A/N So, I know that this is a Zutara. And you'll see the Zutara here, but you've gotta read all the way through. So. Also, there is no song here. It is longer, and cast in a different tone that the others. It is a piece on love, fate, and being so hopelessly hopeful that it hurts you.

I sat quietly, waiting for her to come and sit with me. I cast a searching net inside myself and drew breath out with it, unsteady, uneven breath, breath to match my heart. I looked at my hands; I played with my hands, trying to calm myself. I would tell her. I was young, yes, but I was also old. I needed to tell her this before… before anything could happen. I could die tomorrow, or the next day, or even today. I was so good at covering it up with my attitude, but sometimes it slipped. I couldn't hold onto my mask forever—my hands were growing sweaty.

She came, her blue eyes calm and distant, as if trying to find the sea that they belonged to, or trying to become the moon that gave her power. Everything I had done to calm myself slipped away. She was so beautiful. Katara smiled warmly at me, speeding my pulse even more.

"Are you okay, Aang?" Katara asked, becoming a little concerned. I looked up at her, my gray eyes serious. Katara sat with me on the fallen log.

"I… I need to talk to you, Katara. There is something I have to tell you." My voice faltered, and I couldn't look at her, but I was trying as hard as I was allowed to try.

"What is it? You can tell me, Aang," her soft, moonlit voice coaxed, like a raindrop to a burning cheek. My burning cheek.

"I…" I took a deep breath. "Katara, I love you." Her eyes, so gentle and soft, stared at me, widened in surprise. She knew I didn't mean like a sister. She could tell. She knew me as well as I knew the wind, or as well as she knew the water. She took a deep, steadying breath as well, looking down. This is it, some hopelessly hopeful part of me thought, She loves you.

"Aang… I… I can't love you," she whispered, her voice choked with tears. Sadness and bewilderment tangled themselves on my face.

"If it's because I'm the Avatar, and people could use you against me, then—"

"That's not it, Aang!" she cried, snapping her head up, tears streaking down her face. "I'm sorry, but I can't. My heart is… it is somewhere else." Her voice dropped to a murmur, and her eyes got far away again. I felt excruciating, tearing pain. I tried to think of who could've stolen her heart from me, I who had loved her so hard, I who had wanted nothing more than that smile… until now. Who? Could it still lie with Jet, the traitor? I didn't know.

"Wh-who?" I asked, beginning to feel numb.

"Aang… please don't…" Katara pleaded.

"Who?" I demanded. Katara sobbed a little, sniffing. Somewhere inside of me, I felt guilt for causing this hurt. But I needed to know this. "I need to know, Katara," I said, softening my tone. She nodded.

"B-but… don't get mad, okay?" she begged, her eyes wide and innocent, like a child, like my mask. Like love.

"I promise, Katara. Just tell me who."

"It's… Zuko." As Katara said this, her voice gained a steadiness and strength that hadn't been there. This hit me hard, though, piercing me through the heart like a blade. How could she love him? He was cold, angry, and dark. He lived for revenge, and he lived to get him—or, he had until he had joined them. But he was… he was bad. How could someone like her love him? I turned to ask her, but she had all ready gone.

That night, I sat by the campfire, glad of it's warmth but hating who it belonged to. I looked up to glare at Zuko, only to see something strange. His eyes were soft, a small smile floating on his lips. I followed his gaze, knowing where it would land. Katara.

Zuko stood, walking over to help her with whatever she was doing, trying to paint a scowl on his lips. It didn't work. He touched her back gently, letting her know that he was there, and her face lit up.

It hurt me so badly. I blinked tears away. She had never been like that with me. She had protected me and comforted me, but her face didn't like up upon seeing mine. She didn't laugh like she was doing now. How could she love such a cruel beast?

But maybe she brought him from behind his face, let him drop it for a while and dry his sweaty hands. I watched the gentle, timid way he touched her and smiled at her. He was a different person without that mask.

But I guess that is what happens when love sweeps you away. It lets someone remove that mask and rest yourself.

From that moment, I vowed to close my heart. I was the Avatar. Love didn't want me; fate was cruel.

But a small, warm spot grew in me every time I saw that shining smile. Maybe I could find someone.

I was hopelessly hopeful. Maybe, I could one day think that word again. Love.