Avatar: Zuko hates the rain.
Title: Zuko Hates the Rain
Author: charcoalfeather aka: Rin
Rated: General.
Words: 530
Disclaimer: No one here belongs to me. Sadly.
Pairings: Just the slightest hint of Zutara.
This fic was written for akuma_neko as part of her Christmas '06 present.
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He hates the feeling of it, clammy on his skin. He hates that it always seems to manage to find that miniscule gap between his neck and his shirt collar, running in cold trails down his back. He hates the heaviness of sodden jeans, which will take hours to dry. He hates the smell of wet socks, which even if he waits for them to dry, will retain that musky, mildew-y scent until he’s able to wash them. He hates knowing with such certainty that the homework assignment he stayed up until past midnight to finish is now likely not even recognizable as such - and that blue ink will have stained the insides of his back pack.
He hates that Azula has stolen his umbrella. Again.
Normally the 20 minute walk to school is over in the blink of an eye. Not today though, when the Gods seem insistent on pouring bucketfuls of water down on him from the heavens. Within five minutes of walking out the door, he is soaked to the skin and with every subsequent step, his anger grows exponentially. Water is squishing in his shoes.
Stupid rain. Stupid Azula taking my umbrella... Stupid puddles.
He stops at a traffic light. This early in the morning, the lines of cars seem to go on forever as people commute to work. He counts 15 of them, with no sign of the light changing colour. He seethes silently until a giggle from somewhere around the level of his knees draws his attention away from the cars. The source of the sound is a little boy of no more than 4 - in red rubber boots, and a yellow raincoat - walking hand in hand with his mother. The boy peers up at him, face serious.
“You’re wet.” He says, as though sharing some great secret with Zuko.
Zuko grits his teeth. Counts to ten. Takes a deep breath.
“Yes. I am.” He says. “How very observant of you.”
The little boy looks at him solemnly and sticks his thumb in his mouth. “You should have brought an umbrella…”
This time he counts to twenty. Thankfully the light changes to green before Zuko’s mouth gets him in trouble. Again.
Stupid cars… Stupid little kid…
He’s now only minutes from school and raring for a fight with the first person he sees. At least then, something good will come of this no good, awful, wet morning -
Suddenly there’s no water falling on his head. He looks up in confusion, to see a large blue umbrella over his head. Processing, processing. Umbrella. Right. He whips around, to see a smiling Katara standing there - holding her umbrella over both their heads.
“You look like you’ve had a rough morning.” She says matter-of-factly, careful to keep any traces of pity from her voice. She knows Zuko, knows what to avoid. “Would you like to walk with me?”
“I. Uh..” he find himself at a loss for words. Pride dictates that he should say no.
To hell with pride.
“Sure.” He manages a somewhat shaky smile. “Thank you.”
And suddenly, the morning doesn’t seem quite so bad after all.
edit: akuma_neko has drawn a comic based on this drabble.
Part one can be found here.
Part two can be found here.
Author: charcoalfeather aka: Rin
Rated: General.
Words: 530
Disclaimer: No one here belongs to me. Sadly.
Pairings: Just the slightest hint of Zutara.
This fic was written for akuma_neko as part of her Christmas '06 present.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He hates the feeling of it, clammy on his skin. He hates that it always seems to manage to find that miniscule gap between his neck and his shirt collar, running in cold trails down his back. He hates the heaviness of sodden jeans, which will take hours to dry. He hates the smell of wet socks, which even if he waits for them to dry, will retain that musky, mildew-y scent until he’s able to wash them. He hates knowing with such certainty that the homework assignment he stayed up until past midnight to finish is now likely not even recognizable as such - and that blue ink will have stained the insides of his back pack.
He hates that Azula has stolen his umbrella. Again.
Normally the 20 minute walk to school is over in the blink of an eye. Not today though, when the Gods seem insistent on pouring bucketfuls of water down on him from the heavens. Within five minutes of walking out the door, he is soaked to the skin and with every subsequent step, his anger grows exponentially. Water is squishing in his shoes.
Stupid rain. Stupid Azula taking my umbrella... Stupid puddles.
He stops at a traffic light. This early in the morning, the lines of cars seem to go on forever as people commute to work. He counts 15 of them, with no sign of the light changing colour. He seethes silently until a giggle from somewhere around the level of his knees draws his attention away from the cars. The source of the sound is a little boy of no more than 4 - in red rubber boots, and a yellow raincoat - walking hand in hand with his mother. The boy peers up at him, face serious.
“You’re wet.” He says, as though sharing some great secret with Zuko.
Zuko grits his teeth. Counts to ten. Takes a deep breath.
“Yes. I am.” He says. “How very observant of you.”
The little boy looks at him solemnly and sticks his thumb in his mouth. “You should have brought an umbrella…”
This time he counts to twenty. Thankfully the light changes to green before Zuko’s mouth gets him in trouble. Again.
Stupid cars… Stupid little kid…
He’s now only minutes from school and raring for a fight with the first person he sees. At least then, something good will come of this no good, awful, wet morning -
Suddenly there’s no water falling on his head. He looks up in confusion, to see a large blue umbrella over his head. Processing, processing. Umbrella. Right. He whips around, to see a smiling Katara standing there - holding her umbrella over both their heads.
“You look like you’ve had a rough morning.” She says matter-of-factly, careful to keep any traces of pity from her voice. She knows Zuko, knows what to avoid. “Would you like to walk with me?”
“I. Uh..” he find himself at a loss for words. Pride dictates that he should say no.
To hell with pride.
“Sure.” He manages a somewhat shaky smile. “Thank you.”
And suddenly, the morning doesn’t seem quite so bad after all.
edit: akuma_neko has drawn a comic based on this drabble.
Part one can be found here.
Part two can be found here.