Chapter Text
Though Sokka anticipated the day they delivered the proposed treaties would be difficult, he couldn’t begin to imagine just how hard the ones that followed it were. It was bad enough not knowing whether his family would return from their trips, and the wait after they had was almost torture.
In theory, their plan should’ve worked. It addressed everything that was worrying to the different nations and gave a timely and realistic solution to all of it. It painted neither side as the villain in the situation—though Sokka would’ve argued it was still the Fire Nation minus a handful of particularly arrogant Earth Kingdom politicians—and made it clear that the only goal was to achieve peace. Not only that, but they chose to give everyone ample time to look at their plans so they could come back with well-rounded thoughts. A few of the villages were quick to respond but most of them took more time, and some took long enough that Sokka felt sick imagining what they might have been doing.
Sokka stared down at the knife in his hand, squeezing the handle tightly and allowing his eyes to slide shut. He let out a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest as he lowered the blade toward his opposite wrist. In all honesty, Sokka didn’t even know why he wanted to cut anymore. The plan hadn’t backfired, it just hadn’t been confirmed as effective. Nobody was blaming him for how slow it was going, and he didn’t even blame himself. There was just something inside him that ached for the pain, that craved the attention of the blood seeping from his wounds. Sokka bit down on his lip, began to press the blade down into his skin, and stopped.
He hesitated before dropping the knife, his eyes following the faint traces of red before he reached to pick it up again. Somehow, he failed to get his fingers around it and rose to his feet instead. Sokka didn’t stop walking until he made it to his dad’s tent, lingering just outside when he realized Katara was already in there talking to him. Torn on what to do, Sokka reached up to chew on his thumbnail, watching as his family leaned over a map in front of them before he tugged his sleeve down to hide the fresh, shallow cut, and ducked his head inside the tent.
“So, I was thinking, if this doesn’t work, we could…” The second Hakoda said the words, Sokka’s heart plummeted into his chest and his gaze fell to the floor. He was trying so hard to believe that it would work, and hearing it said aloud that it might not struck him hard. “Sokka? You all right, son?”
“Uh, yeah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Sokka nodded, biting down on his cuticle, and glancing around uncomfortably. He should’ve just gone through with the cutting. That would’ve been easier than ruining his family’s day. “I can just go. I actually had some other things to work on, so—”
“No, it’s okay. Come in here. What do you need?”
“I just… uh… I was going to… I was just thinking about what might happen if… I was going to cut and I scratched myself and I stopped but I still want to do it and I just… I don’t know. I don’t want to be alone anymore. At least not until we know that this is over. I— I know it’s really stupid but I honestly just don’t trust myself. I can’t. Not after everything that’s happened. Or, everything that I did, I guess.”
Hakoda nodded. He reached out his arms, nodding for Sokka to come over, and pulling both his kids into an embrace. The way his body relaxed as he exhaled gave away every bit of what he was feeling. It was too close to what Sokka was already feeling too. The stress was getting to all of them. Not just from those last few days, waiting for the responses from the colonies, but from the months that had passed since the conflict began. Since Zuko was nearly taken out during an assassination attempt and they were forced to either go into hiding or abandon the cause completely. Sometimes Sokka regretted choosing to stay. That wasn’t one of those moments, but there were still a lot more left.
Despite his claims that he didn’t want to be alone, Sokka ended up wandering around on his own a lot. He was never entirely isolated, staying close to the camp mainly out of fear as to what he might do. It was pathetic that Sokka didn’t want to be around himself anymore. At least, that was what he thought. He would never say it aloud. Not after how many times everyone reassured him that he was okay and it was natural to feel uncomfortable being alone. He tried, but no amount of comforting was enough to help him feel justified in asking for someone to be around.
He was trying. Especially compared to the past, he was really, really trying, but it was hard. It was hard to have to walk up to someone and admit that moments before, he’d been tempted to cut himself or throw himself from the cliff; especially when he saw their faces after he spoke. Sokka took a deep breath, squeezing his hands shut tight and clinging to the cane in his hand. It was his fault that people died, but if the last of the villages agreed to the treaties, he might be responsible for people surviving too. He might finally be responsible for something going right, for helping the people he cared about and who cared about him rather than everything going to shit because his stupid ass messed up again.
Regardless of how hard he tried to get himself entirely back on track, Sokka was unable to fully regain his sense of time and the days blurred more every night he went to sleep with no answers. Most of the colonies had responded by that point, unanimously positively, but there were still a few that were hanging and it was impossible to tell which way they would go. Each of them had suffered a lot through the war and the conflict, and none of them wanted to give up what they already had. Sokka understood that better than anyone. He didn’t want to give up anything he had either, but he did it because he had to and if he had to do it, then he believed others should have to do it too.
“Hey.” Sokka wasn’t expecting the hand on his shoulder which caused his heart to race, but Aang’s voice was gentle and calm, and that brought him back to reality quickly. He blinked, looking to his friend expectantly. They hadn’t planned anything that day, had they? It was impossible to remember. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. There are some people who wanted to talk to you and I told them I’d ask if you were okay with that. Are you?”
Had he known who exactly it was that wanted to talk to him, Sokka would’ve refused. He would’ve told Aang that they were a bunch he would never and could never be comfortable addressing. Not when he’d murdered their husbands, their fathers, their sons. The only reason Sokka still neglected to run away once he saw them was because he’d already been noticed, and he knew that walking away would do nothing but drive the wound deeper. Sokka bit down on his lip, his heart pounding as he walked with Aang over to the families of the soldiers they’d lost in the previous battles. They stared at him, every single one of them, and Sokka stomach churned and twisted, fully ready to burst with shame.
Aang spoke first when they walked up, either because he was kind enough to enjoy interacting with everyone or because he recognized how uncomfortable Sokka was already and wanted to help. Either way, Sokka was grateful. Every second he spent with those people, it got harder and harder to breathe and before he knew it, he was fully ready to turn and heave like he was coming out of a binge. Sokka struggled to hold himself together, doing whatever he could to keep himself from cracking, but it was pointless. He turned around within seconds of Aang moving to reassure him, shifting to run back to his tent where he was safe and could hide away from everything, but he stopped when someone else spoke.
“None of us blame you for what happened, you know.”
The second he heard the voice, Sokka’s heart skipped a beat, his breath catching in his throat. He did not know that. As far as Sokka was concerned, he was entirely to blame for the deaths of every last warrior that left their camp. He was the one masterminding the plans and because of that, he had to take responsibility. He had to step up and accept the blame for everything that happened because indirectly or not, it was because of him. Choosing not to blame him after how much of a say he’d had in the plans was almost stupid. Given that knowledge, Sokka shook his head, already lifting his good leg to get out of there but stopped when Aang placed another hand on his shoulder.
“I know you don’t want to believe it, Sokka,” he started, his tone as kind and gentle as ever, “but the only person placing this blame on your shoulders is you. You don’t have to carry this weight, especially not alone. If anything did go wrong and for everything that already has, it isn’t your fault. We all put work into these plans. We all committed to ending this conflict. No single one of us is responsible for anything that’s happened, especially not you. You’re our backbone, Sokka. Without you, we could never come up with these plans in the first place. If we didn’t have your genius, we’d still be— are you okay?”
Sokka nodded quickly, but the tears gave him away. He couldn’t stop them from falling, his heart pounding as he turned away from the small crowd that enthusiastically went along with everything Aang said. It didn’t make sense that the people liked him. That every time he thought they’d been staring at him in disgust, they were probably looking to him with concern because he was clearly treating himself so poorly. That the reason they’d avoided talking to him in the past was probably because he was so obviously socially anxious and they thought it would be better for him if they just stayed away. It was when the tears blurred and the spirits joined the crowd with their families when Sokka finally lost it.
He said nothing before he turned and ran as fast as his cane could take him. Aang called after him, but all Sokka could do was shake his head because he was breathing too heavily to get any real words out. The moment he was out of sight, Sokka slid down against a tree, wrapping his arms around his stomach and squeezing the fabric of his shirt between his fingers to resist the urge to scrape his knuckles. He didn’t know how he did it when he so openly hated himself but he convinced everyone to root for him and it was wrong. Sokka tried to control his breathing but it wouldn’t work at all, his focus turning to his hair as it tickled his cheeks when he bowed his head and pressed his eyes shut.
“Hey, Sokka, look at me. Sokka.” He shook his head again, the tears not stopping but his hands releasing their tight grasp when the warm hands wrapped around them. Somehow, Sokka managed to squeeze Zuko’s palms instead of his own clothing, the Fire Lord’s words barely audible through Sokka’s own labored breathing. “Sokka, I know it hurts, but you have to try and breathe, okay? It doesn’t feel like it but you’re safe. You are. This is a panic attack. You’re just really overwhelmed. That’s okay. It’s fine. Aang told me what happened. It’s overwhelming, I’m sure, and you’re entirely justified in your reaction right now. Just open your eyes, okay? Look at me.”
“You don’t have to look at him,” said Toph suddenly. Sokka hadn’t even realized she was there, but the hand she placed on his arm was grounding in a way he couldn’t begin to explain. He nodded, choosing to listen to Toph if only because it felt like his eyes were glued shut and the world was too scary to face. “Just keep breathing, all right? We got you. You’re safe with us.”
It was something about the choice of words they used that made it easier to follow their breaths. Sokka couldn’t stand it when people said it was “just anxiety” or “just a panic attack” because it made it feel like it wasn’t real when it was. Whatever his body was reacting to, it was a legitimate response and it hurt and to act like it was nothing just because you could slap a label on it wasn’t okay. It didn’t fit how hard it was to go through or how much it hurt to deal with and Sokka could never find a way to fully express that. With Toph and Zuko, he didn’t have to. They understood. They held him, let him cry, promised that everything would be okay and didn’t pressure him to do anything until he was ready. They didn’t act like it was nothing. They didn’t act like it was all in his head, even if it really was.
“Sorry,” mumbled Sokka, leaning forward to press his forehead against Zuko’s shoulder. It was an unconscious act but it was comforting, just as much as Zuko’s arms as they pulled him in closer. He could still hear Toph’s faint breathing at his side, but he didn’t want to open his eyes yet. He wasn’t ready to face the world in all its uncertainty. “I’m okay. I’m just really tired.”
“I know.” Slowly, gently, Zuko turned and pressed a kiss to Sokka’s temple. He left a flurry of pleasant tingles where Zuko’s lips touched, the butterflies sliding down to his stomach. He was comfortable, somehow. Happy to be resting in Zuko’s arms, as impossible as it seemed after all his self-hatred. After months of wishing he could make the feelings go away because he didn’t deserve them. “We’re all tired. It’s not an easy situation. Just keep breathing, all right? You’re okay.”
They stayed where they were for a few more minutes before Sokka felt he was ready to stand. When he was, Zuko and Toph helped him to his feet, each clinging to one of his arms as they walked back to the campsite. Sokka’s eyes continued to drift open and shut, but he was able to register it when his friends spoke to others. When they assured the families that Sokka was okay, and when they ran into Hakoda and Katara a little later. When they made it back to Sokka’s tent, Toph parted ways with them, but Zuko stayed right at his side until they laid down. He held Sokka’s hand and pulled him into his arms, cradling him as the little spoon while they napped.
From that point on, Sokka never slept without someone else. He barely went about his days without a friend around at all times, even if he was just sitting by Bato and Hakoda because he didn’t want to be alone. It made it easier to get through the days of waiting when he had them with him, when he knew that he wasn’t the only one suffering anticipating the news of whether they would be okay. Slowly, the responses trickled in from the villages, but by a certain point, it started to seem like the last ones were going to refuse. One of them did, and Sokka wasn’t allowed to be on the team who went to convince them thanks to how badly the news of it stressed him out. They came to a compromise, just in time to get word another village had declined.
Sokka wanted to get more involved in the renegotiations but nobody would let him near it. Especially after he was caught with a knife, he found himself uncomfortably closely monitored throughout each day. Even when he begged for a knife just to cut his hair, Katara refused and took care of it for him because he couldn’t be trusted on his own. He understood. It wasn’t like Sokka really trusted himself either, he just wanted to reach a place where he could. Being with his friends and family made him feel safer and content but listening to how the war took a turn and having to roll up his sleeves and see his scars every night made him sick. It made him wish he’d gone and done what he imagined a long time ago.
Somehow, the cliff felt steeper when he was truly contemplating the end. It always seemed almost slanted in the past, not too far down but far enough it would hurt. Now, it looked as if there was no bottom, no end to the misery, like falling would only make him suffer for longer as his pain drifted through the sky. Sokka swallowed hard, blinking away the wind as he dragged his bad leg closer to the edge. He probably wouldn’t have gone that far if they didn’t take all his weapons away but he had no choice anymore. If he wanted it to be over, he had to let it happen. Once he was gone, everyone would be relieved. They’d realize he wasn’t worth fighting for like they thought. That they all deserved better and he could never give that to them.
When he put it all out there like that, Sokka realized that really was the hardest part of it. He’d known his entire life that he wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t a bender, he wasn’t a strong warrior, he could formulate plans but he couldn’t put them on the page—he tried. His whole life, Sokka tried because he believed there was a part of him that could do it but he was wrong. Their last hope was hanging in the balance and unless he was somehow completely and utterly wrong, they were about to lose that too. If the last of the villages didn’t agree, then it could easily cause a chain reaction which would send everything spiraling. Sokka had no other ideas and as long as he was alive, everyone else would turn to him for help despite how useless it was. How useless he was.
“Hey.” Suki’s tone was so calm, so gentle, that Sokka almost wanted to turn around. He blinked again instead, bowing his head slightly in disappointment when a tear managed to roll down his cheek. There was no way they figured out what he was doing so quickly, right? It couldn’t be. “Sokka, come here. You’re too close to the edge. You’ll fall.”
“Okay.” It wasn’t an agreement to move away, it was accepting the fact he was right on the edge of death.
“No, it’s not okay.” Katara was slightly more aggressive with her words, but Sokka knew it was only out of love and concern. He never understood why she cared about him so much. He was her brother, but he was nothing more than that. If they weren’t related, she’d have rightfully dumped him after one of his pathetic sexist rants when they were still kids. “Please, Sokka, you don’t have to do this. Just come over here, all right? We want to help you.”
“It’s pointless. I can’t help you. I can’t help anyone. Why should you bother helping me if I can’t do anything to return the favor? Face it, Katara, I’m useless. I’ve always been useless, you just didn’t want to see it because I’m your brother. Even Suki probably knows it, she’s just too nice to say anything.”
“Sokka, if I didn’t like you, I would say something.” Somehow, Suki sounded so sincere that Sokka managed to snort, shaking his head at the memories of her calling him out on stupid things he’d done in the past. Maybe she was telling the truth, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept. “I understand that you don’t like yourself and that you have a lot of reasons for that but that doesn’t mean no one else loves you, I promise. We care about you so, so much, Sokka. We do.”
“Honestly, we don’t care about the plans,” said Katara, leading Sokka’s eyes to widen. The plans were everything. The plans took priority over not only him, but over all of them. “We just want to make sure that you’re okay, Sokka, please. If you can’t do this, I will go home with you tonight. Just step away from the ledge. Please.”
“I—” Sokka snapped his mouth shut quickly, shaking his head, and curling his fingers into tight fists as he stared down at the vegetation below him. “I just want it to stop hurting.”
That must’ve been one request too large because neither of the women were able to come up with a response. Sokka took a deep breath, trying to decide whether it was best to kill himself then or wait until they were gone, but stopped when he heard the footsteps. They were approaching, not walking away, and Sokka was almost confident he knew who it was waiting for him. He was surprised when he turned around to see Zuko running up, his eyes wide with fear and his chest heaving as if he’d run all the way there. If anyone were to come up, it should’ve been his dad. Zuko was supposed to be long gone on a mission to renegotiate the treaty with one of the villages who was still reluctant.
Wordlessly, Zuko stepped forward, his eyes wide as he held out a hand toward Sokka. By that point, Sokka’s feet were barely hanging over the edge, his own heart racing as he turned to look at the hand outstretched in front of him. Zuko still kept his mouth shut, but the look in his eyes—in all of their eyes, including his dad’s because he was right and Hakoda was only trailing just behind the Fire Lord—was begging, pleading him to move, so he did. Sokka reached out his own hand, wrapping his fingers around Zuko’s and allowing him to move them away from the edge. The second they were out of the danger zone, Zuko dragged Sokka into his arms, holding him close and squeezing him like he thought he might turn and run right back to the cliff again.
“Hey, Sokka.” Gently, Zuko pushed the loose hairs from Sokka’s face, holding back the newly cut strands too short for his sloppy wolftail. Zuko’s eyes shone almost gold in the light, and somehow, their sight was more captivating than the option of death behind them. “It’s over. You know the failsafe you came up with? I showed it to the last village and they accepted the compromise. Everyone is on board with this. It’s over. We’re okay. You don’t have to fight anymore. Sokka!”
When Sokka fell to his knees, Zuko wasn’t the only one to rush over and support him. Suki caught his other arm first, helping to lower him to the ground where he could fully process the information. They were done. Finally, finally, they were safe. He didn’t resist the hug that engulfed him, shielding him from the world and containing whatever shaking breaths managed to escape his lips. Sokka didn’t feel sick, his leg didn’t hardly hurt, he just couldn’t process the information fully and his entire body shut down at the news. Normally, the arms around him would’ve made him feel trapped, but they were only comforting that day. Like they were really holding him together when everything felt like it was about to break.
Hakoda was the one to whisper quiet reassurances as Sokka did his best to breathe, running through everything in his mind. Specifically, the logistics of leaving and especially getting the fuck out of there as soon as possible. If it was all truly over, he didn’t want to stick around any longer than he seriously had to. Although, he had to admit, the celebrations they held that night made the campsite a lot more tolerable. Sokka wasn’t really able to join in on the dancing or anything thanks to his terrible leg, but he hugged his friends and ate a healthy amount of snacks for once. The amount of people who congratulated him on his successes was almost overwhelming, and Sokka had to excuse himself on more than one occasion. Just because he was safe didn’t make it all easier to believe.
It was somewhere around two hours into the celebrations when Sokka found himself too stuck in his own self-deprecating mind to stay around the festivities any longer. He wanted to believe that everyone was telling the truth, that the families of the dead never blamed him and he was never the reason the plans went wrong, but it was hard. It was almost impossible to look right past every flaw he saw in himself and act like he was some kind of genius when he wasn’t. When he coped with his stress by cutting and binging and the only reason he’d started to get past it was because his family monitored him each day and night. He deserved it, and it helped, but needing such a strong support system only made him wonder what might happen if he was alone again.
Apparently, he wasn’t the only one concerned about him being on his own because only moments after he’d wandered from the party, a hand squeezed around his. Zuko smiled to Sokka and his lips were so pretty, he couldn’t turn away. He followed Zuko down the path toward the nearby river, resisting the urge to chew on his thumbnail when they came to a halt. Zuko sat down on the grass beside the rushing water, reaching one hand up to help Sokka down with him. At first, Sokka tried to sit beside him, but Zuko smirked and pulled Sokka right on his lap. For a moment, Sokka felt awkward, but the arms around his waist were so warm and welcoming, he couldn’t stop himself from sinking into the embrace.
“I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess,” whispered Zuko, squeezing his arms around Sokka’s stomach and pulling him in close between his legs. “I never expected it to go this far. If I knew we were going to end up almost starting another war, I never would’ve asked any of you guys to—”
The only reason Zuko stopped talking was because Sokka turned around and slid their lips together, effectively cutting off his train of speech. Zuko let out a soft exhale, closing his eyes and pulling Sokka in closer until his legs were around the Fire Lord’s waist. It wasn’t the same as any of the kisses they’d had before. It wasn’t like before the conflict when they used to passionately make out in empty rooms, or any of the awkward times they’d tried to kiss while it was all still going down. It was calm, gentle, and their lips and tongues moved together in a way that said more than their words ever could. Zuko’s hands never left Sokka’s hips, while Sokka’s fingers moved to twirl around Zuko’s hair and play with the loose strands around his topknot. He left those there intentionally. Sokka figured that out a long time ago. He knew if he left them down, Sokka would want to mess with them and sit close to him. He indulged in it anyway.
Neither one of them moved beyond their fingers and their lips until Sokka pushed Zuko on his back, their skin never parting and his hands quickly returning to the Fire Lord’s face. They kissed on the ground the same as sitting up but it was a different sensation. Closer, more personal, more passionate, and reminiscent of how they used to be before. When it stopped, Sokka kept one leg wrapped around Zuko’s and let his head rest on his chest, wrapping an arm around Zuko’s stomach and allowing his eyes to drift shut. Zuko turned to kiss Sokka’s cheek, sliding a hand around him too and bringing him comfort through his heartbeat and breathing alone. Both him and Sokka were quiet for a while after that, but Sokka didn’t mind it at all. He wanted to embrace the peace, to accept that it was finally over and they could finally be okay.
“Sokka?” The moment he heard his name said, Sokka opened his eyes again, looking to Zuko expectantly. Zuko wet his lips uncomfortably, hesitating before he pushed back a stray lock of hair and blinked away tears of exhaustion. “You know I love you, right? I— I know we haven’t said it before or really made this official, but I do. I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”
And somehow, that was exactly what Sokka needed to hear. It was the confirmation that regardless of what he thought about himself, regardless of how he hurt himself, regardless of how long it took him to heal from everything that happened, people still loved him. Zuko, for whatever reason, held an unconditional love for Sokka that couldn’t be removed because of some mental health issues or a few perceived failures. He cared about him, probably more than most people, and he didn’t even need to give a reason why. All that mattered to Sokka was that he did. That he didn’t look at the scars and see weakness or the way he treated food and think it was pathetic. He thought he was beautiful enough to kiss, soft enough to cuddle with, and that was all Sokka really cared about.
“Of course, I know.” Sokka nodded quickly, trailing a finger along Zuko’s torso. “I’ve always known.”
He did. Even in the beginning, he could tell when Zuko liked him. He could tell that he had a gigantic thing for Zuko too, even when he was too scared to pursue it. Even when he wasn’t sure how to handle being into a guy and he was trying to find a way to express his feelings that wouldn’t completely scare Zuko off with either his enthusiasm or his awkwardness. They’d been there for each other for a long time, for longer than either of them probably recognized, and it changed Sokka’s life in a way he couldn’t explain.
“But you know I love you too, right? I haven’t been great at showing it the last few months, but I do. I love you. I promise.”
Zuko only smiled before he pulled Sokka in for one last gentle kiss that night.