𝑺𝑬𝑬𝑫 𝑶𝑭 𝑰𝑪𝑯𝑶𝑹 •𝒃𝒙𝒃•

1 ~ goodbyes are inevitable

"Aren't you cold?" Noran asked him, offering a dark blue coat, one that looked too big and too stuffy for his small frame.

Cold...? No, he wasn't cold, he was never cold, or perhaps that had something to do with where he lived.

"No." Guren spoke, turning away from the offered cloth.

Noran might have let out a sigh, or that might have been the sound of the wind—Guren didn't know, "You're shaking, please, just... take it, will you? We have a long journey ahead of us."

Was he shaking? One glance at his bailed up fists told him that the man wasn't lying. Shaking... because of what? "It's not from the cold," he whispered, "It's never from the cold."

"Then, are you afraid?"

"Yes." He answered, lowering his head.

"Of what?" Noran inquired.

Closing his eyes, Guren curled into himself and hid his face in his arms. His shoulders trembled and he pressed his lips thin to stop the shuddering breaths from escaping.

And then the loneliness set in.

The cold moved in, only to meet the warmth of his blood, his defence against such ice. He felt it wash over his skin, again and again, only to be met with the beat of his heart, again and again.

_

The journey was indeed long.

"You have to eat something..." Noran was exasperated at that point.

The boy wouldn't even look at him. Each time he offered him food or water, he didn't even respond. He stayed curled up in the farthest corner from him with his head in his arms, hiding even his expression.

He was a mess, but Noran understood such messes, for he was one of them long ago.

Having to flee your home wasn't something he wished for anyone to experience, yet the boy before him did exactly that.

His clothes were crumpled up, the vivid reds and golds dimmed by dirt. His hair was a tangled mess, the blackness of it contrasting against the paleness of his skin.

He looked nothing like what a member of the Water Tribe should look like, yet, when he first saw him, dressed in the Fire Nation's robes and colours, the intensity in his eyes screamed out nothing but Nuera at him. They possessed the same spark of life—the same spark of defiance, but his were also filled with despair—knowledge that he would be separated from the one he held most dear.

He was a mess, but Noran understood such messes, for he was one of them long ago.

_

The sound of water splashing was what Guren awoke to.

For a moment, he thought that the boat trip was over, but he was wrong. Through blurry eyes, he caught sight of Noran's upright figure. The man was standing still, although he was fluidly moving his arms around.

Guren was reminded of something—his mother.

As that realisation sank in, a deep ache filled his chest. It only got worse when he saw the water rise around him, coming together to gently hover above them. A few stray drops dripped down and splatted against the wood, close to where his feet were.

"Mommy is going to teach you this when you're older, all right? That way, you'll be just like me!"

The drops came closer and closer, and as one of them splatted against his ankle, he flinched away, accidentally slamming his elbow into the wood behind him. That caused a rather loud noise.