Don't ask me how this drabble has to do with the prompt "silver". I have no idea. It was late.
She missed him in the mornings. Whenever she awoke, her arms stretched out to meet the empty pillow beside hers; the wrinkles in the sheets where he once laid. She would lazily roll over and fix her gaze where his eyes would peer over at hers. She felt his her hand in his, his breath on her ear in a short, sweet whisper, the little jump her heart made every time he smiled...
The bed was empty, like every other morning. And like every other morning, Katara woke up feeling cold. She stared at the ceiling, following the intricate web of cracks with a stale gaze. The walls surrounding her were painted a dull, chipping gray, and the room was bare except for a lone double bed with a worn out metal frame and a single thin mattress. Katara lifted her torso up from the stiff bed and swung her legs over the side, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Her vivid blue eyes squinted as she yawned and stretched. Mornings weren't usually terrible - Katara was more of an early bird - though, this particular morning seemed drearier than the rest. It seemed like the mornings that she woke to an empty bed grew more frequent, regardless of how early she'd been rising.
She sluggishly made her way down to the tiny kitchen and fixed herself a cup of ginseng tea, and sat down at the table. The warmth from the tea hardly spread to the base of her wrist; the rest of her body was quite cold.
Which is why it came as a shock to her when a pair of arms tenderly wrapped around her. Zuko kissed the top of her head and said softly, "Good morning, Tara."
Katara smiled and closed her eyes, gently placing her hands on the arms draping around her waist. "You're home."
The moments that he was there made up for those where she stood alone.