Archive of Our Own

Doyoung is lost. Not metaphorically —he’s stubborn and his goal is clear— but physically, geographically, truly lost, his inner compass having given up on him. What’s more, it’s starting to get late, evening dusk erasing the colours of the town from the Earth Kingdom he was only supposed to pass through.

The earth is comforting beneath his feet so he lets it guide his steps, which carry him forward and forward until he’s in front of a small, shabby, but spotlessly clean restaurant. A gust of air makes him shivers —he forgot his coat— so he sighs and simply goes in, quickly sitting down at the table nearest to the door.

He self-consciously smooths his sleeves, aware that their gold embroidery is not really indicative of his current wealth. He pats his pockets for the tenth time and they’re still as empty as before. He’s a stubborn person with a clear goal but he has to admit he planned this get-away really poorly.

The delicious smell of freshly made noodle soup teases him and his stomach rumbles. He can’t believe he dropped his wallet in his hasty escape.

With a sigh, he slumps further down the chair and grabs the menu to have something to do and also, maybe, to have something to hide behind. He grimaces. It’s sticky.

He observes how the tips of his fingers seem to bond with the menu as he repeatedly presses and removes them from the paper, the skin seemingly glued for half a second, before he lets his eyes wander over the words, not really registering them.

He can still picture his mother’s disappointed face, her pinched lips as she told him in no uncertain terms that he would not be participating in a silly singing contest when he had so much to study. He scowls at the memory.

That’s when his gaze falls on the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. They almost exchange gazes but Doyoung is quick to look back at the menu as if it were the most entrancing scroll he’s ever read. His heart is thudding in dissonance with his groaning stomach. He can’t help but think that, at this rate, he’ll probably die before showing his parents he’s perfectly capable of balancing tasks —studying and singing are not that incompatible after all. He will show them, even if he has to starve a little along the way.

He feels the itch to hum the song he’s picked for the contest but that would definitely attract unwanted attention. His fingers twitch on the menu. Maybe he should have brought some study material with him.

The sun is gone when a steaming bowl of noodles appears in front of him and he’s startled out of his thoughts, nearly dropping the menu onto the dish.

“I didn’t order this,” he looks up with a frown. It’s the beautiful boy, who’s even more so up close. He steals his breath away, a definitely uncommon phenomenon.

The young man shrugs, “You’ve been staring at the menu for a whole hour," his voice softens as he adds, “we also have a no loitering policy.”

Doyoung can feel himself redden. He’s not quite sure if it’s because of the fact that the man has noticed him, is being nice, or for having been caught. Still, he’s hungry so he puts the menu down and slides the bowl closer, grabbing a pair of chopsticks.

He can still feel the gaze fixed on him. “My name’s Doyoung,” he says, shifting on the chair. It’s a thank you as much as it is an attempt to discover the other’s name. He slurps the noodles and, oh, they’re nicer than he expected from the menu and so he quickly shovels another portion into his mouth, not exactly caring when his cheeks bulge and some broth spills from the corner of his lips.

There’s an amused chuckle, and a napkin is presented to him along with a name. Taeyong. He can feel himself blush again. He swallows half-chewed noodles and pats his mouth with the napkin to get rid of the incriminating evidence so he can mutter a small, “Thanks.”

Taeyong nods. “Can I?” He gestures at the chair opposite Doyoung’s. Doyoung nods back and continues eating. The gentle but steady gaze unnerves him despite Taeyong looking around his age, but hunger wins and he continues engulfing the noodles. It’s not until he’s almost done with his bowl that Taeyong initiates a conversation.

“What are you doing out here? Alone?”

Doyoung almost chokes before he chuckles. He can be equally as blunt then. “I ran away from home.”

“You ran away,” Taeyong repeats and Doyoung can clearly read the confusion colouring his face, which, yeah, fair. Doyoung knows he doesn’t look like the type of person who runs away, with his expensive robes and serious face. And, yeah, that came out a bit misleading though he did technically run away from home.

“Ah, it’s not what it sounds like. There’s a singing competition in the province, but my parents don’t really like that kind of thing,” Doyoung is rambling. He must sound stupid but he feels somehow compelled for the other boy to understand, “They only want me to focus on school and earthbending.”

“Oh,” Taeyong replies softly. The corners of his lips quirk upwards. “You must really like singing then.”

“Yeah.” Doyoung looks down into his bowl of half-finished noodles, small smile slowly lighting his face. He really does like singing.

A member of the staff calls Taeyong back to the kitchen, cutting the conversation short, so Doyoung concentrates on finishing the noodles, sipping the broth until there’s not even one drop left in the bowl. He lets out a sigh of relief, feeling warmer and full, until he remembers he’s got no means to pay for the food.

Biting on his lower lip, he watches Taeyong dart right and left to serve other clients. When Taeyong finally makes his way to him again, Doyoung can’t help returning his smile.

“I’m not sure if this is—” he trails off, fiddling with the chopsticks.

“This time it’s on the house,” Taeyong smiles brightly and Doyoung is surprised to realize that it fills him with a warmth that is more comforting than the broth, more comforting than the familiar energy that hums beneath his feet. “Just pay us back next time you come.”

Next time takes forever to come up because, while Doyoung makes it to the contest and wins it, he’s discovered while climbing back into his dorm room in the early hours of the morning and, despite Jaehyung lousily covering for him with the far-fetched excuse that Doyoung had dropped his shoe outside and was getting it back —the idiot— he’s grounded, well, forever or, at least, what seems like it.

In reality, it’s a few years, three to be exact, until he’s able to return to Taeyong’s province and it’s only because of the sudden tensions that have broken out, convulsing the country in a way that forces even students from privileged international academies like his to be called into action.

The songs he’s written about letting destiny lead the way to love (cheesy, he knows, which is why no one’s ever heard nor read, or even squinted at them) are put on the backburner, the balance having entirely tipped in favour of earthbending practice.

On the way to Taeyong’s province, through which they must pass to reach the turmoil, Doyoung finally spills the beans about his (absurd) crush to Jaehyun and Ten. They’re his best friends from the academy. Maybe it’s because they all come from rich families, or maybe it’s because they each have different abilities, Ten’s a firebender while Jaehyun’s element is water, but they make a great team. They tease him to no end though as they let him lead them into narrow streets to find the restaurant, which probably explains why Doyoung can’t freaking focus.

“We’ve been searching for hours. My feet are killing me,” Ten whines.

“You came here over three years ago. The store may not even exist anymore,” Jaehyun adds.

“Yeah. Are you sure you didn’t just dream it up?” Ten smirks, lifting an eyebrow suggestively. “In one of those dreams where you—"

“I’m sure.” He scowls at them. “Just shut up for a few minutes so I can concentrate.”

He can feel the coins, the exact change, rattle in his pocket. He reaches inside and fondles one of them, the coolness of the metal quickly warming up against his fingers. Then the earth hums, excitedly, familiarly, as if welcoming him back, and, even though he doesn’t recognize the streets, he lets it guide his steps, trying to ignore the complaints of his friends, and then they are suddenly there, in front of that same small, shabby, but spotlessly clean restaurant.

He strides in, walking directly to the counter where Taeyong is busy, face lowered, looking slightly more mature and still as beautiful. “How may I help you today?” he says somewhat mechanically, without looking up. Doyoung smiles in anticipation before plucking the coins from his pocket and letting them drop on the counter, “Here!”

Taeyong glances at the coins, brow furrowing, “Excuse me, sir, but have you ordered yet? I don’t seem to recall—” and when he finally looks up, Doyoung can’t stop the smile that gently grows at the way his mouth falls into a surprised “o”. Another kind of “oh” escapes from those lips and some of the coins drop from Taeyong’s hands, rolling across the counter to finally fall, clinking against the floor. Doyoung doesn’t even move to reach down, unable to break away from Taeyong’s look of recognition, warmth spreading in his chest.

“I kept our promise,” Doyoung says. Ten and Jaehyun snigger in the background, probably because this reunion looks as cheesy as the songs he’s been secretly writing. When he’s looking at Taeyong’s eyes, which are twinkling from the afternoon sun, he feels that he doesn’t care all that much and so he smiles wider when Taeyong replies, “Yeah, you did.”

The silence stretches. Doyoung had really only imagined the re-encounter up to there, until the coin dropping, and he knows he’s staring but he can’t seem to stop. It’s Taeyong who breaks the silence, glancing at Ten and Jaehyun, “Um...would you or your friends like anything to eat?”

“Oh,” Doyoung replies. Of course. They could just stay and eat since there are already there. He can feel himself blush when Jaehyun chuckles at his sudden impressive lack of conversation skills.

Taeyong averts his gaze from Doyoung’s as he hands him the menu. “Our menu hasn’t really changed since you’ve been here last time.” He scratches the back of his head before adding, “Although I suppose that was a long time ago and you might not remember what we had that well.”

“Er… thanks,” Doyoung laughs a little to cover his embarrassment and it’s painfully awkward and he’s going to have to kill Ten and Jaehyun for having witnessed this moment but, as Taeyong’s eyes find his again, he discovers that his lips naturally stretch into a genuine smile.

The earth pulsates beneath his feet.

Then, everything gets harder as the unrest turns violent. There are ferocious riots and Doyoung’s youthful optimism wanes as spring turns into summer, as the heat becomes as sticky as the guilt that intensifies each time he’s forced to use his earthbending to hurt people. It’s heavy on his chest and though he could almost confuse it with the heaviness of the thick humidity, the images seared behind his eyelids that show up every time he goes to sleep make sure he doesn’t.

Still, even if it means they’re on the way to more fighting, he looks forward to the days they are able to stop by Taeyong’s restaurant and he gets to feel a soothing warmth instead.

It’s on one of such visits, when they’re trying one of Taeyong’s new recipes, novel flavours languidly melting on their tongues while Ten jokes about stealing away Taeyong for his cooking skills, that the uncomfortable reality irrupts into the restaurant’s idyllic world.

“Where are you guys going this summer?” Mark asks eagerly. He and Johnny are the habitual listeners of the (frankly adorned) adventures that Ten loves to narrate. Both are usually found at Taeyong’s restaurant though for disparate reasons. Johnny is Taeyong’s friend and a regular client with exclusively non-bending abilities while Mark is staying with Taeyong, helping around the restaurant as he learns to control his bending.

By looking at Mark’s bright wide eyes, no one would guess he’s the Avatar, the most powerful bender of their era, capable of manipulating any of the elements. If Doyoung hadn’t witnessed with his own eyes Mark’s bending getting spectacularly out of control, creating a tsunami in a nearby lake that had threatened to engulf a whole neighbourhood, he isn’t sure he’d have ever believed it. He can see them shine at the prospect of their summer adventures, curiosity heavy in Mark’s voice as he asks, “I thought school started earlier for you guys.”

“Well, it can’t exactly start if there are riots all over the place now can it?” Ten drawls and it sounds condescending but Doyoung knows it’s just his way of dealing so he keeps on eating, trying to ignore the heaviness that settles at the pit of his stomach, the broth suddenly transformed into burning lava instead of the usual gentle source of comfort

“Can I come?” Mark asks, and Doyoung almost chokes, a fast refusal on the tip of his tongue, but it’s not really his place so he swallows it. As he looks up from his bowl, he can recognize the yearning for adventure in Mark’s stubborn gaze and almost sighs.

The temperature in the room plummets. Johnny’s chopsticks clatter onto the table and Ten, who’s grown more reckless with each fight, pats his back sympathetically and laughs. It’s short and mirthless, and ends with a tilted head towards Taeyong. “I don’t see why not.”

Doyoung’s eyes slide to Taeyong, who’s worriedly chewing on his lower lip, and he’s suddenly pierced by the hope that Taeyong might come along as well. As soon as the thought takes coherent form in his mind, he squashes it.

Still, that night he stays back, observing how the streetlights dance across Taeyong’s features, enhancing the furrow between his eyebrows as he watches Mark and Johnny depart. Taeyong must feel him staring and when their gazes meet, he can’t refrain the lie that crosses his lips.

“He’ll be okay.” It’s a white lie but it still is an obvious lie because there’s no way of knowing and they are both aware of that. Taeyong ignores the comment, snorting instead, "Shouldn’t you be with them?"

Doyoung shrugs. “Wanted to say goodbye first.”

“When you say that, it’s as if you guys won’t come back.” Taeyong reads him like an open book and Doyoung is not sure he likes that. They watch in silence the two silhouettes fade in the dark night sky. And it’s back, the piercing hope. Before he can ponder his words, they’re out.

“You could come with us, you know.”

Taeyong looks at him, startled, and so Doyoung grins but it wavers, his stomach churning in warning. He misses the wistful look that possesses Taeyong’s eyes for a brief second, disappearing as Taeyong shakes his head, “You guys need some place you can always come back to. Take care of him.”

Always come back to. The words are warm, like a small candle at the end of a dark tunnel, and Doyoung smiles because Taeyong looks brighter than ever. His yearning spurs him to touch —for the first time, maybe for the last time— and so before he knows it, he’s reaching for Taeyong’s hand, grasping it tightly against his to feel its soft warmth. Before Taeyong can respond, however, he lets go and runs off into the darkness, his hand tingling all the way, even after he’s caught up with the group and Ten sends him a knowing smirk.

The addition of Mark and Johnny to the team unloads some of the burdens, particularly when they meet Haechan or, rather, when Mark runs straight into the young airbender at the crossroad of the many underground channels that form what feels like a labyrinth.

The impact sends them both to the ground but there’s no time to reflect as the young boy quickly pushes himself from the floor to flee and the sound of rushing footsteps reveal that he’s being chased. He’s going deeper inside the labyrinth and maybe it’s his wide eyes, the blue arrow tattooed on his forehead or just a gut-feeling but Doyoung finds himself grabbing him by the elbow and steering him towards another tunnel, at the end of which he has just spotted a flickering light.

At Doyoung’s nod, the whole group follows behind the young boy. Doyoung turns around and slams his palms onto the ground. A wall rushes up almost instantaneously, as if springing from his fingertips, effectively blocking the path from where the youth appeared. Depending on who’s blocked behind it, it’s not gonna hold up for long so he sprints to join the group.

He can hear the wall crumbling as he reaches them, breath heaving and lungs burning. He’s never been good at running and he hopes the pursuers won’t be able to guess which way they took. His thighs are aching and he feels himself falling slightly behind but Jaehyun is quick to grab his hand and pull him forward until they’re safely out of the maze and hidden in the dense foliage of a nearby forest.

He needs a few minutes to catch his breath, bent in half with his hands braced on his knees. He can feel Ten’s gaze on him but it’s Johnny who speaks first. “Feels like we took a shortcut. How did you know it was the right passage?”

Doyoung huffs another breath before he straightens. How did he indeed? He shrugs and chooses to lie, “Felt it through the ground.”

He turns around, his gaze falling on the young boy, who’s leaning against a tree, nervously glancing at the direction from which they just fled. He’s got a scratch or two on his face but he looks otherwise unharmed. “So what’s the deal?” Doyoung asks.

“Anti-benders,” the boy replies, his body relaxing against the tree trunk. His tone is nonchalant and if Doyoung hadn’t just observed his jumpy behaviour, he’d think they’d just caught him strolling around the forest.

“What’s your name?”

There’s a second of hesitation, barely noticeable if not for Doyoung’s scrutiny, before he responds, “Haechan.”

“What are you doing all by yourself?”

He shrugs and Doyoung wants to press the issue but Mark interrupts, “You can airbend?”

Haechan smirks, “What do you think?” With a flick of the wrist, he makes the leaves on the floor spin in a controlled tornado-like whirl. While Mark lets out an amazed gasp, Ten snorts, “Show off.”

“You’ve got to teach me!” Mark declares excitedly and it would be kind of cute if they weren’t on the run.

“Mark, I think we’ve got more urgent concerns,” Johnny reminds him. Mark’s expression immediately falls and Haechan’s leafy tornado dissipates.

“Haechan, can you tell us more about those anti-benders?” Johnny asks gently. A frown mars Haechan’s features for a few seconds —maybe as he decides on exactly how much to reveal— before he starts explaining.

“I don’t know much,” he slumps back against the tree, “Just that there’s a lot of them and that they’ve got bending-resistant weapons.”

“How many are we talking about?” Jaehyun asks.

Haechan shrugs, “Too many for you all.”

Doyoung frowns, annoyed at being dismissed this easily, “Well then, how come they were chasing you?”

Haechan’s eyes narrow on him as if sizing him up, before he chuckles, “Maybe because I’m an airbender, duh?”

The mocking laugh grates on Doyoung’s nerves, “That’s not—"

“As much as I find this conversation riveting,” Ten interrupts, “I think we should get moving.”

“Agreed, since it seems it might be too precipitated to take on the anti-benders this blindly,” Johnny adds, “We can sort this out later.”

A hand lends on his shoulder, squeezing it slightly, and Doyoung sees out of the corner of his eyes that it’s Jaehyun. “We’re also running out of food. Let’s head back to Taeyong’s since it’s been a while.”

At the mention of Taeyong’s name, Doyoung’s stomach twists. He sighs, feeling his stubbornness softening.

“Alright,” he says before he turns to Haechan, “but don’t think I’ll forget about this conversation.”

Haechan winks in return, “Wouldn’t dream of it,” and Doyoung feels a headache brewing.

They don’t quite get to Taeyong’s restaurant straightaway as Haechan makes them detour through a float of pirate ships because he had, Doyoung quotes, “never seen a real one before” to which Doyoung had snarked, “Have you ever seen a fake one then?” and Mark had let out a contagious laugh, which had everyone else chuckling until a red-faced Haechan had almost blown them off a cliff.

It turns out that pirates are as aggressive and unwelcoming as the legends narrate, Doyoung ponders as they’re being held at gunpoint, though it might have a lot to do with the fact that they caught Haechan snooping around their loot crates.

Doyoung briefly spots him shoving a glinting object in his pocket before Ten sets one of the pirate ships ablaze, Haechan propagating the red fire with a strong gust of wind. It acts as enough of a distraction for them to escape.

“Well, that was fun," Haechan says with a smile. They’re at a safe distance from the pirates, once again hidden by the thick vegetation of the forest.

“It’d have been much less fun if I hadn’t set fire to one of their ships," Ten remarks. Haechan seemingly ignores him and skips to where Mark is leaning against a tree, quietly observing the scene.

Doyoung wants to pry. He wants to figure out what the young airbender is obviously hiding. As he decides to take the direct route and simply confront him, Haechan chooses to latch onto a wide-eyed Mark. Doyoung bites his lower lip when he sees the latter. Mark, who had started to look a bit worn out by the fights, is back to his brightly curious self and it might not be unrelated to the whirlwind boy who’s now clinging to his arm. Doyoung sighs. He’ll just keep his suspicions to himself for a while longer.

Mark ran at the sight of the familiar street, Haechan following closely, and so, as Doyoung arrives at the restaurant with the rest of the group a few minutes later, he’s only partially startled by the dusty wind that gushes out from the restaurant to crash onto the large stone wall facing the building, Ten barely managing to avoid being hit —he actually would have been if Johnny hadn’t pulled him back at the last minute. He lets out such a strident scream that Doyoung cannot help but laugh together with Jaehyun and Johnny at his disgruntled expression.

“You almost killed me,” Ten shrieks before he lunges at Haechan but the latter is quicker and Ten chases him inside the restaurant, which is thankfully empty.

Doyoung spots Taeyong’s silhouette quietly slipping into the kitchen amidst the chaos. Narrowly avoiding a collision with Ten, he makes his way to the kitchen’s entrance as well and peeks behind the curtain that serves as a separation between spaces. He spends a few minutes watching the practiced movements of a cooking Taeyong, the way his fingers handle the knife, methodically slicing vegetables. When the broth is simmering in a pot over the fire and its aroma expands in the room, filling Doyoung’s nostrils with comfort, he decides to make his presence known.

“This smells amazing.”

Startled, Taeyong whirls around, his hand flying to his chest but it falls away as soon as he sees the familiar face. Doyoung is compelled to smile at the way Taeyong’s face lights up as he makes his way towards the pot, letting the curtain fall behind him. He’s missed this.

Doyoung stands next to Taeyong, brushing his shoulder against his, feeling his warm presence, and he goes straight for a taste of the broth but Taeyong is quick to slap his hand away. "No eating before the food is ready," he scolds, frowning at Doyoung. Doyoung pouts back but Taeyong frowns harder so he doesn’t try again.

Silence falls between them. It’s not a heavy one —it can’t be when Mark’s laughter fills the whole restaurant— and Doyoung feels the heavy weight that’s a constant on his chest lighten a bit as he observes the broth bubble on the stove.

Life seems simple when he’s there, in Taeyong’s kitchen.

“Do you want to help?” Taeyong asks, smiling gently.

Doyoung nods and returns his smile, drawing his sleeves up. "With what should I start?"

“You can start by telling me all about your adventures?” Taeyong chuckles, “I’m sure this Haechan fellow has brought you excitement and it seems Mark has taken a liking to him.” There’s tender fondness in his voice as he asks about Mark but Doyoung can’t stop himself from tensing.

He looks up and finds that Taeyong’s eyes twinkle with curiosity and it makes him relax a bit. He settles for a version of the story that Taeyong would like, one that Ten would probably give. It glosses over the unsavoury details, only bringing to light the thrill of a mysterious labyrinth, rogue pirates and intrepid companions.

The riots breaking out along the coast of the southern Earth Kingdom force them to fight harder. Doyoung has glanced at the letters that Mark and Johnny write for Taeyong. The events are recounted in a lighter mood, in all likelihood so that Taeyong doesn’t worry. The ten-hour being chased by anti-benders up a mountain full of boobie-traps —thus making it too dangerous for Mark and Doyoung to earthbend the group up the steep slopes— turn into a simple hike. Also, Doyoung is quite sure that Mark’s account of their narrowingly close-call escape from the Fire Nation government buildings doesn’t mention the trigger-happy guards. Thankfully for them, two strangers irrupted in the buildings, causing confusion with the overflowing of drinking fountains and drain pipes, right before any of them were successfully shot at. If not for Yuta, a waterbender with the brightest smile he’s ever seen, and Sicheng, whose martial art training saved their butts, they probably wouldn’t have made it out of it in one piece.

The quick pace of the events makes him disregard his suspicions regarding Haechan’s intentions. All his efforts are concentrated on making sure they get out of trouble alive as are everyone else’s, though Mark and Johnny still make time to pick up recipes as souvenirs for Taeyong. As if they were on holidays, Doyoung snorts. Still, at the next home, where an elderly lady hides them thanks to Ten’s contacts, he collects that one recipe of a spicy beef stew, which he carefully folds before securing it at the bottom of his bag.

He is running. The forest is on fire. He can’t breathe. The smoke invades his lungs and a coughing fit makes him bend in half until he’s kneeling on the ground. He resorts to crawling forward. Twigs and stones dig into his legs and hands. He barely feels them though, the scalding heat wrapping itself all around him.

He can hear it, the muffled voice that’s calling him but the heat is compressing his chest —or is it the smoke— and the earthy ground is calling to him. His arms yield and he falls to the ground. His vision blurs. He feels the flames coming closer, almost setting him ablaze. His eyes are slowly shutting and the last thing he sees is a flickering blue light.

He opens his eyes to a cloudless night sky, hard rocky floor against his back, his vision filled with flickering bright spots. Doyoung blinks. The dots don’t disappear but he knows they will, given time. It’s not the first time he has this dream. It doesn’t make it less jarring though. He can still feel the oppressive heat pressing down against his chest. He lets the fresh air cool the sweat from his forehead before he sighs and shifts positions to lie on his side, knees bent.

They’re camping tonight and the sky is clear enough for the moon to illuminate the figures sleeping near him. He blinks again but the bright specks remain, still, he can spot, on the other side of their long-extinguished fire pit, Mark huddled against Haechan. Their eyes meet and Haechan’s widen in surprise before he closes them. Doyoung waits for a few seconds but Haechan’s eyes remain stubbornly closed and he can’t stop his mind for conjuring the burning forest. Doyoung sighs and blinks a few times, the spots finally fading. In the end, he lets Jaehyun’s steady breathing next to him lull him back to sleep.

In the morning, he feels the urge to hurry back, fire licking the sole of his feet, each day the burning sensation heightening. The closer they get to Taeyong’s restaurant, the quicker he walks until one cold winter morning, as they near the town, he starts running, leaving the group behind.

When he reaches the restaurant, it’s already dark and there are no clients around —it’s just past dinner— so he silently makes his way to the kitchen, ready to surprise Taeyong. He lifts the curtain and it’s himself who is startled this time. Unaware of his presence, Taeyong takes a deep breath and the air becomes suddenly colder before the logs of wood and coal of the kitchen stove catch fire, a fire which roars to life with a loud crackle, blue-tinged but still bright and warm and yellow, reminding Doyoung of his dreams’ flickering lights.

“I didn’t know you could firebend,” Doyoung says. It comes out as a chocked whisper and he witnesses Taeyong whirl around, automatically panicking, a frightened scream bubbling up from his throat. Doyoung’s hand instinctively flies up to Taeyong’s mouth to gently cover it.

“It’s just me. Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. Please, just—,” Taeyong’s lips are burning under his cold palms and Doyoung shivers, “stop shouting so I can remove my hand.”

He lets his hand fall away almost immediately anyway. It tingles so he wipes it on his robes, which doesn’t really do much. His eyebrow wrinkle as his mind tries to wrap around the fact that Taeyong is a firebender, his pride hurt at his failure to notice it earlier.

“Why are you back?” Taeyong blurts and Doyoung feels a sharp spike of annoyance.

“You don’t get to ask questions first here.” He narrows his eyes at Taeyong and he can’t help it if his tone veers into the accusatory territory, “You didn’t walk in to find me secretly bending now, did you?”

Taeyong frowns back at him, voice frosting, arms crossing over his chest, “Firebending isn’t very acceptable unless your family is well off.”

There’s something painful in his eyes and it makes Doyoung’s chest suddenly clench. “Oh,” he says quietly, “Sorry.”

Running a hand through his hair, Taeyong lets out a tired sigh, “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” He smiles, though the way his eyes tense around the corners indicate it’s a strained smile.

There’re a few seconds of tense silence as Doyoung grapples with the situation, evaluating whether to push. In the end, he lets his bag fall onto the ground and reaches inside under Taeyong’s watchful gaze to grab the folded piece of paper. It’s a bit wrinkled at the edge.

“I got you this. It’s a recipe from some grandma’s house we stayed at while running away in the Fire Nation.”

Taeyong takes it and deftly smooths out the creases.

“Thanks,” Taeyong says while his gaze skims the recipe. His voice wavers.

“No problem.” Doyoung replies. The atmosphere is still awkward, even as Taeyong puts the recipe away and resumes cooking. Doyoung finds himself humming softly, to a tune he composed in his room back at the academy, when things were simpler. It fills the empty space between them.

“Doyoung, here, decided to come down a whole day earlier than the rest of us,” Yuta drawls with a grin and a quirked eyebrow directed at Doyoung. Doyoung frowns back, injecting as much threat as he possibly can, but Yuta continues, “Not even Johnny-boy or Mark were in that big of a rush to come down.”

“Yeah,” Ten adds with faked annoyance, “Do you hate us or something?”

Doyoung rolls his eyes in an exaggerated way that makes Taeyong snort behind his pork bun. He tries to ignore the way Yuta grins at their exchange. Before Doyoung can defend himself, however, Taeyong gets pulled away by Mark, who’s eager to show him his improved bending.

“So when are you gonna make a move?” Yuta asks and Doyoung almost chokes on his bun. “I’ve been told you’ve been dancing around each other for long enough.”

Doyoung flashes a look at Ten, who just shrugs, “Wasn’t me.”

“Sorry,” Johnny says. He looks sheepish though he doesn’t sound very apologetic. “It’s true though. If you feel something, you should act on it,” his tone turns sombre, “you never know when you’ll get another chance.”

“I think you should mind your own business,” Doyoung replies dryly, heartbeat quickening. He gets up and away from the table.

“Doyoung—”

He waves Johnny away, not wanting to hear it. “I’ll be back in a while.”

They don’t stop him and he walks aimlessly for a while, getting away from the town, letting the comforting earth guide his steps until he stumbles on the clearing Taeyong and Mark have chosen for Mark to show off his bending. He knows he shouldn’t but Doyoung can’t resist his curiosity. He stays and watches Taeyong’s awed face as Mark flips through the air, rocks rising at his fingertips and water collecting in the dip of his palms.

"So, what do you think?" Mark pants, his face a mixture of hopeful and proud.

“You've grown a lot,” Taeyong says with a slight smile and he really has, Doyoung reflects. Mark’s hard work has paid off and has become the best out of them all in spite of his young age. Taeyong goes on, teasing, “But your firebending could still use some work,”

“Maybe you should come with us so you can teach me again,” Mark is quick to reply before he bites down on his lower lip, as if the sentence had accidentally escaped his mouth. The air in Doyoung’s lungs freezes as he waits for Taeyong’s reply but before Taeyong can react, Mark bolts, “Er...I think Haechan is calling me. Gotta run!”

Doyoung catches himself sighing in disappointment. He really shouldn’t have witnessed that. Also, he should probably leave before Taeyong catches him.

He’s starting to walk away when a whirlwind of flames brightens the clearing. His feet abruptly stop; he’s transfixed by the way the fire dances around Taeyong’s frame, the unusual combination of blues and yellows twirling together in an abstract pas-de-deux.

Doyoung is not sure if it’s the result of the flames that illuminate Taeyong’s skin but he’s sure he’s never seen him irradiate such bliss.

Doyoung doesn’t bring it up until their last morning before they ought to go. He’s busied himself packing, stuffing their bags to the brim with supplies. The others leave him alone, conscious of having overstepped a line. It’s also been a while since he’s seen Haechan. Mark is probably showing him the town and its surrounding area.

“I saw you firebending the other day,” it’s the first thing Doyoung says after he begins helping Taeyong with the cooking. He doesn’t want to beat around the bush today, or rather, he can’t because they’re leaving in the afternoon. He can see that Taeyong is rattled, almost dropping the bowl of congee he’s holding but Doyoung continues, “You’re pretty good. Probably better than Ten. Actually wait,” he tosses the scallions into the pot, “definitely better than Ten.”

Taeyong laughs, short and sharp. “I highly doubt it,” he finally replies, depositing the bowl of congee on the workstation.

Yuta and Johnny’s words echo in his ears while images of a burning forest and dancing flames flash in his mind. They’ll be gone for a while, longer they’ve ever been, and this feels like his last chance. Doyoung hums quietly, trying to calm down his racing heart.

Taeyong moves to stir the broth cooking on the kitchen stove, back turned away from him, and Doyoung lets himself be guided by the rhythm of his humming until he’s standing behind Taeyong.

“Hey.” Doyoung says as he gently taps his shoulder. Taeyong turns around and Doyoung slowly leans forward, eyes closing. Taeyong doesn’t move away and their lips connect in a delicate way, skin slightly sticky from the pastries they shared earlier. It’s a brief touch but the soft sigh that leaves Taeyong’s mouth makes Doyoung shiver.

“What was that for?” Taeyong asks once Doyoung pulls back, eyes wide and questioning.

“Been wanting to do that for a while,” Doyoung admits, pulse still hammering in his ears, though seeing Taeyong flush and his lips quirk upward sooth his nerves.

Taeyong swiftly turns around, busying himself with the broth that is now bubbling. He shuts the fire off with a snap and Doyoung wordlessly helps him serve the food, heart speeding every time their fingers brush on accident. He’s almost thankful when he ends up sitting away from Taeyong.

The tension of their imminent departure hangs over breakfast. Doyoung can barely swallow his own meal as he keeps glancing at Taeyong, who’s smiling at the jokes Johnny and Yuta are cracking in a (failing) attempt at lightening the mood. Taeyong seems to be avoiding him until he no longer can, once breakfast is over and they’re bidding each other farewell.

They stand facing each other, motionless for an odd second, before Taeyong slowly wraps his arms around Doyoung, drawing him closer. Doyoung leans in, his arms circling Taeyong’s waist, his chin coming to rest on Taeyong’s shoulder. He can distantly hear someone snicker in the background but he’s too busy trying to memorize Taeyong’s warm presence to care.

They draw apart and Doyoung reluctantly lets his arms fall away from Taeyong as he steps back. Taeyong, however, is quick to reach for Doyoung’s hands, holding them firmly and preventing him to move further away.

“When– next time you come back, there are some places I’d like to bring you.” Taeyong barely chokes out.

“Just say it’s a date, you weakling!” Johnny shouts.

Doyoung laughs nervously as his hands worm their way out of Taeyong’s grasp to hold his cheeks instead. They’re so soft and warm against his palms and he pulls him in for a kiss, this time watching as Taeyong’s eyes flutter shut. He tries to shut out the congratulatory shouts, focusing on the slightly chapped lips against his and the way Taeyong’s hands grip his shoulders, but they’re quick to pull apart at Mark’s shocked gasp.

Doyoung lets his hope swell, fed by the memories of an elated smile lightened by pirouetting flames.

“I’d say yes to the date but come with us instead?” Doyoung asks, his hands finding Taeyong’s.

Taeyong gives them a squeeze, lips curling upwards, before he opens his mouth to answer, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

They end up leaving the day after, to let Taeyong pack and close the restaurant properly. They’re heading to a secluded South-Eastern district. It’s a long way there and Doyoung would usually be complaining about boredom, sore feet, and tiredness until Jaehyun got tired and carried his bag for him but, somehow, walking alongside Taeyong gives him extra energy. It still feels very much like a dream. His gaze keeps tracing the contour of Taeyong’s face until Taeyong looks at him and smiles. He smiles back and brushes his hand against Taeyong’s, their fingers interlacing slightly as they swing back and forth at the rhythm of their steps.

Things are fine for a while and Doyoung gets used to the gradually changing landscape, the slow days of hikes punctuated by lunch breaks and swims in rivers and ponds and to sleeping embraced to another warm body, almost forgetting the reason for their travelling.

The laidback mood shifts slightly, almost imperceptibly, the first time Taeyong firebends their fire pit.

It’s only him, Taeyong, Mark and Haechan at the camp, the others having gone to fetch water and more kindling under Ten’s supervision since he kept complaining about the quality of the sticks and twigs that they made him use. This leaves Taeyong in charge of starting the fire.

With a smile, he snaps his fingers, flickering his wrist towards the pit and, unexpectedly, Doyoung witnesses how Haechan scrambles back at the sight of the blue and yellow flames setting the wood ablaze.

Haechan promptly starts hiccupping, and it would be amusing if not for the distress displayed on his face. It seems Doyoung is the only one who has noticed though, Taeyong too focused on the fire and Mark too busy admiring his technique.

When Mark finally realizes that Haechan is gone from his side and turns around to find him, Haechan is quick to hide his expression by pressing his face against Mark’s shoulder, whining about his hiccups.

“Were you startled?” Mark asks with a snort. Haechan shrugs his face still squashed against Mark as he attempts to quell the hiccups. “Did I not tell you about Taeyong’s amazing firebending?” Mark continues excitedly, rubbing his back, and Haechan shakes his head. “Really? He taught me so many cool tricks though. I can’t believe I’ve never mentioned it before.”

“Me neither,” Haechan croaks out, voice muffled by Mark’s tunic. He burrows deeper as Mark recounts his favourite anecdotes of his training with Taeyong —Taeyong periodically adding details— while absentmindedly running his fingers through Haechan’s hair.

As they grow closer to their destination, getting deeper into the South-Eastern district, Doyoung can’t help but notice Haechan growing increasingly restless, his sudden preference for walking ahead of the group and avoidance of the evening conversations around the fire pit.

The mood of the group slowly shifts, becoming stilted, everyone noticing Haechan’s odd behaviour, but also because of the progressively desolated landscape. They pass many an abandoned field overgrown with yellowing weeds, some of them slowly getting taken over by creeping forests. It doesn’t help that the sky never seems to lose its grey lining though the ground remains dry.

They’re settling for the night in silence, too tired to make small talk. It’s not yet completely dark so most of them have gone to the nearby river to wash up under Taeyong’s orders. The memory of his appalled face when discovering their hygiene routine still makes Doyoung chuckle. Waiting for his return, Doyoung is lying down on his side, his head propped up on his hand, looking into the fire that Ten started when they decided on a spot.

“Can I borrow some of your clothes?” Mark’s voice breaks the silence, ringing clear over the crackling flames. “I’m cold.”

“Sure,” Haechan replies. “You can take whatever you want from my bag.”

“Haechan,” Mark mumbles after a few minutes of search, “What’s this?”

Doyoung, whose eyes were starting to close by themselves, is jolted wide awake by Mark’s puzzled tone. From his position on the floor, he tries to get a look at what Mark is holding. It’s a small metallic box —the size of Mark’s palm— with a small switch on the side. There’s something inscribed on it but Doyoung doesn’t get to decipher it as Haechan is quick to snatch it back.

“Nothing,” Haechan mutters between clenched teeth, shoving the box into one of his pockets. Mark’s eyebrows rise.

“That doesn’t look like nothing.”

“It’s none of your business,” Haechan shrugs, “so same thing.” The iciness of his tone disconcerts Doyoung, particularly because it’s not directed at him but at Mark.

“Haechan—”

“Just leave it alone Mark,” but Mark steps closer, grasping for Haechan’s hand, stopping it from nervously wrinkling his robes. “Please,” Haechan pleads but it’s less harsh already.

“I saw the emblem on it,” Mark whispers. Haechan inhales sharply before briskly pulling his hand away from Mark’s.

“So what?” He hisses, voice dipping lower. Doyoung has to make an effort to listen in.

“So what you say?!” Mark’s whisper turns furious and he steps closer to Haechan, “It’s an illegal artefact designed by the freaking anti-benders themselves. Where did you get it? Was that why they were chasing you?”

Doyoung does his best to withhold his gasp of surprise, though the pair seems too engrossed in their discussion to notice him.

“From the pirate ship.” Haechan steps back. “I got it from the pirates as a souvenir so you can chill.” His gaze turns defiant, daring Mark to confront him further, and Doyoung ponders that he might not be lying entirely.

“Whatever. Be that way,” Mark scowls before dropping down into his sleeping bag and turning away. “See if I care.”

Doyoung sees Haechan sliding the box out, briefly glancing at it, before shoving back into his pocket with a sigh. Then, he kneels next to his bag, carefully shuffling its contents until he reaches its bottom. His eyes light up with recognition, a slight smile stretching his lips, “Found you.”

He swiftly gets up and walks the few steps that separate him from Mark’s sulking form. He pauses for a second before he drops what appears to be an orange knitted scarf on top of Mark’s head.

“What the…” Mark sits up, alarmed. He hurriedly pulls the offending object away from his face, relaxing once he identifies that it’s only a scarf. He looks back at Haechan, who’s plopped down on his own sleeping bag.

“You’re cold,” Haechan explains, looking away from Mark as he settles down, “Also, take care of it. It’s my mom’s.”

Mark only nods back, dumbfounded, before wrapping it around his neck and lying back down.

Doyoung wants to scoff. This feels like a scene plucked straight from one of those syrupy books that Johnny enjoys reading.

His train of thoughts is derailed as his gaze encounters Haechan’s stare. It only lasts a brief second, piercing and unintelligible, before Haechan closes his eyes and his breathing settles on a slow, regular rhythm.

That night, Doyoung dreams again of stifling smoke and scorching fire.

The following day, Mark and Haechan walk at a distance from each other, though the orange scarf is tightly secured around Mark’s neck. He is at the front, setting a brisk pace, while Haechan is at the back, almost dragging his feet.

That day is also the day they reach the first inhabited village of the region. The homes are humble but colourfully decorated in lively greens and reds that contrast with the overcast sky. It’s bordered by a thick forest, the sight of which makes Doyoung pause because of its strange familiarity. He has to blink a few times to dispel the overlapping remnants of his dream.

When he catches up with Taeyong, he clasps his hand firmly and smiles helplessly at his questioning glance.

Some of the villagers are already rushing to meet them at the village’s entrance. As their group gets nearer, the villagers’ faces —several elderly members joined by a few teenagers— can be distinguished. They seem friendly enough, Doyoung assesses. He sighs at the thought they might catch a good night of indoor sleep.

Then, a young girl suddenly dashes straight at them, her robes billowing behind her. Doyoung tenses and, from the corner of his eye, he can see Jaehyun and Ten discreetly adopt a defensive stance.

“Hyuck!”

She runs through their group, ignoring them all, to throw herself at Haechan, who’s frozen to the spot a few meters back. After embracing him tightly, she lets him go and steps back. She stares at him, expectant, but he avoids looking at her. Her wide, toothy smile slips from her face and she swiftly hits him on the back of his head, “Idiot! Where were you?!”

“Yerim, I—” but she doesn’t let him finish.

“You disappeared!” she shouts, gripping his shoulders and shaking him. “It’s been a year!”

He reaches for her hands, unclenching her fingers from his clothes, and moves them down in front of him. He doesn’t let go of them though.

“I’m back?” he stammers, offering her a sheepish smile.

“Lee Donghyuck,” she growls in frustration. Taeyong’s hand reflexively tightens around his and Doyoung glimpses at him but his face is devoid of any emotion. The girl —Yerim was it?— goes on, “I swear that if you ever do that again, I will kill you. Oh, just wait until mom sees you.”

“Mom?” Mark interrupts, fiddling with the scarf, mouth agape. “Haechan, is that your family?”

“Kinda,” he shrugs and lets Yerim pull him towards the village. They all follow, Mark muttering under his breath. Doyoung catches him repeating kinda in a bewildered voice.

The villagers warmly welcome Haechan, with hugs and pats on the head, before they greet the group.

“No one has the arrow tattoo,” Yuta remarks and it’s true, Haechan’s blue arrow is the only one visible amongst them. They’re obviously not in an Air Nomad settlement and it doesn’t take much for Doyoung to conclude that it’s probably not Haechan’s native village either.

“The village adopted him after his tribe got attacked by firebenders,” an elderly villager explains to Yuta. “Thank you so much for taking care of him. He can be quite a handful.” His gaze lingers on Taeyong, who slips behind Doyoung, arms brushing against his. Doyoung doesn’t really like where his own thoughts are heading.

“Gansu!” Haechan protests, “Don’t just spill my life story. Also, I’m the one helping them.”

“Sorry Donghyuck,” the elder replies but it’s clear he doesn’t really mean it. His gaze sharpens on Taeyong, “There’re some things that are better said early on.”

Haechan just looks away, frowning. Doyoung feels Taeyong becoming increasingly agitated behind him. He’s not a fan of cryptic speech and he’d rather the old man came out with it directly, even if he’s pretty sure he won’t like it.

“What do you mean by that?” Doyoung asks, a hand on his hip. There’s a heavy pause. Doyoung doesn’t budge, eyes fixed on the man’s.

“This fellow, behind you, is familiar,” Gansu sighs wearily, “and not in a positive way. He’s one of those firebenders, isn’t he?”

Haechan’s head snaps towards the man, “What do you mean?”

“I think you already know.”

“Haechan, I…” Taeyong pushes forward, reaching for Haechan. “It’s not what you think.”

Haechan stumbles back. “So you’ve got nothing to do with those firebending murderers, right?” It’s at the same time pleading and spiteful. “Right?”

“I…” Taeyong looks down, his shoulders dropping, and Doyoung stands rooted to the spot.

“That’s what I thought,” Haechan reaches inside his pocket, pulling out the metallic box. His expression hardens, “You’ll pay.”

Doyoung realizes now what it might be. It’s one of those rumoured Chi-blocking inhibitors, probably targeted at firebending in this case. Haechan presses the switch but nothing seems to happen. Still, Haechan charges forward, throwing a strong gust of wind at Taeyong.

It’s precise but Taeyong dodges and flees towards the forest. Haechan chases, hot on his heels.

“Wait!” Mark shouts, running after them. Johnny is quick to go after Mark and Doyoung follows suit, flanked by Jaehyun and Ten.

“Ten, try to use your firebending,” Doyoung asks. “A small flame will do.”

“Why?”

“I think Haechan’s got an inhibitor.”

“Are those real?” Ten pants out, in surprise.

“Just do it.”

Ten snaps his finger and a small red flame sparks from his fingers. He carefully maintains it for a second or two before he lets the flame flicker and die.

Doyoung sighs, “I don’t know if that’s good or not.”

He picks up the pace, seeing the tornado that Haechan’s forming. Taeyong has stopped at the edge of the forest, and is looking back at Haechan.

Mark is the first to reach them just as Haechan flings the tornado at Taeyong. Mark tries to redirect it with a blast of air but it gets absorbed, simply causing it to spin faster. Taeyong’s fingers flicker with blue and yellow sparks before he shoots a fireball, making it explode right in the middle of the tornado. The explosion disrupts its energy flow and it dissipates.

Haechan steps back in shock at the sight of the blue and yellow flames.

“Haechan, stop it!” Mark cries out.

“Stay out of this,” Haechan yells back, increasingly flustered. He redoubles his efforts, shooting short but powerful bursts of air that Taeyong smoothly evades.

Mark goes to lunge at Haechan but Johnny stops him, grabbing his elbow. Doyoung arrives to see one of the wind gusts hit Taeyong in the leg. It gives away under him, making him fall with a wheeze, his knee slamming against the ground.

Mark jerks Johnny’s hand off, advancing towards Haechan. He smacks his hand on the floor and the ground under Haechan shifts, making him stumble and lose his focus.

“Stop it. It’s not him. It doesn’t make sense,” Mark pleads as Haechan throws him a betrayed look. “How old were you? Like five?”

“Six,” Haechan replies, twirling a new whirlwind in the palm of his hand.

“Then, like, Taeyong was way too young to have participated in the destruction of your tribe. He was only eleven!”

Haechan wavers, the whirlwind slowing down. “But it’s the same fire. I’d recognize it anywhere, these blue and yellow flames.”

“It might have been my uncle,” Taeyong says, struggling to get up. “I learnt from him. He was a soldier.”

Haechan’s jaw clenches, hesitation gone from his gaze, and it’s the first time Doyoung wants to curse at Taeyong for his honesty.

The whirlwind in Haechan’s palm swells, the energy condensing in tight coils. As he swings his arm to hurl it at Taeyong, Mark, who had steadily been drawing nearer and nearer, steps in front of Haechan. Haechan gasps but it’s too late to stop his momentum and the whirlwind clashes against Mark’s hastily created airstream.

The airstream manages to counter some of it but Mark tires in a matter of seconds and the whirlwind pierces through, slicing Mark’s upper arm as he throws himself to the side. The cut is deep and blood gushes out in-between Mark’s fingers, whose hand had flown to it to stave off the pain.

Taeyong instinctively throws a fireball at the whirlwind but Mark’s injury distracts him and he loses control of the explosion. While it successfully disrupts Haechan’s energy once more, large sparks spring from the blast and fall on the forest’s dry understory. The withered layer of vegetation easily catches fire, which is fast to spread.

As the group panics and splits to deal with the fire, Doyoung sprints to Taeyong. He loops an arm around his back to help him stand. The flames are propagating uncontrollably, not leaving a lot of room to move.

“Mark,” Taeyong whispers and Doyoung nods, steering them to Mark.

As they stagger to him, Haechan has rushed to his side, unclenching Mark’s fingers from the wound to have a look. It’s still bleeding at a worrying speed so he unwinds the scarf from Mark’s neck to apply pressure.

“Your scarf,” Mark grunts.

“Shut up,” Haechan rasps, “Save your energy.”

Johnny joins them and, with his assistance, Doyoung helps Taeyong sit down next to Mark, who immediately searches for his hand to hold.

Meanwhile, Yuta and Jaehyun have started to try and put out the fire but there’s not a lot of water for them to use. Doyoung glances at Taeyong, who simply nods at him, before rushing down.

He tries to concentrate his senses to find underground water, letting the ground carry his steps. It takes him a few minutes but he does find a groundwater pocket at the edge of the forest. He whirls around to call the waterbenders. He’s startled to find that he got circled by the fire.

The flames are high and the smoke assaults his lungs. A coughing fit racks his body and he stumbles forward, lending on his knees. He crawls forward, ignoring the small rocks that scratch his hands and knees, and tries to dig a hole to protect himself. The ground shifts for him but before he can get very far, he feels a blunt pain at the base of his skull. He tries to cling to consciousness but the blistering heat exacerbates the ache and his eyes slowly slide shut. The last thing he sees is a flickering light, brighter than the fire.

Doyoung wakes up to the smell of antiseptic and what feels like a major hangover. He groans and blinks but he must have been out for a couple of hours because it’s completely dark.

“Doyoung!” It’s Taeyong’s voice, warm with a hint of relief, “How are you feeling?”

He closes his eyes again, eyebrows scrunching, “I’ll survive,” he grunts. “What happened?”

“We found you passed out. There was a large tree branch next to you. It must have hit you on the head when it fell.”

“We?”

“I made Johnny help me find you,” Taeyong explains, “You just went straight into the forest. Do you know how risky that was?”

Considering his current state, he’d say that if he didn’t know then, his stupidity has now become unbearably obvious. He bites his tongue though, redirecting the conversation. “How’s Mark?”

“He’s fine. His wound has been sutured and he’s resting. Haechan’s been hovering around him so I’d say he’ll be well taken care of,” Taeyong replies. “And before you ask, the fire has been controlled so you can relax.”

Doyoung hums in response. Taeyong’s hand finds his, giving him a gentle squeeze.

“So what are you doing here in the dark?” Doyoung jokes.

Taeyong’s reply comes a few seconds too late, “In the dark? Just open your eyes, you idiot.”

To tell the truth, Doyoung kind of expected this answer, what with the way his head is pulsating and the unnatural thickness of the darkness. He swallows the lump at the back of his throat, “I don’t think it’d change much.”

The village doctor tells him his loss of vision is probably temporary, due to shock, and is likely to resolve on its own given enough time. The elders, for their part, tell him of a legendary blind earthbender —named Roph? Tok? Moth? something like that but Doyoung is too tired to listen properly— who could sense the objects around her by detecting their vibrations.

They depart once he and Mark are deemed fit for travelling, a few days later. It’s been decided that the group would split into two; one group composed of Yuta, Sicheng, Ten and Jaehyun would continue with their task while the others would cut the adventure short and return to Taeyong’s restaurant.

A few weeks spent helping out at the restaurant is all it takes for Mark to become restless alongside his fading scar. Haechan is unusually quiet, ghost-like, and Doyoung knows its guilt though no one has blamed him for the events.

When Mark announces his plans to leave, Haechan is quick to follow, expressing the desire to help him with his task of peace-keeping so as to atone. Taeyong frowns at Haechan’s choice of words.

“You know that no one is angry at you,” Taeyong says, “I’ve also wanted to apologize for my family’s actions.”

“I know,” Haechan replies but Doyoung knows Taeyong’s words don’t have their intended effect. “Thanks for the apology. You don’t need to, though. It’s me who’s sorry.”

Doyoung guesses Haechan will have to figure it out on his own, much like he himself is relearning to live.

Months later, Doyoung is sitting comfortably at a table, slurping on a fresh batch of noodles while Taeyong is reading Mark’s latest letter. Together with Hyuck, he has slowly assembled a ragtag group of benders, its members now adding up to seven. As Taeyong recites the rambling reasoning behind Mark’s naming choice for the group —Dream because it has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? he had to fight Hyuck who wanted to call it The Dream, how silly is that, but it’s mostly because it kind of reflects his hopes of achieving a better world—, Doyoung lets his mind wander. He realizes he’s kind of fine with his blindness, even if it might be permanent. It grants him a break from fighting, allowing him to resume the production of the vibrations he’s always loved most. His head is filled with melodies.

When both the letter and the bowl are finished, Doyoung leans and hums against Taeyong’s throat, tickling him until he bursts out laughing.