gasps. She prayed that nobody would hear her. She didn't want anyone to come to her aid. She wanted the whole rest of the world to disappear so that she could scream, so that she could shatter the glass of the windows, so that she could wreak all the havoc she wanted without ever experiencing consequences.
She hated Azula. She hated herself. She hated whatever she had done to end up here. How small and stupid and frail she was. It had been two months, just two months. Why did it hurt so much? She didn't want to think about Azula's smile. She didn't want to remember their conversations, far too few in hindsight. She wanted to forget.
She couldn't hold back a sob. She sank down the wall and cradled herself, drawing her knees to her chest. From within the hall she heard a rumble of laughter at something the speaker had said. She wanted them to shut up and let her be. How could they laugh? She was alone.
Sooner or later she'd be okay. She knew that. Given time, she wouldn't feel as if she was about to implode.
But what use was knowing that? What use was the status quo when she'd lost everything she had to look forward to? She hadn't been happy. She wouldn't be happy. Tasting it and having it ripped from her hands was the worst punishment of all.
It's easy. See? It's easy. See? It's easy. See?
Would Azula even feel bad then? Maybe she'd just be happy that her secrets were safe.
Somehow, slowly, with difficulty, Mai made her way down the long corridor toward the restrooms. There was an old woman reapplying her lipstick in the mirror who stared at Mai, but she ignored her. Mai didn't even bother looking in the mirror herself. She locked herself in a stall. She couldn't go back into that big room and see Azula across the way, looking as if nothing had happened.
So she sat there, consumed by sadness and anger and hatred, and wondered how long it would take for the storm to subside.
She didn't have her phone. She didn't even really have anybody left she could have turned to. Suddenly she had become an island. The thought didn't scare her as much as it might have. She wondered what it would be like to go to school and see Azula now.
Because focusing on her own unhappiness was too hard, she thought of Azula's instead. She thought of a nine-year-old girl whose mother left her and whose father loved her too much. She thought of Ozai and wondered how hard it would be to kill him. Maybe that would be a more worthwhile pursuit than ending her own life; it would have consequences, after all.
Maybe she could just feed on past happiness for the rest of her life. Could memories be enough to sustain someone? It was difficult to envision her living beyond this moment. It was difficult to visualize anything other than the four walls of the bathroom stall that was her cell. She couldn't remember what happiness felt like. All she knew was that she'd had it and it had been torn away.
After too long alone with her grief, the bathroom door opened.
"Mai? Are you in here?" Michi's voice was sharp and impatient. Mai wanted to clap her hands over her ears. She never wanted to hear her mother speak again. She wanted to drown in silence.
But eighteen years of obedience had trained her too well, so Mai spoke up.
"...Yes."
"Where have you been all night? Are you sick? Your father and I expected you to make a good impression, not hide away in here for hours! You'll be punished for this, Mai!"
"Okay." Mai didn't think she had the strength to stand, much less open the door. And even if she did, what was the point? What was the point of enduring another lecture from her mother? She didn't want to be yelled at. She didn't want to hear what a horrible, ungrateful daughter she was.
"Don't sass me. Mai, you open this door this instant."
She had been wrong; she did have enough strength to slide open the lock.
Under almost any other circumstances, it would have been amusing to watch the pinched irritation of Michi's face turn to shock when she saw her daughter. Mai derived no pleasure from it. She looked in the mirror over her mother's shoulder. Her face was blotchy, red and swollen, mascara and eyeliner dripping down her cheeks, snot gleaming under her nose. She was desperately ugly.
"What's wrong?" Mai wondered if the concern was feigned. Didn't matter.
"Nothing." How was she to explain to her mother what was wrong? How was she to explain the affair she'd had with Ozai's daughter? How was she to explain the stifling pressure that was beating down on her with oppressive force? She wanted to lock the door again and scream. Crying had relieved woefully little of her pain.
"Nothing! Mai, don't lie to your mother!"
She wanted to laugh at that. Her face screwed itself up into almost a smile. She watched her sad reflection grimace.
"I was just thinking about Zuko." She'd use him for her lies again. She was far past feeling guilty about it.
"Oh, Mai." Michi's sigh sounded impatient. She wrapped an arm around her daughter and fished tissues out of her purse. Mai obediently wiped her nose and then her eyes, though the black stains on her cheeks were resilient. "It's been a month. If you aren't going to try to make up with him, then you need to move on."
"Yes." She was mechanical. Her mind was screaming while her body did what her mother wanted.
"Besides, you broke up with him. You mustn't pine. It's not healthy." Michi helped her scrub at the marks under her eyes. Mai stood still and stared past her mother into her future. She thought about telling the truth.
"I know."
"Come on. Your father's worried. Let's just get you home. We'll talk about this tomorrow." Michi kept her arms around her daughter and escorted her out the bathroom. Mai let herself be guided along.
"Home?"
"You were in there for hours," Michi said, a hint of impatience entering her voice again. "Oh, here's your father." They rounded the corner. Mai's stomach dropped.
Ukano was speaking to Ozai. Azula was, mercifully, nowhere to be seen, but Mai only had eyes for Azula's father. She stared at him and knew an emotion more powerful than any other she had ever felt. She didn't realize that her mother was gently leading her forward. She barely even heard what her father was saying. All she could do was stare. She wished that looks could kill. She imagined her gaze burning a hole in his head. She wanted to hear him scream.
"I'm so glad you had a pleasant evening," Ukano said, giving a small bow. Ozai smiled. Mai felt blood pounding in her ears.
"Yes. Thank you for inviting me. My daughter would say the same."
Would she?
Mai hadn't meant to say it aloud, but suddenly her mother's grip on her arm was like a vise. Ozai and Ukano turned to look at her. She felt the man's eyes on her face, felt him taking in her smudged makeup. She didn't care what she looked like. She never wanted to see him again.
"We meet again. It's good to see you, Mai."
She couldn't say anything, not even to please her parents. Her fierce grey eyes met his cold golden ones. She wondered how difficult it would be to kill him then and there. The strength of her hatred frightened her. She had never known emotion like this before. She thought of Zuko and Azula and wished a thousand curses upon the man facing her.
She wanted to wipe the smile from his face. The words sprang to her lips. She wanted to say that she knew what he was, what he had done, but she couldn't say it. If she told him, she knew, Azula would pay. And if she told her parents...
She remembered Azula's threat. Real or not, it didn't matter.
Mai was the weakest one in the end.
Her mother spent the entirety of the car ride home reprimanding her for her horrific rudeness to Ozai. Mai listened woodenly and wondered what Michi would say if she knew the violence her daughter had imagined inflicting upon him. She wondered what Michi would say if she knew what Ozai did to his daughter. Did it matter as long as he supported Ukano? Did anything matter as long as the pieces slid into place?
She didn't listen long enough to hear exactly what her punishment was, what privileges were being stripped. She stared at her mother and saw nothing of her. She kept her face still. She nodded along. She wished that the car would swerve into oncoming traffic.
It was very late when they got home. Michi rushed off to check on Tom-Tom, and Mai took advantage of the opportunity to slip into her room. She closed the door and lay in bed with the lights off, though she was nowhere near sleep. She would have to go to school tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after. She might see Azula. She didn't know how she would deal with that. Still anger at Ozai colored her every thought, mixed with despair and hatred of her own frail self. She wanted to help Azula, but Azula had made herself impossible to save.
I didn't want this. I didn't ask for this!
Tears were returning to her eyes. They flooded down her cheeks. Still she couldn't sob lest her parents hear. Still she had to hold herself in check, underneath her blankets, choking out sobs and curses with equal frequency, pretending she had control of herself.
What the fuck did I do to deserve this?
Probably it was all just retribution for cheating on Zuko. Maybe the storm wouldn't subside until she was dead.
Mai occupied herself by thinking.
In a few months she would be done with high school. What was she supposed to do over summer break? When school no longer consumed her time, how was she supposed to occupy herself? What was the point? In the fall, she'd go to college. She'd be away from her parents. They were a wall to her happiness, but also a guard for her safety. If she lived in her own dorm or apartment, there would be nobody to care, nobody to investigate, and Tom-Tom would be spared the sight.
Mai had neither goals nor ambitions. Her dreams felt as distant as the stars. Her one desire, the wish she knew would never be granted, remained the same as when she'd told Zuko on a cold day in December.
Her parents were asleep by now, surely.
They'd searched her room after they'd found out to make sure she didn't hide any razors. Michi still made regular inspections. She'd used it as an excuse, once or twice, to check Mai's computer, to look through her phone. But she'd never found what she was looking for, because she didn't know where to look.
Mai pulled open her phone case and retrieved the razorblade from its cramped confines. It hadn't rusted, she was pleased to see. Maybe it had dulled. She'd find out.
She pulled her dress over her shoulders and sat only in her bra with the razor in her right hand. She'd always done it in the dark before. It seemed less shameful, somehow.
The steel was cold against her skin. She applied pressure and it bit into her shoulder. Mai drew out a long slow line and ripped it away.
The storm in her head calmed somewhat. She'd almost forgotten that was why she was doing this. It had become habit. She'd forgotten it helped. Peace came back to her, cut by cut, as she tore parallel lines into her soul. The sting became its own reward. Blood looked black on the blade in the darkness. She licked a finger. The taste reminded her of Azula biting down on her lip, and she wished she hadn't tasted.
She switched hands. Her left hand cut more sloppily, but soon enough analogous marks were aching on her right shoulder. She liked the symmetry. It was perfect. She crossed her arms and pressed her fingers onto the bloody terrain of her skin. She buried her head in her own embrace and pretended that everything would be all right.
Somehow Mai fell asleep, her razor laying dangerously near her cheek. In the morning, her sheets were stained, and flakes of dried blood covered her shoulders and hands. She didn't think about it enough to care. She washed herself off and dressed for school. She ate a silent, tense breakfast with Michi and Tom-Tom, and then she was walking to the train station.
The sun was rising the same as it had always risen. Mai stopped walking and stared up at the clouds and the sky. Zuko, Azula, it didn't matter. The place didn't matter. The person didn't matter. It had been her all along: her choices, her actions, her minute ripples on the great pond of the world. She stood tiny and insignificant, with a billion other galaxies beyond her, just one person in a world too full of them, and yet her emotion had seemed enough to crush the universe in its might.
Choices.
Azula had chosen this end for them. If that was what she wanted, then Mai wouldn't cry for her. Maybe it was selfish to forget, but she needed to think of herself now. Her mother, in this case, at least, was right. She shouldn't pine. And she had chosen this end with Zuko, and even if she regretted how it had ended, she didn't regret what she had done.
She'd rebelled at last. She'd done something for herself. It didn't matter whether Azula was lying or not, whether it had been mutual or not. Mai had made her choices, and they'd had an impact. If just for two months, she had seized her own future.
She was more than her parents' pawn. She was something else, something that their plans hadn't accounted for. She lived and breathed and made mistakes. She couldn't save Azula, but perhaps she could still save herself.
The station was crowded. Mai didn't notice the people. She didn't notice the faint smile on her otherwise still face. She thought of the money on her train card and the yen in her wallet. She remembered that she did have dreams, even if they were only pipe dreams.
Zuko wouldn't miss her. Azula wouldn't miss her. Her parents had Tom-Tom, and her little brother didn't need her.
Mai stood faced with her future. Her heart beat faster and faster. Her breath came harsh and uneven.
She got on the train.
A/N: Thank you for reading Molotov.
I hope you enjoyed it. Sometime in April I thought "I want to write a Maizula high school AU," and then I thought about it, and then I started writing, and three months later I finished writing. I don't mean to brag, but I'm very proud of it. I think it might be one of my favorite things I've ever written. I hope that you, my dear readers, can derive as much pleasure from reading it as I did in writing it. It would mean the world to me if you could tell me what you thought, good or bad. Thank you very much to everybody who has reviewed and favorited. I know this is an extremely niche fic, and it means a lot to me that all of you gave it a chance.
In plotting and in writing this, music was a great inspiration, and so I'd like to direct you to the playlist I made to correspond to the end (hence why I waited so long to share it), wherein all but one of the chapter titles can be found: /maizulee/we-were-only-playing-at-love .
I will doubtlessly write more Maizula sooner or later. In the meantime, thank you all so much.
The end.