Hey I exist. The end of this chapter is so so but I really wanted to get it out to fuck it. At this point everybody who reads this story knows I am absolutely atrocious at uploading, so I'm not even going to try and apologize. Just know that I haven't abandoned this story.

Last time on Pulse:

Iroh came home after getting a call about Zuko missing class. He found him bleeding on the carpet. Zuko panicked, afraid that he would be hit for it. He ran out of the house and found himself lost in the rain when he ran into Aang's older sister, Korra. She brought him back to her home to her wife, his English teacher Asami. They talked, and Zuko was brought home to Iroh's. Aang then invited him to hang out on the weekend, where he saw Korra again. She pretended to be meeting him for the first time. In the end, he had a good time hanging out with his friends.


Dear Diary,

Let's be clear, the only reason I'm doing this is because my therapist is making me. For whatever reason she thinks it'll be a good idea for me to rant. I've avoided it for weeks but, I need to get some things out. I've been having nightmares, remembering what happened. Remembering how angry my father was, how he thought I was lying. Some things are better left forgotten, I know, but it drives me insane not remembering how it led up to it all. There's so many thoughts swimming in my mind I just need to sort them out; write them somewhere.

Okay, here it goes.

I was drunk by the time I got to the party. I don't know who drove me, but I think it was under an overpass? I remember a fire, people sat around it with beers in their hands, laughing. It smelled like alcohol, vomit, and piss. I could hear the music thumping in my head as I walked, voices overlapped each other until no single conversation could be picked out, the crackle of that garbage can fire in the background. It was raining. I could feel the drizzle against my skin, and the cool breeze blowing through, it felt cold. I don't think I really cared. I was too focused on the baggie of white powder my friend told me he'd scored just hours earlier. We snorted cocaine off a blonde's phone screen. I still remember her giggle as one of the guys wrapped an arm around her.

It's only fragments after that. My phone ringing, and ringing, and ringing. I can't remember who was calling me or why it felt important. Laughing at some stupid joke. I remember his face in the fire. An arm around me. More alcohol in my hands. And then nothing. Nothing but a bleak, endless black.

That's it. I keep trying to remember how I ended up-

"Zuko!" a voice called from downstairs, drawing him back from his writing. "It's time to get up!" Iroh said from the bottom of the stairs, unknowing that his nephew hadn't slept that night.

"I'm up!" he called, resting his head back against the wall. It'd been days since he'd slept through the instead by ghosts of the past, fragments of a puzzle he couldn't quite put together. He could hear his uncle busying himself in the kitchen, it was odd. Iroh rarely called him from downstairs, usually he came into the room to wake him.

He savoured the moments of peace of could salvage before sighing. He had an assignment due in English class that he hadn't even started yet. Asami would be disappointed.

Rolling out of bed, and caught his reflection in his open laptop. He looked like shit. Silently, he wondered how long it would be before somebody noticed the bags beneath his eyes.

Grabbing his clothes he walked to the washroom and turned the shower on cold. Hopefully water would help tame his hair and make him look less tired.

"Zuko," Iroh started when he finally came downstairs. Pancakes. Iroh had made pancakes. "Would you like to go for dinner tonight?"

It caught him off guard. "Sorry?"

"Dinner. It's been awhile since I've gone out instead of cooking. Would you like to go after school?"

He couldn't quite place what was wrong. "Don't you work?"

Iroh shook his head. "Not today." He put a few pancakes on Zuko's plate. "What do you say?"

"Uh," he began. There was a kind of hope in his uncle's eyes. "Sure. Yeah," he nodded, "that sounds good.

Iroh only smiled, putting a pancake on his own plate. Zuko tried not to scowl at the five on his plate.

The ride to school was quieter than usual, but Zuko didn't notice. Instead, he put on his headphones and let the music soothe his exhaustion.

He walked into English class with an excuse on his tongue. Asami would understand. She'd be disappointed of course, but always understanding. He was surprised to see not Asami, but a women he had never seen before. She didn't seem to take notice of him as Katara waved him over.

"Substitute," she said before he could ask. She shrugged at the unasked question. "Ask Aang if you want to know, but I'm sure its nothing."

Zuko nodded, a tad taken down. He was glad he'd have another day to do his assignment, but if he was honest he knew it was more likely that it just wouldn't be done. As shitty as it would be for Asami to look at him with that disappointed look, the anxiety of looking towards it was worse.

Aang wasn't in study hall, which was more than a little concerning. The kid never seemed to miss class. He took out his phone and sent a simple "where r u?" text. He wasn't sure what reply he was expecting but "be there at lunch" certainly wasn't it.

The class passed excruciatingly slow. Neither Asami or Aang in class? Had something happened? Was everybody okay?

When the bell finally rang, he was one of the first out the door, which was odd in itself. Usually he waited until the library had mostly cleared out before leaving.

Aang didn't noticed Zuko when he finally walked into the cafeteria. Instead, he was glued to his phone. Katara, Toph, and Suki were already there.

"Everything okay?" Zuko asked, causing the group to look towards him.

"Could ask you the same thing," Suki replied, eyebrow raised.

He stiffened. "I'm not sure what you mean." He thought she was going to say something else, but Aang replied looking up from his phone.

"Asami was in the ER last night, Korra's just keeping me updated," was the nonchalant reply.

"What?!" Zuko asked, a little too loudly. A few heads turned his way. "Is she okay? What's wrong? We had I sub in English today-"

"She's fine!" Aang replied quickly. "Sorry, I forget you don't know this stuff. Asami has Fibromyalgia. Sometimes its really bad, like last night. Korra panics and takes her to the hopsital"

"Whats fibro-whatever?" Zuko asked.

"FIbromyalgia," Katara replied. "It's a disease classified as long term pain-widespread pain. Currently there's only theories on what causes it. Doctors just know that it exists, and that's still pretty new.

Aang nodded. "She's usually pretty good at keeping it under control with medication and enough sleep, but sometimes it flares up really badly."

"That sounds terrible," he said, pulling out his phone. He'd never heard of it before. May be worth a google search later.

"It really is," Aang sighed. "I remember when I was younger, she had to take a break from teaching. She couldn't concentrate and was too tired all the time. She was always sleeping when I came over to visit."

"We're going to visit her after class," Suki added. "Aang and I. Katara and Sokka are busy and Toph-"

"Toph doesn't want to 'see' a sleeping person she can't actually see," Toph replied annoyed. "Plus my parents would never let me."

There was a question there, one he decided it was better not to ask. "Can't," he replied instead. "Iroh wants to go for dinner tonight."

"He isn't working tonight?" Aang asked, confused.

Toph kicked him under the table. "Of course not, he never works today. You should know that." She frowned at him.

A silence fell over the group. "That's right," Aang said solemnly. "Lu Ten."

"What?" Zuko asked, glancing between his friends. They all looked so sad. What did his cousin have anything to do with it?

"It's the anniversary of his suicide," Toph told him flatly, as if it was something he should have known. Honestly, he probably should have.

"Suicide?" he asked surprised. That was impossible, Lu Ten died overseas. At least that's what his mom had said...

"You didn't know?" Katara asked in a hushed voice.

"I... No," he replied. "I thought he died in the war..."

"He'd just gotten back," Aang replied.

"Aang!" Katara scolded, "if Iroh wanted him to know-"

"Tell me," Zuko said, not sure what he was feeling. Something between heartbreak and rage. Suicide? Why didn't Iroh tell him? Why didn't his mother? He'd thought his cousin was some kind of war hero.

"He had PTSD." Toph replied. "At least that's what Iroh thinks. He'd only been home for a few weeks when Iroh came home to him dead on his childhood bedroom floor. Shot himself."

"Jesus Toph," Sokka said, finally coming joining them.

She ignored him. "He didn't leave a note, not really. Only wrote 'I'm sorry' on a sticky note."

He suddenly didn't feel very hungry.

It bothered him for the rest of the day, meaning he could barely focus on anything else, let alone math. He was staying in the same bedroom his cousin had shot himself in. It definitely put a different perspective on all his old doctors and therapists asking if there was a history of suicide in his family. Speaking of therapists, did she know? Did his father know? He must. Azula must know too, she knows everything. Is that why Iroh brought him in? He felt guilty? Of course, he feels like he has a duty. He couldn't believe he ever thought for a moment that the man cared. Who would care about him anyways? He was stupid and useless and worthless and a waste of space. Fuck. He wanted a drink, or a shot, or anything. Something to keep his mind off it. He couldn't concentrate, he was going to fail. Nobody would ever be happy with him, nobody would ever be proud. He was such a fuck up! Why did he keep doing this? His breath was speeding up. Anxiety, why was it always anxiety. It's such a stupid thing, he should be able to control himself, he wasn't a fucking child.

"Hey man," Sokka whispered, jerking him from his thoughts. Zuko looked over. "You're bleeding on your paper." He sounded vaguely concerned.

He looked down, "Fuck." Sure enough, his assignment was covered in blood. His fingernails and arm too. He must have been scratching or picking at himself for the last while. More anxious habits as his therapist called them, but Sokka had seen it. Would he know? Would he guess? What would he say? Fuck fuck fuck. This was not happening,

Getting up, Zuko met eyes with the teacher, who nodded. It was part of an 'accommodation' his uncle had been working on with the school. Extra time on tests, music to help him concentrate, and being able to leave the classroom for a break. He ignored Sokka as he left the room.

The hallways were empty as he tried to calm his panicked breathing. The washroom wasn't far away but he felt like he was going to faint. Was he dying? It felt eerily similar. His chest wouldn't expand, he couldn't get enough oxygen. He was going to suffocate in the hallway of his high school. What a shitty way to go. Was he shaking? He was in the washroom, when did he get there?

"Come on, deep breath," a voice said. Who was it? There was too much happening, it was overwhelming. Everything was foggy. Hands were on his shoulders. He flinched at the touch, but it stayed strong, grounding. "Zuko, breathe, I know it's hard but you can do it. Breathe with me. 1...2..." Who the fuck was talking to him? He tried to focus on it. "3...4..."

Sokka. It was Sokka. Shit.

"I'm okay," Zuko said, breathlessly. He was sitting on the washroom floor, his back against a wall by the sink. Sokka crouched in front of him, arms on his shoulders. His bleeding arm was covered in paper towel.

The other teen leaned back a bit. "You sure? You were freaking out in the hallway."

Zuko cringed at the words 'freaking out'. He remembered Azula telling him the same thing when he had a panic attack and passed out in his kitchen. He came to covered in water, broken glass, blood from the glass he had been holding, and Azula laughing.

He took a deep breath, his lungs still felt restricted, but air rushed in. "Yeah, it happens." He felt himself going slightly red. Fucking stupid.

Sokka shrugged. "Figured as much. Katara used to get panic attacks too, but not as much anymore."

They sat in awkward silence for a few minutes before Sokka continued, "whatevers up with you, I won't ask. I know it's kind of awkward, girls are usually better at emotional stuff," he shrugged, "but if you ever decided to talk to somebody about it, I'm here."

It was silent again before Zuko said, "thanks." He knew he'd never tell them. He didn't need them questioning things that he didn't want to answer. He was glad Sokka was content to let it be.

It was then that he noticed his backpack behind Sokka. "You brought my stuff?" he asked.

Sokka nodded, "Yeah, told the teacher you weren't feeling well and probably wouldn't be back. The excuse usually never works but the teacher let me go to bring your backpack. Didn't even question when I brought mine with me."

They stayed in the washroom for what felt like hours before the bell finally rang. Neither of them moved.

"Next period" Zuko said.

"Yup," Sokka replied, but made no move to get up, only pulled his backpack closer to him.

"You have class," he pointed out.

"So do you," was the reply.

Neither got up.

People came and went from the washroom, not paying much attention to the boys. Five minutes later the bell rang again, signaling the next class.

Eventually Sokka broke the silence. "I'm sorry, when I remember people dying, it just reminds me of the ones I've lost." He shrugged. "But that doesn't really matter." Sigh. "My mom died of cancer. We didn't have insurance. Bills piled up, we couldn't afford to help her anymore. She came home to die with us. She was a teacher." His honesty surprised Zuko. It had been a long time since anybody had vented to him, longer still since it was done sober. Sokka was usually so happy and goofy, it was odd for him to be serious. "Listen, we all know your traveling circus story was a blatant lie, well aside from maybe Aang. I don't know where you come from, but I do know that nobody comes to live with their uncle for no reason." He looked straight ahead.

"I'm sorry about your mom." He said, ignoring the second part. He was glad Sokka kept to his word didn't ask, it wasn't something he was willing to answer. Hey guys I tried to kill myself and now my abusive father doesn't want me anymore. Yeah, sure. That'd go over great.

The other teen shrugged."It was a long time ago. I was just a kid." He breathed before standing. "Well, I'm done with the day. Wanna get out of here? I'll drive you home."

Zuko looked up. "Yeah, that'd be good."


He spent the rest of the afternoon in the gold and red living room, looking through photo albums he pulled off the bookshelf. Some held pictures of he and Azula. He ignored them. Mostly, he glanced at the photos of Lu Ten. There were hundreds of them from throughout his cousin's life.

Pictures of an infant with a black haired woman Zuko didn't recognize, and a much younger Iroh. Being held by his parents, his grandparents. Various generic baby photos with a scrawling handwriting he didn't recognize, dated with a short description. First bath, first haircut, first steps, first birthday, first day of school. The writing changed from the beautiful script to his Uncle's own writing. Photos of his cousin holding him as a baby, holding Azula. Lu Ten's school photos, pictures around the military bases he grew up on, graduation photos, first deployment, second, third, fourth.

Tucked in the back, an obituary.

Lu Ten Sozin passed away in his home last week. His death leaves a great hole in the hearts of his friends, after years of service to his country and community. His service will be held at the Main Street United Affirming Church, followed by interment at Maple Hill Cemetery. Lu Ten was born to Iroh and Olivia Sozin on November 13th 1987. He is survived by his father.

Zuko looked down at the photo albums. They held his cousin's entire life from birth to death. He couldn't tell what he was feeling. Anger? Guilt? Sadness? Jealousy? Anger was easiest.

"Zuko!" Iroh called, entering the house. "Are you here?"

"In here," he replied. He could sense Iroh behind him, stopping when he caught sight of the photo albums.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Zuko turned to him, holding the obituary in his hand. "Why didn't you tell me he killed himself?"

Iroh looked like he was hit. Zuko felt a twinge of guilt but pushed it down. "You didn't think I'd have a right to know I was sleeping in a room where somebody died? Didn't think I'd have a right to know what happened to my own family?"

"I didn't think it was relevant to your recovery-"

"Bullshit!" he shouted. "Is this why you took me in? Some kind of fucking pity? God I should have known. Who the fuck would want me otherwise."

"Zuko-" Iroh began pleadingly.

"What happened?" He snapped back. "I want to hear it from you."

He took a deep breath. "Lu Ten was sick," his uncle said carefully. "He spent a long time at war. Not everybody who comes back knows how to deal with the things they've seen."

"Why did I ever think you cared?" he could feel the sense of numbness setting in.

"That's not it at all Zuko!"

"Bullshit." He put the obituary back on the sofa, brushing past his uncle he said, "go get dinner yourself. I don't feel very hungry."

He ran up the stairs and slammed his bedroom door behind him and pulled out headphones. He could feel all his energy draining from him until he had nothing left. Music blasting in his ears, he numbly grabbed at a razor hidden under his mattress.

It was odd Iroh hadn't come to check on him. Well, maybe not odd. He'd just yelled at him over the death of his only son. If he were Iroh, he'd hate himself too. Absently, Zuko wondered how long it would be until his uncle don't him to get out. Would this be the last straw? He couldn't really bring himself to care. Not about Iroh, or his place to live, or the blood trickling from his thigh.

Maybe tomorrow.


Well I hope you enjoyed that. I know I totally missed spelling and grammar errors so let me know if you see them so I can correct them. Thanks!