Chapter Text
Year 1
September
“He’s a literature major! Why do we have so many overlaps!” Sokka groans as he dramatically slides his hands down his face in anguish. He sinks deeper into the chair he is sitting in, a feeling of exasperation settling around him.
“Well…” Suki starts, “is he cute?” It is an attempt at comforting him, a bottom of the barrel one if you ask Sokka. And worse for him, Suki posed a good question.
“He is,” Sokka answers somewhat quickly. Then he corrects himself, saying, “Fine. He is fine. His hair is always in this ponytail and he has this, like, massive burn. I'm sure you have seen him around, he’s hard to miss.”
“Sokka, we go to a school with, like, 20,000 people.”
“And yet he is everywhere,” Sokka exclaims.
“Look, maybe you're being overdramatic. I mean, has he even talked to you? Have you talked to him? It's just a coincidence, don't get yourself into a tizzy over it all.”
“Easy for you to say. You don't have to see his face everyday or hear his voice,” Sokka’s voice begins to steadily rise, “oh my god, his voice—”
Suki slams her hand over Sokka’s mouth, effectively cutting him off. “Dude, I know my roommate dropped like a week ago but there are other people on this floor and it's,” Suki looks at her watch, “3 am. Now, it's been just fantastic hearing about this boy, but I’m kicking you out now so I can go to bed. My new roommate is supposed to move in tomorrow and I need to be ready.”
She removes her hand and Sokka pouts while sticking his tongue out. A childish move even by him to some degree, though Suki will say it’s grown up of him in comparison. Nevertheless he gets up and waves while dramatically whispering a good night.
October
Zuko freezes in October. It's 50 degrees out, and yet he is bundled in as many coats as he could put on. He trudges to his last lecture of the day, thankful that at least it has not snowed yet, like some of his colleagues keep warning him about. He misses warmer weather.
The class is a general math class, one he is forced to take as a perspective requirement. He finds himself jealous of the people he knows who do not have to take even a single math class, curse those fine arts students. Regardless of all that, Zuko supposes it is still important to tune into the class. Despite not majoring in business like his father wanted, it will still serve him some good, he hopes, to tune in. He cannot understand, though, why someone majoring in literature is required to take such a class. Something about well-roundedness, he assumes.
Another fault to today, he encounters upon the completion of his walk, is that the door is locked at an unusually early time.
“Must be frozen shut,” he murmurs, with the utmost pessimism.
“You need help?” A voice asks.
Zuko shakes his head in determination, or perhaps stubbornness.
“Ok then, best of luck to you then.” The stranger walks to another other set of doors some feet away and swipes his ID, the door unlocking instantly.
Zuko sighs in disappointment at the sight of the stranger walking through the door. Not just because of the sheer amount of blue he was wearing and lack of a coat, but at the absolute helplessness of his scenario before the stranger came along.
Walking into the building, Zuko begins thinking about the blue stranger and subconsciously starts a list.
He doesn’t wear a coat in October. Definitely from somewhere colder.
He wears a lot of blue. Maybe a favorite color, or maybe where he is from.
Zuko turns a corner and sees a flash of blue up ahead entering his desired classroom.
He is in my math class. A first year student as well, maybe.
Zuko chooses to sit behind him, but a few rows back. It is not a big class by any means, only about 50 students, give or take the ones that only occasionally show up. He trains his vision down to the blue boy’s computer, desperate for any indication of a name.
Zuko watches him pull up a chat with some people, and rapidly type something that was too small due to how far back he sits. Early on, the stranger had stopped responding to the messages, opting to instead take diligent notes. Zuko sees this, and knows he should do the same, but he chooses to watch the people the stranger was once messaging continue to attempt to bother him. At last, there are chats that Zuko can make out: ‘SOKKA. Answer us!”
His name is Sokka.
November
Some greater force of the universe has no intentions of giving Sokka a good first year in college. Two papers, a quiz, and a group project with Zuko all before the November break.
Zuko, the guy with no last name. Zuko, the guy who sits way back in their math class and always has a boiling hot cup of something with him. Zuko, who, when he felt the first breeze of October, began bundling up in more coats than Sokka had ever seen in his life. Zuko, who is also in his general literature class, and is so obviously a suck up to the teacher. Zuko, who Sokka wishes he could avoid forever.
This is who he has to spend time with. Kill him now.
“Maybe he’s not that bad. I mean have you even talked to him yet?” Katara says over the phone. “Maybe he is actually very nice and you’re just biased for no reason.”
“Maybe you have a little crush,” Suki adds while poking Sokka’s cheek, a playful laugh runs through the words.
Katara laughs a little over the phone. “You sure seem to be quite invested in his life, dear brother, so what does he look like,” she asks, tone similar to Suki’s.
“He is taller and looks quite strong and has long hair and a scar on his eye. But who cares!” Sokka exclaims “My instincts are right! Not all of your theories have to be against me!”
“So what if he is the worst person in the world,” Suki waves her hand away from them. “It’s just one project, and you’ll probably carry it anyway since it's a math project and he’s a literature major. Once you get through it, you just have to hope you never talk to him again.”
What Suki says is probably true, Sokka figures. He is the engineering major, aside from the general classes, he is in all math based activities. Zuko is not, so if he just gives him the writing and touching-up of the presentation, they should be fine. As a bonus, they will rarely have to talk.
After a long silence Sokka responds. “Fine, I guess you’re right. I admit defeat, but just this once.”
December
It could be far worse, if you ask Sokka. The two talk maybe a handful of times between November and December, though it has been more than Sokka has enjoyed. Each time they meet, Zuko seems to get on his nerves more and more, while Suki, Katara, and Aang keep pressing him on the idea of confusing disdain and crush.
Their longest time together is spent two days before the project is due, just finalizing and touching it up. They spend several hours together, somehow in almost total silence. Sokka learns that Zuko’s father wants him to be some sort of business major, and him being an literature major has brought upon a great dishonor to his life. Sokka tells Zuko nothing close to that significance. Despite his internal complaints, after the long day, when Zuko eventually leaves the study room, Sokka feels his absence far more than he wanted to admit.
When all was said and done though, they presented and were rewarded with an A
—////—////—////—
January
Zuko is overjoyed to be back on campus. One more day with his family and he might have just burst into flames. His father would not stop talking business, and the dishonor of Zuko not wanting to take over his empire when he retires. Azulal, on the other hand, was entirely a suck up to the prospect of Zuko being out of the picture. It almost makes him sad watching the desperate pleas of his sister for their father;s attention. It’s a shame about their mother not being in the picture, made then Azula would be normal. Instead, he spent his break encouraging his father to listen to Azula, a side he wishes he would have never had to take, and hopes to never take again.
Besides, business is never what he cared about, his heart has always belonged to literature. If he was going to do any business it would be the business of story telling. No CEO dealings, no accounting, and no mergers and acquisitions. He would not be one of those stuffy business men that come in and out of the house all day. He will be someone that is educated in the finer things of life, the arts and such that bring true joy to a person.
His schedule this semester is almost entirely literature classes, something that brings him immense joy. However, he cannot help but feel a longing for something, or someone. It takes him a week to realize that there is no sign of Sokka in any of his classes.
February
No Zuko! No Zuko in any of his classes! Sokka had spent the entire break fretting over the idea of having to see the boy in his class, and now, nothing. A quiet, peaceful semester is upon him, just Sokka and the exciting adventures of civil engineering awaits him. By quiet and peaceful, he of course means the beginning of stress and evil. Six classes, eighteen credits, await him, and they are all maths, metals, and other science classes.
Naturally, Suki, Katara, and Aang were also ecstatic upon hearing the news. After all, this meant a hopefully silent semester from Sokka and his life-long grudges. At least, until he finds a new one, which they are sure he will. In the meantime, his life is so much better without them nagging in his ear that his hatred for Zuko might be him confusing other feelings. Things are looking up for Sokka though, because this semester is his and his alone.
He is very alone, Sokka realizes. There is nothing outside of classes to occupy his brain, and it seems to be producing quite the boring semester. Something is missing from his life, and he cannot figure out what, but he feels a sort of twinge of disappointment when he looks through the people in his classes, like he is scanning for someone who is never going to be there.
Zuko is not who Sokka is looking for, he convinces himself, no matter how many times his heart hopes for it to be.
March
Parties are not for Zuko. He likes a small function with his friends on the weekend, like a game night or something, but not a real party. He knows a handful of people here, and most everyone else is drinking like there is no tomorrow. A beer pong game has been set up and played so many times he is sure they have gone through at least one case of beer, and a group of other people have scampered upstairs to do who knows what.
His friends have gone off to talk to other people they know, leaving Zuko in the kitchen to nurse a can of raspberry high noon. He is so bored, and it is so loud. He needs a cigarette.
Grabbing his jacket and shoes, Zuko goes outside to quietly smoke and get away from all the noise. If he is going to be alone, it will be on his terms. He is not the only one out tonight, though.
A figure is sitting on the steps of the small porch. “Sokka?” Zuko asks.
The maybe-Sokka figure makes a small huffing noise, like Zuko’s presence is the worst thing that could happen to him tonight.
“Long time no see, how are you tonight, Sokka?”
The figure huffs again and lets the silence drag on for a minute before responding, “fine, you?”
“It's very cold out here, but it is better than being inside. How are you out here without a jacket, anyways?”
“Well, when you're from the South it's not that hard. I mean, it's like in our blood or something to be ok with the cold.” Sokka feels like he is being too friendly to Zuko, so he adds, “What are you doing out here anyways, isn’t it too cold for you, shouldn’t you be partying it up?”
“I don’t like parties much, I had to attend too many as a child. Really they are not a fit place for a five year old. So many adults talking business all the time and trying to get you involved with gifts and shameless ass-kissing. My sister always loved them though, she relishes in the spotlight,” Zuko explains, ignoring the comment about it being too cold for him out here. “Anyways my friends are with their other friends, and I wanted a cigarette and some peace and quiet. What about you?”
“Well aren’t you just all sunshine and rainbows and inexpensive wonders,” Sokka huffs. “Very enlightening about not enjoying your daddy’s money. I’m out here waiting for people, because I have a life and I love living it in exactly the way I am.”
“Oh come on Sokka. That’s all you’re focused on?”
Sokka does not answer. In the silence, Zuko grabs the lighter out of his pocket and a cigarette out of the carton. Lighting the cigarette, he extends the pack out to Sokka as a weird version of an olive branch.
“Want one?”
“Buzz off, Zuko,” Sokka says in a huff. He gets up and storms back inside.
April
Sokka cannot get the interaction he had with Zuko a month prior out of his head. It invades every interaction he has with someone, whether it be friends, classmates, or strangers at his job. Stupid Zuko and his stupid jacket with his stupid cigarettes looking stupid cool. Not cool, lame, very lame.
Suki and co have also gotten quite exasperated from the conversation at hand.
“You’ve seen him once this semester, how is he on your mind so often!” Suki exclaims one night.
“I don’t know,” Sokka says with an over the top sigh.
“Could it be,” Suki says with a careful tone in her voice, “that you have a crush on Zuko?”
“You’ve asked me this before and I’ll say it again, no.”
“Well maybe you need to do some more thinking, because this is not some kind of normal grudge, this is obsessive.”
Sokka writes it off again, and drives himself harder into his studies. Not everyone has the ability to have a company handed to them, like some people.