I sit up instantly. "You—you remember?" I stutter, my breath suddenly absent from my lungs.

He looks back at me, tilting his head. Silver eyes meet my own. I gulp. "Katara, why didn't you say anything?"

Anger rips through me. "What was I supposed to say?! Oh Spirits, Aang, we fucked and then you forgot! Was it as good for you as it was for me? Come on, be serious." I cross my arms over my chest and roll my eyes.

"Don't do that, 'Tara. Don't just dismiss this; we need to talk about it." He reaches his arm out, but hesitates. This only angers me more. Now he doesn't want to touch me?

I throw my arms out at him. "Fine! Talk!"

Aang gets off the bed, crosses my room swiftly, and crawls in on the other side; I watch him, transfixed, unable to fathom what he's going to do next. He turns on his side and snuggles into my pillows, so I lie back down and mirror his position.

"I'm so sorry I didn't remember," he whispers, his soft voice filled with anguish. He lifts his hand and rests it on my face, his thumb skimming my cheekbone back and forth; my stomach flutters at the action. "I don't ever want to make you feel cheap or used. I can't even begin to imagine what it was like to have that happen and the other person doesn't even remember it."

I relax slightly. "What do you mean that?" I prod, biting my lower lip.

I see his face blush in the moonlight. "Sex, Katara. Amazing sex."

Oh, Tui and La

I flush too and find myself moving closer to him, my body acting on its own accord. "So it was good for you?" I ask with a sarcastic smile, but nervous panic runs through my veins, desperate to know the answer.

He bites his lip too and nods. "Unbelievably good. And, I don't want to sound cocky or anything, but I'm pretty sure you enjoyed it too."

I raise my eyebrows. "Really? Why do you think that?"

His face gets even redder. "Were you even there? Because you were pretty enthusiastic. Kissing and moaning and fondling and commanding and clenching and—"

"Okay, okay. I get it," I cut him off. I'm getting turned on just thinking about it and the way he looked at me like I was the most beautiful person he's ever laid his striking grey eyes on.

"So?"

"So what?"

He leans in closer, his eyes shining. "Was it good for you?" His hand moves from my face to the back of my head. "I want to hear you say the words."

"Aang, I—" I pause, trying to think of what to say without blubbering all my feelings out. I don't want him to know how I feel. What if he doesn't reciprocate? So, I say something that will appease him more subtly.

"I let you…come inside me. I've never let a guy do that before." I admit, suddenly interested in a loose blue thread that split from the border of my sheets. The silence is very thick.

He pulls away slightly, his eyes filled with confusion, and something else I can't identify. Elation? Wonder? Love? Desire? "Not even Jet—?"

"Don't say his name," I cut him off again. "This is a happy place, Aangy." I smile at him softly, trying to relieve the tension and he smiles back at me.

"You know how desperately I don't want children until I'm fully finished with my medical residency, so I've always been extra careful. And I just never felt comfortable enough to allow him or anyone else. Until you."

I stop, realizing how close I am to saying something I'll regret. I clear my throat before continuing. "So, I guess you could say I enjoyed it."

"I told you," He smirks at me, but there's serious expression under it.

"So, what do we do now?" I ask, not really sure what should happen next. I mean, amazing sex aside, he's heartbroken over On Ji, so it's not like he has genuine feelings for me. He was probably just desperate for comfort and it just so happened that I was the nearest warm body. What I need to do is tell him we should just be friends so he doesn't feel guilty when he makes that decision himself. I mean, I know I have feelings for him; deep, unrelenting feelings that go way past the great sex, but he doesn't. And I don't want him to feel bad about that. And Aang would. My best friend would.

"Well—"

"Don't feel bad. I understand that you were just upset over On Ji and Jet, and you wanted a release. You wanted to forget about how she hurt you."

"Katara wait—"

"So, let's just let's just forget about it and go back to normal; just best friends who share everything. I mean, the sex was great, but it was probably just because of the alcohol, right?" I lie, my chest tight. I don't want this.

I don't want to forget.

He nods, but he doesn't look relieved like I thought he would. He looks disappointed—and I'm confused as to why. "Okay. We'll just forget and go back to normal—sounds good."

I take a shaky breath. Shit. That was heartbreakingly easy.

"Can I sleep in here tonight?" he asks randomly. I'm thrown. Why would he want to do that? But I nod my head anyways; I'm not going to forgo the opportunity to be pressed against him again. I turn around onto my side—my usual sleeping position—and I feel Aang snuggle up behind me. Just like he did after my mother died. "Are your nightmares back again?"

I freeze. Wait, how did he?—then I notice I left my pill bottle on the nightstand instead of tucking it back into the drawer.

"Just once or twice this last week," I mumble.

"Katara, you should have told me. You know I like to be there for you when you have them."

I've had nightmares since my mother's death. Painful, agonizingly violent dreams that verge on night terrors. I thrash around on the bed, sometimes screaming, as I dream about the car accident, a new version occurring in my mind. My mother dying in one version, or my brother Sokka and I dying in the other. Sometimes Aang is in them, being ripped apart by tigerdillo-like mutations. I feel his arm wrap around my stomach and pull me closer to him until our bodies become one; the warmth of him seems to ignite a fire under my skin.

"I will next time."

His warm breath hits my bare neck as he exhales softly, trying to fall asleep and I break out in shivers; it smells minty like his toothpaste. "Please do."

I stay awake a little bit longer, trying to memorize the feeling of his skin against mine, but the comfort of us together pulls me under all too soon.

When I wake up the next morning, nightmare free, Aang isn't beside me. Even though I knew he would be teaching his International Philosophy class today, it still hurts. And I feel like a LOSER.

Since when do I let feelings affect me so much? I shake my head, dismissing the overwhelming feeling of suckage before I crawl out of bed and towards my closet. I slip on my normal blue pants and matching blue shirt, weaving my hair into its usual braid and hair loopies before leaving my room entirely.

As I step into the kitchen, my eyes immediately fly to the middle counter; there rests a plate with sweet rice, nuts and half a dozen raspberry tarts—my favorite thing Aang bakes. They are so deliciously flaky and buttery and sweet in the middle. Aang specifically loves his egg custard tarts, but he knows that raspberry is my favorite filling aside from the mango. I practically sprint the three feet to them and instantly grab a tart, taking a massive bite. And then another. I engulf my rice and nuts on the side, suddenly famished and it's not until I've inhaled the dish it in its entirety that I see a note lying next to the dish. My name is written on the front of a folded white piece of paper in Aang's gentle penmanship. Seriously, even his handwriting turns me on. I snatch it from the wooden counter and open it as quickly as possible.

'Tara,

This is an "I'm sorry" breakfast treat. I woke up this morning next to you, and felt utterly wretched again for forgetting about our moment. It kills me to think about what you might have been going through. You're my best friend. I love you, Katara, forever. Teaching class today, I'll see you later!

Always,

Aang

I feel an insurmountable rush of elation take over my body as I reread the letter multiple times. Just like I call him Aangy, he calls me 'Tara when we're sad or worried because of the other one. And always, well, that's a whole different story. Just what did he mean by that?

I set the note back on the table and grab another raspberry tart before heading out the door. I always knew there was an attraction with Aang—I mean, I'm not blind; the man is undeniably beautiful. I felt the spark the day we met, but I didn't make anything of it. I figured it was because he was a sweetheart and attractive. But he never made a move to date me, and I never made a move to date him. We just didn't. Now that I think about it, I don't know why. Is there something wrong with me?

Aang has always been pretty clear when it comes to how he's feeling, so I think he would have told me if he felt anything more than friendship for me. Right?

I shake my head. I need to stop being such a fucking sap. Aang will always be my best friend. So, I just need to forget about the dread that forms in the pit of my stomach when I think of that never changing.

When I come home from work, I'm relieved, excited, and many other emotions to find him waiting for me with open arms. He pulls me into his body and I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck; I fit so perfect in there. It's like it was made for me.

"How was work today?" he asks, his cheek resting on the top of my head. We aren't normally so touchy-feely—we maybe share a brief hug before we go to bed most nights—but I don't want to let go now. And it seems like he doesn't either.

"It was fine. Haru pretended that there was an earthquake to show off his newly discovered bending move and scared the shit out me, but besides that, it was the usual. I saw people, I gave them some healing sessions, learned new surgical methods, and then left."

He chuckles softly. "I really liked that Haru guy when I met him. He's kind of hilarious." I introduced them once when Aang and I happened to go to the Gardens after work. They met and Haru convinced me to play a Pai Sho tournament while betting our vacation days.

Haru worked for a full year after that.

I agree with Aang—Haru's a pretty amusing guy. And he's easy on the eyes. Really easy. "How about you, hmm? How was your class?"

I feel him shrug his shoulders. "Well, I didn't meet another best friend, but it went fine. I got to show the new students my marble trick." He grinned.

"Ooo! You love doing that!"

He laughs again and finally releases me. "I ordered your favorite tonight—fried seal bites and noodles. And I have your favorite movie in the DVD player. Annnnnnnnnnd," he reaches into his robes and then whips his hand back in front of my face.

"I made you this." Grasped between his large fingers, is a small, weaved bracelet. The inside along the length of it was sealed in baby blue, and across the entire front surface there were various beads and shells glued on top, all trinkets I recognize from the Southern Water Tribe. "It's an etkie. I had to teach about the southern regions today and I did some research on the jewelry that you guys wore back home. I hope you like it!"

"I love it," I whisper. Aang immediately puts it on my right wrist and beams at the vibrant colors clashing with my darker skin beautifully. He stares at our joined hands, only pausing his intense stare to look up when I say; "But what's with all the special treatment?"

He blushes, and looks away from me with a sheepish grin on his face. "More apology gifts."

I shake my head at him. Aang always feels responsible when things happen to the people around him. He tries to fix everything—tries to prevent anyone from hurting. And because this time it was actually his fault, I know he's going to beat himself up a lot longer than he should.

I point to the bracelet and to the tart pastries remained from breakfast on the table. "Well, this is the last one. You're done apologizing to me, especially when it's not even necessary. You know how I hate apologies." I lift my left eyebrow up at him.

His sheepish grin turns into a smirk. "Okay, fine. I'll stop. After tonight, I'll stop."

I roll my eyes. Spirits. What else does he have in store?

It turns out Aang has a lot more in store. While I eat my fried seal out of the box with chopsticks, he massages my feet—the movie playing in the background. Aang's hands are just…swoon-worthy. It must be the Air Nomad and meditation thing. His thumbs knead my heels gently and I have to hold back the moan that threatens to escape my throat; and force the memory of the way he used those hands on my body the other night out of my head. He pauses only so I can feed him a bite of the noodles then goes back to rubbing my feet as he chews happily.

While we're eating, Aang's phone buzzes repeatedly as it sits on the table next to the couch, but he ignores it.

"Are you gonna answer that?" I ask when it vibrates for the tenth time.

He shakes his head. "No. It's On Ji." My heart drops.

"She's been calling you?" I ask hesitantly.

His hands get a little rougher with my feet. "Yeah. She won't stop. But I've said everything there is to be said. I can't be with her; you know how I feel about cheating."

"She'll take the hint eventually," I say, chewing another bite. But I secretly hope she doesn't. I'd love for her to come over here, desperate to get him back, just so I can punch her in the face and then blood bend her to oblivion.

"Whatever. I don't even understand why she wants to talk to me, or get back together. She obviously cheated on me because she wasn't satisfied with me."

I dig into my take-out box, searching for a piece of seal skin as I continue talking. "She's a bitch, Aangy. Plain and simple. And I really don't know how she couldn't be satisfied by you." We both freeze, his hands stilling, as we realize what I said. "With—I meant with," I quickly correct, blushing profusely.

I look away from my food, worried about what he'll say, but he just smirks at me knowingly. "Thanks." And then continues rubbing my feet.

And then finally, promising me it's the last gift, he brings out a Qilaut. My heart stops immediately. Because it's not just any water tribe percussion instrument; it's my mother's.

"Aang," I breathe, air leaving my entire body, the noodles I was eating slipping out of my chopsticks and back into the box. "How did you…?"

He sets the instrument on the ottoman in front of me and joins me on the couch. I stare at the shiny tan wood, the roughed handle and I notice the bending water symbol hand pained on the middle of the paddle.

"It's not hers. I know that her original one was destroyed in the car accident, but it's the exact same kind. I've been researching it for a while now—from the picture you have on your nightstand—and I finally found it."

I have a picture of my mother teaching me how to play the Qilaut when I'm about six years old. I was back at home, sitting on her lap in our main seating area.

"It was supposed to be for your birthday next month, but I want to give it to you now."

"Aang…" I trail off. I've never been good with words, and I can't even begin to express how much this means to me. Every day without my mother, the pain doesn't cease. Even though it's been years, I still sometimes forget that she's gone, because it sounds like the stupidest thing in the world; she was my Mom, she was supposed to be with me forever.

I can't believe Aang did this for me. I look away from the beautiful instrument and back to him. His eyes are wide, the silver irises shining and fixed on me; he looks hopeful, but a little wary—like he knows I'm going to fight him on this. And I am.

"You shouldn't have done this for me," I whisper.

"Yes, I should have."

"I'm going to repay you."

"No, you're not."

"It's too much money."

He shakes his head. "No, it's not. I love you, Katara. And in all honestly, I would spend ten times the money on something if it made you happy. I would do anything for you."

I fight the urge to spew out my feelings for him; how he means everything to me, and how I'm so unquestionably wrapped up in him. I don't even deserve him as a friend, let alone anything more. "I love you, too."

And I don't think I've ever said anything more true in my entire life.