War of Change | Book 3

17: Our Form of Bliss

The only saving grace for my pride was seeing that he was just as breathless when we separated. "You've gotten even better at that," I spoke through bated breath, half accusing, my eyes never leaving his lips.

His soft pink lips curved. "I've spent a lot of time thinking about doing it again." He lifted his hand, pushing back my hair with a feather-soft touch. "You sort of haunted me."

I would be lying if I wasn't a little pleased to hear that, but I also hoped his thoughts hadn't tormented him too much.

Instead of forcing me to try to find some sort of response, he wound his arms around me. I fit snugly into his chest, my face buried into the crook of his neck.

At least the one good thing to come out of everything that had happened was that we hadn't wasted too much time getting back together. There was no room for bitterness about the past. We had both made our mistakes, and now we were helping each other through them. That was all we could do.

***

The sun stretched awake amongst the plumes of orange and pink clouds. Everyone else was asleep, the only sounds being that of the birds and the fountain in the main courtyard. I was alone with my thoughts.

The night before came flooding back. I couldn't believe what had happened. There were still several weights in my chest, but they weren't quite as tiring for me to carry. I would never admit it out loud, but it was nice not to carry everything alone anymore.

"You're up early." His voice sent tingles down my spine.

I braced myself to feel his warmth against my back but became mildly disappointed when I instead saw him in the corner of my eye, pressing one hand against the stone rail which I leaned against. His eyes were not on the scene like mine, however. Instead, I could feel them on my face. He was shamelessly staring at me, but I didn't understand why. It was a waste to look at me when there was such an amazing view in front of us.

Did he not see the beauty here? The way the temple, seemingly molded by hand from clay, perfectly radiated the sun's colors. Even the green overgrowth on the structures looked as though they were placed there purposefully. Everything arranged just the right way to unleash the most spectacular hues across the courtyard. The monks really did think of everything.

And yet, with all of this, he still looked at me.

I finally spoke, but I refused to let my voice go much further above a whisper in fear of disturbing the peaceful moment. "I like watching the sunrise." I stopped as I watched a bird whisk through the sky, showing off its freedom. "Even when I was there, I watched it every morning. It's the same sun, the same sky, the one thing that doesn't change. I envy it."

He didn't respond at first, finally taking his eyes off of me so he could acknowledge the scene. I don't think he saw it the same way that I did, but he was never an early morning person like me.

"I think the moon is more beautiful," he spoke, finally earning my eyes. "It might be full of craters, but they each tell a story of how strong it is."

My eyes fell away from him and down to the rocky canyon below. "Half of the moon is always covered in darkness, though," I muttered.

I'm not sure what I hoped his response would be, but it was far wiser than the Zuko that I once knew was capable of. "But the other half is the brightest light in the sky when everything else is dark."

I let out a breathy laugh. "You sound like Iroh."

He chuckled as well, and I saw him nod. "He finally wore off on me."