Maiko month prompt: Nightmare
Warnings: None
Word Count: 853
AN: I'm not even sure, I was tired. That's all I know.
As pale as she gets it reminds him of bones. It may be only the second time he's seen it, the quickened palpitations and the way she stiffens, the syllables that fall from her lips in a frantic slur. It's hard to believe she manages to stay asleep through it all. On cue, Zuko's arms fold around her sides, bringing her into his chest, and through her dreaming she clings to the fabric that sticks to his chest through her tears. Normally it's him, the cold dampened skin, and the following shivers, sometimes the convulsions bring him to wake. Not her, the unleveled breaths and sibilant whispers only ensued. Zuko runs careful fingers through onyx strands and presses his lips to her skin.
Maybe one day he'll ask, why she chooses to silent is beyond anything he can comprehend. It may be fear that it concerns him, or worse that it concerns her, but whatever the reason he isn't sure. Finally, she stills, her muscles relax, and her breathing less ragged, and her grip lessens on his robes. That's the only thing that's keeps him from prying, knowing she ends up fine, and when she wakes, there's still that comforting smile tugging at the edge of her lips.
"Morning." He mutters, softly, finally having moved himself upright at the edge of the bed. "How did you sleep?"
"—fine, I guess."
He knows it's lie, but her expression keeps set in stone, so he stays as quiet as he's always had.
It's the flames and his screams, little things she remembers. Any time he's in pain the memory comes flooding back, and pools in her chest. Her parents paid for such things. To see a boy of only thirteen beaten and charred, strewn across the floor and laid to waste. He hated them for it, shutting herself off from them, along with everyone else. That's when she remembers, not a smile could be found, not a laugh, unless it was forced at one of mother's formal dinners, where the ends of her hair were curled, and there was gel on her teeth to plaster such an expression on her face. It was dull and idiotic, and almost barbaric, showing her off like a porcelain doll.
That could be it, the darkness, the three year slot where she felt, and was—nothing. She may as well have been an animal held for slaughter. Ty Lee had gone, leaving her more barren, without someone to even seek solace.
The way his mouth twitches slightly when he asks, as though there's something else there, the missing inquiry he has yet to state. She knows, and she isn't willing to answer. It hurts to think how many nights she waited for him, either of them, and how she simply cried, and showed that weakness she had now learned to suppress. It's always hidden meanings between them, subtle gestures, and little hopes that they just—get it. The only comfort is that they actually do, they'd been together long enough, to read signs that something was wrong, or that to know when to stay away.
Her hand slips into his and she positions herself behind him, legs coming out at his sides and her face into the small of his back. "I'm fine, really."
"You say my name a lot."
"I do?"
"Yes."
Mai's brow furrows and her grip around his waist tightens, "I just get worried, a little bit."
"About what?"
"That—" she bites her lip, and presses her face into his tunic, breathing in his scent.
"Mai?"
"I can't tell you, if I do, it'll happen."
That's how it always played out, she'd think too hard, because she had too much time. She was always calculative and precise anyway, so wielding those thoughts became her job, and the only negative thing that ever came from it, was whatever she calculated always ended up true. Those were the things she masked with boredom, trying desperately to find something to do, anything to keep her mind off of what could potentially happen.
"I get them too." he mutters, swaying backward into her touch before moving back, and resting his elbows on his knees. "About my father, or you."
"What about me?"
"Lot's of things, leaving, dying, always bad things…that's why they're nightmares, and I'm scared that if I say them they—might be true."
Mai's hands leave his waist at that, drawing back and finding their way up his shirt, and she runs her nails up and down the length of his sides, breathing with his sighs as she rests her chin. "I promise, I'm not going anywhere, for any of those reasons, but you have to promise me you won't either."
"I promise."
He's scared of that promise, since he breaks so many it's a wonder she can say it so sure. They're just dreams, but the fact that they could push them away with the simplest of words is what makes it so easy, almost breathlessly their worry can vanish along with their fears, and just a quickly she can say she isn't as scared of her nightmares.
