Chapter II
Syllabus Week Pt. II
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Monday, January 13, 7:12 p.m.
Sokka rubbed his temples in a fruitless effort at stilling the headache that had stalked him since his alarm had gone off, a rude reminder of the class he had at 10 in the morning. Had his half-conscious hand not found the power cord, he would have made that class, and the next.
Now he sat slumped in one of the many wooden chairs that scattered the empty library. The recessed lighting above the printing station flickered and buzzed to an imaginary beat as a lone janitor wheeled a squeaky trashcan across the linoleum floor. The hood of Sokka's sweatshirt hung over his head, casting his clammy face in shadow. It had been a slow night at the reference desk.
Haru pushed the cup towards him with his elbow. "Just fucking drink something, dude. We didn't even have that much last night."
It was true, unfortunately. Sokka had only downed four, or perhaps five, spiked cherry-berry lemonades from The Oasis, a bar mostly populated by upperclassmen that he and his friends frequented. Too lazy to get groceries and too cheap to order something, Sokka had chosen to fast for the majority of the day prior to binge drinking with Haru and Suki. Now, not even a dirty chai could ease the pain of his hangover. It was a shameful sight, but given how drunk he had gotten for only 20 yuans, perhaps this whole "don't eat anything so you can get fucked off of two shots" thing was worth a second thought. The hangover was a relatively small price to pay, all things considered.
Sokka reached for the cup, now cold, and lifted the beverage to his lips. The post-hangover caffeine jitters were also a small price to pay, literally. Having a sister that worked at a coffee shop had its perks.
"Four weeks away and all the sudden you're a lightweight. Remember when you killed that handle of firewhiskey by yourself at that frat party? What the hell happened?"
"I already told you- I didn't eat anything," Sokka replied, growing frustrated at Haru's jabs.
"I find that hard to believe," he laughed, lifting his backpack from the ground and swinging it over one shoulder. "You still coming out with me and Zuko tonight?"
Physics, freshman year, was when Sokka met Haru. He was well mannered, good looking, and a perfect target for Sokka to corrupt with the bad habits he had picked up in high school. Really, it was Hakoda's fault for always keeping a supple stash of alcohol in the basement and never batting an eye when the once sealed bottles were mysteriously half empty. And Zuko's too, for convincing him to smoke weed for the first time- whoever said pot wasn't a gateway drug was a damn liar in his book. Sokka had just started college then, with his closest friends yet to graduate, and he needed someone to be his buzz buddy and wingman. Zuko was far too lazy and perpetually baked to help much in that regard. Haru was the perfect leverage. And corrupt him he did.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'll probably go out," he decided, throwing his planned night of sane recovery to the wind.
"Great. Besides, the best cure for a hangover is more alcohol." With a chuckle, Haru turned towards the doors, grabbing a newspaper on his way out.
Sokka would have bid him farewell had a student not approached him at the counter. He removed his hood, rubbing his hand over his face to stimulate some life back into him, and scanned the book.
"The Rise of Kyoshi, huh? I've always been a fan of fantasy myself."
"This is nonfiction," the girl hissed. She ripped the book from his hands and followed his friend out the door, leaving Sokka to ponder the extent of his ignorance about world history. He was surprised that biographies on Avatars, a phenomenon that died off with the genocide of elemental "benders", would be considered nonfiction. That was centuries ago and mostly just folklore at this point; most historians in this day and age agreed that the information was predominantly transferred through word of mouth and thus rendered unreliable. It was rumored that all of the books and scrolls that discussed those people and the metaphysical relationship they had with elements were destroyed on purpose. After all, it had been a terribly successful ethnic and cultural cleansing. Sokka decided that he would have to investigate for himself to see if there had been anything more tangible than a bedtime fairytale that got left behind.
But his stomach began to turn at the thought of paying the library's basement collection another visit. He had been there before on very different business. The underbuilding of the library held all of the nonfiction books and was a cold, damp breeding ground for research and thesis writing. That was also where they kept all the school newspapers, thousands of laminated sheets tucked neatly away in carefully labeled binders and stacked on shelves that reached the ceiling of the lowest floor. At the time, he would have been upset at the decision to cover the pleasant scent of newspaper ink in plastic, but it had turned out to work to his advantage. His sobs had bounced off of them, the only affect having been a momentary fog produced from his shuddered breaths. The words of the article were immune to all of the grief that had ran down his face that day.
Sokka rubbed furiously at the stamp on his hand, evidence of his legal age from the prior night. Maybe he could use it again in an hour and skip paying cover. Maybe he would just skip the rest of his shift, too.
Tuesday, January 14, 12:08 p.m.
Professor Unalaq had just finished passing out the syllabus, and Katara was already regretting attending. She had passed up on a noon to four shift, the busiest time at the café, and the best chance at taking home big tips. All of cold, hard, tax-evasive cash, wasted for a class that would probably end up getting let out early anyway. She glanced at her phone that peaked from the pocket of her backpack. Maybe nobody had been able to fill in…she probably wouldn't offend anyone if she left early, right?
"Religion, spirituality, prayers and rituals: these are all facets of culture, and culture is simply a web of meaning-making systems that we spin for ourselves. Can anyone tell me what importance culture holds, from a psychological perspective?"
Katara sighed, shifting her attention back to the only words on the whiteboard: "PSYC 361: The Psychology of Religion". The girl next to her raised her hand.
"Yes, and your name?"
"On Ji. Um, I think culture is important because it helps people bond with one another, and we all need that bondage- er, we all need to bond so that we can cooperate and survive as a group."
Katara looked away from her face as it grew red. She knew the feeling of judgmental eyes, how they could bind a person. Public embarrassment was no joke, and she wanted no part in enforcing it.
"Very good. Culture as an involuntary survival mechanism is a popular theory amongst evolutionary psychologists. As we proceed in the course, we will explore additional theories surrounding culture with our focus centered on religion, of course. Now, what is religion?"
Katara raised her hand, her interest in the content growing. "Yes?"
"It's a set of beliefs that we have about life that we share with other people."
Professor Unalaq nodded his head side to side as he glided from one side of the classroom to the next. "Could you expand on that idea? As it stands now, you would be in agreement with the notion that a political party, for example, is a religion."
"Oh, uh.." the girl she had pitied earlier was now staring at her. "Well, it also includes the practice of traditions and worshipping spiritual figures usually. Life and how best to live it is one aspect, but I guess death and the afterlife are also common themes. I think it's a lot more um, important? Maybe? Than politics? I mean, most political ideologies probably came from religious principles. I guess now that I think about it, you could probably also consider religion as a form of control- the way politics can be."
Professor Unalaq nodded, satisfied with her ramble and the conclusion she had reached. "Very good, Katara."
She smiled, slightly breathless. Maybe this class would be worth the sacrifice of the five extra yuans. With a curious glance at her eerie professor, she peeled off the Jasmine Dragon nametag sticker that he had discreetly reminded her was left on her shirt. This wasn't an uncommon blunder after working a morning shift, especially after working a night shift before that.
Wednesday, January 15, 8:32 p.m.
"No, it's un-tisstiss, ba-tisstiss, not un-tisstiss, un-tisstiss."
Toph was thumbing away at her guitar, her patience thinning with every "tiss" that left Smellerbee's mouth. "I thought this was supposed to be an Earthbound practice?"
Longshot cast a knowing glance to Smellerbee, who had since snatched drumsticks from Duke. She rolled her eyes, handing them back with pursed lips that said this isn't over.
"Pipsqueak said we're still good for next Friday. If we don't finish this fucking song our set list is literally going to be like 5 minutes." Toph huffed, her bangs flying up in response. She turned up her amp and the machine buzzed with anticipation, filling the air of the practice room. There were only two in the basement of the dormitory, but both were usually unoccupied.
"We'll start from 'you were like a quick release'."
"You're mom was like my quick release," Smellerbee snickered, eliciting a stifled grin from Longshot and a violent burst of laughter from Duke. That kid always sounded like a whale-walrus when he laughed.
Toph let herself join in, breaking her air of authority. If there was one thing she missed from friendship, it was this. When she had initially started hanging out with Aang, Katara, and Sokka, Toph realized that there were some ground rules that had to be set. The second time she had attempted a "yo mama" joke to the group, Katara, with a voice dark and dry, had spat "my mom is dead. And he-" now pointing to Aang, briefly oblivious to Toph's blindness "-doesn't have a mom. So just shut up." It wasn't funny, not really, but looking back at it now, she couldn't help but laugh at the poor luck of her younger self trying to charm her new acquaintances. The friendship had a rocky start to say the least, but any friendship that was built on a shaky foundation would learn to hold and maintain its balance.
"Yes," she replied, entertaining Smellerbee's crude humor. "Yes she was. One, two, three, four-"
Smellerbee backed her up, leaning into a subtle harmony with Toph's vocals. The drums were steady, the bass soft and sophisticated, the pair of guitars pulling the song along like a paper sailboat in a gentle current. A half-empty can of beer rattled to the vibration of the bass cab upon which it rested.
"On to big and better things
I feel like I take forever, just to get a little better
what do I do?"
Thursday, January 16, 6:11 p.m.
Distance had made the heart stubborn, and they found themselves back in a routine of regular texting despite the event that had soured their reunion. He thought she would have tried harder, but perhaps it was him that needed to tend to his own tainted virtues. The feeling of betrayal and guilt had distracted Aang from his attempt at breathing and quieting his mind. Legs crossed in lotus and incense burning as intended, he still failed to achieve a meditative state and wasn't getting close to reaching a place of forgiveness- his whole motivation for meditating in the first place. He had lost track of time in his futile attempts.
Aang shook his head, the weight of his shoulders sitting on his wrists as he biked through the foggy campus. He could understand why she would take the pills then, but now? Would Katara really let herself become dependent, and would he be willing to allow it?
Addiction and its ghosts were something he had only seen once. He had a rather sheltered life up until then, but at least he had known real trust. After all, he was born into it- a windy day and a wailing basket on the front doorstep of a temple. No letter to explain, no picture to remember, just trust. Just faith.
He rode through the quad, past the Jasmine Dragon, and entered into the residential roads of west campus. He turned to cruise down Lotus lane, one of the prettier parts of the neighborhood. This section of their relatively small town was hillier than others and fun to bike through. It was also the oldest, evident by the cobblestone streets and mature trees that slouched over them. In the summer and fall, Lotus lane in particular looked more like a tunnel with how much the leaves managed to block out the sky. In the winter though, if one was to look up, they would be able to make out a spattering of stars above the tangle of bare branches. Tonight, however, Aang could hardly see ten feet in front of him with the fog.
The faint glow of a parking garage beckoned him, a refuge in the misty twilight. He leaned to turn, finally rolling up into the lot that held the foundation of one of the most lavish apartment buildings in all of the university. Aang swung his leg over and removed the lock that hung from his handlebars, securing his bike to the empty rack. Students this rich typically opted for foreign cars as their preferred method of transportation, so there was no struggle to find somewhere to lock up. The beater he drove would have been a sight to see in this place, had the weather not been warm enough for a bike ride.
He sent a message to Katara before stepping on the elevator, and she was waiting for him when the doors opened at the top floor.
She had braided her hair and secured it in a bun, as she always did when they were going to smoke. Keeps the smell out, she would say, only to unfastened the pins and let it fall to her shoulders as her clothing would fall to the ground, only for him. And her hair would always smell of it anyway, but it never mattered.
"We've been waiting for you," she said, leaning against the wall. They hadn't seen each other much since Sunday, and there was still uncertainty written in her face.
His decision had been made. Her sweater was a soft kind of fuzzy, lingering with the smell of coffee. He squeezed her harder.
"Help me understand," he said, his cheek resting against her head, "Why you take them when you don't need them."
"I took them every day over break," she confessed with a defeated sigh. It was good progress in Aang's opinion. "I didn't want to just go cold turkey..I don't know. I wanted to have a good day."
"I get it," he said quietly, pulling away from the embrace. "But who does it serve to lie to me? You know how much I care."
"Maybe that's why. I don't want to worry you, I've really got it under control. Things have just been really hard and-"
"Hey! You guys coming in or what?"
Sokka's head was poking from the wide doorway of Zuko's apartment. Katara looked back at Aang. He could tell in his peripheral that she was scanning his face for an answer.
Before he could respond, Zuko slipped past Sokka with a grin on his face. "Aang! Good to see you again." He extinguished their private conversation with a fist bump. A perfectly pearled blunt taunted them from its perch behind his good ear. His other ear- shriveled, encased in scar tissue, and typically hidden from view with his hair- was still functional, but not nearly as pretty of a pedestal.
"How kind of you to finally join us, Twinkle-Toes," Toph said from her seat on the couch as the group filed in.
The entrance door opened into Zuko's living room. A fire crackled from its hearth, surrounded by long terracotta suede couches that rested on a huge square rug imported from the richest parts of the Fire Nation. A large bonsai tree grew towards the curtained wall opposite of the front door. Had it not been dark outside already, the curtains would have been drawn, revealing an enormous pane of glass that covered the expanse of the wall and stretched into the adjacent master bedroom. The view from the 15th floor was one of the best in town. Facing east, one could see the heart of campus, nestled in a little valley amongst the towering mountains of green. The space, while intimidating at first, was warm and inviting- almost regal. There was a balcony accessible only from the study, but the height of the ceilings in the living room allowed anyone to smoke comfortably.
Zuko closed the door behind his visitors and immediately made his way to the fireplace. Aang had learned over time that his friend had been forced to grow up incredibly fast. Like clockwork, he would rise with the sun, start his fire, and continue to tend to that which had cursed him, as people were apt to do. It burned on during his classes, during his occasional nights out, and sometimes even throughout the night as he slept. It followed him in his pocket, in his cigarettes, in the mirror. The hazard of his behavior, the compulsions, had worried Aang and still did at times. At least now he had learned to control the flame. The events following Zuko's graduation from their high school had earned him the moniker of "pissed arsonist" amongst the students that remained- and for good reason.
Aang sat himself next to Toph, greeting her with a poke of his elbow, and watched as Sokka sneakily plucked the blunt from Zuko as his back was turned. Katara seemed hesitant on where to sit, choosing to warm herself first instead. Aang wondered if their conversation by the elevator had chilled her.
"A toast," Sokka said, interrupting Aang's increasingly negative train of thought. Holding the little brown cylinder up in the air, he shouted, "To friendship! To Zuko's final days at UFO, and mine as well. To good grades, good jobs, good looks, good-"
"Just get on with it," Toph droned.
Sokka turned to Zuko, handing off the former cigar with care. "Would the honorable like to do the honors?"
Katara moved towards Aang now, settling herself into his side and placing his arm around her. She had decided for both of them that he would forgive her, and Aang found himself happy to comply. Together, they watched as Zuko placed the blunt between his middle and ring finger. He bent his wrist in a way that set the tips of his digits perpendicular to the floor, the palm of his hand now facing the heat of the embers. The tip of it smoked briefly before catching a flame. He blew it out before passing it back to Sokka, palm up, allowing his guests to indulge before the host.
Friday, January 17, 4:36 p.m.
Toph slid her thumb against the leash, her other hand gliding along the metal railing of the staircase. She had just gotten out of her Calc III lab, signaling the end of syllabus week. Her fingers glided beneath the cold metal before running into a hard piece of chewing gum- one that she herself had stuck there a week after moving in. It was gross, she knew, but it served its purpose as a signal for her Badger-less nights out, when her inebriated self wouldn't remember how many stairs she had climbed and which stop was hers.
Badger ceased guiding her upon reaching the second floor. He scratched at the door that would open on to the outside hallway and lead her to apartment #202 of Juniper avenue. She opened the door, careful to avoid knocking it into her companion, and continued her journey to their flat. It was usually about twelve paces, if she took the southern stairwell.
She pulled out her earbuds and left them to hang at her side. With a soft click, she unlocked the door. A faint groan leaked from the crack beneath Katara's closed door. Toph froze, momentarily choking Badger from his determined march in.
Chopped panting now spilled into the air, a quick series of fwups joining in soon after and culminating into a brief hiss as liquid splashed onto flesh.
"Oh, oh God" Toph squeaked under her breath, trying to drag Badger back out of the apartment. His nails dug into the wood- all he had wanted after a long day of class was a spoonful of honey and the velvety caress of his bed, and Toph knew he wasn't going down without a fight.
"Badger, out. Anywhere but here," she hissed, successfully pulling him over the threshold of the entryway. "Anywhere but fucking here," she repeated, grasping for the handle to discreetly close the door. She could feel the heat in her face as she bounded back down the hall, eyes wide.
The disgusting symphony of Aang's moans and Katara's physical response played over in her head, a rather adulterous broken record. At the very least she would get a warning text from Katara, though in the past they had been good about indulging themselves when Toph was in class or at practice. Maybe she was in the wrong- it was syllabus week, after all, and her class had gotten out a half hour before schedule. Wasn't that to be expected, though?
Her fingers found the wire of her headphones, following them down until they split in two, then further until she reached the buds. She shoved them back into her ears, desperate to drown out the sounds that echoed in her head.
A love song, of course, had begun playing since she had last removed the headphones. Despite how obscene it had been, what she heard moments ago made her feel such a sad breed of confusion. Yes, she had dated Teo for a majority of her senior year of high school, and yes, she had made out with Duke last semester, but real, raw, passionate romance? She had never known it. And everything seemed to be about love. It was such an annoyingly huge part of culture: every movie, every story, and every other crappy pop song was about it. She couldn't understand how people could be so vulnerable and then willingly exhibit it for the world to see. Real love sounded like something that was so deeply personal, something that happened behind closed doors, and not something that people could talk about or want to talk about, or even be able to explain. It seemed bigger than that, somehow. But what did she know? After all, Teo was a friend first and turned out to be nothing more than a tool she could use. And Duke was just a drunk experiment. Maybe that's just how it was. Maybe thinking about it made it worse, made the expectations too high.
Her throat grew sore as her cynical thesis morphed into a daydream, the song beckoning her into a shy fantasy of a certain cologne, a certain funny voice. Different memories played over in her head, little moments that she clung to with an unyielding hope. Maybe that's what it was. Maybe that's what it was supposed to feel like. But what did she know?
Toph had hardly noticed that she had gone up three flights of stairs, having been lost in her train of thought turned fantasy. She had let Badger take her wherever he had willed, and his scratch at the door indicated that they had arrived at his intended destination. She tested her luck with the handle.
Badger nosed his way through the open crack, oblivious to the invasion of privacy. The force of his pull led her through the momentarily unfamiliar space, but she soon knew where she was- she could smell the familiar room.
To her dismay, he scratched at another door. And she knew whose it was.
"Oh, hey Toph," Sokka said before she could flee. The awkward silence killed her as she tried to think of a response, a reason for coming. She wasn't about to dish out all of the dirty details that involved his sister and his roommate. Badger, you fucking traitor, she thought helplessly.
"You're very..red," he continued, his voice now laced with suspicion.
"Yeah, I just got back from class. Windburn. Crazy weather for January." She turned around, biting her tongue inside her mouth and waiting for her foot to hit the couch. "Anyway, Earthbound is having a show next week at the Laogai Lounge-"
"Where people go to forget!"
"-Yep. Be there or be square. What's the, uh, plan for tonight though?"
The creak of the wooden floors told her he was about to join her on the couch, and the shift in the cushions confirmed it. "Suki said she's going to try to get us into a frat party, so we can all probably meet here at eight or nine to pregame. Wanna get dinner?"
Yes, yes she did. But she had promised Katara, damn her, that they would dedicate tonight as their post-break bonding time.
"I can't. Your sister insists on feeding me. Actually- what time is it?"
A heartbeat later, he responded, "Five to five."
"Aaand I'm late. See you later."
"You can't!" he laughed, motivating her to slam the door on her way out.
Friday, January 17, 5:32 p.m.
Katara gently shook the pan pack and forth, forcing an even spread of the sizzling vegetables across its heated surface. "You almost done slicing those carrots?"
"Just about," Toph said, snapping through the last orange root. When they had first started living together, Toph had surprised her with her food preparation skills, always insisting on pulling her own weight. "It's not like I don't know where my fingers are and how I'm holding the blade," she had told her with stubborn ferocity. So Katara agreed, and eventually learned to stop babysitting her roommate's every move. She really did make pretty even cuts.
"So as I was saying, this guy orders six espresso shots in his coffee. In his coffee! He looked so strung out, I felt so bad. He must've been a grad student or something, I can't imagine anyone having that much work this early in the semester to require so much caffeine."
She took the cutting board from Toph and slid the knife against it, pushing the contents into the pan. With chopsticks in hand, the vegetables continued to slide around, ensuring an even cook on every side. Soy sauce soon followed the carrots.
"Maybe he was compensating for something," Toph said darkly.
It wasn't something she liked to discuss, and Katara was surprised her roommate had even sent that thought out into their relatively casual conversation. It reminded her of the pills that were tucked away in the crevices of her room. She couldn't take them if she planned on drinking.
Katara abandoned the pan momentarily to uncork the forgotten bottle of wine that sat on the kitchen counter.
"I told Aang about the Xanax," she sighed, generously filling a glass for herself.
"Yeah? And how'd that go?"
"Not great," she answered, sliding the glass to Toph instead and guiding her hand to the stem of the cup. She began filling another one past the socially acceptable limit. No one here would know, or care for that matter. "We didn't really flesh everything out, but it's probably better that way. I just hate lying to him but I feel like I can't help it."
Toph took a sip, a cunning smile growing as the dark red painted her lips. "Well it sure sounded like you guys were on good terms. I never took you for a squirter, Katara."
She choked, her roommate's forwardness surprising her for the second time. She laughed in spite of herself before quickly turning to mix the stir fry before it burned. "Do I even want to ask how you know that?"
"My class got out early and clearly you didn't hear me come home. Poor Badger is scarred for life!"
"I'm so sorry," she snorted, taking another long sip. "That was the first time that's happened, I swear. He's been trying for so long ever since I told him I can do it on my own."
"I'll congratulate him tonight." From their mouths the laughter poured out, only to be replaced with more wine. Katara began filling two bowls with rice from a separate pot on the stove.
"Speaking of tonight, I can't decide what to wear. It's supposed to be colder but I don't want to drag around a coat."
"What happened to Aang The Last Coathanger?"
"True," Katara agreed, recalling the memory of his nickname. After scooping the contents of the pan into the bowls, she carefully secured them into the crook of her arm and carried her glass of wine with her other spare hand, taking one final sip to ensure it didn't spill over during her short walk out into the living room.
Katara had signed the lease for the apartment a few months before school was to start again in the fall. She had decided to overlook the tasteless patterns on the decades-old couches, the broken bedframes, and the peeling paint on the paper-thin walls. The kitchen was clean enough, though she had to wiggle the gas dials a certain way every time she wanted to cook. The bathroom was recently renovated, out of place but welcome, like a happy pill in a bottle of vitamins. But what had really sold her was the location. Despite contending for "dingiest building" in the eastern neighborhood, they were close to the quad, the bars, the gym, and most importantly- Aang and Sokka, who lived just three blocks north. Her budget was tight, she knew, and she had worried what Toph would think, having been raised in such a large and lavish environment. To Katara's initial surprise, she had appreciated their confined quarters. Anything was better than dull, dorm life, and it was easier to get acclimated in smaller spaces.
They sat themselves at their makeshift dining table- a rickety end table just large enough to seat two.
"Cheers," she said, clinking her glass against Toph's, "To best friends reunited, to this amazing stir fry and wine, to syllabus week, and to squirting."
"You really are your brother's sister," Toph noted without missing a beat. Katara watched her deliver a piece of broccoli to her mouth, joy bubbling inside her.
They sat in comfortable silence, having their fill of the food and booze. Before long, Katara was loading the dishwasher and Toph was scooping food into Badger's bowl that was stationed next to the fridge.
"So do you just let loose all over your room?" Toph asked, curiosity getting the best of her. "Isn't it kind of gross to sleep in a wet bed?"
"Me and the showerhead are good friends."
Katara laughed maliciously, uncorking a second bottle of wine, and watched as Toph yelled and brushed furiously at her clothes and hair as if she had been contaminated. They finished the second bottle together, discussing shaving and makeup, deciding on high-waisted jeans and cropped sweaters, and giving Badger a goodbye kiss each before stumbling their way up the street to the boys, leaving shrieks of delight and cigarette smoke in their path.
Friday, January 17, 11:47 p.m.
Up the escape hatch
To meet blue eyes, hand outstretched
Suckers knew nothing
.
They were two ninjas
For frats hated outsiders
Free booze, no dues paid
.
Suki looked happy
Leading to their girls below
Women get in free
.
So much makeup worn
Her guiding hand still warm from
Tepid love he gave
.
"Careful down the stairs"
He was sure they all knew now
But this time he ate
.
A bass felt inside
Thunder welcome in his chest
As it grew again
.
Breathe, you idiot
The pregame had done him in
Yet he still found punch
.
Aang kept at his side
Always Katara close by
Legendary three
.
But missing a fourth
Quick on his feet he wasn't
Not after nine shots
.
Find her and feed her
Couldn't be the only one
To be so far gone
.
A ponytail spun
Ty Lee draped herself, his cloak
Giggles and perfume
.
Tried not to stumble
Moving down the hall, unlatched
He's on a mission
.
So many bodies
That are taking all the air
Forehead getting damp
.
He followed the beats
Living room and energy
Buzzing increases
.
The crowd doesn't cease
He knows they won't get kicked out
Everyone is gone
.
She's a double take
There is two of everything
Dancing with a Bee
.
Roommate and sister
Slinking over to cut rugs
Losing track of time
.
Aang, the Coathanger
His best friend in the whole world
Silly, knowing grin
.
The beat makes him spin
Just like a fifth wheel he is
Eyes closed, head tips back
.
His nose leads him up
Back to the calm veranda
A stoner's refuge
.
Two people smoking
How the fuck is Zuko here?
Emo at his side
.
Mai still looks nice though
"We snuck in for a quick drink"
He swallows a hit
.
A full moon ahead
"Come back here, you're so hammered"
Talk him off the ledge
.
Crossfading is fun
He wants Aang to fly with them
That boy flew the best
.
Back in the window
Stick n' pokes in the hallway
And bad rap battles
.
Down by the bathroom
A Bee pulled the fourth with force
They are cackling
.
Investigation
Lost, past a forbidden door
So he took a seat
.
A chandelier swings
Shouting from the living room
Aang flies by laughing
.
Take me drunk, I'm home
He wants to say, sad that there's
Nothing eternal
.
Home was not down south
Not in Gaoling or the Pole
Home was a bit lit
.
He was tweaking now
Katara would have water
During times like these
.
Now they're less clumsy
He grabs her arm just to check
"I know who you are"
.
The Bee was a rat
Pale eyes could break the haiku
Fragile bond they shared
.
Can't remember why
The reason for his searching
Back at the kitchen
.
Trying to trace steps
Kept bumping into something
This, that, the other
.
He should really go
He sees now, some cruel omens
A hair in the punch
Yes, Sokka thinks in haiku when he's drunk.
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