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Zuko has never done well with crowds. The crush of people on all sides, the deafening blur of voices and conversations that grate against his ears from all sides; he doesn't know which way to turn or what to do and sometimes it all just becomes too much for him. When he was a small child and accompanying his parents to court functions, he would often become overwhelmed, and no matter how hard he tried he'd find himself on the floor, breathing too fast and crying uncontrollably, unable to respond when spoken to even hours after his mother had picked him up and carried him out.
Ozai, of course, hated it. He would storm into Zuko's room afterward, shouting at him for throwing a tantrum, that such behavior was unbefitting of a prince. He'd pick Zuko up sometimes, gripping him too tight by his upper arms and shaking him, getting in his face and demanding that Zuko stop crying like a baby and explain himself. It only ever made him cry harder. Ursa would shout at Ozai to stop, saying that Zuko couldn't help it, that he was just overwhelmed, he wasn't trying to misbehave, and eventually Ozai would scoff in disgust and drop Zuko, storming out of the room and slamming the door hard enough to make Zuko flinch. He'd curl in on himself, pressed into the corner between the wall and the bed, and his mother would comfort him, talking to him gently until he could bear to be touched, and then stroking his hair and holding him tight to her chest.
Eventually, Zuko was able to handle crowds better, and by the time his mother disappeared he hadn't had an episode in public for several years. He still hated crowds, and he still sometimes lost control of himself, but he was better at hiding it.
After the Agni Kai and his banishment, the episodes came back. Anything could set him off, at first- the bright lights of the ships infirmary, the harsh smells of the ointments spread over his face, too many people near him or speaking to him. He didn't quite scream and thrash on the floor the way he had as a younger child, but he'd cry and slam doors and hit himself in his frustration and humiliation, unable to speak clearly or look at anyones face. At first his uncle would try to touch him, to put a gentle hand on his back or his shoulder, and Zuko would growl wordlessly and wrench himself away. He kept expecting Iroh to scold him for behaving in such an undignified manner, or for rejecting his touch, but it never came, and eventually Iroh learned the way Ursa had, and would shoo away anyone in the room, or usher Zuko away to his own quarters, keeping the lights low, and speaking softly. He learned not to touch Zuko without invitation, and to not expect words from his nephew when he was in such a state.
Zuko's face healed, slowly, and he began to settle into life in exile. The fits tapered off in both frequency and intensity, and once again Zuko thought he had grown out of it.
But then they were in Ba Sing Se, working at the teashop, and it happened again. Zuko was doing good, even when the shop was packed with day workers on their way home and he had so many orders he could barely keep them all straight in his head. It was hard work, and he hated every second of it, but he pushed through it for his uncle's sake.
The day it happens isn't even the busiest they got- but Zuko hadn't slept much the night before, and three separate customers sent their tea back with ridiculous complaints and someone's baby was crying, and then Zuko drops a teapot and suddenly he can't breathe and he can feel himself tearing up and the wave of humiliation that hits him was just too much. He abandons the broken teapot on the floor and flees to the kitchen, ignoring the stares he can feel on his back.
"Nephew! Is everything alright?" Iroh looks up from his work as Zuko comes staggering into the room, shaking hands tangled in his hair. He opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out and he closes it again, pressing his lips together to hold back the scream building in his throat. "Ah," says his uncle. "Go into the storage room, I will be right there."
Zuko goes, and fumbles the door closed behind him. He sinks shakily onto a crate in the back corner, rocking back and forth, trying to calm his breathing. The storage room is cool and dark, and the closed door muffles the sound from outside.
After several minutes, the door creaks open. Zuko flinches from the light, and Iroh quickly shut it behind him, carefully making his way through the dark room to sit near Zuko.
"Are you alright, Zuko?" he asks quietly. Zuko nods, still tugging at his hair. It hurt a little, but it helps ground him.
"Was it something specific, or are you just having a bad day?"
Zuko is still barely able to talk, but he manages to grind out a response anyway. "Bad day," he says, and his uncle nods understandingly. "Sorry," he adds, because he broke a teapot and abandoned several customers and now he's pulled his uncle away from his work because Zuko can't handle stress like a normal person-
"You have nothing to be sorry for, my nephew," Iroh says gently, cutting off the spiraling train of Zuko's thoughts. "Now, is there anything I can get you to help you feel better? A nice cup of tea, perhaps?"
Zuko shakes his head roughly. He doesn't think he could stomach tea right now. It always dries out his mouth and he's already overheated as it is, he doesn't need a hot drink to make it worse.
"How about some water, then?" Zuko nods, and he's not looking at him right now but he can hear his uncle stand and make his way to the door. "I will be right back," he says, and closes the door behind him.
When he returns Zuko has calmed enough that he can speak a little more, though the words still feel heavy and unwieldy in his mouth. "Thank you, uncle," he rasps.
Iroh's smile is barely visible in the dim light, but Zuko catches the edges of it anyway.
"I am always happy to help you, nephew," he says, and for once, Zuko believes him.