Glitter in the Air
Have you ever hated yourself for staring at the phone?
Your whole life waiting on the ring to prove you're not alone.
"Glitter in the Air" - P!nk
Maybe it is absurd to be in a long-distance relationship with someone you aren't even dating. To be hiding feelings from three thousand miles apart. To be hoping they are reciprocated, hoping your heart is not fluttering alone with every text, to hope that when you are crying and staring at the ceiling a cute little picture means more than the words on it.
Most of all, to hope maybe things have not changed since you were growing up together and stealing glances during math class.
The first time Azula confessed her feelings, they had not seen each other in person for two years. Ty Lee was miserable at her fiancé's house, sitting drunk on an entire bottle of Halloween themed wine crying over a stupid fight, and an equally drunk Azula, so brave, so bold, so brash because she could be, finally summoned the courage to speak what had been unspoken for their entire adolescence.
She told Ty Lee she had a crush on her too, so long ago, and that she still harbored romantic feelings for her best friend.
And they never talked about it again.
Ty Lee does not even know if Azula remembers because she has been so afraid to bring it up, so terrified of Azula's wrath or rejection that she never even confessed it was the real reason she broke off her engagement.
Because she was still hung up on her first love, clinging on to what often feels like just a fantasy.
They are too far apart for it to work, anyway. Ty Lee training for Cirque du Soleil, Azula in college preparing to take over her father's business.
New York, Los Angeles.
But tonight? Tonight is the turning point.
Because if Azula asked, if Azula confessed feelings, Ty Lee would hop on the first plane to be with her.
It is Valentine's Day and Azula and Ty Lee both agreed to a platonic phone call so that they can watch movies together and chat and spend their lonely day together as friends,
The one problem?
They never established who would call who.
On Valentine's Day evening, Ty Lee lies in bed in her cramped apartment she shares with three roommates, on the phone with her sister, but ready to hang up in an instant if Azula finally calls.
"You need to be prepared if she doesn't call you," says Ty Lee's sister for the third time in this single conversation.
Ty Lee pouts. "She will. She said she would."
"She's hurt you more than once in the past."
"Not this time. She'll call me. I know it."
"Ty Lee, you damned easy bake oven, just call her first. Stop waiting for her and take control."
"Yeah, well, I don't know if you noticed when we were growing up, but Azula kinda has control issues. It breaks our code! It's like the woman proposing, y'know?"
"That's pretty sexist of you. Plenty of men would be fine with a woman-"
"Not Azula. If she were a guy she'd be the kind who'd get offended by that. Romance is a verb for her and a noun for me."
"Been practicing your Mad-Libs?"
"I mean it." Ty Lee rests her free hand softly on her heart and draws in a slow breath.
"You could have anybody. Boys have been drooling over you since middle school. And if you want a girl I bet you could find one of those too."
Ty Lee's face contorts into a rare expression of pure rage. "Azula is special. How many times do I have to tell you that?"
"Do you love her, Ty Lee?"
"More than anything in the whole entire world." Ty Lee closes her eyes. She heard a word once. Basorexia. The overwhelming desire to be kissed. But what happens if the person you want to kiss is nothing more than text messages and pictures and memories?
Ty Lee's sister tears Ty Lee out of the reverie by stating firmly, "Tell her. Before it's too late."
Her sister hangs up before Ty Lee can protest. And Ty Lee barely restrains herself from throwing her phone at the wall. She certainly cannot afford a new one without explaining to her wealthy parents what drove her to break it.
As time ticks by, Ty Lee tries to stop herself but does it yet again, for the thousandth time since New Year's. She listens to Azula's voicemail.
Azula had never done it before. Left a voicemail. She barely called without being prompted somehow. And this one seemed to have layers, or perhaps Ty Lee was overthinking it out of hope.
Ty Lee presses the button against all better judgment.
"Hello, Ty Lee. I'm bored out of my mind at this stuffy party. Call me back."
She has spent over a month analyzing every intonation, every word, searching for some kind of subtext.
Ty Lee glances at her phone. She muted everything in her life but Azula.
And judging by the time of night… it's never going to happen.
Time zones! Time zones! It's still fairly early out on the West Coast, isn't it? Isn't it?
Ty Lee stares at her feet, the chipped pink nail polish, the callouses from dancing and other tricks. Finally, she decides her thoughts about Azula need to stop.
She rises, grabs her phone tightly in her hand so she does not miss the call, and heads to the joint kitchen she shares with her roommates.
Ty Lee pulls open the baking drawer her roommates never open. It is where she hides her frosted circus animal crackers, cinnamon candies, pink and blue saltwater taffy and the alcohol she does not want to share. No one finds it because she is the only person in the house who ever bakes. Ty Lee doubts Suki even knows what a premade cake mix looks like outside of the supermarket.
She withdraws her treasured bubblegum sake she received for her birthday and takes a deep swig straight from the bottle.
After returning to her bedroom, bottle in one hand and phone clenched tightly in the other, Ty Lee settles in and posts a #flashbackfriday on Instagram. It was a failed attempt at an aesthetic photograph but it still captured an amazing moment. She and Azula were at an arcade, both dressed in emerald green by pure accident, Azula illuminated by the verdant crystal neon light of an game screen as she finally reached the high score on Conquest and beat the impossible final boss. Ty Lee was a decoration but Azula gave her a rare compliment and called her motivational, a cheerleader with morale boosting good looks.
Maybe the picture will lure Azula out of hiding. Maybe not.
Maybe Azula is just busy. Maybe Azula is angry with her. Maybe Azula senses the blossoming romance and is trying to let Ty Lee down easy.
No, no. It cannot be the last one. Azula does not let people down easily.
Azula does not just break hearts.
Azula freezes hearts in liquid nitrogen, smashes them into to frozen dust and snorts the powder.
Ty Lee would know if Azula did not want to date. But that does not stop her mind from coming up with every worst-case scenario it can imagine.
She just sighs deeply, and drinks, and stares at her phone.
Meanwhile, Azula lounges in Her lush but cold apartment, a place that lacks personality but exudes wealth to the level of royalty. Her father always did call her a princess, after all.
She reclines in a fashion that suggests ease and confidence but her twitching fingers and shallow breath betrays her. Mai sounds tired on the phone as Azula speaks to her, trying to not allow any of her nerves into her tone but failing at it.
"Maybe you were too young to feel something real," says Mai.
"We're older now and I agreed to give her a chance to prove if we feel something real or not."
"I try not to argue with you, or tell you what to do, or get involved whatsoever but you just need to call her. If you feel something real you won't wait."
Azula rolls her eyes. She grows so very tired of being surrounded by idiots. "I think you misunderstand the test layer of this situation."
"Ty Lee didn't even pass the test to tie her own shoes in kindergarten."
Despite her trepidation, Azula cannot help but laugh. It cheers her long enough for her to boldly admit, "It's almost sweet. Waiting for a call from the one that got away."
"If this were any more sickeningly sweet, I would be in a diabetic coma."
"Shut up."
"But it's also pathetic."
Azula bristles and violently clutches the phone, every muscle in her body clenching simultaneously. "Excuse me?" she shrieks.
"Want some advice?"
"No."
"Well, too bad. You're getting it anyway. Tell her you love her before she rides off on the massive biceps of the first guy who gives her expensive shiny things."
"I am not going to—"
Mai hangs up before Azula can finish her sentence. Azula throws her phone at the wall with a pitch like a pro-baseball player. She suddenly is struck with terror as she realizes if it broke she can never find out if Ty Lee will call her again, and she flings herself from the bed.
A cracked screen, but the phone still works fine.
She can get herself a new one in the morning.
Azula sighs. She needs a drink. A strong one.
As time ticks by, Azula tries to stop herself, but she opens the app and starts scrolling through Ty Lee's Instagram as the waiting slowly builds an ache in her bones. The walls suffocate her, the silence pains her.
One picture from yesterday is lovely. The bright pink floral dress clings to her shapely form like a lover. Her smile is real. That is what makes her pictures more beautiful than those who pose.
She bites her lip, mostly in self-hatred, digging her teeth deeper and deeper until she tastes metal. Azula does not wipe the dribbles of blood dropping onto her chin as she stares at a #throwbackthursday post from two weeks ago.
Azula, Ty Lee, Mai. Zuko cropped out, to Azula's sick delight. On the beach.
It was a strange summer. Bonfires, bikinis… jealousy and stolen glances she ignored because she had been so convinced that Ty Lee was straight.
Azula rises and dabs her lip with her crimson and gold comforter before striding into the kitchen to find some alcohol to numb the burning on her skin as she waits, and waits, and waits. The seconds pass like hours and each one feels like the pulse of an aching bruise.
Once she finds her poison of choice, "Here's to teenage memories," murmurs Azula to herself as she takes a deep swig from the bottle of Fireball Whiskey.
She returns to her bedroom and sets her phone on her lap as she continues to drink. It burns her lip in the best way possible.
Ty Lee used to go on and on about how Azula is an Aries, and every boring detail of her horoscope.
Maybe the fire does comfort her.
Azula cannot stop herself from checking Instagram again. She scrolls past the cute dates that make her want to burn down this entire dreadful city of indulgent romantics.
And then she finds a new post from Ty Lee. A new post. When she is supposed to be too busy to call, or so Azula had been hoping. A lost phone, a dead phone, a phone dropped down a New York sewer grate. But no. Ty Lee can bother to post on Instagram but not call her oldest, dearest friend whom she used to pledge undying loyalty to.
Azula starts to bite the wounds on her lips again as she studies the photograph.
It was taken on one of the best days of her adolescent life.
Azula collected accolades like Pokémon cards. But beating the infinite regeneration boss and securing the highest score on the hardest game in the popular arcade with her crush eagerly cheering her on and a crowd of slack-jawed onlookers? It felt like nothing else.
It was a beautiful day.
And Ty Lee just poisoned it without a second thought.
Azula briefly contemplates calling Mai back to rant about such betrayal but decides she does not need any more of the insubordinate micromanaging of her love life from her best friend tonight.
So she just scowls haughtily, and drinks, and stares at her phone.
As the clock ticks closer and closer to midnight, Ty Lee begins to sweat like iced tea in August. Azula gnaws on her long, sharp, coffin tip acrylic nails.
They both hold an anemic hope that the phone will ring at long last.
Their hearts fall apart like cherry blossoms slowly falling from the sky with every minute that passes. Neither one has ever felt heartbreak before, but if it can be defined as anything, it is waiting for a call tonight… and never receiving it.
Which they both by now expect.
Twenty minutes to twelve. Valentine's Day is almost over, and the call looks unlikely.
But Ty Lee is tired of being subtle, tired of being passive, tired of admiring her beautiful empress from afar and surviving only on a diet of memories.
She takes a deep, drunken breath and dials Azula's number. Ty Lee squeezes her eyes shut and crosses her fingers on one hand.
To her shock, Azula answers halfway through the first ring.
"Hey," says Azula, attempting to play it poised and casual.
Ty Lee smiles and replies, "Happy Valentine's Day."
Azula cannot suppress her relieved grin.
end