Is this what it feels like? Being hurt by the one you love, I mean. I wonder? I don't really feel anything. Well, I feel numb.
That's something, at least. Sort of.
But what I want to know is why. I just don't understand anything.
I just... don't... understand.
Katara sat with her arms draped over her waist, one hand clutching the other, and her legs lazily bent in front of her. Her palm still radiated with heat, and it's surface was a very painful pink. Flames reflected in her tired eyes; a flickering red-hot heat against an ocean blue background. A small searing pain stung her bottom lip; she'd been biting it hard for the past minute. A scuffling of feet passed by the door she was sitting by quickly. She knew who the feet belonged to. She knew he was worried, and that he didn't mean to do it, but she didn't want to see him regardless. The emotions inside her weren't necessarily anger or sadness. She didn't know what they were exactly, but they didn't feel good.
A muffled voice and more footsteps faded in and then out again as Zuko passed the door again. She could almost catch a word that sounded like "Tara," and a silent inner war erupted within her. She wanted to - she craved to - jump to her feet at the sound of his nickname for her, though at the same time her feet wouldn't budge.
Why am I like this? I know it was an accident...
Katara pulled her legs in close to her and rested her chin atop her knees, caught in a confusing state between despair and numbness. The burn mark on her hand flared, and she gripped it tighter, shutting her eyes tight.
Just as she laid her head on her knees, the door flung open with a snap, and Katara's head popped back up. And suddenly the pain in her hand didn't matter anymore, because the pain in her chest felt much more severe. Zuko was standing in the doorway, his chest pumping up and down and his eyes frantic. He scans the dark room, and when his eyes came across the girl sitting in the corner next to the door, he swallowed hard and crouched down to face her.
Katara looked to the floor beside her, not wanting to look him in the eyes, because she knew that if she did she wouldn't be able to hold back her tears. He stared at her with a heartbroken expression, and she examined the cold tile floor. "Katara, please, I'm sorr-" he hesitated as Katara flinched. "I'm sorry. I'm so so so sorry..." He shut his eyes tight and lowered his head. His hands gently reached for hers, and he bit his lip as he raised her burnt palm. "Tara," he whispered, his voice shaking as his gaze set upon the red skin stretching to the tips of her fingers. Katara shut her eyes tighter and tried to pull her hand back, but Zuko refused to release her. He intertwined their fingers and kissed the back of her hand, his eyes never leaving her.
"I'm sorry." He wasn't asking for forgiveness. He wasn't begging her to accept his apology, or pleading for a response. He was just that - sorry.
Zuko lifted his free hand and placed it ever so softly against the side of Katara's face and stroked her cheek with his thumb. Her eyes slowly dragged from the floor to his face. His eyes lightened slighly, and he gave her a hurt, weak smile.
I love you, he mouthed.
I won't ever hurt you again.
Katara squeezed his hand and returned his sorrowed smile.
I know. I love you too.