Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sokka is staring. He knows it’s rude but he can’t stop. The fact that someone actually lives in this movie set that was once a home has something inside him trip and stumble into freefall. It hadn’t quite felt real until just now, he had almost been able to trick himself into believing no one actually lived there. But now it’s suddenly impossible to ignore.

Everything is still for a few moments, the only sound is the ringing in his ears. His head is spinning faster than it ever has before and he can’t catch a single coherent thought. He opens his mouth as if to say something but nothing comes out. His whole body is stiff and clammy and he wants to run but his body isn’t responding. It’s not until the wind shifts, bringing the smell of cigarette smoke with it, that his head finally calms, and although it’s just slightly, it’s enough that he can take in anything at all about this guy in front of him.

The boy on the porch is staring right back at him, probably wondering what this complete stranger is doing standing in his driveway and staring at him at three in the morning. From where he’s standing, multiple metres away in the dark, all Sokka can really say about him beyond that is that he looks to be around his own age and has long dark hair that is tied back in a messy bun. He’s holding a lit cigarette, although he seems to have mostly forgotten about it in favour of staring at Sokka. Sokka can’t really blame him, he’d also be confused as fuck if he was in his place.

They’re completely still for a long time. Sokka doesn’t know how he’s even supposed to begin to explain this. ‘Sorry, my best friend since kindergarten lived here her whole life and I subconsciously walked here instead of going home after visiting her at the cemetery in the middle of the night, didn’t mean to be a compete fucking weirdo, my bad.’ Yeah, probably not.

The boy finally shifts, just slightly, seemingly to pick something up from the bench next to him. Sokka finally snaps out of it.

“I’m sorry!” he exclaims, far too loud for three in the morning, something that is evident on the way the other boy flinches. “I’m so sorry,” he says again, quieter this time, before burying his face in his hands. His knees feel just about ready to give out but he definitely can’t let that happen. This whole ordeal has been more than embarrassing enough for one night without him collapsing in this poor boy's driveway. He can’t help the way his body shakes though. His next words are practically whispered into his hands, “Tui, I’m so sorry.” Sokka is pretty sure the guy didn’t hear that one.

“Uhh… you good man?” asks the guy, a bit unsurely, after a few moments of very awkward silence, and Sokka is just barely shocked enough by the question that he looks back up at the guy. He is standing up now, leaning against one of the columns of the porch. “Are you like…” He mimics the motion of smoking a joint. “Or have you… taken something or–?”

Sokka’s face twists, nose scrunching. “Spirits, no!” Fucking hell, that was too loud again. He slaps a hand over his forehead before dragging it down his face. “Dude, I’m so fucking sorry,” he says with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m really sorry about this, okay? I’m– Look, I was just– I swear I’m not– Let’s just– If I leave now– I mean– I mean, if it’s like okay–”

“Are you sure you’re not high or something?” the boy asks, cutting off Sokka’s jumbled ramblings. “Should I call someone? Do you live nearby? Need help getting home?”

Sokka turns to blink at him, once, then twice. Then he does what he was supposed not to do and sinks down into a ball on the ground, burying his face in his hands with a groan. Tui above, he was gonna have to fake his death and skip town after this. Change his name, get plastic surgery, all that junk.

“Seriously.” The guy sounds so genuinely freaked out that Sokka forces his hands out of his face to look at him. Fucking damn it, he’s holding his phone. “I’m gonna–”

“Please,” Sokka manages, wincing at how broken the word comes out. The guy seems startled by it as well. “I’m seriously sorry about this, just… don’t call the police. Please.”

He looks at Sokka for a long moment from the safety of his porch, face unreadable in the dark. Then he puts his phone in his pocket with a sigh, walks down the five steps of stairs and makes his way over to Sokka.

“Come on,” he says, holding out a hand for Sokka to take. Sokka stares at it for a long moment before he takes it. When he does, the boy immediately hauls him to his feet and Sokka finds himself standing face to face with this stranger that he has been catching himself thinking about since February.

He’s been wondering what kind of people might have moved in here and built this movie set-looking home for themselves. What kind of people it is who never come or go or stand in the windows. Who never yell or play music or watch TV loud enough for outsiders to hear. And now here he stands right in front of him, a new resident of 184 Tui Avenue.

The boy is almost exactly the same height as Sokka, maybe a centimetre or two taller, he has pale skin, golden eyes, and a large, rough looking red scar covers the left side of his face, it stretches a bit down his neck and has taken his whole eyebrow and half his ear away with it. The boy’s eyes narrow, making Sokka’s widen in response. He takes a step back, he had definitely been staring for too long.

“Sorry,” he says again as he looks away. For La’s sake, is ‘sorry’ the only thing he knows how to say? He clears his throat. “I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he rushes out way too quickly, his mind’s racing. “I was just gonna go home but I guess I wasn’t really thinking and my feet dragged me here out of old habit or something and–”

“Dude,” the boy says firmly as he puts both his hands on Sokka’s shoulders, making Sokka’s mouth snap shut again. “I see that there’s something going on with you.” His voice is slow as he exaggerates every other syllable, like he’s talking to a lost toddler. Sokka wishes he had something to say about that but it was honestly deserved, he’s acting beyond strange. “Are you sure you don’t need me to call someone?”

Sokka takes a breath and nods. “Yeah, I’m–I’m fine.” He huffs out a rather mirthless laugh. “I’m just having a night I guess.”

The guy looks at him and Sokka looks down at the ground as he runs a hand back through his hair.

“Do you smoke?” the boy asks after a few moments and Sokka’s gaze snaps right back to look at him. Then Sokka nods. Sure, he wouldn’t call himself a smoker per se but it definitely happens every now and then. Usually when he’s with Toph and/or Suki. More rarely when he’s alone, though he’s definitely been doing that more often as well the last few months... Okay, maybe he's a smoker. Whatever.

“Here.” The boy holds out a cigarette for him. “You look like you need it.”

Sokka takes it with a grateful smile and is just about to get his lighter when the boy holds out his finger with a small flame flickering above it.

“Oh.” He brings the tip of his cigarette above the flame to light it. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” The boy jerks his head back towards the porch, a clear invitation for Sokka to join him, then he turns around and walks back to the bench. Sokka follows him without a word.

“So,” the boy says after sitting down on the bench and lighting a cigarette of his own. Sokka sits at the top of the stairs rather than joining the stranger on the bench. “Did you use to live here or…?”

Sokka shakes his head. “No.” He lets his eyes drift to the street as he takes a deep pull of his cigarette. “My best friend did.”

“Huh,” is all the boy says. Then it’s quiet for a minute.

“I’m sorry for being a creep,” Sokka mutters, still not looking back at the guy. “I really wasn’t planning on going here, just kinda… spaced out, I guess.”

“Dude, it’s fine. This is honestly less weird than when you stop and stare at my window every time you pass the house.”

Sokka is shocked his neck doesn’t snap right off at how quickly it twists to look back at the other boy on the porch. “You’ve seen me?” Sokka asks, unable to hide his incredulity.

“Yeah, pretty hard to miss,” the boy mutters, glancing down at him with a raised eyebrow. “I’ve considered telling you to fuck off a few times but, well…” He gestures vaguely towards Sokka’s face, as if that would explain anything. “You know.”

Sokka blinks at him a few times, trying to process the information. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath when it finally sinks in. He looks down, feeling his cheeks flush. “Dude, I’m so sorry! It’s just- It used to be Yue’s room and I just–” He cuts himself off and forces himself to take a deep breath. He shakes his head. “She’d hate the red of your curtains,” he mutters before taking another pull of his cigarette.

“Damn,” he says, sounding surprised, yet slightly amused, “please tell her I’m sorry for bringing them into her old room then.”

Sokka huffs out a laugh at that. It turns into a few sniffles. Then he has to bite his lip to help him swallow the sob that threatens to escape his throat. The boy says nothing, and Sokka sends a silent prayer to any spirit that may be listening that he can’t tell how close Sokka is to crying.

When Sokka is finally sure his voice won’t crack as soon as he speaks, he laughs again. “Sorry,” he says as he stands, “thanks for the cigarette.”

Sokka leaves without looking back, and the boy says nothing as he does.

“Where the fuck have you been!?” Katara whisper-shouts the very second he enters the flat. He can’t really blame her, even for him during the full moon, five in the morning is pretty wild. “Why didn’t you answer your phone? Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? I was this–” She brings her hand up in front of him, thumb and index finger practically touching. “–fucking close to calling the police!”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, voice thick. He kicks off his shoes before pushing past her into the flat. “Guess my phone died.”

Katara follows him into his room and when she speaks again, her voice has softened. “Sokka,” she pleads from behind him, “please talk to me.”

Sokka freezes mid taking off his watch. He blinks hard, trying to actually process it all. But the seconds stretch into minutes and the room is completely still. He’s not sure how long it’s been when he finally sighs, putting down his watch. “I’m not sure if I can,” he whispers, leaning on the window frame.

A hand lands on his shoulder. He can’t even face her reflection in the window, so he looks down. “Go to bed, Katara. I’m sorry for making you worry and stay up all night.”

Katara says nothing but her hand squeezes his shoulder, and that means the world to him right then and there. Then she hugs him, it’s an awkward side hug but it’s still nice. They stand there for a long moment before Katara finally speaks. “It’s okay if you can’t talk to me…” she says, voice barely louder than a whisper. She hesitates for just a moment before finishing, “but please talk to someone.”

He bites his lip and squeezes his eyes shut as she pulls away and walks out of his room, closing the door behind her.

“I’ll try.”

Summer passes meaninglessly enough. His dad drags him out fishing from time to time, Suki makes sure he at least joins the gaang’s weekly movie nights, and Katara forces him to tag along to Gran Gran’s every now and then.

He comes up with some pretty creative excuses to take longer paths to Gran Gran’s so they don’t have to walk past 184 Tui Avenue. He knows she sees right through him, but she says nothing so he can pretend it’s all normal. He appreciates it.

His visits to the cemetery continue but Katara stays with him now. They don’t stay past ten. It’s probably for the best.

“Is that Snoozles I sense coming?” Toph calls out from where she’s leaning against the back wall of building four. She holds a half-smoked cigarette between her index and middle fingers.

“Sokka!” Suki greets warmly as he approaches them, a smile on her face. “Almost thought we wouldn’t catch you before class.” She hugs him briefly as soon as he’s next to her. Then she offers him a cigarette and he doesn’t complain as he takes it with a hum.

“In your dreams,” he says, grinning widely at her before lighting his cigarette. He’s good at smiling so hopefully she doesn’t notice the lack of genuine emotion behind it.

She smiles back at him and he’s glad she goes right back to the conversation she and Toph were having about something that happened at their shared summer job. He considers that a success. He’s not really paying attention to the conversation but it’s nice nonetheless, letting familiar voices wash over him.

He pulls at his cigarette, relishing the familiar way it grounds him. Maybe everything will be okay. Maybe it can all be normal again. Maybe he can at least pretend for a while.

The first bell rings soon enough and the three of them scatter to their different home classrooms. Toph’s a couple of years younger but Suki’s in his year. Sadly, they’re not in the same class this year, but Sokka’s sure he’ll be fine without her.

But then, the universe has always loved to prove Sokka wrong, so why would it stop now. The idea of normalcy is shattered as soon as he walks into his classroom. Amongst all the familiar faces in there, one stands out more than it should do after a singular meeting almost three months ago.