War of Change | Book 3

17: Our Form of Bliss

Art: Western Air Temple by Pauline Mauviere

The events of the night had brought me back to myself. As much as I wished I could continue to pretend I was something else, I knew I wasn't. Lies could only survive for so long. Besides, I wouldn't want anyone else to be with Zuko like this, not Aoshi, not the ocean spirit, not that thing that I became. It was just Zuko and me.

I watched his eyes as they trailed after his fingertips. I could feel his coarse touch but not the same way I used to. Scar tissue diluted my senses. Now I knew how he felt every time I touched his face. Though I didn't readily remind myself, I knew that he felt just as ashamed by his scar as I did about mine.

It was this thought which helped me make another discovery. I was ashamed of my scars, so entirely that I didn't want anyone to see or even acknowledge their existence. At this point, I was certain I was causing permanent damage to my teeth from grinding them when Katara came to heal me. No one could see them, no one could touch them, no one but him.

For Zuko, I would crack myself open and let him examine all of my soft, vulnerable parts. He could touch them. He could trace every cut, burn, and bruise on my body, and I wouldn't give a hint of a protest. I wouldn't flee. I trusted him to see them for everything that they were and everything that they meant to me and not judge me for either.

He had left me once, but he was still my person. He was the only person I trusted as much as myself, and maybe even more so some days.

"The scar you got from jumping in front of me is gone," he noted, his fingers coming in contact with unimpaired skin as they moved towards my face.

My eyes had fallen away from his hands as they moved out of sight to watch his expression instead. Now, however, I couldn't even do that. I pressed my palm to his chest, needing something physical to hold myself to. "The eclipse water was practically miraculous. It healed everything, every last tiny nick and scratch that I had. It made me a blank canvas."

My fingers bent, pressing harder into his chest. His steady heart pounded beneath my hand, traveling through my palm, up into my arm, and into my chest to regulate my own heartbeat. "It was the only scar I actually wanted to keep." I was proud of protecting Zuko, especially from Azula. I could get as many scars from that and never blink. The ones that covered my body now, however... "The rest I could do without."

"I understand," Zuko said, his voice husky and thick with more emotion than he could put into words. I finally met his eyes once again, my gaze instantly flickering to the mutilated flesh that covered half of his face.

His thumb smoothed over my cheek. "But I think you're beautiful with or without them."

These words made me gulp for air.

Long ago, I started to see past the mark on his face. It was just another part of him, and I could live with or without it as long as Zuko could as well. I still looked into both eyes, even if one was fainter in color than the other. I kissed either ear depending on which side he was laying on, although I knew not to speak into his scared ear since he couldn't hear as well. Nothing about his scar made me think he was lesser. So why was that so hard for me to accept about myself?

As if able to read my mind, and wanting to get rid of my desperate thoughts, his thumb hooked under my chin. Warmth stirred deep inside. The air in my lungs disappearing as he tugged my face forward into an open-mouthed kiss. It was hot and fast and sent my head spinning. I was losing the lines where my body ended and his began.