She's everything she has ever wanted.
She’s everything she has ever wanted.
Beautiful, smart, bossy and strong. Sometimes, when she is sure that Katara isn’t paying attention to her, because she’s too focused on a medical book or the parchment bending she’s studying or whatever, Azula stares.
Not long. No. She wouldn’t take the risk of being caught. Just enough to see her chewing her lower lips in a concentrated way, and frowning her eyebrow because she doesn’t understand something.
Katara is gorgeous, and she has been a fool for not noticing it for years.
She looks away when the Avatar is approaching Katara behind her and puts a hand on her shoulders, smiling at her brightly.
She tried to focus on her own parchment and not on the laughed Katara shared with him, or the way she’s always, always, smiling gently to him. Azula holds her breath and her grip on her parchment tights. Even if she isn’t chasing him around the world and wants him dead, even if she understand now the importance of the Avatar in the balance of the world, even if (and it disgust her to admit it) Aang was nice with her, Azula would always fucking hate him.
Azula hears someone snorting behind her, and rolls her eyes with annoyment. Oh, no, not her. Toph, hands in the pocket of her pants, chewing a leaf, was smirking.
“Someone’s heart is beating fast right now,” she mocks.
“Probably the Avatar,” mumbled Azula and her eyes glanced quickly at the couple who were still talking.
Toph laughed again, amuse this time. “If you say.”
Azula bites the inside of her cheeks, and she jumps when she realizes that she is burning the parchment. Fuck.
This time when she raises her eyes to Katara, the water bender is looking at her. She hates to admit that she forgot how to breathe when they eyes cross.
“Everything, ok?” Asks the Avatar.
She barely notices him, she keeps eye contact with her. Always with her.
Her heart is beating fast and she’s sure that her cheeks are pink now. Katara is everything she has ever wanted and she would never have her because she’s probably straight and enamore with the Avatar.
“Yeah,” she stands up abruptly and leaves them in the library.
She walks furiously in the corridors, and stops when she finds her room. Close the door, lean against it, take her hands with her hand, mess her hair and scream.
Azula never has been loved, never has been in love, never really understands the feeling or why people are so obsessed with it.
But now. Everything is clear like water. Love is painful and unforbidden. Love is Katara.
Azula squeezes her eyes shut and breathes heavily. She thinks she might be in love with her.
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