Avatar: The Fifth Element

16. Let Me Help You

"Alright, Zuko, outta those clothes!" Rumi bursted into his room, chipper than usual after her conversation with Iroh.

Zuko just looked up at her like a deer caught in headlights. "Y-you, what?!"

Rumi jumped onto his bed, "So I can check on your injury," her tone turned more serious. "It needs to be looked at."

Zuko appeared a bit baffled, "It, it's fine. I feel fine."

Scooting closer to him, Rumi placed her hand on the collar of his robe, fidgeting with the fabric. "What's wrong," she looked at him with her big doe eyes.

Zuko couldn't help but letting his heart flutter. He'd never been this close to her face before, and only now could he see the light freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks.

"Zuko?"

"What?!"

"You were staring," Rumi smirked.

"Oh, sorry..." he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

"So can I get a look at your injury?" she pressed.

Zuko simply made a defiant grunt as he got off the bed and limped his way to the mirror, "I don't know."

As he looked, he shook his hair into his face, hiding his scar, and tugged on his robe that was slightly form-fitting.

Rumi's smirk faltered when she saw the sad look in Zuko's eyes, full of self doubt. She got up and stood behind him, placing a hand on his arm.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said sternly, crossing his arms over himself and averting his gaze to the floor. Just how horrible I look compared to this stunning girl standing behind me.

The mood felt tense and depressing, and Rumi didn't know what to do to lift his spirits up, but she had to do something because that injury really did need looking at. She wouldn't admit it to anyone else, but Rumi was worried about him. Pride was going to get in the way of his healing. Suck it up, Rumi. You can't keep tiptoeing around what the obvious problem is here. She took a deep breath.

"Zuko, you know it's normal that you were likely to gain some muscle weight after the war. You're not starving anymore," Rumi said, attempting to be gentle, and maybe even sugarcoating it a little bit.

At this, Zuko winced and ran his hands down the sides of his midsection, "It's not just muscle I've gained..."

Alright, I need to just play this nonchalantly. If I don't make a big deal out of it, maybe he'll realize it's not that bad.

"So what?" Rumi shrugged, "So you're a little stocky now. You've got meat on you, you look healthy, and strong."

"Sure, 'healthy'. That's just a nice way of saying I'm f—"

"Don't even say that, Zuko. You're not. You're fine," her words were solid and stern, but that may have been the wrong approach. Zuko's insecurities were knit deep into him, and a stern talking to wasn't about to do the trick.

"It's not fine!" he groaned, limping back to the bed and flopping onto his non-injured side.

What a drama queen. Better not say that out loud, Rumi thought, making sure to bite her tongue.

"I could barely fight before! Now that I'm injured I'm even more useless! It doesn't matter what I do, I'm always a disappointment in some way..." Zuko's whole face was tense, obviously trying not to cry.

Stressed, Rumi bit her lip and looked up to the corner of the room, still standing by the mirror. What am I supposed to do? I've never dealt with anyone like this. He's so... sad.