Chapter Text
For once Zuko is thrilled to be getting a phone call in the middle of a meeting. The old gas bags on the board are giving him shit again and honestly, the last thing he wants to do right now is explain to a bunch of elderly white men why their preferred approach to social media is dumb. He isn’t even sure that any of them would know how to turn on their own computers if they didn’t employ a small army of young, attractive female assistants to help them.
“Zuko, sir,” James pops his head through the door, making several of the suits turn around reprovingly. “I mean…” he realizes his error in formality a second late and blushes, but Zuko waves him on. He doesn’t give any fucks if his assistant calls him by his first name; prefers it even. “You have an important phone call. I don’t think it can wait.”
Zuko jumps to his feet a little too hastily and tries to stroll toward the door. “Be back soon, gentlemen,” he says, and pulls the door shut with a snap behind him. One of his colleagues is already on his feet looking overwhelmed as the board fires questions at him. Poor Dave.
“Is it actually important?” Zuko mutters as they march down the hall to his office.
James shrugs and grins, “Could be!”
Zuko chuckles, then feels the smile slide off his face as James continues, “It’s Sokka, so I figured you’d want to—what?”
“Nothing,” Zuko says quickly, picking up his pace.
“Are you two fighting?” James looks concerned at whatever expression is on Zuko’s face right now. Zuko tries to school it into a more neutral one, but the worry on James’ face intensifies. Goddamn, he is terrible at pretending.
Actually, we broke up, but I’m too chicken-shit to tell anyone about it, he thinks, but all he says is, “Something like that.”
He ducks into his office before James can ask any more questions, and drops heavily into his armchair. The light on his phone is blinking to remind him someone is on hold, and he picks up the receiver with a sigh.
“What,” he says flatly. “I thought we agreed to one month of silence for every year we were—“
“I know, I know, I know.” Sokka is already talking a mile a minute. When Zuko closes his eyes against the swell of emotion at the sound of his voice, he can picture him so clearly: arms pinwheeling wildly while he cradles his iPhone between his shoulder and cheek, too hyperactive to sit down and talk like a normal person. “I’m sorry, I know I said I wouldn’t do this, I’m a terrible person, I’m a bad ex, I know we said we wanted to be friends, but not yet, but I have this problem—“
“Sokka, cut to the chase,” Zuko says, still in that dead tone of voice that doesn’t sound like him.
“Right.” Sokka, evidently picking up on Zuko’s mood for once, gets right to it. “I have a favor to ask. It’s a big one. So, uh, funny story, but I kind of haven’t told anyone that we broke up yet? And so they’re just sort of assuming that you’re still my plus one to Aang and Katara’s wedding next weekend?” He finishes the sentence like a question, pauses a moment to let that sink in, then plows on. Zuko’s chest feels very tight. He has a strange feeling that he knows exactly where this is going. “And you know how Gran Gran just loves you so much and I don’t really know how to tell them and it’ll probably break her heart if I do, and it’s so selfish, I know, but I also don’t want her to have a heart attack, and—“
“I’ll go with you to the wedding,” Zuko blurts out, eyes flying open in shock at his own words. Oh shit, why did you do that, Zuko, why?!
“Wait, what? Really?” Sokka practically squeaks, and the mixture of giddiness and guilt and relief in his voice (almost) makes Zuko stop regretting it. “You’d do that for me? Holy shit, I love you—I mean, um,” Sokka cuts himself off and there’s an audible smacking sound through the line, like Sokka has face planted onto a hard surface.
Zuko tries to get his breathing under control.
“It’s fine,” he says quietly. “I know what you mean. Of course I’d do that for you. I’d do anyth—” it’s his turn to pull up short and turn red.
They just sit on the phone for a couple of seconds, each stewing in their own miserable embarrassment, until Sokka finally breaks the awkward silence.
“I’ll, um, email you the details?” he asks.
“Yes, please email James,” Zuko says, hoping that asking Sokka to arrange through his assistant is both impersonal enough to preserve his sanity and not a dick move.
“I have the plane ticket for you already,” Sokka says. “Katara booked them for us before I even thought to tell her... So. I’ll see you. Thursday. Bye.” There’s a click and the line goes dead before Zuko can get another word in.
“Right,” he drops the phone into his lap and leans forward to prop his elbows on his desk. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes until bright colors pop behind his lids, until he feels able to call James in to let him know about the impending email. “Just rearrange my schedule however seems practical,” he says.
“Um, sir, I never scheduled anything for this weekend.” James looks massively confused. “You have your boyfriend’s sister’s wedding, right?”
“Oh! Right,” Zuko had forgotten for a moment that Sokka wasn’t the only one keeping the break up quiet. “Okay, good. Uh. That’s all.” James ducks out, obviously bemused, and Zuko groans. He’s fucking things up left and right today.
He spins around in his chair, staring out over the Chicago skyline. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the little bookshelf he’d set up behind his desk, crammed with photos of himself and Sokka. He should probably clear that out—it’s been weeks, after all—but the thought of admitting to yet another failure isn’t particularly appealing. And it is pretty depressing how few other photos he has to repopulate its shelves. Maybe he should just take it down and bring the whole thing home, but his apartment has looked like a creepy shrine to Sokka since he’d moved out.
So what if Zuko feels like crying every time he thinks about packing up the remainder of Sokka’s stuff? Surely a McGill sweatshirt on the sofa, a hair tie here or there, and a couple of boxes of Sokka’s favorite cereal don’t need to go anywhere? Although come to think of it, he should probably stop buying that Go Lean shit. He doesn’t even like it.
Maybe this weekend will be a good thing. He can get closure, say his private goodbyes to Sokka’s family, even take an extra day off at the end to recover.
Yeah, and maybe Aang won’t choose “Wind Beneath my Wings” for his and Katara’s first dance.
He can dream.