Chapter Text
i.
The first knock comes just as Katara is setting her takeout containers on the coffee table. She frowns at the sound, eyes straying to her phone. It’s five minutes until eight; Sokka and Suki shouldn’t be back until well past midnight, if at all.
She huffs at the thought of them ending their night early. It’s a rarity for Katara to get any sort of alone time now that Suki lives here. Suki and Sokka tend to forget there’s a third occupant in the household when they get into their mushy moments; which, unfortunately for Katara, seems to be all of the time now. The three of them can’t even have a movie night without Sokka and Suki becoming so engrossed in each other’s lips; not to mention the number of times that she’s come home and they’ve forgotten to shut and lock their door. Katara’s begun to feel like a stranger in her own home, and frankly, she’s tired of how it makes her feel. No matter how much she adores Suki, Katara has begun to crave the time that she doesn’t have to be in their presence.
Whoever is at the door doesn’t try to unlock the door or call out to her, easing her worries that her brother and best friend have prematurely ended their night out. Katara settles further into the couch, grabbing one of her takeout containers and lifting the lid. The smell of cheese tteok-bokki fills the room. Her stomach growls in response, but she takes her time, uncorking her wine bottle and pouring herself a glass. She is just settling back into the couch, hand reaching for the television controller when another knock sounds.
Katara sucks her teeth, her eyes narrowing towards the door. She reluctantly gets up from the couch, careful not to spill her wine as she sets it down on the coffee table. Her footsteps are light as she pads towards the door and carefully presses her ear against it.
She can just hear the barest of rustling from the other side. Whoever it is, they’re still standing there.
For once, she curses her shortness as she tries to look through their peephole. She is just tall enough on tiptoe for her eyebrow to line up with the peephole. Katara huffs, settling back onto her feet.
“Who is it?” She calls out, folding her arms across her chest.
“Uh,” A muffled voice calls from the other side of the door. “Hi, i-it’s Zuko. You uh, you asked me to come and pick you up at eight o’clock?”
“Come pick me up?” She mutters to herself, nose scrunching in confusion.
This could be a trick, she thinks. A serial killer trying to cause just enough confusion for her to open her door. It could be one of Jet’s boys here to lure her out again just so that he can talk to her. It could be a robber, knocking on unsuspecting residents’ doors and robbing whoever answers.
Or, she reasons, it could just be someone that has the wrong apartment. Katara takes a moment to shake off her nerves, reaching for the pocket knife that she keeps on their console table. Just in case, she tells herself. She slips it into her jacket pocket.
She makes quick work of the locks before swinging the door open, mouth already poised to tell the man that he has the wrong apartment.
Instead, she is greeted with an armful of fire lilies. Katara blinks in confusion.
“Um,” She stutters, but her guest doesn’t let her get a word in.
“I-I wasn’t sure if you liked flowers,” He rushes to say, eyes downcast as he scrubs at the back of his flushed neck. Katara takes in his neatly pressed black button-down, tucked into a pair of matching black slacks. A red peacoat stretches across his shoulders. Katara thinks that it is a lovely addition to his pale complexion.
“I brought you fire lilies,” he stutters out, nervousness propelling him forward, “I thought it’d be a nice touch because we’re both from...you’re not Mai.” The dismay in his voice brings her attention back to his face.
And what a face it is.
Golden eyes meet hers, framed by black hair parted down the middle. His bangs have been cut into a perpetually windswept appearance, the sides of his hair much shorter than the front. He has the facial features of someone that’s perpetually Fire Nation: all aristocratic angles and high cheekbones. Katara thinks that if this is not a simple case of the wrong apartment, then whoever it is that stood this piece of art up is blind . Never mind the scar that lines the left side of his face, crawling like vines across his cheekbone and disappearing behind his hair. Katara thinks it makes him all the more endearing.
The man, Zuko, blinks down at her, confusion written all over his handsome face.
“Is this...is this apartment 419?” He asks cautiously.
Katara bites her lip, eyes casting towards her open door frame where the numbers 419 are scrawled across the door.
“It is,” she says carefully. “Can I...help you?”
“Oh, um,” he gestures helplessly to the flowers in her hand, “I um, I’m here to pick up Mai. Does she...is she your roommate?”
Something twists in her stomach at the uncomfortable look on his face. He knows the answer without her opening her mouth, but Katara feels the need to bring him clarity anyway. “She isn’t,” she says carefully, “I think you were given the wrong apartment number.”
He nods absentmindedly. “Right,” he stutters, “Right.”
Zuko’s fingers twitch uselessly at his side before reaching into his pocket, casting her an anxious look. “Do you mind if Iー,” He trails off, and she gestures for him to go ahead. Her fingers tighten around the bouquet in her hands as the light of his phone casts highlights against his face.
Zuko’s fingers type hastily across the screen before bringing the phone up to his ear. Katara can hear the sound of it ringing from where she stands in the doorway. She should go back inside, she thinks, give him some space, but her feet stay rooted to the ground. Curiosity will not allow her to leave without knowing this stranger’s fate.
The call does not go past the first ring before the sound of his date’s voicemail echoes throughout the empty hall. Zuko abruptly pulls the phone from his ear, hands shaking as he tries again. It rings once before sending him to voicemail.
“I’ll just,” he trails off, bringing the phone from his ear to type out a message. She can tell when he presses send that something is wrong. His face drops, anxiety eating away at his handsome features. Something tells Katara that this girl has cut off all means of contact from him; she stops herself from wondering why. Situations like this do not always mean something is wrong with the guy, she reminds herself. If anything, this girl may be the one with the problem, and he is just doing the best that he can.
When Zuko turns back to face her, it is with the most crestfallen look she’s ever seen.
“Sorry for disturbing you,” he says softly. “You can um, keep the flowers if you like. Apparently, I don’t need them anymore.”
“It’s no trouble,” Katara finds herself saying. “This was...a pretty shitty thing for someone to do. I’m sorry you had to experience this”
“Yeah,” He laughs bitterly. “Guess that’s the sort of risk that you take using Instagram as a dating platform.”
“Well, yes,” Katara says, loathe to agree. “But still, they could’ve just told you no. Not send you to some random person’s apartment. I could’ve been anyone. I could’ve been a serial killer.”
His lips tilt upwards at her words. “Right,” he says. “You didn’t...you really don’t...” There’s a pull of frustration to his face as he tries to get the words out.
She knows exactly what he’s asking, and rushes to reassure him. “Of course not! I would neverーthis is completely heartless. I would never do this to someone, believe me.”
“I do,” he says, voice rough. “I justーI’m sorry I asked. I just had to be sure.” Zuko slowly pockets his cell phone, inclining his head towards the other end of the hallway, where Katara knows the elevator is located. “I should leave you to it...” he stops, looking at her inquisitively.
“Katara. Katara Kuruk,” she says, realizing at the last minute her name is information that he probably doesn’t even need.
“Katara,” he repeats, her name rolling deliciously off his tongue. He allows a small smile, allowing Katara a brief glimpse of straight, white teeth. “I should leave you to it Katara.”
Her grip tightens on the bouquet as he begins to back away. She should invite him in, she thinks. It’d be the least she could do after he’d wasted his time getting ready for a date, only to be blown off in one of the worst ways possible.
But she can’t open her mouth. Instead, she watches his back as Zuko disappears down the hall; out of sight, and out of her life. If it weren’t for the abandoned bouquet in her arms, she’d have thought that it never happened. Katara closes the apartment door with a shaky hand.
She mindlessly looks for a vase for her newly acquired bouquet, her mind playing through everything she could’ve done.
She could have invited him in and offered to share her take-out. He’d sit beside her, sipping wine and having his share of tteok-bokki as she turned on some mind-numbing film. Maybe she could have gotten him talking about what exactly drove someone like him to turn to social media as a dating avenue. They could have poured their hearts out right on this couch, or maybe Zuko could have just fucked her right into it.
She shakes her head, willing the thought away. She reminds herself that she doesn’t know this man; he is just someone that turned up on her doorstep. Tomorrow, he could get in contact with his missing date and find out that it was all a big misunderstanding and try again. And besides, she thinks, there’s no reason for a stranger to have felt comfortable with allowing her to invite him into her home. No, she tells herself, she’s better off not letting herself get attached to him.
Her eyes focus on the fire lilies as she straightens them in their new vase, her heart pounding at the sight of it. It’s ridiculous, she knows, to feel any sense of affection towards someone for doing something as simple as bringing flowers on a first date, but Katara has not had many dates with such simple gestures. It’d be nice, she thinks, to have someone pick her up from her apartment with flowers in hand, looking as nervous as Zuko did about whether or not the night would go right. She can just imagine how he’d be wherever they’d plan to goーopening and closing the car door for Mai, accompanying her into their chosen restaurant with his hand resting just so against her waist. She could imagine that Mai would cross her legs as they chatted through dinner, her high-heeled foot rubbing against the inside of his leg. His eyes would turn molten gold at the touch, the hand that he’d encased hers with tightening as heー
Katara banishes the thoughts from her head, reaching for her abandoned wine glass and taking a long swallow from it. No, she thinks, it’s been so long since she has been treated as a woman, that even strangers sound like a decent prospect. Perhaps it’s time for a go with her vibrator, she thinks. She hasn’t touched it since before Jet. That’s at least two years ago; she wonders if she still remembers how to pleasure her own body.
She tells herself to forget about Zuko; about this night and the fire lilies laid abandoned on the kitchen counter.
It doesn’t mean she doesn’t spend an embarrassing amount of time trying to look him up on Instagram afterward.
After all, Zuko is not as common a name as one would think. At least, not in Ba Sing Se.
It doesn’t take her long to find his page, his profile picture just close enough for her to recognize him. His page is private, she notes. Probably for the best. She reads over his profile description: Zuko, 21, Ba Sing Se University.
With a few sipsーokay, so maybe a bottle fullーof wine in her system, Katara mashes the follow button.
ii.
The sight of Suki, standing in the living room the next morning with a coffee mug in hand as she casts the fire lilies a wary glance causes panic to lace down Katara’s spine. It doesn’t escape her notice that the fire lilies have moved from where she’d left them at the kitchen counter, or that she can practically hear the gears turning in Suki’s head as she appraises the bouquet. The pulsing headache that she’d been gifted from her night of getting wine drunk begins to throb even harder.
Suki looks up at the sound of her footsteps.
“Did you have a date last night?” She asks curiously as Katara steps out of her bedroom, bleary eyes hidden behind round spectacles and hair tangled into a bun atop her head. Katara turns a cautious eye to Suki.
“What?” She asks dumbly. It’s too early to think of a lie. She wishes she’d thought to bring them to her room last night.
Suki raises an amused eyebrow at Katara, before taking a moment to rifle through the kitchen counter before procuring a pill bottle. She tosses it over to Katara, who just barely manages to keep it in her clumsy grasp. A glance at the bottle tells her that it’s aspirin. Suki turns towards the fridge and grabs a water bottle. “I asked,” Suki says, closing the distance between them as she hands Katara the bottle. “If you had a date last night? Those flowers weren’t there when we left.”
“Maybe Sokka sent them,” Katara mumbles, keeping her eyes focused on her hands as she pops a few pills in her mouth. She quickly chases it down with the bottle.
Suki rolls her eyes, “You know Sokka didn’t send those. Flowers are way too simple for him. Besides, he knows I’m allergic to fire lilies. So who sent them?” She raises a suggestive brow Katara’s way.
Katara groans, turning to stalk back to her room. The room tilts as she does, the side effects of drinking too much wine worsening from having her glasses perched on her nose. Katara hastily pulls them off as she squeezes her eyes closed, her other hand reaching to steady herself against the wall.
“Whoa there,” Suki chuckles out, “Whoever it was, it must have been one hell of a night.”
“Fuck off Suki,” Katara grumbles.
She ignores how pathetic she feels as she slowly makes her way back to her room.
So much for forgetting everything that had happened.
iii.
Sokka approaches her about the bouquet later that day.
He stands in her doorway, arms crossed over his old Southern Water Tribe hockey jersey. A frown is etched upon his face as he stares at her. Katara tries to keep her gaze focused on the medical books in her lap; she does have a test, after all, but Sokka’s presence is distracting. Her eyes haven’t moved past the first paragraph of her chapter since he darkened her doorway.
“Suki said something about you going on a date last night,” Sokka finally says, gesturing back towards the empty hallway. “Who was it? Couldn’t have been Jet. No way he would’ve brought you flowers.”
Katara huffs, slamming her book closed as she casts Sokka an exasperated look. “Why are the two of you all of a sudden so invested in my love life? Do you have to keep bringing those damn flowers up?”
Sokka holds his hands up in defense, “Hey! I’m just asking, Kat.” He slowly lowers his hands, walking into her room and taking up the chair at her desk. The concern in his eyes makes Katara squirm, and she instantly regrets not locking her door. “We’ve just been worried about you Katara. You haven’t been out of this house since you two broke up. You even started online classes to avoid leaving the apartment. It’s beenー,”
“I know,” she snaps, wincing at the sound of her tone. “I know,” she says again, her voice softer this time. “It’s been five months. I know , Sokka. I just...I’m not ready. Not after everything that happened.”
“Okay,” Sokka says quietly, “I understand. Just….Suki and I are here for you, okay? Don’t forget that. We love you very much. We just want you to stop closing yourself off from us.”
“I’m trying,” Katara says. She sighs at the look he gives her, “I am. It’s just hard sometimes to remember that I’m not in this by myself.”
“Of course you aren’t.” He slaps his knees, casting a mischievous glance her way. “So, was the date thatー”
A pillow slams itself into his face, effectively cutting off his words.
iv.
To say that last night’s events have managed to infiltrate Katara’s mind is an understatement. She spends all of ten minutes with her anatomy and physiology book after Sokka leaves before setting it down. Never mind that she has a test in the morning, she thinks. There’s no way that she can remain focused for the rest of the night.
Suki and Sokka’s insistent pestering has done nothing to take her mind off things; if anything, last night’s visitor is all that she can think about. The truth is, a small part of her doesn’t want to take her mind off of things. She wants to know what happens next in Zuko’s story. She wants to know whether he was able to secure a second chance with his elusive date, or if he spent the rest of his night drowning his sorrows in the bottom of a bottle. She wants to know if he remembered her in the morning; whether she left any sort of impression on him at all. Would he even remember her face? Would he stop to consider that he thought she was beautiful, or would he never get past the mortifying end to his short date and want to banish her from his memory? Katara hopes not. If it makes her patheticーpining over a stranger that would probably want to erase last night from his memoryーso be it.
Her heart falters as she remembers her hasty decision to look for him on Instagram. Surely he’d be able to recognize her from her profile picture: she is all glowing, brown skin and teeth, her eyes almost disappearing behind the apples of her cheeks. It is a picture from a happier time, but it is one of Katara’s favorites. If not the picture, Katara’s sure he would at least recognize her name in her description. If Zuko truly has deigned to forget last night, then surely he’d be weirded out at the sight of her follow request.
Katara picks her phone up with shaky fingers, a brief sense of relief rushing through her before it’s abruptly replaced with disappointment. There are no new notifications on Instagram. If he saw her request, he either denied it or left it pending. Katara groans softly, throwing her head back into her pillows.
She’s pathetic, she knows. She should rescind the request while she still has her dignity.
A knock at her bedroom door gains her attention, and a moment later, it opens. Suki’s head pops around the doorframe.
“Hey,” She greets, widening the door to let herself in. In her hand is a plate with a couple of pizza slices. “You’ve been in here all day. Figured you may want to eat.”
Her stomach grumbles in response. Katara holds her hand out for the plate, “Have I told you how much I love you today?” She asks as Suki passes her the plate.
Suki laughs, taking up a spot beside Katara on the bed. “Not today, no. I was beginning to feel a little bit neglected actually. Thanks for clearing that up for me, though.”
“I could never neglect you,” Katara says teasingly, taking a bite out of her pizza slice. She moans at the taste of pineapple in her mouth, rolling her eyes at the slight look of disgust on Suki’s face. Suki never understood her or Sokka’s love for tropical pizza.
Suki picks up Katara’s school text and lightly places it on her dresser. “I take it you’re feeling better?” She presses lightly, taking in Katara’s neat plaits and fresh pajamas. “No more telling me to fuck off over some flowers?”
Katara flushes, roughly swallowing the food in her mouth. “I’m sorry,” She says, “I just...I was hoping no one would ask.”
“Is it that hard to tell us what happened?” Suki asks, a concerned look on her face. “Look, I get it if you don’t want us to pry into your personal life. But after Jet, I think you should at least beー”
“This isn’t about Jet,” Katara interjects, tired of hearing his name. Not everything has to be about Jet . She sighs, placing her plate into her lap to tear at the crust. “La, this is so stupid. It wasn’t even that big of a deal.” Katara turns her blue eyes on Suki, prompting the words from her throat. How hard was it to tell her about a stupid wrong apartment incident? Suki wasn’t one to pass judgement harshly, but there is a sense of overprotectiveness in Katara when she thinks of Zuko. Almost as if she wants to keep his embarrassment to herself.
Not to mention that Suki would definitely find an issue with Katara’s blatant stalking.
Katara swallows at the thought, eyes searching Suki’s concerned gaze. There’s no way that she can continue to hide this for long; not from her best friend. Her lips part, mouth dry as the words come spilling out.
Suki is left in stunned silence when Katara finishes the tale.
“What a bitch,” Suki says, mouth agape. “She just sent him to some stranger’s apartment? Why couldn’t she just tell him she wasn’t interested?”
“We don’t know if she was being a bitch, Suki,” Katara admonishes her, though the twinge in her stomach tells her that she hopes that was the case. “For all we know, she could’ve gotten in contact with him when he left and cleared everything up.”
“You said it yourself. It sounds like she blocked him,” Suki says, “And he gave you those flowers. He clearly knew that she was standing him up.”
Katara huffs, “You’re right,” she says, face flushing. “But why would she? He wasー”
“Incredibly hot?” Suki smirks teasingly, nudging her shoulder with her own when Katara stammers. “You didn’t mention how he looked. Is that what’s gotten you so hot and heavy? You get one bouquet from a hot guy and you’re reduced to putty?”
Katara opens her mouth to deny the claim, but closes it just as quickly. Zuko’s molten gold eyes invade her mind, the twist of his lips as he smiled at her causing her stomach to pool with heat. Katara turns her gaze on Suki, voice unwavering as she says, “Suki, I’d have let him take me over our coffee table until the legs fell off if he wanted.”
Suki, for her part, lets out a dramatic gasp. “What about all that takeout you ordered? The tteok-bokki? Your favorite?”
“Damn the takeout,” Katara says, wrapping her arms around Suki’s waist to draw her closer. She playfully gazes into Suki’s own blue eyes. “I’d have risked it all for him.”
Suki smiles, her hand coming up to move the plate from Katara’s lap, placing it atop her textbook on the nightstand. She moves the two of them back until they’re both laying down in Katara’s bed. “So does that mean you’re officially over Jet?”
Katara frowns at the mention of her ex-boyfriend, pulling away from Suki to lie on her back. It’s the second mention of him in only ten minutes, but it’s a good question. She stares blankly at the ceiling for a moment, her mind unwillingly recalling the last she’d heard from Jet. It’d been through a drunken text message, and he’d told her in no fewer words that she’d never find anyone else that would want her after he was done with her. The thought is still something that haunts her; months down the line, she is starting to feel as though it’s true.
“I don’t know. A part of me feels like it’s wrong to have those sorts of thoughts about him,” Katara says softly. “I know Zuko wasn’t here to see me, but it was nice to feel something, you know? The fact that he even brought her flowers just to be stood up like that.” Tears burn the back of her lids. “It feels so simple, but Jet never did anything like that for me, Suki. And that guy, even heartbroken, just offered them to me. It was hard not to feel anything anymore. I just...it seems like I haven’t felt anything in such a long time.”
Suki tugs on her arm, turning Katara to her side to face her. Her hands are cool against Katara’s cheeks as she presses her thumbs beneath her lids, easing the burn of her tears. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting more,” Suki says softly, “It’s a part of moving on, a part of learning your worth. Jet didn’t appreciate you when he had you, and you’re seeing now that things could have been better.”
“That’s the thing too,” Katara says thickly. “I don’t know if things could’ve been better. For all I know, this Zuko guy could have been harassing that girl until she gave him a bogus answer. For all I know he could be just like Jet.” The words taste sour on her lips. For some reason, she doesn’t feel as though it’s true.
But Suki is nodding in agreement before she can take her words back. “You’re right, he could be. But you can’t think of all men as being just like Jet. This Zuko could also be the complete opposite.”
Her words bring her back to the previous night’s behavior, and her phone suddenly feels like a weight against her side.
“I...I did something else too,” Katara says uneasily.
Suki raises a brow, her fingers drifting from Katara’s face as she looks at her in confusion. “Did what exactly?”
“I found him on Instagram,” Katara says hastily.
“You what?” Suki says shrilly.
Katara winces. “Iー,”
“I heard you,” Suki cuts in, “You didn’t follow him did you?”
“Uh, yes?” Katara’s shoulders bunch up to her ears. “I was drunk!” She protests, just as Suki’s mouth opens in admonishment. “I thought it was a good idea at the time!” She reminds herself that he most likely denied her request, if the lack of new notifications is anything to go by. He probably wants to forget her.
“He goes to Ba Sing Se with us,” Katara finds herself saying, “And he’s a senior.”
“He’s going to think you’re crazy,” Suki says, mouth twisting downwards in disapproval, “How did you even find him?”
“It took a couple of hours,” She hates the way her voice cracks when she answers. She flushes at Suki’s stern look. “I planned on rescinding it today!”
“And have you?” Suki pushes.
Shame creeps in. “No,” Katara sighs. She pulls her phone out of her legging pocket. Suki gently pulls it from her hands.
“You need to rescind it,” Suki says gently. When Katara looks up to meet her blue gaze, she sees genuine concern in her friend’s eyes. It makes her eyes water once again. “You’re getting yourself attached to this guy off of one encounter. It’s best to cut this off before it becomes a problem.”
She’s right, Katara thinks. She has been acting ridiculous about this, to the point that if Zuko knew she had spent her day mooning over him, he’d probably think that she’s crazy if he doesn’t already. Katara watches as Suki unlocks her phone, the screen lighting up her smooth face. Katara closes her eyes as Suki goes through it; better to just let her have at it.
Suki’s soft gasp has her eyes fluttering back open. Suki’s shocked face stares back at her.
“Um, Katara,” Suki says, eyes never once leaving the screen. “What was this guy’s name again?”
“Zuko,” Katara says, her head lifting from her pillow as she brings herself closer to Suki, intent on seeing her phone screen. “Why?”
Suki thrusts the phone towards Katara, almost hitting her in the face. “Look.”
It takes a minute for Katara’s gaze to focus on her Instagram activity page, but when she does, her heart stops.
In her top recent activity, labeled thirty minutes ago, is a follow from the handle heirofthedragon . That is not what makes her heart race though. No, it’s the sight of heirofthedragon has requested to follow you.