Slowly, like he’s trying not to spook a creature from the wild, he moves the hand from her back to brush an unruly curl away from her face. Distracting, purposeful movements. He takes his time with it-brushes her cheek with a barely there pressure at first, blunt fingernails scratching briefly at her scalp when he tugs the piece behind her ear, fingers toying with the loose waves and following the long line of her hair length downward until it ends at her waist.
She shivers involuntarily. Distracts her enough to not cry at least. Wonders if he knows that. She stares back down at their hands still in her lap. The moment is too much.
The ugly, stray thought comes from the back of her mind again. You’re so intense. Look at you. How can you be with someone so ambivalent? You’re so much like me, I’ve seen you fuss over the people you love, light fires that keep them warm, heat their food, keep them fed, warm their bodies, cling to their kindness and give it back 10 fold, 100 fold, 1000 fold, kill for who you love, die for who you love, dragon element, possess, hoard someone to yourself, how can you be with someone who doesn’t care?
“Katara.” Her name in his rasp begs her attention back to him. She looks back up.
His eyes, honey gold and so serious looking at her.
She takes a breath.
“What’s wrong?” It’s possibly the worst question he could’ve asked.
What is wrong with her? She’s lonely, she’s on the verge of a real breakdown, she’s having insane anxiety about her friend getting married, and she’s coping with it poorly.
She can’t say any of this to him though because things are so fucking weird right now, and she’s too fucking unhinged, and just look at him. He can barely sit up straight where he’s kneeling. He doesn’t need her shit piled on top of his.
So she pivots.
“Nothing. Nothing, really. I’m just-“
“Katara, come on, don’t do that. Not after what just-“ A frustrated huff here. “Something’s wrong. You just panicked on me out of nowhere. What is it? Is it Azula?”
She shuts her mouth quickly. He’s still right in front of her, warm as ever, bordering on almost too warm, and his gaze is searing. His hands are still on hers, and he’s absentmindedly stroking a thumb on her inner wrist, and it’s making it hard to think.
She can’t fucking think. At least, she can’t think anything remotely close to sane. It’s the heat, the stupid heat.
Makes her fucking stupid.
She takes him in, and it’s a mistake. He’d been growing his hair longer. It suited him, and this close, she realizes he has gold earrings. When did that happen? They made him look a little roguish, she thought. Closer to the boy who donned a mask as a vigilante and carried swords and black disguises.
Gods, why can’t he just look away. That look, and his hands-
She can’t think-
She takes a breath and wills herself to say something normal.
“I don’t think you should marry Mai.”
Okay, well, she fucked that one up. Badly.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Thinking before she talked was not something Katara was known for. He was too close to her. It was too hot. Today was too fucked-
She clocks the shock that crosses his face and tears her eyes away before she can see much more.
His retreat from her is slow- he leans back from her chair gradually, pulling his hands away from hers gently so that she feels them slip from hers. Cruel, almost, to be so kind about it. Worse than just wrenching himself away. Think about what you did his actions seem to say.
Katara braves a look at him again, and he’s standing now, confusion and indignation reigning evident on his face, arms spread out halfway toward her, chest open in a gesture of uncertainty, and it was just so helpless, she’s almost reminded of Sokka for a moment- times growing up when she’s yelled at him in bouts of teenage girl frustration for things that weren’t really his fault.
The furrow in his brow is back, and his mouth is twitching like he was working around an answer.
”What-“
Katara pounces before he can finish the question and find out how truly deranged she is.
“Gods, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said that! I-“ She raises her own hands in a sign of surrender, and he watches her like he doesn’t quite believe her. “It’s none of my business. I-I just-“
The silence that follows when she flounders to finish her thought is decidedly uncomfortable.
“It’s been a long day for me, too. It’s just caught up to me, I think. I ran into Mai in your office, that’s really it. Made me just, you know, think about the engagement, and I’ve just been a bit lonely here. That’s all.” Cringes. Gods, that’s fucking pathetic to just say out loud.
“I’m just taking it out on you and saying shit I don’t even mean.” She finishes the very painful speech with this line, like a liar.
Zuko’s staring at her in disbelief and maybe a twinge of panic, and his arms are still raised out, like he has no clue what to do with them, so Katara keeps talking. Fix it, fix it, fix it, you fucking psycho.
“And yeah, I sat with Azula, of course, which can get to you.” She moves on to this quickly. Gods spare her, please. “I don’t know why I freaked out on you. I think I’m just a little over tired. I know you know it can make you a little crazy.”
It’s the flimsiest excuse she could’ve given him, but there was a sprinkling of truth in there. Overwhelming fucking day. Comes in threes? Hasn’t she heard that expression somewhere? Some old Earth Kingdom superstition about misfortunes. The cook, Mai, Azula.
Pile everything with Kazik on top of it, and yeah, no wonder she exploded on Zuko.
He’s still looking at her with a hint of disbelief and a smattering of perplexity, and she waits with bated breath to see if he’d let her off the hook.
Spirits, are you fucking listening? I swear to all the gods I will try to get my shit together if you help me out of this.
Another fun little tidbit from chapter 8 of The Princess in the Tower
https://archiveofourown.org/works/69901936/chapters/215876361