And I have returned with another chapter!
The rest of the day passed uneventfully. As it turned out, Sokka was in his math class. It was nice to know somebody, even if he wasn't sure how he felt about the other boy. Drama class was taught by an old man named Mr. Pathik. He was nice enough, if not a bit odd, but Zuko wasn't one to judge. It turned out that the entire lunch group, excluding Suki and Sokka who were in gym that period, were in theatre. He wouldn't call them friends by any meaning of the term, but it was nice to know most of the students in the class. Jet had made a point of sitting with him in biology, but at least he didn't try to make conversation, which was a nice change from Aang and his friends.
The walk to Iroh's house after school made him curse the world. It had been years since he had to walk anywhere. Even before he could drive, his dad had people to do it for him. Not to mention that most of his friend's had cars and drivers of their own.
A gentle wind blew through the streets and Zuko scowled. Aang had invited him to hang out after class, an invitation he quickly declined. What he wouldn't give for a beer, or a cigarette, or a line of anything, some substance to take away the lingering anxiety from school.
If he was honest, Zuko wasn't sure why he was still going. It's not like he ever cared to go before, and what's the worst Iroh could do? Hit him? Kick him out? It'd be nothing new.
He kicked a rock and watched as it bounced across the sidewalk. He had probably a good hour of pre calc homework he was supposed to do, and another half hour of bio. The only classes he didn't have homework in were English and History. Not that it mattered anyways, he wasn't about to do it.
After a few more minutes, he was unlocking the front door of Iroh's home. His uncle wouldn't be back until later, so he finally had some time to himself. What he wouldn't give for a drink.
He stalked upstairs, tossing his backpack carelessly against the closed closet door of his bedroom, before cringing. He hoped nothing broke, especially not his laptop. It was unlikely that Iroh would buy him a new one if his screen shattered because he was careless.
Sighing, he sat on his bed, there was nothing to do.
He supposed he could always go through any of his countless social media accounts, but they were all long since dead. Besides, he didn't really want to see how much fun his 'friends' were having without him. Not that he was mad, people came and went from the party scene all the time. Sometimes they quit, sometimes it was rehab, sometimes it was death. He smirked slightly, remembering the girl that started carrying around a dose of Narcan after her brother died. If heaven was real, she was definitely going there, based purely on the sheer amount of lives she'd saved.
He sighed again. No point in day dreaming when the best he could hope for in this sleepy town was an occasional cigarette.
Maybe he should move, he thought. There were plenty places where legal age was 18. He could move to Canada, or Europe. Amsterdam would be nice, but it was unlikely he'd have the money to move anywhere. Knowing his luck, his father had already written him out. He should probably look into that eventually, it would be nice to know whether or not he would get any inheritance. Too bad there was no way to do that without asking, if his father hadn't written him out yet, he didn't want to give the man any ideas.
He groaned angrily as he fell back on his bed. Why did he end up with the father who didn't care? What did he do to deserve it? Zuko knew he did something, he had to, there was no other reason for his dad to hate him so much, other than him fucking up somehow. If only he told him what he wanted! It was always some sort of guessing game. He still wished he had a drink.
With nothing better to do, Zuko pushed himself off his bed, and collected his backpack from the floor.
He pulled out his math homework, looking at it long enough to read the first question and decide to throw it across the room. He hoped it wouldn't chip the paint. Next he pulled out biology. Was he really about to do homework because he had nothing better to do? Must have been Iroh's plan all along. It was genetics, which wasn't bad. Physiology was the only part of bio he was actually good at.
He got it about half finished before giving up. What was the point anyways?
He grabbed his laptop next and powered it on.
After ten minutes of scrolling through his facebook and twitter feeds, he got sick of that too. In a last ditch attempt at entertainment, he opened Steam. It had been months since he found himself bored enough to play one of the random video games in his library.
Iroh came home twenty minutes later to find his nephew completely immersed in a pixilated farming game. He chose not to interrupt and went to make dinner.
A half hour after booting up the first bullshit game he could find, Zuko's attention was pulled to his phone. It buzzed twice.
Mai: Hey
Mai: How are you doing?
Why the fuck was she messaging him. He debated on replying for a good five minutes before picking up his phone. They hadn't spoken in months.
He had two choices. Be polite and figure out what she wanted, or be a jerk and get her to leave him alone. He never was polite.
Zuko: Fucking terrible. Why do you care?
There. Just aggressive enough to piss her off, but not enough to upset her further than that. With any luck, he'll get a nasty response and she'd leave him along for another six months or so.
Mai: I know you're hurting but that gives you no right to take it out on me
Okay, so he wasn't expecting that reply, moreso something along the lines of "fuck off, asshole."
Zuko: Whatever
He sighed and sat back. Why did she bother pretending she cared? He knew she hated him, had since he first cheated on her. The only reason they stayed together as long as they did was because of media. He was still angry that the tabloids paid so much attention to the romantic life of 13 year old kids.
By the time Iroh called him for dinner, Mai hadn't replied.
Dinner was simple; spaghetti with meat sauce.
He twirled his fork for most of the meal, barely eating more than a few bites. His stomach was still in knots from school, not helped by his brief conversation with Mai.
"Something wrong Nephew?" Iroh asked.
Zuko froze. He was so used to being unnoticed that he didn't even realize his uncle may be paying attention to him. "I'm fine," he snapped, not bothering to look up.
Iroh seemed unaffected by his nephew's anger. "You should eat more," he commented slowly, as if trying to choose his words carefully, which he probably was.
"I'm just not hungry." he replied, shoving the pasta away from him. "I'll eat it later."
The old man shook his head, "Eat it now," he told him. "You've barely eaten the entire time you've been here, you're too skinny."
He bristled. "I'm just not hungry!"
Iroh sighed and put his fork down. "Can I make you something else then? Something you like more?"
Zuko shook his head. "It isn't the food, I'm just not hungry!" he was shaking. It was always weird to find what triggered an anxiety attack on any given day. Sometimes it was something big, like a fight or socializing, sometimes it was something small, like eating dinner.
He couldn't help it if he didn't want to eat. Then again, it probably had less to do with food, and more to do with Mai. He hated when she messaged him, wished she'd just leave him alone. Why bother toying with him like everybody else? It isn't like she actually cared about him. Why would she? Not when she was friends with Azula. He felt nauseous. Why did people always have to push on little things? If he didn't want to eat because an old friend messaged him and left him feeling like his inside were curdling, he shouldn't have to eat.
"Can you take a deep breath Zuko?" Iroh asked calmly, trying to drag the boy from his own thoughts.
"I don't need to take a deep breath!" he yelled. "I don't need you trying to babysit me. I'm fine!" he felt like a child again. "I just want to sit in peace, not be poked at and bothered, why can't I have that? Why can't everybody just leave me alone?! It's not like anybody cares anyways!" he was gasping for breath. "I didn't ask for any of this! I didn't ask for my dad to hate me, I don't know what I'm doing wrong! I didn't ask for you to waste your time on me! I didn't want to wake up! I didn't ask for my brain to be fucked! For medications and depression! This is just who I am and I don't see why you can't all just leave me alone!" He was crying, why did he always cry?
"Zuko-"
"Leave me alone!" he ran from the room, up the stairs, and into the moderate safety of Iroh's guest room. He slammed the door behind him as he slowly slid against it until he sat on the floor. It was too much. Why did everything have to be so fucking overwhelming? Wasn't he supposed to be an adult by now? That's what his father always said; he was immature, a child where his sister was an adult.
He let his head fall back against the door. How long until Iroh finally threw him out? It wouldn't be bad. He'd lived on the streets for weeks between stops home. It would be no different, only he wouldn't have a place to go back to.
He didn't know why he was so upset. He'd spent years carefully cultivating walls around himself, people pretending to care shouldn't hurt so much.
Or maybe that's why it did. He was used to people not caring. Used to his father ignoring him, as if he didn't even exist. Used to being the freak everywhere he went, used to being nothing but the dirt beneath a person's feet. He was so used to it, he barely felt the twinge of hurt when he was treated like nothing more than a ghost. Maybe that's why he wanted to die so badly. What's the point of living if all you are is a ghost?
People pretending to care though; that he wasn't used to. It almost made him hope that maybe they did care, maybe he was worth something. It just made it hurt more in the end, when they threw him away like trash. It's all anybody ever did.
His energy had depleted, leaving him exhausted and drained. Why couldn't people just leave him alone, instead of toying with his emotions?
He crawled away from the door, missing his old habits.
Surely it wouldn't hurt to revive one of his vices. It's not like anybody was going to stop him anyways.
He grabbed his backpack and pulled his pencil case from it. Inside was a cheap dollar store pencil sharpener. He looked at it with disdain. He hadn't done something this pathetic since middle school. Whatever, he needed it.
He was halfway through breaking the hard plastic when there was a knock at his door. Swearing, Zuko hid the evidence just as Iroh entered his room.
He looked older, Zuko realized, as if he aged twenty years in the last half hour. Why? "Are you alright nephew?" he asked softly, looking a the teenager over.
Zuko shrugged, wiping away the last few lingering tears. "I'm fine," he replied quietly, looking away. Iroh looked at the pencil's strew carelessly across the room, his eyebrows creased. "I'm doing homework," Zuko replied, grabbing a nearby sheet of math homework. For once, he was thankful to have thrown the papers across the room earlier that day.
Iroh didn't look convinced, but nodded anyways. "Let me know if you need any help, I was always good at math."
"Okay," he replied, putting the work back in front of him and grabbing a nearby pencil. Iroh nodded and started to leave.
"Oh, and Zuko?" he asked, turning to his nephew. "Could you leave your door open please?"
Zuko looked between his uncle and the open bedroom door, before thinking of the half broken pencil sharpener hidden from view.
"Yeah, sure, whatever," he conceded. He waited a few moments until after Iroh left to continue disassembling the sharpener. Open door or not, he'd get want he wanted.
Every few minutes, Iroh popped his head into his room. It was maddening. Made even worse by the fact he actually had to do at least some of his homework, lest his uncle become more suspicious than he obviously already was.
Finally, the blade was free. He hid the broken bits of plastic, along with the now freed blade, in his pocket as he stood up.
Iroh was in his room with the door open when Zuko popped his head in.
"I'm gonna take a shower," he said. At home he never would have told anybody what he was doing, but he had a feeling Iroh would like to know. There was no point in fighting before he got what he wanted.
"Alright," the older man replied after a moment. "Towels should already be in there, just leave your clothes in the basket,."
Zuko nodded before slipping into the bathroom, closing the door with a click behind him.
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