AN: IM NOT DEAD!!!! I just...had to take a lil break from this story! BUT IM BACK AND I HOPE I WILL BE UPDATING MORE OFTEN THAN ONCE IN TEN MONTHS!
He didn't think it would feel like this, visiting a place from his past.
It was summer then as well, in this seaside villa. The brightly burning sun, and the coarse sand beneath their feet, he thought he needed nothing else, that the four of them together was something everlasting.
Yet the sand kept on flowing.
Now, as he stood in front of the portrait, he wished he could walk into it. To stand where his younger self stood, careless and unknowing, with the ones he loved by his side. Three grinning children, and a man whose kind smile brought more warmth than the sun itself. Alas, going back would not have changed anything. Even with what he knew now, a fate as severe as theirs could not be avoided.
They knew nothing. Zuko still had his childish innocence, without a brand to serve as a reminder for disobedience. Azula...was kind, not defined by her father's unreachable standards. He was next, with the repressed love he bore for his father, drunk on the love he thought his mother held for him. And there was his father, who took it all upon himself to prolong their youth, to keep them as...just children for as long as possible.
It all fell apart without him.
"Reminiscing?"
Zuko was leaning on the doorway. Their eyes didn't meet, no, because he was looking over Guren's shoulder, right at the portrait.
"That would imply I enjoy remembering."
"You don't?"
Guren turned back towards the portrait. "Do you?"
"I do." Zuko's reply was quick.
So quick that Guren couldn't help looking at him. "Why?"
Slowly, Zuko approached him, all the way until he was right beside him. Thus he stared up at their forever uncorrupted youth with unblinking eyes. "We were happy back then. You were happy back then. Is it wrong of me to want all that happiness back?"
"You think we can get it back?"
Zuko glanced at him. "We could."
"Even after all that happened with Azula? You think we can...be a little trio again?"
A hand took him by the wrist. "We could."
Guren noticed how the hand that held him shook, the pressure increasing ever so slightly. "It will never be as it was, Zuko. Too much has changed. Too many...were lost," He looked him right in the eye. "To me, you are not what you were before. I don't think you ever will be."
The reaction was immediate. Zuko's grip loosened, pale hand pulling away.
Yet Guren chased right after it.
"You aren't Little Wolf to me anymore. You're just...Zuko now. And I don't want you to leave."
It was always him declining Zuko, always him pushing and pushing and pushing. And this time, when he reached out, Zuko was the one rejecting him.
Their hands separated.
"You...want me to stay, yet you want Little Wolf to disappear?"
Confused, Guren couldn't even reply.
"Just as you and Little Bird are one and the same, so are Little Wolf and I. So are Little Vixen and Azula." There came about a certain roughness to his words. "You can't have one without the other."
And just like that, the space between them widened. Not in a literal sense. From the moment they reunited, Zuko kept pushing against the boundaries Guren had set. Against the walls he had brought up. He kept pushing and pushing until...Guren couldn't push back. He stopped struggling against him. He stopped and...Zuko waltzed right back into his life, became a part of it again, against all odds.
"Until you make your peace with it, you shall have neither of me."
Now their positions switched. Guren could almost see them—the walls—slowly building themselves up brick by brick. Thick, invisible walls, encasing Zuko, hiding him away.
.
.
.
Wasn't...there a difference between them? One so carefree and...unknowing of life, and the other built out of sweat and tears, out of heat. They were different. They weren't the same...were they? How could they be? None of them were the same, so why was it expected of Guren to think of them as that? Wasn't it fine to...separate it all? To turn a new page and start over? Ignore the past and focus on the present? No, no, no, it didn't work like that, did it? How come? Why couldn't it work the way he wanted it to? Why couldn't it be easier? Why couldn't it be more simple? Why must there be problems?
Ah, he hated this.
A hypocrite, that's all he was now, right? But...how could he think of Little Wolf as Zuko? Little Wolf was...a facade, just as Little Vixen and even Little Bird were. Damn it, he's got all of this wrong. He already did it—thought of them as the same. Why would he keep pushing him away then, from the beginning, long before Ba Sing Se? Why would he...be so stricken by Azula? For he thought of them as his little companions, that the change he witnessed in them forced him to separate their existences.
Little Wolf. Prince Zuko.
Little Vixen. Princess Azula.
Little Bird. The General's Son.
The weight on their lithe shoulders was far too heavy. Pretending made it all that much easier to bear. To dissociate from the reality they lived in, even just for a few moments, few instances.
Breathing came easier.
Playing came easier.
They didn't need to think.
.
.
.
For the next few hours, all Aang did was practice under Zuko's guidance.
Only once Sokka proposed they take a break did they stop. And what kind of break did he choose? A beach party, as if they've not resided on the seaside for the last few...who knows how many days? It certainly seemed to brighten everyone's spirits, at least, so that was a plus.
While they partied, he came closer to the shore, but did not go into the water.
"Not going in?"
He glanced to the side and saw Suki.
"Not a fan of water."
She furrowed her brows, before asking, "Didn't you live in the North Pole?"
Shrugging his shoulders, he replied, "Doesn't mean I liked living there."
A quiet hum left her. "I guess all of us have some things we hate..." Then she looked to the side and Guren did the same. They saw Sokka running around, carrying all sorts of things and building...something. "...and some things we love."
For a split moment, his eyes darted across the beach, and landed on Zuko.
"Hm...so that's it." Suki muttered.
Blinking, Guren quickly looked away and towards her. "What is?"
She shook her head. "Nothing..." With an exhale, she added, "nothing at all."
An uncomfortable feeling crept up Guren's spine. Suki didn't say anything else after that, but the way she looked at him, for that fleeting second, told him that yes, she realised something. She didn't push the topic, though. She just stood beside him, staring out into the open sea.
_
When Zuko attacked Aang, Guren didn't know what to make of it. For a split second, everything in him screamed at him to move, to do something, but then he stopped because why would Zuko attack him? After everything, there's no way he'd revert to his past habits. Yet, a slither of doubt wrapped around his neck, and for a moment he couldn't breathe.
No, this wasn't Ba Sing Se.
This...wasn't Prince Zuko, this was just Zuko, whom had a reason for his actions.
So he followed after them.
.
.
.
Guren always thought of Ozai as a frightening man.
Even all those years ago, as he climbed the stairs of the palace the first time. Endless stairs, that was what they were. He had felt a sense of relief upon reaching the gate, but, as he met the eyes of the one whom sat upon the throne, the relief had disappeared without a trace.
Like molten gold, his piercing gaze had locked him in place.
His hand found his father's and he held on for dear life, the rough palm grounding him, encasing his own little, trembling hand. He dared not look away, fearing if he did that he would be struck down. At that moment, he learned fear, he tasted it; it wrapped around him until all he could feel was it, it, it.
Yet his father did not waver. He stood tall and proud, and Guren thought of him as a wall, a big, giant wall that no one could tear down, a wall that would shield him from everything and everyone.
Even from the might of their nation's ruler.
.
.
.
And he did, in the end.
All these years, he had blamed his father for everything, for every bad thing that ever happen. He blamed an innocent man, and was blind to the real truth—the truth that Ozai destroyed everything he touched.
Now, his hands no longer trembled, and he was no longer the little boy whom held onto his father. Guren felt no fear. No crippling dread.
Perhaps he should make Ozai taste it instead.
_
Guren thought about it—his bending. Bloodbending was something he...no longer saw as valid. Maybe it was just in his head, clouding his mind. After everything that transpired, he felt as if he had too much power on his hands, or...he was just too mentally weak to resist the temptation of it.
But...wasn't all bending powerful? Every type could be deadly, depending on how it was used.
Quickly, he discarded that thought. No. Not yet. Not...yet. He wasn't...stable enough yet, was he? He could lie and say he was, but he wasn't, and he won't be, not for a long while. But what could he offer them—them who have forgiven him for all the wrong that he had done?
He had his bending back, but he was as useless as he was when Aang took it away. All he was left with was-
...Could he? Could he...do it? He no longer felt the warmth, but it was still there, wasn't it? Deep within him? He...made peace with his father, but his departure didn't mean he was gone. Guren remembered him still, kept him close to heart, mourned his loss and found comfort in his memory.
Was that enough?
_
He sought him out. He waited until he was done with Aang and approached him.
"Firebending, could you- would you...show it to me?"
Zuko looked baffled. "What?"
Momentarily, Guren averted his eyes. "Firebending. Teach me how."
"Teach you...how?"
Mutely, Guren nodded.
"Firebending isn't something that can be taught to anyone, you know, you have to have an affinity for it."
Again, Guren nodded. "Yes, I know how bending works. But you saw it yourself, you saw me produce flames just as any other Firebender."
"I saw your blood combust. I've yet to see you do any bending related to fire itself."
Gritting his teeth, Guren raised his hand to his neck and dug in. This time there was no unscratchable itch, no heat beneath his skin, alas he did it still.
Within three paces, Zuko was in front of him, wrapping his fingers around his wrists and pulling his hand away before he managed to do any real damage.
"Stop doing this." Pointedly, he looked at his neck.
Scoffing, Guren made move to pull his hand back, yet he couldn't. "Why do you care?"
Zuko sighed, lowering his gaze. "Can we not do this anymore? You-"
"That wasn't an ans-"
"Because I care about you!" Zuko shot back.
"Then teach me how to bend."
As if baffled at his response, Zuko opened his mouth before promptly closing it, at a loss for words. He quickly looked away, unable to meet Guren's eyes, and his grip loosened. For a moment, Guren wondered if it was just a trick of light, alas it wasn't.
Zuko had gone red.
"Really? I ask you for Firebending advice and your mind goes straight to your gutter. Have our roles switched somehow?" When Guren got no response, he leaned closer. "C'mon, Zuko, teach me how to bend." That sure brought out a response from the other boy. Zuko peered back at him, lips pressed thin.
Slowly, Guren felt it, the way the hand that held his slid upwards, the way that Zuko's thumb pressed against the underside of his wrist, the way his heart throbbed and skipped at the oh-so-gentle touch.
What was he supposed to do now? With Zuko looking so uncertain and...and- No. No. That's as far as he'll think. He came here for another reason, not...not that. Damn it. Damn all of it.
"Zuko." He said.
The boy held onto his wrist, not acknowledging his name being called.
Guren tried again, to no avail.
Sighing, he raised his hand in the air and Zuko was nudged upwards, raising to his toes. Then, he blinked and locked eyes with Guren, as if only then remembering where he was. Within a moment, he released his hold on Guren and stood back down, taking a small step back.
"Okay."
Guren tilted his head. "Okay...what?"
"I'll teach you how to-how to bend..."
_
To be fair, Guren had no idea what he was doing. This was far too different from...from how his mother taught him. It made sense, as there were too different bending types, but still...He thought that since he had some experience this would prove to be not as challenging. But no. They'd been at it for hours.
"This isn't working." He announced, letting his arms drop.
"I'm teaching you basic manoeuvres, it's not supposed to work immediately."
"But is it even gonna work?"
"We're just starting, it needs time to-"
"How much time?"
Zuko groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead. "Please. Do you not understand patience?"
"I understand it, but it doesn't mean I have it."
"Well, you're going to have to have it for this type of thing."
Guren crossed his arms. "Bend for me."
"What?"
"You heard me. Firebend."
Clicking his tongue, Zuko turned away and went into a position. He slid one leg forward, lowering himself, and braced his arms in front. His sleeves slid down his arms, revealing more and more skin, and Guren had to swallow. Then, with a single swift move, the night sky burned orange. Again, he moved, and again it became bright. One move followed by another, over and over again, and the burning shades danced around him.
He was dancing, Guren realised.
And his fire looked so alike Lu Ten's own. Beautiful, that was the word for it. As he watched Zuko dance, dance, dance he couldn't help but think him beautiful.
It made him think back to his father, back to Lu Ten, back to their duels and the way their flames blended together. He adored watching them. The heat would light up their skin, would reflect in their eyes, and they'd grin at one another, even laugh out loud at certain points. They were dancing together, he realised now. It was like dancing. Two brothers.
And he lost both of them.
His heart stuttered in his chest. He couldn't...lose Zuko too, could he? Fate wouldn't be that cruel to him, not after everything. Ah. No. He shouldn't blame it all on fate. He couldn't interfere when he was younger, but he could now, right? He will become strong enough to protect those he cared about.
When Zuko stopped his demonstration, he turned to look at Guren, and his eyes shone so, so brightly, filled to the brim with a warmth Guren was struggling to understand. He wanted to understand. He needed to understand.
As he looked at him now, he realised what he failed to realise before.
This was Zuko. This was Little Wolf.
And Guren loved them both all the same.
_
There was a point at which he made peace with it already, but he never dared admit to it like this. Was it supposed to be so frightening? The mere thought of it? Saying it, even only in his head, made it real, realer than it was before. He knew he...felt something akin to love for Zuko, but...but this?
"I love him." He whispered in the dead of night. "I love him." He repeated, letting it settle over the silence. "I love him." Once more, and the bed creaked as he shifted.
It warmed him—love. Was it supposed to feel like this? He raised his hand, let his fingers wrap around his neck, softly, gently, and shuddered at the coldness. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed and curled in on himself. The night air made his skin crawl, yet he couldn't even think about anything other than Zuko, Zuko, Zuko.
His muscles tensed, teeth gritting, jaw flexing. His heart threatened to break right through his ribs. As his lips parted, his mind still screaming out Zuko's name, he turned on his side. His throat ached and a groan slipped past, muffled by the pillow he buried his face in.
He breathed out his name again and again and again.
Sleep will not come to him tonight.
•
And he'll love and love and love.