Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
˗ˏˋ BETTER PARTS OF YOU 'ˎ˗ ( 𝗌𝗈𝗄𝗄𝖺𝗑𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ) — 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍: 1795 — pov: 2nd
｡･:*˚:✧｡
Being in love is tough.
You make excuses for him. You try to convince others that he didn't mean it. You blindly follow his every word. You continue to love him even when he makes mistakes.
But those mistakes are kissing other girls and verbally putting you down. Every word is a dull knife digging into your chest. Those actions are pushing children to their very limit. Those excuses are useless.
Because despite all of that love, you cannot bring out the better parts of him that you just know are there.
｡･:*˚:✧｡
You've known Sokka since you were children. You were nine and he was twelve — his younger sister was closer in age to you. She was too mature and too childish for you, though. You thought Sokka was perfect.
Your first mistake, and you were only nine.
He pushed you into a snowbank because he didn't want a girl playing with him and his friends. His friends laughed with him while they all sprinted back to the village, leaving you to fend for yourself and stumble back home. Your mother begged you to tell her who pushed you, but all you said was that you slipped on a particularly slippery patch of ice.
Excuse number one.
When you were ten and Sokka was thirteen, you tried to help the village out as best you could after the death of your father. You went hunting with your older sister, you even tried to help Sokka with his recruitment for the local patrol. Anyone willing to "play" was under the age of seven, but you took them back to Sokka.
Another mistake.
"What am I gonna do with kids, (Y/N)?" Sokka was in your face, hissing venomously while you toyed with the sleeve of your coat. While he scolded you, the children you brought back to your rendezvous point were chucking snowballs at one another, lost in their own world.
When he didn't receive a response, he stormed off and back to his family tent. You told yourself that he was stressed out, that he missed his father and all of the kids' carefree attitudes were only stressing him out more.
Excuse number two.
When you were twelve, Sokka and Katara, his younger sister, brought a boy back to the village. He called himself Aang and he giggled when you complimented his outfit.
"I like the colors. Yellow's my favorite."
"Really?!" His eyes lit up and his grin broke out even wider, making you giggle and nod.
