Heavy rain falls, as we all sit in one of the Western Air temple's Chambers. A few candles have been lit by Zuko, who invited Aang to try it out, but Sokka interrupted hastily, suggesting the occurrence of the room being set alight. This didn't really help Aang and his confidence, but when has Sokka ever been tactful?
We all sit together, our shadows proving to be more lively than the rest of us, the candle light flickering, and setting them dancing along the walls. Half of our faces are in shadows, the others are thrown into the light, illuminating us, making us seem more real than we probably are. This makes me think. All of us have a private side to us, which no one has ever seen, not even the person closest to them.
I imagine Aang's private side, but I cannot make it out. He is always so open, so happy to be who he really is. But Zuko has a private side, and I've been 'lucky' enough to see it. To others he may seem harsh and proud, but I've seen him at his most vulnerable, actually crying, something I'd never thought I'd see. I don't know if this is good or bad, I don't think I know anything anymore.
I think of my private side, the way I think about everything I see, contemplate it, and analyze the faintest expression that is gone after just a second, watch people grow closer together, read their body language. And I don't think anyone knows how thoughtful I am. I don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing, if my public side is just a shell, hard and rough and no one knows who I am inside.
But like I said, I don't know anything anymore, not after Zuko.
I try and trace everything I know about Zuko. Time after time, he has nearly killed us, time after time, we've seen his pure hatred for us. He would've seen me dead just to get Aang in his "little Fire Nation clutches".
And it sickens me. It sickens me the way he just walks into our camp, expects us to accept him, and worst of all, we did. I kiss him, I hold him, I'm part of him. And it sickens me. Because all the while, this jumble of emotions, feelings, instincts, whatever you want to call it, they always lead back to Aang, the boy who would never dream of hurting me, who would see himself dead so I could survive, who only has smiles and laughter for me, no scowls, no hatred. It was beautiful what we had.
The last few weeks replay themselves, scrambled, mixed, jumbled out of time, not in order, not making sense but being so clear at the same time, chanting at me as my words of love to Zuko had done in the Air Temple Halls.
...Beautiful Chaos
...It fits…?
...The Avatar's defeat…
..."Aang…his name is Aang!"
...Red…red…red…
...He's broken
...Winds...gathering…
..Cinders...
..."LIAR"
...The spoilt prince…
...The beautiful prince…
The boy waiting for me…who has waited for me for as long as
the sleepless nights,
the beautiful days…
Aang.