Chapter Thirteen
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Chad. Got your text. I'm sorry, too. I'll be home tonight. We should get coffee or something. There's some stuff I should probably tell you.
"It'll be three hundred for the parts alone," said Hue, the stoutest and most personable of the triplet mechanics. "We can give you a break on towing and labor, but I'm afraid that four fifty's as low as we can afford to go."
Zuko nodded, considering. He was terrible at haggling over prices, and in this case he didn't see any reason to try. The triplets had knocked on their motel room door at just after nine that morning, then waited patiently as Zuko extricated himself from Jet's limbs and pulled on jeans and shoes. Hue had made polite conversation on the ride over to the garage, explained what was wrong with Jet's engine (none of which Zuko understood) and even shown him which parts needed replacing and why. He and his brothers seemed like good people. Zuko believed he was offering the best deal that he could.
Zuko opened his wallet and thumbed through the plastic cards. Normally he only needed three of them: his driver's license, the debit card attached to his checking account, and a credit card he used just often enough to keep his credit score where it ought to be. It took a moment to extricate the third, stuck between his old gym ID and a ticket for the Tokyo subway. He had only ever used it once before -- two years ago, to pay for an uninsured trip to the emergency room.
He handed it to Hue. "How long will it take to fix?"
"Not long. Maybe an hour?"
Zuko nodded, thanked him as he signed the slip, and went to wait in the tiny front room. A pot of coffee sat on a hot plate in the corner, next to a stack of automotive magazines. Zuko poured himself a steaming cup, stirred in powdered creamer and took a cautious sip. It was better than it needed to be, and the sharp smell of it cleared his head. He settled down into one of the plastic chairs with it cupped between his hands.
It was raining again, fat drops that rattled the plate-glass windows. Zuko watched it as he drank his coffee. Without Hue's chatter to distract him, his thoughts wandered back to the hotel room. To what had happened there the night before, and all that had been said.
He stared down into the styrofoam cup, the vague outline of his face reflected in the dregs. It was good that Jet had talked to him, he knew. It meant he cared enough to bother. That he hadn't given up on Zuko entirely. He'd waited a long time to tell Zuko how he felt, how badly he'd been hurt, and Zuko had meant what he'd said: he would listen to whatever Jet needed to tell him. He'd do whatever it took, if it made Jet feel even a little bit better. He couldn't undo his mistakes or change the decisions he'd made, but he could at least suffer their consequences.
You're not my best friend, Zuko. You'll never be my best friend. He'd always known this to be true. But Jet had never actually said it before. Not to him, and not like that. Of all the things Jet had told him that night, those words had hurt the most. Had sliced through him like a blade, torn into his chest and twisted.
He drained the last of his coffee, gritty and bitter on his tongue. He wasn't going to spend the drive home feeling sorry for himself. Jet would notice, and it would only make him feel guilty. That wasn't what Zuko wanted. Jet had already sacrificed too much for his sake, had borne too great a strain. It wasn't going to be that way anymore.
Jet was still asleep when Zuko returned to their motel room. It was half past ten, and checkout was at eleven. The mattress groaned as Zuko sat on the edge of the bed. Jet had fallen asleep in his clothes the night before, but Zuko had carefully slipped off his pants and sneakers, then pulled the covers up over him. Now he reached out, gently, and nudged Jet's arm. "Hey. Time to get up."
Jet rolled onto his back, his face scrunched up. "Just a few more minutes, okay?"
Zuko smiled. He brushed his fingers against Jet's cheek. "Okay."
Jet scooted over a little, turned back onto his side and lifted his arm off the mattress. Zuko slid gratefully under it; sighed quietly as Jet's hand settled on his ribs. He closed his eyes. He knew he should savor this while he could.
Jet pressed his face to Zuko's chest, his breath warm through the fabric. "Thanks for letting me sleep in."
"You were tired."
"Yeah." Jet's hand slid around to Zuko's back, settling between his shoulder blades. "Did the triplets come by?" Zuko murmured a positive noise into Jet's hair. "What did they say? Did they figure out what the problem was?"
"Everything's taken care of."
Jet pushed back a little, such that Zuko could see the small frown that creased his brow. "What do you mean?"
"I mean the car is fixed. We can go whenever you're ready."
"How much did it end up being?"
"Not much."
Jet closed his eyes again. He still looked exhausted. "I'll pay you back, okay? When I can."
"It's fine. You don't owe me anything."
"What, did you use the trust fund card or something?" Zuko didn't answer. "Shit, Zuko. You didn't have to-"
"It's not like I was going to spend the money on anything else." Zuko's voice was soft but unyielding. They had talked about the card before, back when Zuko was scrambling to pay for his trip to Japan. It would have been so easy to take the card out of his wallet -- the plane tickets, the deposit on his apartment, even putting all of his things in storage would barely have made a dent. Since he had turned eighteen, one thousand dollars of his late grandfather's money had been deposited into that account every month. But he never touched it. He didn't want to live his life that way. He didn't want any part of what the Xi family offered him. "Don't worry about it, all right? Seriously."
"All right."
Jet moved forward again, exhaling in a long, soft sigh. Zuko's hand came up to stroke his hair. He watched the clock on the dresser, counting the minutes until they'd have to get up again. Too few.
"Zuko?"
"Hmm?"
"Thanks. You really--you didn't have to do that."
Zuko kissed his forehead. "You had enough to worry about."
"I guess." Jet's fingers moved slowly over his back, up and down the ridge of his spine. "So is this your thing, now? Personal assistant?"
Zuko smiled. "Yeah. You seemed to need one."
"Where's breakfast, then?"
"On the dresser." A "continental breakfast" had been laid out in the lobby, and Zuko had wrapped a few of the more appetizing offerings in a paper napkin. "I hope you like danish."
Jet laughed. "What, no pancakes?"
"They must have run out before I got there."
"Shame." Jet pushed himself up, stretching his arms above his head. "I guess we should get going."
"Yeah." Zuko sat as well. "Guess we should."
Jet leaned toward him. Their mouths met, briefly, the tip of his tongue sliding over Zuko's lips. Then he stood and walked over to the dresser to retrieve his jeans. Zuko watched as he got dressed, and tried not to think of this morning as a series of lasts.
"So what kind of job are you looking for, anyway?"
Zuko chewed his lip thoughtfully, watching the guardrail dip up and down as it sped past. "Something I don't have to think about," he said. "Ugh, but not food service."
Jet chuckled. "What, you didn't like working at the Jasmine Dragon?"
"The only good thing that came out of that job was meeting you."
Jet smiled a little. "Yeah. I guess that was pretty good. Maybe."
The conversation had been like this all morning. On the edge of casual, a word or two away from the tightness in his chest. "There're a couple Go salons on the east side. I could probably make a little extra cash playing teaching games, but not enough to live on."
"You could try to get a job at once of those crazy chess stores."
"The ones with all the weird old men?"
"Like Go salons are any better." Jet glanced over at him, the smile widening. "Anyway, you're an old man, yourself. You'd fit right in."
"I thought you were the old man?"
"Not today," said Jet. "Today I'm young and spry."
"Doesn't that mean you have to respect your elders, then?"
"I'm also irreverent."
"Really? Well, then I guess I'll-" Zuko stopped, surprised. His pocket was vibrating, the ringtone muffled by denim.
"Ha ha, shit, is that a Traveling Wilburys song?"
Zuko shifted in his seat so that he could pull out the phone. "Maybe."
Jet snorted, shaking his head. "You have a problem, you know that? I should stage an intervention. A Wilbury-vention."
"Whatever. It's not my fault you don't appreciate the finer things in life." Distracted, Zuko flipped the phone open without checking the caller ID. "Hello?"
"Hello, Zuzu."
Zuko tensed. "Azula." Jet's eyebrows shot up at this, but he didn't say anything.
"I was wondering if you'd made it back or not. You didn't call."
He hadn't heard his sister's voice in over a year. He knew he should just hang up on her, but he didn't want to give her the satisfaction. "Dad made it pretty clear he didn't want to hear from me."
"I'm not Dad."
"Might as well be."
"I'll take that as a compliment." He could hear her smirk as she went on. "So I hear you're fucking Jet Cai again."
Zuko glanced furtively at Jet, wondering if her end of the conversation was loud enough for him to hear. "And if I am?"
"I'd hoped that maybe this board game thing of yours was just a phase," she said, as if he hadn't spoken. "You'd go back to school, get your degree. By your mid-thirties you'd take over as C.E.O., look pretty for all those board meetings while I got some real work done."
"Azula -"
"But I guess that's out, now, isn't it?" she drawled. "We run shopping malls, after all. Have to keep the midwest happy."
Zuko's grip on the phone tightened. "Is there a point to this?"
"Do I need a reason to check in on my big brother?"
"Yeah, you do."
She sighed theatrically. "Dad just wants to make sure you understand what you're doing."
"My personal life isn't anyone else's business."
"It is when you're a Xi."
Zuko closed his eyes, his jaw tight. "I'm hanging up, now."
"Love you, too, Zuzu."
Jet glanced sideways as Zuko snapped the phone closed and leaned back against the headrest. "You all right?"
"Yeah. It's..." Zuko groaned and ran a hand over his face. "Christ, she never lets up."
"Is she always like that?"
"No. This was actually nice, for her."
Jet was quiet, then, and Zuko wondered again how much he had heard. He didn't have long to wonder. "How did she find out, anyway?"
Zuko swallowed. "Probably from Mai."
Jet stiffened, but when he spoke his voice was even. "You told her?"
"No, but I talked to Hahn. A few days ago." He sighed again. "And then I forgot to tell him not to say anything."
"You talked to Hahn?"
Zuko flushed. "I needed some advice."
"Oh yeah? What did he tell you to do?"
Zuko had to laugh. Looking back, it was all pretty ridiculous. "He said I should just ask you out."
Jet laughed as well, soft but genuine. It was so good to see him like this again. It let Zuko believe they could figure things out. "So this is his fault?"
"No." Zuko grinned lopsidedly, watching Jet watch the road. "No, it was pretty much all me."
"Huh. Refusing a scapegoat. Very noble."
"Or very stupid."
"Yeah. That, too." Jet barked out a laugh. "Oh man, we're already back here? I guess we made good time."
Zuko looked out the window just in time to glimpse the billboard for Road Willy's. "We should stop. For lunch."
"Yeah, we should!" Jet merged right, signaling for the exit. "It's only another couple hours until we hit the city. We won't have to stop again after this."
"Yeah. Guess we won't." Zuko tried to sound cheerful. He knew how eager Jet was to get home.
"Do you think Georgia will remember us?"
"She'll remember you."
"Aw, come on, Wang. You're plenty memorable."
Zuko didn't bother to argue. But he knew he was right. Everyone remembered Jet. Zuko tried his best to be personable, but he couldn't hold a candle to his friend. No one could, really. Only Bee ever came close.
It was just after three -- a little late for lunch. The parking lot was almost completely empty, and Jet found a spot right in front of the general store, next to the big, red rock they'd sat on a few days before. "Visiting first," he said after he'd come around to open the broken passenger door. "Then food."
Georgia did remember them. An electric bell sounded as they stepped inside the store, prompting her to look up from her crossword. "Why, hello there, boys! Didn't think I'd be seeing you again so soon!"
"Ohio couldn't hold us for long," said Jet. Zuko hung back as the other boy strolled up to the counter, examining the candy displayed underneath it. "How's Willy?"
"Just fine, bless him," said Georgia. She folded her newspaper and set it aside. "Another pack of Marlboros, honey?
"No, thanks. I'm tying to quit." Jet selected a pack of gum and pulled a handful of change out of his pocket. "Don't want to be a bad influence on Wang," he added as he counted out dimes. Zuko snorted.
Georgia beamed at them, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "It's so nice to see brothers spending time together like this. Family's the most important thing, after all."
"Yeah, well our family's pretty crazy," said Jet. He draped an arm across Zuko's shoulders, squeezing them. "But Wang and I try to stick together."
Zuko shook himself a little as he followed Jet back out of the store. He knew he should feel better -- Jet seemed much happier, now, and Zuko was happy for him. The tension between them had eased, bit by bit. Things weren't back to normal, but he supposed they never would be. Eventually, Jet might forgive him. They'd probably find a way to be friends. But he didn't dare hope for more than that, however much he wanted it.
The restaurant portion of Road Willy's was really more of a diner. There was a long formica counter down one side, across from several booths upholstered in red and white vinyl. Each booth had its own, small jukebox, and Jet started flipping through the song cards as soon as they sat down. "Have any quarters?"
"Only if you promise not to play 'We Built This City,'" said Zuko, reaching into his pocket.
"You drive a hard bargain, Xi."
"I've learned from past mistakes."
There was only one waitress on duty, a tired-looking woman about the same age as Jet's mom. She delivered a burger to the only other occupied table, then walked briskly over and set chipped, white mugs down in front of them. "Coffee?" she asked, the carafe already poised over Jet's mug.
"Thanks, Denise" said Jet, using the name on her plastic badge. He jerked his thumb at the jukebox. "You mind if we use this?"
Her lips twitched into a smile as she poured their coffee. "Please do. Margery's had the same darn record on since this morning."
Zuko listened quietly as Jet chatted her up, asking her how long she'd worked at Road Willy's (three years) if she'd ever met Willy in person (every Sunday, when he came in for toast and coffee) and whether she thought chocolate or strawberry milkshakes were better (strawberry in the summer, chocolate in the winter.) Jet was always charming, but more so when he was in a good mood. He ordered a chocolate shake and a plate of disco fries, the latter mostly because they were called disco fries. Denise was chuckling to herself as she went to place their order.
Jet turned his attention back to the jukebox, still smiling. Zuko had found six quarters in his pocket, and now he rolled them nervously between his fingers. The weather had cleared since that morning; Jet's face was in full sunlight. He was always handsome, too, but sometimes he was breathtakingly so. Zuko wished they weren't in a restaurant, that there wasn't a table between them. He wanted to touch that face, to kiss the smile on his lips.
"Okay. I need four quarters," said Jet. He held out a hand and Zuko obligingly dropped the coins into it. "This is gonna be awesome. It may be my best jukebox playlist ever."
"Really?"
Jet fed the machine, then held up a hand to block Zuko's view of the keypad as he made his selections. Zuko laughed. "What? I want it to be a surprise."
"I won't know what the codes mean anyway, Jet."
"Can't be too careful. Besides, you're sneaky." Jet punched the last key, then leaned back with a satisfied smirk on his face.
Zuko frowned as the first song began to play. It wasn't anything he recognized. And it was really really bad. "What the hell is this?"
"'Honkey Tonkin.' I'm surprised you don't know it. I mean...it is the best song ever recorded."
By then, the vocals had started. The twang was so exaggerated that it was comical. "You're shitting me."
Jet crossed his arms behind his head and started to sing. Loudly. "If you and your baby have a little fallin' out, just call me up sweet mama and we'll go steppin' out."
"You owe me a dollar."
"We'll go Honky Tonkin' 'round this town!"
The man at the burger table turned in his seat to see where the noise was coming from. Zuko felt his face go red. "People are staring at us."
"A person is staring at us. And he's just jealous," said Jet. "If you go to the city I'll be jukebox jumping there."
"How do you even know the words to this song? Why have you ever heard this song before?"
"It's an American classic, Wang. It's what makes our country great."
Zuko listened with growing horror. "Did he just say, 'sugar booger?'"
"Hank Williams Junior is an under-appreciated genius."
Denise returned with their food, then. Jet's fries were covered in cheese and brown gravy, and he dug into them enthusiastically. Zuko carefully extracted a fry from the pile and nibbled on the end. It tasted exactly how it looked like it would. "This might be the worst song you've ever made me listen to."
"Surely not!"
"At least it's short," said Zuko as the song wound down. Jet grinned but didn't reply. A few seconds later the next song came on. It was "Honkey Tonkin'." Zuko glared at the jukebox. "Shit, it must be broken." Again, Jet didn't say anything, and Zuko narrowed his eyes. "Jet."
"Yeah?"
"How many times is this song going to play?"
"Eight."
Zuko sagged forward and banged his head on the tabletop. "I'm going to tell Chad you did this. And he'll never talk to you again."
"Chad understands the need to express oneself through song."
Zuko straightened and reached for another fry. "And what are you trying to express, exactly? If if want me to take you 'honky tonkin' you could just ask."
"No, I'm good on the honkey tonk front," Jet said. "Besides, I wouldn't want to impose."
"You wouldn't be imposing. I like dancing with you." He knew he was pushing his luck, talking like this, but he couldn't help himself. Jet was smiling at him as he sipped the chocolate milkshake, a real smile that reached his eyes. "Just not to this song. Ever."
The song started over for the fourth time. "We should take Hahn honkey tonkin,'" said Jet. "He'd love it."
"He'd make Zhao go, too."
Jet snorted. "Oh man...do you think he'd wear a big cowboy hat? That would be awesome."
"Doesn't seem likely."
"But he could be the sheriff! And Hahn could be his deputy!" Jet ate another handful of fries. "You'd run the saloon, of course."
"No way. I told you, I'm done with food service."
"Cowboy food service is different," said Jet thoughtfully. He licked his fingers clean, an activity Zuko found difficult to look away from. "You know...it really sucks that you have to get some bullshit job."
Zuko shrugged. He was tired of thinking about this. "I'll figure something out."
"It's a really big deal to pass the pro test, isn't it?"
"In Japan it is."
"How many people can pass? Like twenty?"
"Three."
"What, for the whole country?"
"Yeah."
"Wow." Jet picked up his fork and started in on the soggier fries. He was frowning. "What would you be doing if you were still there?"
"Playing in tournaments, mostly. I'd support myself with tutoring at first, but if things went well I'd win a title within the first few years." He lowered his eyes. He'd avoided telling people things like this. He knew how they'd react. "The minor ones are about $15,000. The largest was $365,000 last year."
Jet stopped chewing and stared at him. "You're kidding me."
"Go's a big deal in East Asia. That's why there's so much competition to become a professional player."
"Well, what about here? There's an American Go Association, right?"
Zuko shrugged again. "It's not really the same."
"But there're you know..." Jet gestured vaguely with his fork. "Tournaments and stuff, right? I know you've talked about them."
"There are four. The US Open, the Ing Cup, the Redmond Cup, and the U.S.-Canada Team Tournament. I think the top prize last year was...maybe $5,000?" It was hard to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but he tried. He didn't want Jet to worry about him.
Jet whistled. "Shit."
"It's fine. That's just how things are."
"What happened to all that talk about revitalizing Go in North America? You wrote about it all the time."
"I don't know. I mean...now that I'm back here again..." Zuko sighed. Said aloud, the situation seemed even worse; the sacrifices he'd made even more pointless. "I just don't even know where I'd start."
Jet stirred his milkshake, his brows knit. "Okay. So Go is awesome in Japan because there's a lot of competition. And there's a lot of competition because the prize money is worth the trouble."
Zuko wondered how he could change the subject again. "It's more complicated than that, but...yeah. Basically."
"So if there was at least one decent tournament here, it wouldn't suck as bad?"
"Maybe. But...I mean, there isn't. It's not like the AGA is loaded. And they can't get big sponsors because no one here cares."
"Some people do." Jet stopped stirring and looked up at him. "How much money is in that trust fund account, anyway?"
"I'm not sure. I don't open the statements anymore." He thought for a moment. "About $42,000."
"So donate it."
Zuko blinked at him. "What?"
"Donate it to the AGA. Say you want them to use it as prize money or whatever."
"I...Jet, I can't just -"
"You're not using it for anything. American Go sucks. Maybe this would make it suck less."
"It's not that simple," said Zuko, but he wanted it to be. He'd dropped out of college, spent his savings, moved across the world and fucked up his social life for this. And then he'd turned around and abandoned it. "I can't fix things all on my own like that."
"Sure you can."
"No. I can't. I fucked up, all right?" He closed his eyes, pressing his palms against them. "And now I just...I have to live with it."
He felt Jet's hand on wrist; allowed him to pull it aside. Jet met and held his gaze. "Zuko, you didn't fuck up. You worked really hard for something you care about. And you got it."
"I should have stayed in Japan," said Zuko.
"Don't be stupid. You were miserable there." Jet let go of his wrist but didn't look away. "And I missed you. I'm glad you're back."
"Jet..."
"Look, I've helped run a lot of events for the GSU. I know how this shit works. We'll figure something out, okay?" Jet smiled. It was absurd how much better Zuko felt when Jet was smiling at him. "It'll be fine. Promise."
I love you, he thought. Aloud, he said, "You really think so?"
"Yeah, I really do." Jet chuckled. "Azula would be pissed."
"She would. I think she keeps expecting me to hook up with Mai again and come crawling back to Dad."
A little of the old tension returned to Jet's face. "And you're not?"
"No. I'm not."
Jet pursed his lips, nodding. "We missed the last honkey tonk," he said.
He often shifted the conversation like this when he was uncomfortable. Zuko decided to let him. "We're going to have to leave a really big tip," he said.
They waved Denise over, who seemed considerably less charmed than before as she handed them their check. Zuko asked her for a pen, and once she was gone he flipped over his paper placemat and wrote a quick note: Denise. Sorry about the Honkey Tonkin.' Please accept this 50% gratuity. -- Wang
"Hang on a sec." Zuko watched curiously as Jet unlocked and opened the trunk, then bent down to get at something near the back. When he straightened, he was holding a large, square package. Zuko had watched him lug it around since they'd left the Jings' house, but he hadn't asked what it was. He'd figured Jet would tell him eventually.
It was obviously heavy, and Jet propped it up with his hip as he closed the trunk again and set it down on top. "I was going to wait to give you this as a housewarming present, but I think maybe you need it more now."
"I can wait, if you want."
"Fuck that. Waiting sucks."
"I guess." The box was wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. Zuko reached out to touch the surface. "What is it?"
Jet grinned. "It's a present. From me and Mom."
"Why did your mom want to get me a present?"
"Just open it, dork."
Zuko carefully untied the twine and slit the tape holding the paper in place. Inside was a cardboard box with an arrow drawn on the side, indicating which way was up.
"I guess it's from Grandpa, too," Jet added.
Zuko lifted the flaps at the top and pushed aside wads of crumpled newspaper. He brushed his fingers against the rich, golden wood he'd revealed, crisscrossed by black grooves. His breath caught. "Oh my god. Jet, I can't accept this." Even as he spoke, he reached into the box and slowly pulled the Go board out, scattering newspaper. It was a proper goban in the Japanese style -- a solid block of wood that was nearly a foot thick, with short, stout legs. It looked old, the smooth surface darkened by age and use.
Jet was watching him. "Aunt Lei Yin wanted to sell it for like, twenty bucks to one of our neighbors. So Mom bought it off of her instead. I don't think she really knew how much it was worth. Mom doesn't play Go, and I barely do, so...yeah. We wanted you to have it." He smiled. "It's what Grandpa would have wanted, too."
"Jet...table boards like this start at $1,000. This is..." He bent down, examining the grain of the wood. "Shit, I think this might be made out of kaya..."
"Then I guess Mom got a real bargain, huh?" Jet rooted around the bottom of the box, then lifted out two rounded lumps wrapped in newspaper. He handed them to Zuko. "I think these are the stones?"
Zuko tore the paper away from the squat wooden bowls, each the same rich color as the board itself. They still had their fitted lids, and inside were plastic bags filled with black and white stones. Zuko opened the bags and took one stone from each. His hands were shaking. "Oh my god. Oh my god, this is...these are actually clamshell and slate." He put the stones back and looked up at his friend. "Jet. Seriously. This is..." He laughed, incredulous. "This is just what I've always wanted."
Jet rubbed his neck, looking pleased but a little embarrassed. "Well, good!"
Zuko set the bowls down on top of the board, reached up to take Jet's face in his hands, and kissed him before he could pull away. Jet made a small, surprised noise against his mouth. Then his arms slid around Zuko's waist. When they broke apart, he looked up at Zuko from under his eyelashes, his cheeks flushed. "Georgia probably saw that."
"Probably." Zuko's fingers were in his hair, now, his thumb settled just behind Jet's ear. Zuko wanted to tell him, so badly that it was like a physical urge, the words fighting to escape his lips. He silenced them by kissing Jet again.
Zuko offered to drive the rest of the way into the city, and Jet was happy to let him. Once they'd pulled back onto the highway, Jet took out his phone and sent a long series of texts. Zuko didn't ask who they were for, but he was fairly sure he knew. The phone chimed almost immediately after he'd finished. "Bee says she's making tacos for dinner," Jet said. "Extra spicy, so you'll be happy."
"That was nice of her."
"Toph's coming over, too." He paused, and Zuko braced himself. "Long took the night off."
"Good," said Zuko. He kept his voice as even as possible, concentrating on each syllable. "I'm sure he missed you."
"Yeah." Jet fiddled with the phone a while longer, then stuck it back into his pocket. "Well, I missed him, too."
Zuko's stomach clenched. He wished he hadn't eaten those stupid fries. "Of course you did."
"I haven't been away from him this long since we moved to the city."
"I'm glad you'll get to see him tonight, then." Zuko knew the words sounded forced, but he couldn't help it. They were. "Say 'hi' for me."
"You can say 'hi' yourself."
"No, I can't," said Zuko. He didn't look away from the road. "I'm going to stay with Hahn. Until I find a new place."
Jet sighed. "Zuko, don't start with this again."
"You haven't seen your boyfriend in four days." His grip on the wheel tightened. "I don't want to be in the way. It would be weird for him. And for you. And I don't want that, either."
"It'll be fine," said Jet, stubborn. "We're all adults, right? A little weird won't kill us."
"Jet, you have things you need to talk to Long about. And I need to not be there." Zuko heard his voice falter. He knew Jet had heard it, too. "Please don't argue with me about this."
Zuko glanced at Jet in the rear-view mirror as he ran a hand back through his hair. "All right," Jet said. "If that's what you want."
"It is."
A heavy silence followed. Zuko felt too drained to interrupt it. He couldn't say any of the things he wanted to, and couldn't bear to say the things he knew he should. Jet was less than two feet away, and yet the air between them felt solid, the silence brittle. Like a pane of glass.
The car was warm and the road smooth. Jet leaned against the window and closed his eyes. Hours passed as he drifted in and out of sleep. A few times he woke up and asked where they were, then fell asleep again as soon as Zuko had told him. Once, his phone chimed again, and he opened his eyes long enough to read the new text. He laughed a little at whatever it said. Zuko knew from the way he smiled that it was from Long.
The upper ring of Ba Sing Se could be seen from a long way off. As the skyline solidified in the distance, Zuko felt his chest grow tight. The highway skirted around Full Moon Bay, then turned sharply to the east and crossed the She Jing Bridge. The sun had set almost an hour ago. Zuko watched as a ferry pulled slowly away from the wharf, its lights mirrored in dark water.
There was no traffic. He wound his way up through the outer ring, counting the numbered streets as they passed. Jet stirred and sat up, but neither of them spoke. Zuko's heart thundered in his chest. It hurt to breathe. Jet moved beside him, leaned forward as he pulled his coat back on. They stopped at a red light, and Zuko watched as Jet struggled with the zipper. Streetlights lit him from behind; outlined the angles of his face and the swell of his bottom lip.
Zuko found a parking spot across the street from Hahn's building, an undulating tower of glass and steel in the heart of the upper ring. He turned off the engine, took out the keys and handed them to Jet. He flinched as Jet's fingers touched his palm.
Jet closed his fist around the keys, then sat with his eyes on his hands, waiting. Zuko would have to get out and open the passenger door. Then Jet would drive back to his apartment, to the life that had no room for Zuko in it. He'd kiss his boyfriend and eat the dinner Bee had made for him. And when Zuko saw him again, he would act as if nothing had happened. And Zuko would let him. If that was what would make Jet happy, he would do it. He'd do anything Jet asked of him.
Zuko licked his lips. Whatever he wanted to say, he had to say it now. He was never going to have this chance again. He couldn't let things end this way.
"Jet."
The other boy looked up at him. "Zuko."
"There's something I need to tell you."
Jet held up a hand. "You don't need to-"
"Yes I do," said Zuko. "I'm not asking you to say anything. Or do anything. And when I'm done, I'll go. And I'll never talk about it again unless you want to." He paused, wondering if Jet would try to stop him. He didn't, so Zuko went on. "Jet, I know how you feel about me. You've told me more times than you should have had to. And I just...I think you should know how I feel about you. Whatever you decide to do, I really need you to know this."
Jet nodded, once.
So many times in the last few days, Zuko had imagined a conversation like this; thought of what he might say, if he decided to say anything at all. But he couldn't remember any of that, now. He didn't know what he was going to say until he started to speak, his own words surprising him. But they felt right. "I love you, Jet," he said. "I'm in love with you. I don't just want to date you, I want to be with you. Really be with you. The way I should have been three years ago. These past few days have been...god. Amazing. You're so amazing, Jet. I should never have let you go. You're the most incredible thing that's ever happened to me, and I threw you away."
It was more than he'd meant to say, but he couldn't stop. The words poured out of him, out of his control. "I can't take back the terrible things I did to you, or the things I said. But I want to make it up to you. I want to make you happy, Jet. I love you so much." He stopped, then; waited until he could trust his voice again. "I'm not telling you this to try and change your mind. If you want to be with Long, then that's what I want, too. I just...I thought you should know."
Jet stared at him, his expression unreadable. He didn't say anything as Zuko undid his seat belt, walked around to the passenger side and opened the door. Jet got out and stood on the sidewalk, his hands in his pockets. He watched as Zuko took his things out of the trunk; shifted them around until he found a way to hold his guitar case and the Go board at once.
"Zuko."
He froze. He took a deep breath before meeting Jet's eyes. "Yes?"
"I'll call you. Later."
"Okay."
Jet nodded again, his body rigid. "Okay."
"Good night, Jet."
"Good night."
Zuko forced himself to turn. He walked toward the large, well-lit lobby as quickly as his luggage would allow. A uniformed man held the door open for him. He heard the trunk of Jet's car slam closed, but he didn't look back.
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