#Somehow she can both be a graceful dancer and clumsy as hell and yet it somehow works

[alch-emi]

Agnea Bristarni my BELOVED 🧡🧡🧡

[twinkletoes-rp]

Princess Tutu College AU Ch. 1 - “First Position”

Title: Of Fairy Tales and Ballet Shoes Fandom: Princess Tutu Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship. Romance, Rivals, Enemies to Friends to Lovers Rating: T (to be safe) Relationships: Ahiru/Fakir, Background Mytho/Rue Characters: Ahiru, Fakir, Rue, Mytho Words: 4,078

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Summary: College AU. Ahiru is the worst dancer at Gold Crown Fine Arts College, and her rival and accidental roommate, Fakir, never fails to let her know. But words can hurt more than anything, especially when hearing them from all sides, and after nearly losing Ahiru for good, he knows he needs to make things right. Resolving to help her catch up in her classes and even teach her some more advanced moves for good measure, they eventually become friends. The question is, just how close can they become?

--

“You’ll never be good enough to get in the advanced class if you can’t even get the basics down.”

Ahiru bristles, gritting her teeth and narrowing her eyes. She knows that voice…

Turning around, her shaky fourth position practice forgotten, she clenches her fists and growls at the older boy who’s come her way. “What do you know, Fakir? Just because you’re in the advanced class, it doesn’t mean you know everything!”

He huffs a laugh, glaring down at her. “I know more than you ever will.”

“So? That doesn’t mean I can’t be as good as you someday!” She pokes his chest. “You’ll see! One day, I’ll even beat you and become the best dancer this school’s ever seen!”

He scoffs, looking away from her like he can’t stand the sight of her anymore, arms crossed over his chest. “Right. Keep dreaming, Little Duck.” With that, he turns to walk away, throwing over his shoulder at the last minute, “If you want to keep staying after class for the rest of your college career, be my guest.”

Ahiru is left squawking after him, clenching her fists even harder in her fury before she throws all her frustration into practicing even harder than she was before. Stupid Fakir! What does he know anyway? She’ll show him! She’ll show all the other students who laugh at her and call her names behind her back – and even the ones who don’t believe in her to her face, like Lilie and Pique!

What was he even doing here anyway? His advanced class ended way before now. The sun is going down. Did he get back to their dorm and see she wasn’t there, so went to go look for her? Why would he do that? He knows her dance instructors usually force her to stay behind to catch up to the others. Her clumsiness and, well, natural inaptitude for such graceful activities don’t exactly cut her any breaks in the Dance Major department, particularly not the Ballet Division.

He’s always like this, though, so she shouldn’t be surprised. Always being mean for no reason, insulting her dancing and putting her down, always making her feel like she can’t do anything. She doesn’t think he knows that last part, but still. She always fights back against it, of course, always tells him he’s wrong, always twists it so it makes her feel more determined and hopeful than before. But lately…

Lately, she doesn’t know why, but it’s been bothering her more and more. She’s steadily felt a lot less enthusiastic, a lot less focused in class, a lot more confused and sad and…wondering if this really is the best path for her. Pique, Lilie, Rue, and Mytho have all been worried about her, the former two not grinding on her as much and the latter two trying to cheer her up and help her out where they can. She’s pretty sure she’s even overheard Rue and Mytho telling Fakir to be nicer, too.

Honestly, it probably wouldn’t be so bad if they weren’t roommates on top of everything – which, actually, was all a huge accident in itself. According to the Rooming Committee, Gold Crown Fine Arts College had been so flooded with applications this year (more than they’d ever had, like magic!) and Ahiru’s handwriting had been so terrible, in all the confusion, they’d thought she was a boy and put her in the boys’ dorm. By the time they’d realized their mistake, the other students had already been sorted and refused to relocate, so…here they are. It’s already almost eight months into the school year at this point, so while she might be able to find someone willing to switch by now…really, it’s so late, she doesn’t see much of a point. She’d probably have better luck just waiting until this year’s over and finding a new roommate ASAP once the new term starts.

But still, going home to face him every day is…not one of her favorite things. It’s not for her neighbors either. She’s sure the Rooming Committee’s gotten so many complaints about their loud arguments that they’d kill to have one of them switch. But coupled with the timing, she’s stubborn as hell and hopes he’ll change someday, that she can change him by at least making him acknowledge her and see that she can do this, that she can be a great dancer like she dreams! (In her heart, she wants…to dance like him…!)

And yet, she still does. She goes home and studies in her room, eats the food he makes for her (because, in his words, ‘if he doesn’t, she’ll forget to eat like a moron’), cleans up the dishes and pots and all because it’s the nice thing to do, and she does her best to stay out of his way. When they do talk, they mostly end up fighting.

The thing that confuses her the most about Fakir, though, is that she knows he isn't really as mean as he wants people to think. She's seen his softer side, what she thinks is the real him, a few times.

Once, when she had a really bad fever and was too dizzy and woozy to even think of getting out of bed, he made her soup, got her water, helped her to the bathroom, and made the trek back from classes throughout the day to check up on her. He probably thinks she was too feverish to remember it, but she does. Another time, she heard some jealous upperclassmen talking badly about him and called them out, only to get some nasty bruises and cuts for her trouble. He carried her home and patched her up rather expertly (thanks to years of practice with Mytho as his adoptive brother, she supposes). When she cried and cried because someone stole her prized possession, a necklace with a pretty red pendant she'd had since she was a little girl, he somehow got it back and returned it to her (with mysteriously bruised knuckles...). And once, when she found him crying after a bad one-off fight with what sounded like his father, all he did was say she caught him at a bad time and hug her tightly, like she was the only thing keeping him afloat right then. She still doesn’t know why he did that instead of telling her to leave. She tried to ask how he was the next morning, but he pretended not to know what she was talking about (if he thought she couldn't see his bright blush, he’s crazy), and she never pressed.

So...this flip around he does just...she can't wrap her mind around it most times. How in the hell can they be the same person? And yet, they are, and she’s his roommate, so she has to deal with it.

Really, in the end, she just wishes she knew what to do. She only enrolled here so she could dance, the only thing she’s wanted to do since she first saw Mytho dance. She liked to swim in the lake on the outskirts of town growing up, and it was on one of those excursions that she caught him dancing there. He kept coming (and whether he knew she was there or not, she’s not sure), and it wasn’t long before she fell for both him and the art of ballet. So, when it came time to enroll in college, she chose the best ballet school she could, the same one she’d overheard Mytho talking about once when Fakir came looking for him. Of course, upon enrolling, she’d learned how Rue felt about Mytho, and after helping them get together, well…really, she’s not sure how she feels anymore.

Not just about Mytho either, but…everything. She’s the worst dancer in the school – and no, she’s not exaggerating, they have actual scorebooks, and she’s already had to work her way back up from the apprentice class once – she’s so clumsy and ungraceful and not even pretty like a ballerina is supposed to be, and watching her classmates be so much better and Fakir and Rue and Mytho be so amazing naturally despite being just a year ahead of her just…makes her think she really has no idea what she’s doing.

Well, actually, that’s not quite true. Since coming here, she’s at least realized it’s not all about Mytho anymore. She really does love to dance, she really does want to be good, she really does want to make Fakir realize she and her dancing aren’t disasters – but she doesn’t know how, doesn’t know what more she can try, has gotten to where she feels like she can’t do anything, so…she wonders if she should just…stop.

With that thought weighing on her mind, she decides she’s practiced extra enough today and opts to head home. It’s past dusk, so if she’s lucky, Fakir will already be in bed. She really doesn’t want to deal with his snide remarks right now.

The universe might just be smiling on her for once (or maybe it’s smirking and laughing at her instead; she wouldn’t be surprised) because when she gets there, lo and behold, Fakir’s in bed. He left dinner for her, and she’s not sure if it’s because it tastes so good or out of frustration or both that she cries throughout the entire meal and dishes, but by the time she changes into her nightgown and slips into bed, she’s even more exhausted than when she arrived. She hopes tomorrow will be better...

--

Unfortunately for Ahiru, things just get worse over the next few weeks. She falls farther and farther behind in her classes no matter how hard she tries, she has to stay behind every single day, she’s almost pushed to the apprentice class more than once, and things are to the point where Fakir’s words are pretty much white noise by now in comparison to her own dark thoughts. She feels more and more lost and depressed each day. Even seeing Mytho, even seeing him dance, doesn’t remind her of why she wants this anymore.

As for Fakir himself, well, if she thinks he hasn’t noticed, she really is a moron. He’s kept an eye on her since the start, watched her more and more, closer and closer, as time went on, and this change in her…it scares the shit out of him. She doesn’t even bite back at his derisive comments anymore, doesn’t snort and laugh in his face and wave her fists at him, but freaking agrees with them instead, which sends off instant alarm bells. She doesn’t have that stubborn resolve to get better despite the odds being against her, doesn’t seem to have that fierce shine to her pretty blue eyes anymore, doesn’t seem to have much to any hope left of reaching her dream.

The fire in her is gone, and it’s left him freezing.

--

It all comes to a head one morning mid-April.

Fakir wakes up feeling…strange. Like something or someone is off. Looking around, he doesn’t notice anything amiss in his room, but that just makes him more anxious. Throwing off his covers and crossing the hall before he can blink, he goes to knock on Ahiru’s door…but it just swings right open. Odd…

But looking inside, he sees why.

She’s gone.

All of her belongings – her books, her bedclothes, her uniform and day clothes hanging in the closet, even her ridiculous, yet adorable giant stuffed duck she sleeps with and that giant birdseed bowl she keeps by the window to feed the growing number of friendly birds every morning – are gone, too, down to the last pin in her photos of her and her friends (himself included in a few) on the walls. There’s nothing of her left.

Fakir is frozen, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. If she’s not here, where could she be? Did she find someone else to room with and not bother telling him? No, she’s too considerate for that. Was there some kind of family emergency she forgot to tell him about? No, as far as anyone knows, she’s an orphan. Is she freaking camping out in her class so she won’t fall behind again? No, she would warn him of that, even sarcastically, so he wouldn’t worry, at least. So, if it’s not any of those, then—?!

Suddenly, he remembers the look in her eyes the past few days, even duller and darker than the last few months, which was worse than back in January. Just yesterday, he remembers her leaving later than usual and coming back even earlier, eyes bloodshot both times, what he realizes now was…her crying in the middle of the night…—

Shit!

Heart seizing in his chest, he bursts out the door like hellhounds are chasing him (and they might as well be, this is all his fault, damn it!). He bypasses the headmaster’s office. Knowing her, she’s already been there, got up before the sun to thank him for everything before heading out. He’s sprinting for the front gate like his life depends on it. Please let her be there, please don’t let him be too late, please don’t let this be—!

He sees a familiar flash of red and blue and skids to a halt. There she is, suitcase packed, just about to take that first step off the grounds! He made it in time! Thank goodness!

"Ahiru!"

He’s pretty sure half the campus heard that, but the only one he cares about is right here in front of him. The girl in question freezes, pausing mid-step. No... It couldn't be...wouldn't be...right...? But she turns anyway, and her eyes widen. A tiny gasp leaves her, but whether it's out of shock or the sharp pang in her chest at seeing him, she's not sure. Angry, hurt tears prick her eyes, but she turns partly away so he won't see them, puckering her lips like a duck's bill as she tries to fight back her tears. "What do you want, you big jerk?" The ‘Haven’t you done enough?’ is implied, but not at all missed.

He's just watching her, panting with chest heaving from the run and panic and adrenaline rushing through his veins, somewhat disbelieving and yet thanking everything he made it in time. He doesn't understand why it hurts so much to see her cry (or maybe that’s just what he tells himself), but it feels like he’s being torn askew. So he can't help but breathe a laugh, a bit choked as he finds himself wanting to tear up, too, when she calls him a jerk. He gets it. God, does he. He’s disgusted with himself, too. "Yeah, you're right. I am a big jerk. I deserved that. I deserved all the things you haven't been calling me, too, the things the real you would've called me a thousand times by now."

She looks over at him, blinking, tilting her head some. "'The real me?'"

Hesitantly, giving her plenty of space to pull back, just like he will if she's uncomfortable, he takes a step forward, and then another. He stops within about five feet of her, not wanting to push his luck. He considers himself impossibly lucky to be allowed this far. He nods, a look on his face she's never seen before. It's...a smile... It's...gentle and kind and angry, but at himself, altogether disarming, and she...somehow, it makes her feel better than she has in months.

"The real you. The you who'd always tell me to quit making fun of you, vow to show me who was the best around here, swear you'd knock me off my high horse someday. The you who was so full of determination and hope that it inspired everyone around you, no matter how down they were feeling." Something in his face grows fonder, and Ahiru feels her cheeks heat up slightly. It's like he's looking right into her. "The you who always puts other people's feelings before your own," he remembers how she helped Rue get with Mytho, even though he knew for a fact that Ahiru was the one in love with him, "who's the first to jump in to save people," he flashes back to the day they met, the first day of college, when Ahiru saved Mytho from cracking his skull open in trying to rescue a falling baby bird, "who always does your very best at everything you do because, as you see it, you’re just an ordinary girl, but somehow, someway, that's more than enough."

And then, his expression turns sad, even heartbroken, and despite herself, Ahiru aches to know what's wrong. Luckily, he doesn't keep her waiting long. "The you who's only felt so awful about herself and who's only about to throw away her dreams because of me." He takes a deep, almost shaky breath. Everything inside him is desperate to turn away, hide his face and his feelings, but he can't. If he does that...if he does what he usually does...well, that's how they got into this mess, isn't it?

When he opens his eyes again, his expression is even softer, warmer, than before, and Ahiru's breath leaves her lungs. Something tells her she's the only one besides Mytho and maybe Fakir's father who’s gotten to see this side of him. Maybe, even for them, it's been a long, long time. "I know it'll sound empty after everything, and you certainly don't have to accept it - hell, I'd honestly be surprised if you did - ...but I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Ahiru. I never meant to hurt you like this. In my own way, it..." he hates what he's about to say, curling his nails into his palms and gritting his teeth, mostly to get himself to be a man about this and keep eye contact, not hide like he always has before, "...it was meant to encourage you. It was meant to give you something to work toward, a goal to reach and, yes, maybe someday, even surpass. I thought of us as rivals, so..." in a moment of weakness, he looks down, away from those wide, disbelieving, still slightly wary, yet hopeful blue eyes, but he finds his way back after another, "...it was meant to make you better..."

There's a large boulder on the grass behind him, and he sits down on it with a heavy sigh, resting his arms on his knees and hunching over in a way she's only seen him do when he's particularly frustrated with himself. "But it seems, as usual, I messed up. I hurt you, and knowing you, it's probably more than you'd ever truly tell me," the way his eyes flick up to her fills her with a charging energy, and she can tell he's giving her all the power here - it's exciting, but frightening, too, "and that's not something I ever wanted to do."

She hunkers down on the grass in front of him after a beat, hugging her knees to her chest, heedless of the way the fresh grass will probably stain her hilariously-yellow shorts with the wings that match her name. Secretly, he's always thought those were adorable, but he gets the impression they wouldn't be nearly as on anyone but her. She puckers her lips again in a thoughtful pout, and he waits on bated breath for her response, heart hammering in his chest.

"You sure have a messed up way of showing affection, Drosselmeyer."

A quip isn't the first thing he thought she'd say, but honestly? Perhaps it should have been. He's so startled that he actually laughs, and Ahiru snaps up at that, eyes wide. He's never done that before. As in, not in class, not in the mess hall, in their room, talking to Mytho or Rue, never. So she doesn't think she can be blamed for the way her cheeks glow a bit from how delighted he looks. He finds himself smiling at her again, far easier this time, and she wishes she could capture this moment to remember forever somehow. "Believe me, you are not the first person who's told me that. Hell, they've told my foster father, and he just laughed in their faces."

She makes a sound not unlike a duck's quack, smirking his way in a manner that catches his breath in a vice he'd, again, rather not analyze right now. "Oh, I can believe that easily.”

They both laugh this time, the tension of the last months bleeding out of them, and when they’re finally done, Ahiru drops her chin into her palm and just…looks at him. It’s a little unnerving, so after a few silent moments, he looks away, pointedly ignoring the red coloring his cheeks.

“So...do I really suck that much?” she asks all of a sudden, and he whips back around to look at her so quickly, it actually smarts a little. There’s a small, sad smile on her face, and for whatever reason, that hurts more than any wound. Realizing how that might sound, she waves her hands in front of her and blushes to the tips of her ears, down her neck, and keeps going. Fakir refuses to let his eyes follow. “I mean, I’m not an idiot! I know I do, I’m so clumsy and can’t even dance without shaking!” She pokes her fingers together and looks at her feet. “I just meant, um…can I…with everything you’ve said…” taking a breath, she looks back at him, “…do you think I can improve? At all? Even a little?”

It’s Fakir’s turn to stare. Her eyes and expression are so hopeful and earnest, fierce underneath it all, something he’s missed dearly, and he can’t help the relief and absolution that flood him. Because he knows that’s what all this is for her. He shakes his head, an undercurrent of laughter to it. “Well, you’re definitely not very good,” her face falls, and he’s quick to fix it in standing up and holding out a hand to help her up, “but you have potential, and I think I can help.”

She gasps and snatches his hand to stand even faster, clutching it with both of hers, eyes shining. “Really?! You’d do that?” Thinking for a moment, she cocks her head to the side. “Wait, is that even allowed?”

Fakir blinks and then smiles at her softly again, almost helplessly, his hand unconsciously squeezing hers at the same time. She doesn’t know why her heart skips. “Yes, I will.” He starts leading her back toward the main grounds, taking her suitcase from her with gentle hands. “To be honest, I don’t know, but I don’t see what it can hurt. I’m just helping a fellow student, after all.” She sees his strategy in those last words, and he opens one eye to smirk over at her, making her giggle. Taking a breath, something in her finally soothes. This is certainly a page she didn’t see her life turning, him helping her out, them teaming up, but…she can’t say she isn’t excited and definitely grateful. “I’ll even teach you some of the more advanced moves. How about that?” It’s the least he can do to even begin to make up for what he’s put her through.

“All right!”

They talk meeting times and places (and Fakir’s theory that her instructors simply don’t know the correct way to teach someone like Ahiru) as they make their way back to the headmaster’s office, and after explaining the situation, Ahiru is allowed to move back in and continue her enrollment. Fakir accepts the few days’ suspension for ‘bullying’ gladly, pointedly ignoring her glare when he stops her from defending him, and then they head back to their dorm.

It’s mostly silent while they get Ahiru’s room back in order, each lost in their own thoughts. Things aren’t quite patched up yet, they know. There are still a lot of things they need to work out. Hell, this is only the start of them becoming hopefully-friends after eight-and-a-half months of being enemies. They’re going to have to start over, take things from the top…but at least, with any luck, it’ll be easier now.

Everyone notices the change in their dynamic even before class starts (mostly from the lack of arguing or, more recently, tense silence), and they all know one thing for sure: things are going to be interesting from here on out.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Mutilated Mannequin (Part 11)

It doesn’t feel right to be accompanied to homecoming with Jet of all people, but the boy is a suave smooth talker and, more than anything, she hopes to mend the rough patches. He has offered her a chance to clear the air between them. Maybe if it goes well, she won’t have to deal with chuckles and nasty words whispered behind her back. Maybe, the in crowd will finally give her some peace now that one of their own is talking kindly to her. 

Maybe Yue will give it a rest. Now that, is too much to ask. 

“Lets go dance.” Jet offers, it teeters way too close to a demand for Katara’s comfort.

“I’m not much of a dancer.” Katara sputters. “I’m not as graceful on land as I am in the water.” 

“It’s a dance. At dances, you dance.” Jet cracks a smile. She thinks that it is meant to be a playful one but it has the effect of the wolves in her ma’s bedtime stories. “I’ll show you some easy ones.” His second offer is more soothing. Maybe she is just being paranoid with first dance jitters. 

“I’m going to go have a dance with Jet.” She calls to Sokka for good measure. 

“Be careful in those heels!” Sokka shouts back. 

Katara winces, she had forgotten about those. “Okay, maybe dancing isn’t a great idea…”

“Trust me, I’ll show you some dances that are heel safe. And if you fall, I’ll catch you.” He winks. 

Katara gives a soft laugh. “Okay, since you’re being so charming tonight.” She lets him lead her away from Sokka and Suki. She steals one last glimpse at them. Sokka gives her a thumbs up and Suki mouths, “you got this.” She sure hopes that she does. 

“Just follow in my lead.” He says as the song changes. It is some kind of electronic song and she has no idea how to keep pace with a song that has that many beats per minute. Yet, there Jet is making it look so easy. Even if his moves don’t match the rhythm. He takes her arms and she lets him move them in a slower rendering of the dance he was just doing. 

“You getting a feel for it?”

“I think so.” She nods.

“Wanna give it a go yourself?” 

“I guess I’ll give it a try.”

“Alright. Just remember, you’re not trying out for the dance team. This is for fun so, throw in your own moves.” Jet lets go of her hands. 

“I think I can do that.” Katara grins. She can’t help it, he is a surprisingly pleasant date. Her rendition of his moves are clumsy at best and sloppy at worst.

“You’re a little tight, try loosening your stance up a bit.” 

She takes his advice, but she feels more like jell-o than a dainty dancer. “How was that?” She laughs.

He chuckles along with her. “It was...uh...it was unique, that’s for sure.”

Somehow, Jet’s laughter makes hers come out harder, hard enough for it to be accompanied by a snort. Her cheeks flush, could she possibly embarrass herself anymore. He laughs harder still, “that’s adorable.” 

“You think so? Yue thinks…”

“Yue thinks that Dai Lis are a terrible band. We don’t trust her judgment.” 

Katara sighs with relief. “Good to know. The Dai Lis are legends!” 

“Hell yes they are!” Jet declares. “You want me to get you some fruit punch, I hear that they have the blue kind this year.”

“Blue kind is great.” Katara grins. She watches him make his way over to the concessions stand. She notices Azula lingering by the chocolate fountain and wonders who her partner for the night is. Chan is with TyLee; perhaps it is Chan’s friend, what was his name? Something with an R. Roan maybe? She taps her foot along with the beat of the song. Another grin spreads across her face as it dawns upon her that she is hearing a Dai Lis song.

Maybe if Jet hustles up, they can dance to it together.

But that song transitions into another and then into the song after. 

Her feet are growing uncomfortable again, perhaps the discomfort had never left at all, she had only been distracted from it. In fact, the pain seems to come on stronger having danced in those heels. 

A third song begins.

She looks up at the concessions stand. She can’t find Jet.

And, for what it’s worth, Azula is gone too. 

She wanders over to Sokka, “did you see where Jet went?” 

“Did you check the men’s room?”

Katara tilts her head. 

“Oh, right.” Sokka rubs the back of his head. “Maybe just lurk outside of the bathroom, he’ll come out eventually, if he’s in there.” 

“I’ll give that a try just as soon as you get off of my dress.” 

“Sorry!” Sokka apologizes. He moves his foot and she picks up the somewhat lengthy train of her dress. She is beginning to realize what a silly idea it was to wear such a long and flowing thing in such a large crowd. She is lucky that the dress hasn’t ripped yet. This is the most expensive dress she owns. Will probably ever own. 

She waits by the bathroom for a few minutes, the sound of EDM is beginning to give her a headache. This is not her scene at all, it’s too loud and there are too many people. Suddenly the lights are too bright and, combined with the relentless shimmer of confetti and glitter, her eyes don’t stand a chance. 

Katara swallows and enters the room again. Perhaps Jet is looking for her as well and they are both wandering aimlessly. 

She doesn’t know why it catches her so off guard to find the boy sitting at one of the tables with Yue, Zuko, Mai, Kei Lo, and Chan’s friend. She notes that Zuko is sitting as far away from Mai as he can manage, even from this distance, the tension is palpable. 

Katara jumps when Chan’s friend--decidely she calls him, R--slams his fists on the table and declares, “my God, she’s such a bitch! She’s acting like I kissed that other girl. It was just a dance, I don’t even know her name.” 

“Did you tell her that?” Zuko asks. 

“You think I’d be complaining if she listened!?” R shot back. “This dance is such bullshit, mate. I’m fuckkin’ outta here.” 

Katara jolts again when he slams his chair against the table. The remaining few gathered at it fall into silence only to burst into laughter when Yue says, “what a drama queen.”

“Yeah, he’s giving you a run for your money.” Jet remarks. 

Katara takes a deep breath and begins to approach. 

“Your date going any better?” Yue asks. 

Katara holds her breath.

“Yeah.” Jet smiles and Katara releases her breath. Or was it a smirk? She holds her breath again. 

“You going to share?” Though Mai’s voice doesn’t convey any sign of actually caring beyond social graces. 

“Okay, check this shit out.” He pulls out his phone. “I got the nerd to dance.”

“Is she as awful as you predicted?” Yue giggles. 

“Oh, she’s much worse. Especially when she tried making up her own dance. Here…” he holds the phone out and quickly gestures to it. “Here just watch.” 

Katara swallows and her face goes hot. How could she have been so foolish? He’d called her ‘a darkie’ only days before. He’d been a complete asshole. People don’t just evolve from jerks to charmers overnight. She swallows a second time and wipes the one tear that managed to escape. “I’m so stupid.” She mumbles aloud. 

So stupid because she knows damn well that a quite night watching rom-coms and eating chex-mix with Aang is her idea of a party. Not that Aang would give her company tonight...she slaps her forehead, what is she saying, of course he’d make time for her if she just asked. She could join he and Haru. But the second to last thing she wants is to feel like a third wheel tonight. 

The last thing she wants is to stay at this dance. 

She flees the strobelights as a roar of laughter wafts up from Jet’s table. 

Her fingers are almost too shaky to text her father, she is almost sure that every other word is spelled wrong. Not that it matters. The night air is too chilly for the first weekend of October and her sleeves are as short as the bottom of her dress is long. 

She shivers and finds herself a spot on the curb. R stands a few feet away, demanding a ride home. His temper does little to pacify her nerves. She buries her face in her hands and lets herself cry. It doesn’t matter who sees, she has already embarrassed herself.