Chapter Text
Zuko isn’t staring. He’s not. He just likes to observe his surroundings. It’s not his fault that this person is a part of his surroundings.
The sun had just set as Zuko waited at his usual bus stop. At the beginning of the year, it was light at this time. Now the weather’s changing. He was mournful as a chilly breeze blew some of the dried leaves littering the sidewalk around. Zuko had never been one for winter. Just as he had begun to shiver, the bus pulled up. He got on as quickly as he could without losing any of his dignity.
He took his usual seat, glancing at the familiar faces. He had never talked to any of them, no, and Zuko knew he didn’t have to go as far as many of them — his destination was only twenty minutes away. But there was a sort of kinship between him and the other riders, a shared comfort in the monotony of it all.
Then, someone disrupts the monotony. Of course, it’s not uncommon to see new people on the bus, one-offs or unexpected faces that will quickly become mundane parts of the trip. This man, though, this man is something else entirely.
So no, Zuko isn’t staring. He’s just assessing a newcomer. That’s what he tells himself, at least.
The man looks around Zuko’s age, early twenties. He’s probably a student like himself, judging by the beat-up Jansport he has hanging off one shoulder. He’s wearing a dark wash denim jacket, crowded with patches Zuko can’t begin to decipher.
When Zuko reaches the other man’s face, he has to stifle the shuddered breath he takes. It’s a good face. A really good face. He chuckles to himself and shakes his head minutely. I can’t believe I can’t think of anything better than “really good face,” he thinks. At least it’s accurate. The man has a defined jawline and tanned skin that contrasts the irritated red of his chapped lips. He has three piercings in one ear, and a stud in his nose. His eyes are a deep blue, matching the dusky sky of the October night outside the plexiglass window. They’re framed by crinkle lines at the corners, evident of a kindness so unfamiliar to Zuko, except through Iroh. He could write sonnets about those eyes.
They meet his. The man glances up from his phone and finds Zuko staring. Not staring. Whatever. He’s been caught in the act. He looks away at breakneck speed, feeling his face heat. He knows his cheeks are nearly as red as the outer edge of his scar. Not for the first time he’s grateful for his shaggy hair, even though Uncle has been begging him to trim it. It lets him cover the physical evidence of his mortification.
After a minute, he allows himself to glance back up. Hot Guy is still looking. Their eyes meet, and Hot Guy gives him a small smile, just a quirk of his lips. Zuko is floored nonetheless. I’m fucked, he thinks. He can’t handle being on the receiving end of a smile from someone that looks like that. He looks back down, fumbling with his tangled earbuds. He normally prefers to pass the ride in silence, but today is a special case.
He jams the connector into his phone and turns on the first playlist he finds. It’s some indie pop band Ty Lee recommended. It’s not his favorite kind of music, but it’s good enough for now. Zuko resolutely stares out the window. He tells himself he won’t look back at Hot Guy (no matter how much he may want to).
The music relaxes him, if only slightly. It reminds him of Ty Lee and, by extension, Mai. It’s been too long since he saw them in person. Mai has been touring around small indie venues across the country with her band, Royal Fire. Ty Lee loves traveling with them as her girlfriend’s band manager/loyal groupie. Mai plays bass and Kei Lo drums, while Azula acts as the frontwoman and lead singer. He almost can’t admit it to himself, but Zuko misses his sister too.
Thinking about this friends almost makes Zuko forget that Hot Guy is there. In fact, he nearly misses his stop. He’s only shaken out of his memories when the bus squeals on the brakes and lurches forward. He takes in the scenery from the window until he realizes that they’re at his stop. He scrambles to pick up his bag and he rushes towards the door. Before he makes it off, though, he sees a smirk from Hot Guy, eyebrows raised. Zuko knows it’s directed at him from the way the man’s eyes meet his own. Zuko stumbles off the bus and takes a steadying breath as it pulls away before walking to the apartment above the tea shop his uncle owns.
“Great,” he mutters to himself as he climbs the stairs in the back room. “I made a fool out of myself twice in the span of twenty minutes. Hot Guy probably thinks I’m an idiot.”
Zuko doesn’t know why he’s so upset about it. It more than likely he’ll never see the other man again.
If Iroh picks up on his nephew’s sour mood, he graciously doesn’t mention it.
“Would you like some tea, Zuko?” He offers.
It’s tempting, but Zuko knows he needs to catch up on his psych chapters before the lecture tomorrow. “No thank you. I have some work I need to do.”
“That’s alright. Have a good night.” He starts walking to his room when his uncle speaks again. “Oh, and Zuko — do not work yourself too hard tonight.”
“Yes, Uncle. Good night.” What Iroh doesn’t know won’t kill him, right? Besides, he needs to be prepared for tomorrow.
Later that night, Zuko sighs as he finally closes his textbook. The alarm clock next to him blinks 3:17 AM, mocking his 7 AM wake up time. It’s fine. He’s dealt with less sleep. His eyes are shut as soon as his head hits the pillow.
He dreams of a boy with eyes like delphiniums.