Chapter Text
It still doesn't sound right.
Zuko sighs and buries his head in his hands. He can't decide if continuing this song is still worth it; the bassline is too obvious, the beat is way more high-energy than he would like, and the piano notes hit in exactly the wrong places no matter how he adjusts them. And besides, he's already using another goddamn loop for the melody, of all things, making it barely his work to begin with. Even with the hours of effort Zuko put into it last night, everything sounds wrong and clangy.
Maybe he should give up and start over.
He's going to have to scrap all of it anyway, if he's ever going to be satisfied.
Fuck .
Zuko lifts his head to take another swig of coffee. He does it like he's drinking alcohol, heavy handed and sloppy, almost banging the thermos against the metal table when he sets it back down. Sometimes, privately, he likes to pretend he's drunk, more to cope with the fact that he can't drink away his shitty life than anything else.
And then he remembers Azula, and metaphorically sobers the fuck up.
Zuko checks the time, cursing under his breath, because of course he forgot they were meeting for practice. His fingers twitch in dread, already preparing to dance the whole day away across expensive ivory keys, straight into his nightmares. Would Azula call their father if he skipped?
Bad question, she's probably already called him about the--Zuko glances at his watch--approximately 45 minutes he's already been missing. Shit.
Zuko hurriedly packs up his things, tearing his earbuds out and shoving them into his bag with his notebooks and laptop. Thankfully, Ba Sing Se's campus is close enough to walk to from the coffee shop he's working at. He'll probably be another twenty minutes late though, by the time he gets there. He texts Azula.
To: Azula [6:47]
I'm on my way.
From: Azula [6:47]
You'd better be.
Huffing as he hoists his bag onto his back, Zuko sets his GPS for the school, not trusting his sense of direction to get him there correctly. Across the street, a busker catches his eye, setting up to catch the morning coffee flow. He's tall, with dark skin and pretty hair, and he's wearing a soft-looking hoodie with a homemade-ish painting of the moon on it. He doesn't have any fancy equipment, but he drapes various trinkets over his open guitar case, and winks to the strangers on the street who stop and stare at him.
(Zuko wants to be winked at like that.)
The guy's guitar looks like it's weathered a storm, scratched up and covered in tacky stickers, and before he even opens his mouth to sing, Zuko thinks he has the type of voice for falling in love.
Now is not the time to get distracted by attractive strangers. Places to go, Zuko.
He quickly snaps out of it, physically shaking his head to clear his mind. Starting the GPS route, he lets the mechanical voice guide him all the way back to practice room hell.
~~~~~
"Where were you? We've been waiting for over an hour now, Zuzu."
"Don't call me that," Zuko mutters, dumping his bag on the floor unceremoniously.
Azula raises her eyebrows at him from where she sits, perched on the chair beside her harp as if it's a fucking throne, Mai and Ty Lee flanking her.
He jerks his head at the three of them, acutely aware of his rudeness but not quite caring. "Why did you bring them along, just to embarrass me further?" He's being an asshole. Both Mai and Ty Lee hold their own instruments, ready to provide accompaniment.
Zuko can see the impatience written in the thin creases across Azula's face. "I haven't called Father yet."
Yet.
"I was studying and lost track of time."
Azula slightly narrows her eyes, but Zuko crosses his arms, daring her to question him on it. She must've had a rough night, because she concedes more quickly than he expected.
"After last year's grades, you need it."
Zuko can hear the self-satisfied note in her voice, and turns towards the piano so she can't see him roll his eyes. "I can't imagine why it matters to you, since you seem to thrive off of my failure."
Zuko's fingers graze softly across the shiny black lid, lifting it up to reveal perfectly kept keys. He wants to see them break, play them hard enough that they smash in and he'd have some excuse to finally quit.
(Ignoring the fact that it's not his personal instrument and he'd have to pay for it, Azula would only make him move to the next practice room, the next piano.)
And that's it, anyways. It's always the next piano, the next piece, the next performance, when all he wants to do is stop. Zuko is so tired of hating the music. The beautiful music and the ear-scraping music both. It was never supposed to be theirs, it was going to be something of his own, but that's apparently too much for someone like him to ask for. Ozai's son, Ursa's son, and Azula's brother, he'll never be allowed to live a life of his own.
Zuko pulls out the piano bench to sit, before realizing that he doesn't have his sheet music. Mentally cursing, he shuffles back over to his bag, hoping that by some amazing stroke of luck he packed it to take with him. He's not lucky.
"I forgot my sheet music." Zuko grits his teeth as he says it, unwilling to turn and face whatever mocking smirk Azula's plastered on her face.
"Unfortunate. You should have it memorized by now, if you've even been practicing."
Zuko tenses in the hanging silence. What is he supposed to say? He turns his head to catch a quick glance at her, but she's not even looking at him, busy studying her nails intently, as if they've offended her. They probably have.
"Well?" Azula keeps her expression impassive, but he can hear the eyebrow raise in her voice. "Go print it, Zuzu."
He hates being the stupid one. Zuko hoists his bag up on his shoulder and walks out of the room without sparing a glance back.
~~~~~
Ba Sing Se's library has a deep chill to it, the saturating coldness of the air conditioning left on too long. It's nice to walk alone into the empty room, the lights still off, the silence thick and warm against the icy air. Zuko can hear his own steady heartbeat thrumming in his ears, and as he walks through the aisles of bookshelves he thinks this place is as close he'll ever come to a holy experience.
(It's a stupid thing to think, at such a mundane moment.)
His shoes are soft and muted on the thin carpet, descending to the slightly lowered printer floor. Everytime he comes here, it always strikes him, the stark contrast between the old and reaching ceiling painted with dark colors, the masterfully carved shelves stained with the color of new books, and the ugly-loud machinery of the printer room. The old and the new. Balanced, yet still a finger's reach from each other.
Oil and water.
Zuko and his piano are the same, like oil and water. He can shake himself up to kingdom come trying to tie his fingers to the keys, but like a tapestry with a loose thread it all comes apart so quickly to grasp angrily back at him. To cut off his circulation and leave him bleeding dry. It's so often an occurrence that he's learnt to bask in the unraveling, because if nothing else, at least his pain is fucking pretty.
He opens his laptop, glaring at the unsaved song that was the beginning of all this. Zuko closes out the software with an angry too-forceful click and immediately regrets it. It's not anyone else he's spitting by throwing away his own hard work, but Agni, he wishes it was. His small rebellions mean nothing to anyone but himself, less of a spectacle than tiny paper cuts in his hands. He opens the sheet music files that Azula sent him a few months ago and sets them up to download, connecting his laptop to the printer as he waits.
This will be their debut performance. Ozai had always planned for them to showcase their talents publically, and now he's gotten the school to agree to advertise it, mostly because of Ozai's hefty...sponsorships. Between the endorsement from the school and being the children of a billionaire, the concert is likely to get significant media coverage. Just the thought of it makes Zuko's insides twist, but it's been too late to back out since the day he first touched a piano.
Zuko glances at the music as it glides hot out of the printer. Mozart for Azula, Chopin for him, and one work from both Debussy and Hisaishi for their combined performances. Not to mention the Vivaldi's Four Seasons performance that will be the highlight of the show, with Zuko playing Spring and Winter on piano, and Azula playing Summer and Autumn on her harp. The no doubt quick changes in mood that he’s going to have to keep up with already feels exhausting.
Zuko's practiced enough over the summer that he can play most of the pieces with an acceptable level of skill, but memorization is the bane of his existence. Hence, the sheet music. With the showcase coming up in December, he knows he should be further along, but most days he can't bring himself to even look at a piano, let alone play it. Azula is upset, she's made that clear, but the angry calls from Ozai haven't been increasing in number so he thinks he's safe so far in that regards.
(Zuko wonders if it's because she cares about him or if she just doesn't want to risk shouldering the blame.)
He snatches the last of the papers from the printer, and shuts down his laptop. Careful not to wrinkle the music, Zuko smooths it into his notebook. Holding it in his arms, he trudges back down the linoleum halls to the practice room, grateful that the fluorescent lights are still turned down low.
~~~~~
"Zuzu, are you even trying?"
It's the fifth time he's messed up this stanza. The piece isn't even hard, and he's barely featured. There's a reason why it's the full orchestra intermission piece. And yet.
Zuko can sit here and make excuses all day. It's nearly 2 pm and they've been working on this particular piece for over an hour. His brain is fried and he has to keep his eyes from unfocusing when he tries to read the sheet music. He's getting sloppy with Azula and Mai and Ty Lee watching him like hawks.
None of this changes the fact that he will perform this, with an audience of thousands watching, with his father breathing down his back and waiting for him to make a mistake. He can't afford to slip in a simple practice session.
"Maybe we should take a break," Ty Lee suggests, with her usually aloof smile but eyes slightly darting between Zuko and Azula. "We've been rehearsing for hours now."
Azula tilts her head as if considering the idea and levels Zuko with a sweet mean smile. "Do you need a break? We have been rehearsing for hours now, I'm sure you're tired."
Her eyes flick quickly to her phone, and Zuko clenches his jaw at the blatant intentionality. There's a correct answer here and she knows he knows it. A practice break feels too simple a thing to battle her over, and yet it's deeper than that.
"I'm perfectly fine, Azula."
Ty Lee sets down her flute, smiling with her eyes entirely too tight, tugging on Mai's sleeve until she sets down her own violin. "Well, suit yourself! We're going to go get something to eat." And with that she takes Mai's hand and drags her out of the room.
Azula watches them go with an almost bored look. "Good riddance then. We don't need them to practice this piece. Zuzu?' She starts the metronome and takes up a starting position.
Zuko turns back to the piano with a sigh caged behind his lips.
~~~~~
It's almost six in the evening, and Zuko is dead inside. Azula's saying something about practice and failure, but the only thing his stupid brain latches onto is "We're done for the night."
"Are you even listening to me?" she snaps at him.
"No," he answers honestly, and she rolls her eyes.
"Hopeless. Go home, and if you don't come back to practice sometime this week I'm going to call Father. Send me a video or something."
Zuko keeps quiet as she exits the room, her shoes clicking sharply on the floor. She left her harp here, but it doesn't really matter. They're essentially the only users of this particular practice room, anyway. Sometimes Zuko wonders if Azula hates her harp just as much as he hates his piano. He's already dreading the prospect of more practice. His fingers hurt and he's fighting not to just shake his hands out for a minute.
This fucking day.
It's already close to dark, the sun low on the horizon, but Zuko doesn't have a car or money for transportation (and he'll choke before he asks Azula to take him home), so he opts to just walk. The GPS says it'll be take him at least 45 minutes to get home though, probably longer if he keeps dragging his feet like this.
It could be worse.
~~~~~
Feeling his phone ring from his pocket, Sokka hastily finishes his next song and takes a short intermission, flashing a smile to the passersby listening to him play. He checks the screen to see a missed call from Katara and quickly calls her back.
"Hi, are we still on for tonight?" she asks him. It's their friend group's annual Fuck School night that they have every Saturday on the last weekend of summer vacation. Sokka's been a bit busier than normal lately, with preparations for a new school and all, but he wouldn't miss it for the world.
"Hell yeah, what time can you pick me up?" Sokka asks. He made the mistake of walking here, underestimating just how long he would busk for, and he probably should've taken his car. Judging by the colors bleeding across the sky in sunset, it's later than he realized.
He can hear Suki and Toph shouting in the background of the call, and Aang laughing along to their antics. "What time are you done? We can swing by in about fifteen minutes."
"Sounds good to me," Sokka says, going to hang up, before remembering something. "Wait! Can you bring me some bubble tea?" He suddenly hears excited Aang noises in the background, and Katara muffles the phone for a moment before putting it on speaker.
"Hi, Sokka! We're going to the Jasmine Dragon!" Aang yells into the phone, and Sokka winces, pulling it away from his ear. A few people look at him funny as they pass and Sokka pointedly turns the volume down.
"That's great buddy."
Katara huffs, feigning annoyance. "You've created a monster, Sokka. I hope you're happy now."
"You love me!" Aang argues, teasing. Sokka hears a muffled noise and then an "Owww." Sokka can practically see Aang fighting back a smile at Katara with his signature Puppy Dog In Love Eyes and he gags. She takes the phone off speaker mode.
"I'll see you in twenty?" she asks.
"See you in twenty."
~~~~~
The streetlights are pretty this time of evening, blending in with the sky. It smells like rain in the air, and Zuko wouldn't be surprised if it started pouring on him out of nowhere.
He's almost halfway back to his apartment now, close to the coffee shop he came from this morning. The streets are starting to empty, the quieter part of Ba Sing Se beginning to settle in for the night. Zuko wonders if the rest of the city is the same way. Even after four years living here he still hasn't ventured out of walking distance from his apartment, both from fear of Ozai and Azula's retribution and because he doesn't have a car. Azula does, but he doesn't like her keeping tabs on him. (Well, more than she already is.)
It's different here than the Caldera, where he grew up. Everything was loud and bright and overwhelming there. Maybe his bad memories of home just taint the place, but Zuko never looks forward to going back now.
He used to be so homesick, so lost, in the months after he got sent away. He still longs for home, a little bit, but he doesn't think he could be happy there, anymore. Not now that he has passions for something other than what his father told him he could.
Zuko gets shaken out of his thoughts by the sound of a guitar playing. He turns his head to locate the music, and sees the same boy as in the morning. Still just as pretty as before.
He's singing a song, loud and heavy and light at the same time. It's not one that Zuko recognizes, but he's entranced.
Laid up in bed, you were laid up in bed.
Holding the pain like you're holding your breath.
I prayed you could sleep, sleep like a stone.
You're right next to me.
But you're a long way from home.
The guy's voice is pretty and rough. It's honest, and coupled with the lyrics of the song, Zuko is having an overload of emotions and feeling some sort of way. It's not quite nostalgia, but it's the feeling of understanding, almost a home in the making.
Which is a dangerous and idiotic way to think about a stranger.
Zuko realizes he's been staring way too obviously as the guy turns and catches his eye. He looks at Zuko with amusement before continuing the next verse, and Zuko has no fucking clue what that means but he wants this man to be singing to him, even if the lyrics aren't all that cute.
And then he shakes some sense into himself and the sheer awkwardness of this takes over. What the hell is he doing, standing out on the street staring at some random guy? At this point he's been watching too long to just leave, but it's not like he has money for tips and he doesn't want to look like a complete asshole.
Zuko shuffles his feet clumsily, not quite able to decide whether he should just run away from all of this, or whether to stay and...do--something? Apologize? Promise to pay him some other time?
Agni, it sounds stupid even in his head. If he concentrates hard enough he can even hear Azula mocking him.
He's going to leave.
He's going to.
He's--
Yeah, no. The guy's eyes are back on him and he's missed his chance to bolt. A shame, now no one will ever know if Zuko would've mustered up the courage. (He wouldn't have.)
He finishes his song on a single strum and a low note, sending involuntary shudders up Zuko's back. Get it together, Zuko.
Zuko is pinned to the concrete where he stands by some invisible force, waiting awkwardly for the boy to pack up, eyes zeroing in on the pavement below but chasing quick glimpses of him. The boy haphazardly shoves everything from inside his guitar case into a small backpack littered with colorful pins, before gently closing the lid on his guitar. His case a unique and unusual color, Zuko thinks, pastel blue with chipped silvery paint on the copper latches.
"I'm Sokka."
Zuko blinks in surprise and looks up to meet the boy's, Sokka's, eyes. "I'm Zuko." He holds out his hand for a handshake, before realizing that's probably weird for an informal introduction with a guy his age. Zuko pulls his hand away...just as Sokka's hand reaches out to accept it. Sokka's hand hangs in the air a moment, and Zuko stares dumbly before hastily grabbing on with way more grip than necessary.
Agni, this is already a whole disaster.
Jerking away as if he's been burnt, Zuko coughs stiffly to the side, blushing.
Sokka rubs the back of his neck, looking just as awkward. "So...was there something you wanted to ask me? Or..." He trails off, leaving the question hanging.
"I--no! Umm, maybe apologize? I was watching you and I don't have any money to give you. Sorry," Zuko fumbles out. He knows he's said something wrong, as Sokka bristles at the words.
"I'm not a charity case or something. You're not obligated to give me anything." He sounds annoyed now, and Zuko rushes to correct himself.
"Not like that! You were just really good and I--wanted...to."
"Oh." Sokka's face darkens in a blush and Zuko can feel his own cheeks get hot.
"Anyways! I should get going then!" Zuko exclaims, but makes no move to go.
"Yeah, I'm--my friends. Yeah."
"Okay. Yeah, okay," Zuko says and turns, taking a few steps down the sidewalk.
"Wait!" Zuko turns back around. Sokka's rubbing his neck again. "Do you have a ride? My friends are stopping by in a minute. We could take you back home, or you could hang around with us for a bit?"
Zuko stares blankly at him. Is he asking Zuko to spend time with him?
Sokka must interpret Zuko's stare as creeped out, because he quickly stumbles over his next words. "Sorry, that sounds so stalker-ish, of course you don't have to if you don't want to! It's just getting sort of dark and I thought you might want not want to be alone."
I don't, Zuko thinks. I would really, really like to go with you.
But he also has his father and Azula to worry about. They might actually murder him if they caught him out with people who weren't thoroughly vetted and scrutinized first.
(And judging by Sokka's beat up sneakers and tiny bi pride pins on his backpack, he would never make the cut.)
And Sokka’s giving him an easy out.
"I'm sorry, that sounds lovely," Zuko says, hoping his regret is evident enough in his voice. (And who the hell says 'lovely'??) "But I don't think I can accept. I hope you guys have a good time, though?" He says the last part like a question, and mentally curses at how rude that sounds.
Sokka looks close to disappointed, but Zuko isn't sure if that's just the thick shadows of the buildings falling across his face. "Oh, okay. Well, that's alright, maybe some other time?"
There's not going to be some other time.
"Yeah, maybe some other time," Zuko agrees. He starts to shuffle away. "I need to--" He tilts his head in the direction of his apartment.
"Oh, yeah. Well, goodbye then. Have a good night!" Sokka says, trying to sound upbeat but falling slightly flat. He moves his hand up as if to wave, then drops it quickly.
"Well...good night." Zuko gives Sokka one last meaningful look, without really knowing what he actually means to convey, and starts to walk away, footsteps echoing loudly on the pavement.
~~~~~
Sokka is all too aware of his hand as it drops back to his side, burning to grasp onto Zuko's and do something incredibly fucking stupid like maybe ask him out, or, Tui and La forbid, ask to kiss him. Curling his fingers into his palms, he respectfully turns away instead, scrolling through his phone until Suki drives up with the rest of his friend group in tow.
It's not until Sokka gets to the bottom of his bubble tea that he realizes he never asked Zuko for his number like he meant to.
~~~~~
Zuko slides off his shoes and peels off his wet socks. It had started raining, hard, almost as soon as he turned the block, out of Sokka's sight. It's almost like a shitty romance novel or something.
But it's not, and he knows this because of the piano and his scar and Ozai and fucking Jet. If only he was the main character, maybe then he could afford to go hang out with pretty boys and their friends, but he's not.
He's not and he knows this.
Right now, he just needs to keep his focus on what he's supposed to do, and that's not going to happen if he's having fantasies of some unattainable life that's not his to be lived.
Zuko sets his keys down on the kitchen counter and leaves his backpack on the floor to go take a shower, sighing entirely too dramatically as he goes. Maybe, hopefully, he'll be able to wash away any residue of his feelings from today. Agni knows he could stand to forget.