FOOLISH // a Zutara thread with @honxrable
( now — present — senior year of college )
One would figure that after three years of walking the same campus over and over again, memories would start to blend together. The colors would seep into one another and everything would appear the same. One conjugal mix of shit.
The same memories, the same buildings, the same faces.
One thing was for sure — although things were ever-changing, and always moving, there would still bee the same god damned memories that would eventually lead to the climax. In the end, everything always came back together in some way — it’s just up to you to figure out how it all ends.
That’s why now, rounding the corner into her first class of the semester, one face in particular made vomit actually rise into her throat.
Katara was silent, at first, until she finally found her voice. “Zuko?” He stood behind the teachers’ desk, his back to her until her voice penetrated the air and she watched as the hand he held against the chalk board became frozen.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. And, when he turned his head slightly, he met her eyes.
‘ I’m the new student teacher. ‘
( then / past / summer before freshman year of college )
The very beginning
‘ You’re not from here, are you? ‘
The voice came from behind her, the barista before her still pestering her for her order. She waved them off before turning and stepping aside to allow someone else to go while she searched for the human whose voice she could still feel on the back of her neck.
‘ Looking for me? ‘
When she finds his eyes, she stops. He’s behind her in line before stepping beside her, his glasses sliding just slightly down his nose before he pushes them back. A slanted grin fits his lips and it spreads to her own as she speaks.
“Yeah, um, hi?” she begins, a brow arching as she crosses her arms. She tries not to come across as passive.
She wants to ask how he knows she’s not from here, but she thinks better of it. Of course he knows, her accent gives her away when she forgets to pretend to be American. She’s learned quickly that if you’re not American, people suddenly feel the need to ask far too many personal questions. So, she pretends, but decides against it with this stranger.
“Sorry, yes — I’m Katara. I actually just moved here a couple of days ago, so I don’t exactly know... anything at all about this place, actually.”
His eyes seem to shimmer as if showing random strangers around was his passion. Which, to her, unsurprisingly, was exactly what he had offered. Normally she’d decline, but, something about him intrigued her.
“Should I trust you, American boy?”
‘ Don’t you want to know my name before you get into a car with me? ‘
She smirks while she thinks, drawing a lip between her teeth. “Do you have a name?”
He rolls his eyes before saying, “I’m Zuko.”