Chapter Text
John looked at the cafe. It was a nice one. Well, he thought so, anyway. He'd never been in one. None that he'd remember, at least. Cheryl might have brought him to one when he was too young to remember, for study groups or something. Might. Still, the interior was nice. It was pastel pink, with a white lace design and a sort of... implied princess theme. It made sense for Azula.
Even when he'd first met her he could tell she wasn't some run-of-mill teen girl who'd been lured away by faeries. Her fractured mental state and the way she held herself certainly threw that out the window. She'd been insanely formal the entire time she spoke despite how harshly she was speaking. And she was creepily graceful as she moved despite the way she stumbled around. Faeries were also dangerous to interact with and yet she stood her ground like a pro. Of course, then she spiraled into a nervous breakdown and bloody passed out. John had brought her to the nearest Mental Health Facility and claimed that he'd found her at the tail end of a mental breakdown that ended with her fainting. And left her there.
He hadn't seen her again until two years later. It hadn't been hard to remember her. She had literal gold-colored eyes. But, he hadn't had time to recognize her before she was yanking him down by his tie to kiss him. And his brain had just... stopped. The only thing he could think of was her. The taste of strawberry chapstick, the smell of birk birch extract shampoo, and the taste of a cappuccino. All right in his face. Then she dropped his tie and took off. And just as quickly his brain clicked back on finally and any thoughts about that kiss were shut down. Because she was a teen when they'd met two years before and a teen still then. Not that that stopped him from thinking about it quietly to himself at night. He didn't know what to think of the kiss. It was a quick chaste one.
But it weighed on him. Heavily. Which was why he sat across from her right now. It weighed on her too at any right. What with the way she sat hunched over her matcha latte? There was no way she didn't. He took a deep breath. He had a neighbor he'd run into after who had daughters that he'd asked about it. Namely, how to handle it if he ever ran into her.
"What would you have done if she hadn't run away?"
"I don't know. Probably asked her why she thought that was a good idea. Point out how dangerous that was."
"You wouldn't kiss her back?"
"Buggering fuck- NO!!! Not even a little bit."
"Then tell her that. But, don't be mean about it. People have crushes on people older than them. Especially, teenagers. It's perfectly normal. What matters, is how you as the adult handle it. Leave how the conversation starts up to her. If she doesn't, ask her why she did it. And then let her lead the conversation. You as the older party have more power in this dynamic than she does so, you'll want to give her as much control as you can during that conversation. It'll do her a world of good."
"And if she's an adult by the time I see her again?"
"Then the same rules still apply. Granted, if it's left to sit that long you might have to prompt to her start. She might not be open to talking about it and this is a conversation that needs to happen."
He thanked her. Then went about his day. He held onto that advice on the off chance he did run into her. Although...
"Come to think of it. I never got your name. But, you clearly know mine."
"That would be because you used your real name on the paperwork." She then sighed. Like, she was disappointed in his lack of manners but, was humoring him anyway. "Well, if you must know, my name is Azula Rikimaru."
"Right. Well. Azula-"
"Ms. Rikimaru."
John bit back the urge to say something assholish and thanked his younger self for talking to his neighbor because God knows he'd have put his foot in his mouth by now if he hadn't. "Right. Ms. Rikimaru. Why did you do it?"
John watched her pick up her latte to take a sip. She was quiet, mulling over her words as she turned the question over in her head.
Azula didn't really like hot matcha drinks. But, the weather was rainy, and the shipment of ingredients for their other hot drinks was two weeks away. It made sense of course. They were in summer, so hot drinks weren't anywhere near as popular as they were in autumn and winter. Why did you do it? She turned the question over in her head. She knew the answer. But, it was an inherent knowledge. Nothing she'd ever had to put into words.
Azula could come up with a hundred and one reasons for why she did it, and in the beginning, she had. Princesses in fairytales kiss their saviors and he had saved her. The hero gets the girl and she is the girl. She imagined herself in love with him. Infatuation. A crush. But, none of it was true. The answer was that... she wanted to. Simple as that. Azula had wanted to. Mostly as a fuck you to father. Things like that were considered weak. And her father punished her weakness.
Azula was not allowed to think about romance. She was not allowed pretty dresses. She was not allowed flowers, dolls, makeup, and ribbons. Azula could not afford to be soft. And then. She found herself completely separated from everything she ever knew. Her home, her family, her status, her nation, her people.
For the first time ever in her life, Azula has complete and total freedom. Her looks were maintained as was demanded of her status but weapons don't need to look pretty. She loved douyin makeup. She liked pastel pink and lace and ribbons. Her clothes were pink and white, her accessories in rose gold. She wore her hair in various braids. She loved Mamma Mia and Legally Blonde. She adored Phantom of the Opera.
Azula could finally be herself. Her whole self, without her father breathing over her shoulder. Monitoring her every move. So of course, it spiraled into her doing something incredibly stupid. He was dressed differently. Not wearing the black leather. Or a sleeveless shirt. His hair wasn't styled, his nails weren't painted, and he wasn't wearing that damn eyeliner. His face wasn't shaved either. He had scruff.
I want to kiss him, she'd thought. So she did. She had run up to him and grabbed him by his tie. She dragged him down and the kiss while chaste, had lingered. He'd tasted like alcohol and cigarettes. Smelled like it too. His lips were chapped and she could feel his scruff at the edges of her lips. It was... nice. Just that. Just nice. It lasted only a few seconds until her brain kicked into gear and she took off.
That night Azula was a confused mess of exhilaration, shame, and a sort of giggly breathless lightheadedness that she still didn't know what to do with. It was amazing. It was messy and she loved it. Oh, right. He'd asked why she did it.
"I wanted to", she admitted. She wasn't going to tell him the rest of it. But, it was a good question and he had the right to ask as the other party involved. She didn't know him well enough to tell him the deeper stuff. But this much would do, she was sure.
"That's it. You just... wanted to?"
Azula nodded, "Yes, I just wanted to. So I did. Can I ask you a question?"
"You just did, Luv, but go ahead."
"When you said that we could've kept going if I hadn't run off, did you mean it?" Azula swallowed nervously. There was a nauseating feeling in the pit of her stomach and she felt like the anxiety of her question was crushing her beneath its weight.
"No."
Azula looked up, locking with him. His gaze was firm, "I mostly said that to be a dick. If you hadn't run off I wouldn't have kissed back. Hell, I would've stopped it."
Azula felt lighter than air suddenly. She didn't feel sick anymore. Instead, her mouth, chest, and hands hurt with a sudden urge to kiss him again. Motherfucker, he did not deserve to be that attractive. Why was his telling her that he wouldn't have kept the kiss going the thing that made her want to kiss him again? Shouldn't it be the other way? Shouldn't she be upset and hurt by it? Feelings suck.