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cruelangelstheses · 4 years

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blue neighborhood - chapter 1: WILD

fandom: avatar: the last airbender rating: T characters: sokka/zuko words (total): 1.8k words (this chapter): 1.8k additional tags: modern au (no bending), high school, college, time skips, childhood friends, friends to lovers, slow burn, (internalized) homophobia, implied/referenced child abuse, fluff and angst, angst with a happy ending description: for zuko and sokka, the line between best friends and lovers has been blurred for a long time. a/n: hello!!! posting this just in time for @zukka-week (specifically day 4: free day, since it doesn’t really fit into any of the other prompts, though i guess this fic will also focus on pain and healing a lot so it could count for that too), but i’ve had this idea in my head literally since blue neighborhood came out. i don't even listen to troye much anymore but i needed this to be a thing. each chapter is inspired by a different song off the deluxe edition of BN, going in order of the track list, and they’re sort of out of order because they’re all little vignettes/“glimpses” into zuko and sokka’s relationship at different points in time! the first chapter is the beginning though, and the last chapter is the end (it’ll make more sense as you read each chapter). warnings are in the additional tags. ty for reading! :3

read it on ao3

—

“Hey, Zuko! Look what Gran-Gran got for me!”

Zuko, nine years old, sticks his head out the window of his bedroom and glances down at his neighbor Sokka, who stands eagerly in Zuko’s backyard one Saturday morning with his hands behind his back. “Okay,” he says slowly. “What is it?”

“Guess!” Sokka replies with a grin.

Zuko groans a little. “Sokka, you know I’m bad at guessing, and you always just tell me what it is anyway.”

“Just try!” Sokka insists.

Zuko sighs and thinks for a moment. He’s always one to let go of his stubbornness for Sokka. “Um...candy?”

“No!” Sokka says. “It’s not something you can eat. It’s something you can play with!”

Zuko shrugs. “A ball?”

Sokka shakes his head. “Nope.” With that, he reveals the toy he’s been hiding behind his back. “It’s a boomerang! Wanna try it out with me?”

Zuko bites his lip. “I dunno. My dad’s home. He might not let me.”

“Just ask him,” Sokka says, matter-of-fact.

Zuko doesn’t want to explain why that plan isn’t always as simple as it sounds, but he really does want to play outside with Sokka. Pulling his dark hair up into a ponytail, he runs downstairs, where he finds both his parents eating breakfast in the kitchen. Neither of them are speaking, but Zuko ignores the tension between them. He’s more concerned with his own desires, and besides, they’re always like this.

“Can I go play outside with Sokka?” he asks.

Ozai raises a disapproving eyebrow. “You really should be making friends with more civilized children.”

“Well—I, um…” Zuko stutters nervously. He still doesn’t really understand why his father always makes such rude comments about Sokka and his family. They’ve never been anything but kind to Zuko. “It’s only for a little while. We’re gonna practice throwing his new boomerang.”

Ozai exchanges glances with Ursa, who turns to Zuko with sympathetic eyes and says, “Yes, of course.”

Ozai looks like he wants to protest, but he seems to be preoccupied with whatever problem he and Ursa are having, so he simply sighs and adds, “Be back in no more than two hours.”

“Great, thanks,” Zuko says hurriedly, and without another moment’s hesitation, he sprints outside, where his best friend is waiting for him.

—

On a perfectly average day as they’re walking home from school, a twelve-year-old Sokka asks, “So, have you ever kissed anyone?”

Zuko, now thirteen, stops in his tracks, caught completely off-guard. “I—what? Why?” His voice is high-pitched and cracked, and he glances over at his house nearby. If he doesn’t get home soon, his father might wonder where he is.

Sokka shrugs. “I was just thinking, ‘cause I overheard Jet bragging about his first kiss in the hall today.”

“Well, that’s Jet for you,” Zuko replies dismissively. “What does this have to do with me?”

“Well, you two are the same age, so I thought maybe you’d had yours, too.”

“Age has nothing to do with it,” Zuko says, trying not to let his embarrassment show. “What, you think as soon as someone reaches eighth grade they have to have their first kiss?”

“Hey, it was just a question,” Sokka says, holding his hands up in surrender. “I was just thinking that you could help me.”

If Zuko thought he was embarrassed before, now he’s absolutely mortified. Feeling his cheeks turn bright red, he stutters, “You—what?”

“I don’t want people to think I’m a bad kisser!” Sokka says, crossing his arms and leaning against a neighbor’s fence. “So I thought maybe you could teach me. Give me some pointers. Then when I have my first kiss, I’ll be ready!”

Zuko just stares at him for a few short moments, stunned and confused and unable to think clearly. Finally he says, “H-how am I supposed to teach you how to do something I’ve never done myself?”

“I don’t know.” For a split second, Sokka looks almost dejected. Then another idea seems to hit him, and his face lights up once again. “Well, we could practice together!”

He says it with a great deal of confidence, but Zuko can tell that he’s nervous by the way he deliberately avoids making eye contact. Stupidly, Zuko asks, “What do you mean, ‘practice?’”

Now it’s Sokka’s turn on the embarrassment train. “Well, I mean—it’d be like—well.” He clears his throat to give himself more time to collect his thoughts. Then he says, “You know exactly what I mean, Zuko.”

He’s right, too. Zuko does know.

“Well,” Zuko says slowly, still blushing furiously, “if we…do that, then wouldn’t that be your first kiss right there?”

“No! It doesn’t count if it’s just practice. Duh.” He rolls his eyes, as if this should be obvious. “Besides, then you can get better at kissing, too!”

Zuko takes another brief glance over at his house. It’s only a few doors away from where they’re standing, on the sidewalk in front of a neighbor’s place, Sokka still leaning against the fence. The area is mostly shaded by the small trees that populate the neighborhood, their leaves red and orange and preparing to fall from the branches. Not a single car passes by, nor does Zuko see anyone outside. Even in the late afternoon sun, it almost feels as though they’re completely alone, isolated from the rest of the world. No one would see. No one would care.

“Sokka…” Zuko starts, his voice quieter now as he dares to truly let himself look at his best friend. The early autumn breeze blows some of Sokka’s stray hairs into his face, cutting across his bright blue eyes. He bites his lip and attempts to fix his ponytail, but he pauses mid-motion when he notices Zuko staring.

“What?” he says, seeming genuinely confused. His eyes are wide with curiosity as he looks up at Zuko, his arms still lifted above his head. Zuko knows he should turn away, but Sokka’s raised eyebrows wear him down. He knows he shouldn’t do it, but when Sokka looks like that...well, how could he not want to break the rules?

Zuko’s friends and family always tell him how impulsive he is, how he never thinks things through, how he takes life on with a “shoot first, ask questions later” attitude. Until this moment, though, he never realized how right they were.

Without thinking, his mind nothing but white noise, Zuko leans forward and kisses Sokka right on the mouth. His lips are surprisingly soft, his breath warm, and it kind of feels weird, but not bad weird; perhaps “unfamiliar” is a better word. Sokka doesn’t react immediately, and Zuko starts to panic, but just as he’s about to pull away, Sokka grabs him by his shirt and kisses him back. It all happens in a matter of seconds, simple and sweet and innocent, but it’s enough to make Zuko’s heart pound hard in his chest.

Now Sokka’s face is bright red, but he still tries to maintain the illusion of composure. “See?” he says, voice cracking. “That was good! That was great! So…now we both know.” He flashes Zuko a quick grin, but it’s not enough to hide the blush or the breathlessness. “Well, uh, we should probably be getting home,” he adds, pointing in the general direction of his own house. “See ya!”

Before Zuko even has a chance to say anything, Sokka turns and rushes down the sidewalk, only looking back once. For a few moments, Zuko just stands there staring after him, trying to process what the hell just happened. Then he remembers his father and the time, so he runs the rest of the way to his house, unaware that it’s the last time the sun will see his face unblemished.

—

“When I get older, I wanna leave this place.”

They’re both lying on Sokka’s bed when he says this, his arms behind his head and his gaze trained on the ceiling, a look of wistful contemplation on his face. Zuko turns from his stomach onto his side and rests his head in his hand. “No kidding,” he says with a sigh.

“I’d love to travel,” Sokka adds, smiling a little. “Imagine it: just you and me on our own little road trip across the country, blasting shitty ‘80s music and buying snacks at half-abandoned rest stops.”

Zuko snorts. “Ah, yes. The picture of luxury: Doritos and ‘Take On Me.’”

Sokka shrugs. “I mean, that’s pretty much all I’d need to be happy. That and you.” He says it so nonchalantly that Zuko doubts his own hearing ability for a brief moment.

“Sometimes I feel guilty for wanting to leave,” Sokka continues, sitting up and frowning. “Of course I’d miss my family, my friends. But I feel so trapped sometimes, you know? Like I’m stuck here.”

Zuko nods. He knows exactly what Sokka means. Their town holds so many memories—some happy, many not—but sometimes it feels like there’s a cloud constantly hanging over it. Or perhaps it’s just that the cloud is constantly hanging over him. Sometimes it feels like that, too.

“I mean,” Sokka says slowly, “you have a perfectly valid reason to want to leave. If I were you, I’d probably try to get as far away from here as possible.”

Zuko still doesn’t say anything. Ever since that day nearly a year ago, the day his father scarred him and kicked him out of the house, he’s been searching for a way to redeem himself. His uncle tells him sometimes that he doesn’t need Ozai’s approval, but Zuko never listens. He understands why Sokka would think he’d want to leave and never see his father again, but that’s exactly why he can’t bring himself to. If he left, his father would think he was running away from his problems.

Zuko’s never been the type to run away.

Sokka gives him a hard, knowing stare, as if he can tell what Zuko is thinking about just by looking at him. He probably can. “Zuko,” he says, his gaze flitting very briefly to the left side of Zuko’s face.

Zuko turns away, trying in vain to block out the memory of their lips touching underneath an autumn sky, naive enough to think that the trees would keep them out of sight. It doesn’t matter that he enjoyed it, and it doesn’t matter that part of him wishes it would happen again. He kissed his best friend—he kissed a boy—and he paid the price for it.

“Well,” Zuko says finally, glancing back over at Sokka with a faint smile, “one day we’ll get out of here. I promise.”

#zukka #zuko x sokka #zuko #sokka #zukkaweek #avatar: the last airbender #atla #my fics

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