As Katara sits tangled up in someone's lap with his hands in her hair and the smell of cigarettes and beer on her tongue, she thinks that this was a bad idea. Katara is normally not the kind of girl who makes out with guys she barely knows on ratty love seats in frat houses, but tonight she'd said fuck it and went along with it, if only because she's sick and fucking tired of feeling sorry for herself.

She'd gone to this frat party of her own volition. Her best friend, Suki, had extended the invitation, but Suki has disappeared somewhere, probably dominating at beer pong. Katara usually likes parties, with the loud music that thuds in her chest and the earthy smell of weed hanging in the air.

Katara likes going out and meeting people, unwinding after a long week of classes and studying. She's been neglecting her social life for the past few months, lost in a depressed funk, and Suki had thought that it was time to get out.

So now she's here, drunk on shots of fruity vodka, with some guy's hands creeping towards the hem of her denim shorts. Katara knows him, vaguely, from her friend group. His name is Jet, and he's a buddy of Toph's. He's been hitting on her for weeks, and Katara is just drunk enough that she decided to let everything go and see where the night might lead.

But even though it's Jet's hands on her hips and his mouth against hers, Katara can't stop thinking about her ex. Zuko. She hasn't seen him in three months, since she'd walked (okay, stormed is probably more accurate) out of his apartment in the middle of a rainstorm, leaving him and the shattered pieces of her heart behind.

Zuko is the best damn thing she's ever had, and yet she was stupid enough to walk away from him.

He was amazing, so kind and thoughtful. He always made sure she took care of herself, and he took care of her, too. He was perfect. He'd make pancakes and bring her breakfast in bed, and they'd study together for hours in her dorm room. They'd go for walks and they'd just talk—well, she would talk, and he would listen.

That was where the trouble began, Katara supposes. She knows that she's an open book; easily read because she wears her emotions openly for everyone to see. She was never afraid to talk to him about anything and everything, and he would listen so patiently. He'd listen to her rant about bad days or when she missed her home so much it ached, or if Sokka was driving her nuts. He'd wrap her up in a hug that always made everything better and kiss the top of her head, and Katara always felt safe and warm in his arms.

Zuko was the opposite. She could never get through to him, get him to open up to her. It didn't even matter what it was about. Anything that bothered him, that angered him or upset him, he kept inside, swallowed it down, letting it pile up like grains of sand in a glass bottle.

Katara felt like she was battering at an unbreakable wall as she tried to get him to talk to her, about anything, even the small shit that didn't really matter. But it was like pulling teeth, like he just couldn't bring himself to open up, to be vulnerable.

How was your day?

It was good.

Anything interesting happen?

No, not really.

Come on, not one funny or cool thing?

None that I can think of.

Katara thinks now that it wasn't just the big shit that did them in. She understood why he didn't want to talk about the painful things, like his dad, or the scar, or his mom. She never pried, but only offered encouragement and the assurance that she was there if he ever wanted to talk: I'm always here if you want to talk...I get it. I'm a member of the Dead Moms club too..you can tell me anything. Because Katara knows that he was wounded by those things, those painful things that he kept buried deep within himself.

But more than that, it was the little things. Katara spent the entirety of their relationship trying to be patient and understanding, waiting for him to feel safe enough with her to open up. But it never came. She knows from personal experience that healing is not linear, and although she knows that losing her mom pales in comparison to what Zuko has been through (most of that knowledge gleaned from his sister, Azula, whom had been Katara's partner on a few projects), but she knows that it's impossible to heal if you don't face it.

And so their May-November romance ended with Katara packing her things in his apartment—her drawer of clothes, her records and books and her favorite coffee mug—feeling her heart break in her chest.

Why? Why can't you let me in, just a little bit?

I don't know!

You don't know? How can you not know? I tell you everything and you can't even tell me something as simple as how your fucking day went!

I'm sorry.

Me too.

He'd followed her out onto the porch, his bare feet probably freezing on the rain-soaked cement, but he hadn't said a damn word as she threw her shit in her car and drove away.

Things have been pretty shitty since then. She's fallen into a bit of a depression, struggling to make it through lectures and to meet deadlines, blowing off her friends, holing up in her dorm room to listen to sad music and watch sappy rom-coms (ignoring the text Zuko sends her about every other week, which she's pretty sure are drunk-texts by the misspelled words and general incoherence).

But she can't bring herself to text him back. It hurts too much, and she's trying to move on. She knows he's not entirely at fault. Maybe she'd pushed him too hard. Maybe she'd asked for too much. But her pride is hard to swallow, so she doesn't text him back.

So now she's trying to forget about him by losing herself in Jet. He's handsome, charismatic. He says all the right things and he's not a half-bad kisser, even if he does taste like cigarettes. He's nothing like Zuko.

He's nothing like Zuko, and it just makes her miss him more.

Jet's fingertips finally slip beneath the cut-off legs of her shorts and he pulls back with a crooked smirk.

"What do you say we get out of here?" he drawls. "We can head back to my place."

His fingers run over her inner thigh and suddenly she feels queasy. She doesn't know what causes it, but suddenly, hooking up with Jet doesn't sound appealing at all.

Katara disentangles herself. "I think I'm going to get some water."

He catches her by the wrist as she stands up. "Come on, don't be like that. I thought we had something special."

The liquor in her system must give her courage, because Katara yanks her hand away and says icily, "And I'm sure you tell all the girls that, Jet. Sorry, but I'm just not feeling this."

Katara walks away before he can protest any further. Suddenly, she doesn't feel like partying anymore.

She pushes through a crowded hallway and ducks into a den that's been converted into a game room. That's where she finds Suki, Yue, and Toph at a beer pong table. They're playing against two guys she sort of recognizes from around campus, Chan and Ruon-Jian, and it's clear by the jeering of the crowd and by the look on the guys' faces that Suki and Yue are winning.

Katara watches Suki make another shot and flash a victorious grin at the guys. Then she sees Katara and beckons her over.

"Want to play?" Suki asks as she presses a spare beer into Katara's hand.

She shakes her head. "And ruin your winning streak? No, I'm good."

"And it's a mighty fine winning streak," Toph adds with a smirk.

"But I sense you're not here to watch me absolutely dominate at beer pong," Suki states. She peeks over at Katara. "What happened to Mr. Dreamy?"

Katara snorts into her beer. "He's kind of a tool. I just wasn't feeling it. So I thought I'd come see what you guys were up to."

"You're a bad liar, sweetness," Toph tells her, and Katara hates the way her blind friend can read people.

Katara huffs out a breath. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"Are you sure you don't want to play for a while?" Yue leans around Suki to give her a gentle smile.

"No, I'm good," Katara says with a weak smile of her own. She looks at Suki. "I think I'm just gonna head out."

Suki eyes her. "You gonna make it home okay?"

Katara passes her untouched beer to Yue. "Yeah. I'm mostly sober now. I'll text you when I get there."

Katara returns to her dorm room with an air of melancholy hanging over her. Tears sting at the backs of her eyes but she holds them back as she goes into her dorm building and takes the elevator to the second floor.

It's stupid. This is stupid. She should not be this broken up over a guy that she dumped. Katara should be at that party with her friends, dancing and playing quarters and maybe even taking Jet up on his offer to hook up. But no, she can't.

Because Zuko fucking Sozin is like poison in her veins (but he's not poison; he's sublimity) and Katara knows that the biggest mistake of her life was leaving him.

Katara unlocks her dorm and goes inside, leaving the light off as she crosses the dark space to her bed. She kicks off her shoes before she drops on top of her duvet with a shuddering sigh. She scrubs at her eyes to wipe away the tears that she hasn't allowed herself to shed. She remembers to text Suki to let her know she got home safe, and then she stares up at the shadows on her ceiling.

She misses Zuko. That's what it boils down to. She wishes that she had the nerve to talk to him, but she doesn't.

She hates that he texts her because it just reminds her of him, of his laugh and the way his eyes smoldered like pools of gold when the sun hit them just right. It reminds her of the way he'd hold her hand, his thumb tracing hers as they'd watch one of her favorite rom-coms. And she's always so tempted to text him back, to tell him she's sorry and that she wants to see him again. But she doesn't, because Katara doesn't deserve that.

She knows that he was damaged and hurt. She should have been a little more patient, more understanding. But Katara, while usually a compassionate and level headed person, has been known to lose her composure, to grow impatient, and she'd done that with Zuko.

And he hasn't texted her in a while anyway. Maybe he's finally given up and moved on.

Biting back more tears, Katara rolls over, and after a while, she falls asleep.

She's woken up by a loud, impatient knock on her door. She sits upright, startled. Her eyes dart to the clock on her dresser and notes that it's almost three a.m. Katara wonders if Suki has lost her keys, so she jumps out of bed and hurries to the door. But to her surprise, it's the girl who lives next door, Jin, looking rather irritated.

"Is everything okay?" Katara asks, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"No," she says grouchily. "Your ex-boyfriend is throwing rocks at my window and I'm cramming for a test on Monday. See what he wants, will you?"

Then she turns and goes back to her own room without another word, her door shutting none-too-gently behind her. Katara closes her own door as her heart begins to thump loudly in her chest. Zuko is here? Throwing rocks at her neighbor's window? What the hell is he doing here?

Katara paces back and forth for a moment as she tries to reign in her emotions. Maybe Jin is talking about someone else, even though Katara doesn't exactly have any other exes. But if he's here, he obviously wants something.

Before she can second-guess herself or talk herself out of it, Katara crosses to her window, opens the blinds, and slides it open. She sticks her head out and looks down. Zuko is standing on the lawn below, hands hanging at his sides as he looks up at the building.

"Zuko, what the hell are you doing?" Katara asks him. "It's three in the morning."

He rubs the back of his neck, which she knows that he does when he's feeling a little uncertain. She waits for him to say something, but he continues to stare up at her, silent, until she begins to feel a little uncomfortable. Then, finally, he speaks.

"I...wanted to see you. I'm sorry."

Katara releases a breath and rests her chin in her hand with her elbows on the window sill. He looks up at her, and she wishes that she could tell what he was thinking. Her heart is a drum in her chest and her stomach is fluttering nervously. It's been three months since she's spoken to him, and all her feelings are rushing through the surface, pushing through her pores like magma through cracks in the earth.

But she can't let him see. She needs to find out what he wants and why he's here. So she plays it cool.

"Well, you were bugging my neighbor during an all-night study session," she tells him, adding a hint of irritation to her tone. But she can't help but chuckle just a little bit. "You were throwing rocks at the wrong window, you idiot."

He blinks up at her before his eyes flicker between her window and Jin's, one hand coming up to point between the two as if he was realizing his mistake.

"Oh. I thought…" he trails off awkwardly.

Katara lets out another breath. Hopefully Jin isn't too pissed. "It's fine. You wanted to see me?"

"Yeah." Zuko clears his throat. "Um, so you wanna come down here? Or-or I can come up? It's no problem…"

Zuko trails off again, still so awkward and uncertain, just like he always has been. He wants to see her, to talk to her. Katara wants to know why, but she's not sure if she wants to. She's been trying to get over him, and seeing him—being around him—is not going to help that. But she would be lying to herself if she said that she doesn't want to see him.

"I don't know," she says hesitantly. "I just...don't know."

For a moment, Zuko doesn't say anything. He shifts from foot to foot, and she thinks maybe he won't say anything else. But then, when he finally speaks again, it's almost like she doesn't recognize him. Katara thinks she has never seen him speak so openly, without a sieve on his tongue.

"This is the part where, if this was one of those rom-coms you love, the guy shows up with a boombox on his shoulder and confesses his love for you," he says. "So I guess I'm here to do that. And apologize too."

Her heart seizes in her chest at his words, but she forces herself to play it cool as she smiles at him. "You're no Jake Ryan."

Zuko spreads his hands. "I know. I'm just me. And I know that I don't deserve even a second of your time, but Katara, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for letting you leave like that, for not being better. I was trying, but I just wasn't trying hard enough. And you deserved—deserve—so much better than that. So I'm sorry."

Katara's breath catches in her throat as tears rise in her eyes at his open honesty. She can feel the pain in his words and tears rise in her eyes. She almost can't believe that he has said all of that, when months of trying got her nowhere with him. She thinks that maybe he's been just as torn up about this as she has, and that's why he's here.

"Hold on," she says. "Let me put my shoes on."

She ducks back inside before she loses her nerve. She shoves her feet into her Chucks and grabs her hoodie off the back of her desk chair, tugging it on over her head. She grabs her keys and goes out the door and to the elevator.

She rocks nervously on the balls of her feet, her breath rasping shallowly in her throat. All she can think is that he's here and she's going to go see him, talk to him. Katara wants to tell him that she's sorry for everything. For leaving him.

Her stomach is a bundle of nerves as she leaves her dorm and meets him out on the dew-soaked lawn. He looks her over as she approaches, and then his brow furrows slightly.

"Is that my jacket?" he asks her.

Katara stops walking and looks down at the black hoodie. It's his. He'd left it at her dorm room before...and she had never had the nerve to give it back. She supposes she could have given it to Azula, but...a part of her hadn't wanted to give it up.

"Oh, yeah, I guess it is," she mutters, not quite able to look him in the eye. "Sorry. Do you...want it back?"

Zuko shakes his head. "No. It looks better on you than it does on me." She hears him suck in a breath between his teeth. "Sorry. Did not mean to say that."

She snorts as she detects the slight slur in his words. "Are you drunk?"

Zuko lets out a small laugh, and the sound is so familiar that her heart aches. "Maybe a little."

Katara laughs shortly. "Yeah, I'm a little drunk too. I went to this stupid frat party tonight. It was a bad idea."

She isn't sure why she's telling him all of this, but she can't stop herself from rambling for a moment. She finally manages to shut up and looks up at him.

"Oh."

He blinks and doesn't say anything else for a moment. Katara wishes she hadn't said anything at all, but it's a little too late now. So she has to keep him talking.

"Um, so, you wanted to see me?" she prompts.

He clears his throat. "Yeah...I've just…" Zuko trails off again and he huffs out a frustrated breath. He gives a small shake of his head as he finally says, "I've been thinking about you."

Her brow knits. It's an ambiguous statement, and she doesn't know if that means he wants to work things out, or if he wants to tell her to go fuck herself.

"You've been thinking about me," she says plainly.

He takes a deep breath. "I haven't stopped thinking about you, actually. Not since you left that night."

It's her turn to suck in a sharp breath. She takes an involuntary step back from him as her hand reaches up to grip the pendant around her neck. It was a gift from her mom, before Kya died. It's always been a source of comfort for her, and she runs her thumb over the pendant as her jaw works, trying to find her voice.

Finally, she does. "I haven;'t stopped thinking about you, either."

His lips part in a silent gasp. "You haven't."

Katara nods, unable to talk around the lump that has risen in her throat, as her hand falls to her side. Then she tucks it into her hoodie pocket and swallows hard.

"Yeah, I haven't," she whispers. "I never really felt right, leaving things the way that we did."

He releases a shaky breath. "You were the best thing I ever had. And I pushed you away. I fucked it up. It blew up in my face, like everything always does."

He pushes one hand through his hair and turns away. She knows he's angry with himself, and she hates it. He blames himself, when she's just as at fault as him.

She steps towards him, reaching out to him. "No, don't blame yourself-"

He pulls back from her as he shakes his head. "No, don't do that. Don't try to comfort me and act like it's not my fault, because we both know that it is. And I'm here because I need to apologize to you. It won't change anything, but I need you to know that I'm sorry, because you deserve so much better than what I gave you. I was a fucking idiot for thinking that I deserved you."

And her heart breaks in her chest all over again at the rawness of his voice, at the honesty in his words. He truly thinks he's the one to blame. He's always been so denigrating towards himself, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't cure him of that.

But before she can speak, before she can reassure him, Zuko goes on.

"It shouldn't be that hard to communicate, but it was, it is. Because you are just so fucking perfect, and I'm a damn mess and I didn't want to drag you down. So I just put on a fake smile and tried to act perfect for you. And all I did was hurt you."

A single tear slips out of her eye and runs down her cheek. Katara wipes it away as her heart lurches painfully in her chest. She's hurt him.

"I just wanted you to talk to me," she whispers softly. "I wanted you to open up and be comfortable. You always walked like you were on eggshells, and you didn't have to. Not with me."

"I know that. But I just couldn't—I wanted to," Zuko says, his voice breaking. "But every time I tried, my brain just short-circuited and it's like I couldn't find the words. I panicked, every damn time." He shakes his head. "Because I think you might be the first person in my life who was willing to accept me, all of me, for who I was. You didn't want me to change. You just wanted me to be me."

She swallows hard. "Yeah. That's all I ever wanted, Zuko. But I couldn't...I couldn't reach you. It was like you were always just beyond my grasp. I could see the real you, but I couldn't touch you."

Zuko lets out a bitter laugh that cuts at her heart. "The real me is a fucking mess."

"No, you're not," she says fervently, daring to step closer to him. "You are amazing, Zuko." She hesitates for a moment as she looks up at him. "Can I be completely honest with you?"

His eyes seem to smolder. "Please?"

Katara offers him a small smile. "I always thought I didn't deserve you."

He reels back, clearly surprised. "Why?"

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth as she twirls a lock around her finger. She's trying to find the words that she feels in her bones, and finally, she does as she releases her bottom lip and looks up at him.

"Because you are so unashamedly you. And you are sweet and funny and kind," she tells him quietly. "You're so nice to everyone, even though you can be a dick. But that's okay, because you make up for it by being the most compassionate, thoughtful person I know. You always put everyone before yourself. And you were by far the best boyfriend I've ever had."

Zuko winces. "You've set the bar pretty low, then."

She hates it when he does that. She shakes her head as she says, "No, I didn't. Because maybe you couldn't talk to me, but I knew you cared because of all the little gestures. Bringing me coffee in the morning and walking me home. You'd bring me books and records and flowers because you thought I'd like them. You'd watch my favorite rom-coms even though I knew you didn't really like them, but you paid attention and knew exactly what was happening. You listened to me every time I talked about something, anything."

She takes a deep breath, carding her fingers through her hair before she looks at him again. She gives him a gentle smile. It feels like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders to tell him all of this.

"You know me, better than anyone." She crosses the remaining distance between them and takes his hand, hoping he doesn't pull away. He doesn't. "Because you listened. So maybe you couldn't talk to me, but you heard everything I said."

"I'm sorry I couldn't get out of my head," he tells her quietly. "There's a lot of stuff in there, painful stuff, and it makes it hard sometimes."

"I know that. And I tried to be patient and understanding." She peeks up at him. "But it was killing me to watch you suffer in silence. I just wanted to help."

"It's okay," Zuko mumbles.

Katara shakes her head. "No, it's not. Breaking up with you was selfish. I know you were trying. But I just...I couldn't deal with it anymore. It was bringing me down."

He swallows thickly. "I know. I'm sorry."

She lets out a breath that only shakes a little bit. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have left like I did. I should have tried to make it work."

"No, no, don't do that. Don't try to blame yourself." He shakes his head. "You did everything right, Katara. It was me. Don't even try to blame yourself."

"But—"

"No." Zuko grabs her free hand and squeezes them both. "None of what happened is your fault. It's me."

"You shouldn't put me on a pedestal, Zuko." She pulls her hands away. "I'm not perfect."

"You're close enough," he tells her. "Too perfect for someone like me at any rate."

"You're too hard on yourself," she says, but he just shrugs. She shakes her head before she finds herself saying, "Do you know how hard it was not to respond to your texts?"

He frowns. "So why didn't you? If you don't mind me asking."

It's her turn to shrug. "I don't really know." It's sort of a lie, but she doesn't think she can stand to be any more honest tonight. "You were drunk, right?"

"Each and every time."

"Then...I guess I just didn't know if I could put myself through that." She sniffles. "I just missed you so damn much, but I was trying to get over you."

He flinches. "I'm sorry I showed up tonight. But…" He huffs out a breath. "I was at that party too. I saw you there. With Jet."

She drops her gaze as heat creeps into her cheeks. Shit, did he have to see her tongue-fucking with that guy? Fuck.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't know you were there."

"It's fine," he says, his tone clipped. "You deserve to be happy."

"Well, then Jet is definitely not the way to do that," Katara mutters wryly before she can stop herself. But she feels like she owes him an explanation now, so she says, "He was trying to get in my pants the whole time. No class."

"What an asshole," he replies.

She laughs. "That's an understatement. So I told him to get lost and went home." She looks up at him. "And now you're here."

"Probably making your shitty night worse."

"No. This is actually the highlight of my day," she tells him with a smile.

"So you had a shitty day too?"

Katara slaps his arm out of habit, like no time has passed at all. "Quit being so self-deprecating, you jerk!"

"Can't help it," he returns with a grin. "It's who I am."

She rolls her eyes, but she can't fight her smile. But it fades as she looks up at him. "I've missed this. I've missed you. It's always been so easy to be with you. Like it's the most natural thing in the world. Like breathing."

"Yeah, I've missed you too," he says thickly.

Katara tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. "Maybe we can start over? As friends, I mean."

He stares at her as if he can't quite believe what she's said. "Yeah," he rasps. "I'd...I'd really like that."

Katara smiles at him, hopeful. She's missed him so much. She hopes that they can move forward, and maybe find something even greater than what they had before.