“Kuruk, you aren't supposed to be here.” That’s what he had said when the Avatar showed up at his doorstep. He would’ve asked why he was there, if he didn’t know better. Kuruk always had a reason for what he did and never a reason to tell anyone about it. Nyahitha was sure there were things he kept from him, even. After what must’ve been a full decade now, Nyahitha knew what to ask of his friend and what not to; which topics would illicit the wrong reactions.

“Hey, Nyahitha.” Kuruk forced a smile, bracing himself on the doorframe. For now, he was staying in the inner part of Royal Caldera City, as part of his duties as a Fire Sage. It wasn’t the right place for Kuruk to be- was even supposed to be in the Fire Nation right now?

Nyahitha braced himself to answer, taking in a breath to ready himself. “Do you need a place to stay?” It didn’t make much sense to him that Kuruk was here, after all that had happened. After his fiance had died nearly three years ago, he had all but disappeared into isolation. That earthbender friend of his had shown up at Nyahitha’s door and demanded to know where the Avatar was, but he couldn’t provide an answer. In the moment, he had been surprised- he thought Kuruk was with his old friends. Jianzhu had obviously thought the same of him, but neither of them had been correct, and for a few short years the entire world had lived in a state of suspense, unknowing if the Avatar was alive or dead.

Kuruk nodded, still bracing himself on the doorway. It looked as if he put any more weight on it, the wooden frame would snap and splinter. “Yeah. That would be good. Can you- can you help me inside? I’m not feeling great.”

Nyahitha nodded solemnly and let his friend lean on his shoulder, carrying him into the main room. Kuruk had lost a lot of muscle in the past few years, but he was still a larger man than Nyahitha and almost weighed him completely. It was a halfway amusing thought- the two of them falling to the floor, lost in each other's arms. It would’ve been like when they were younger (Nyahitha resented himself for thinking of what was only years ago as his distant youth, but so much had happened since those almost-happy days that they had shared together).

Kuruk visibly relaxed when Nyahitha layed him out on the bed. His heavy breathing slowed, he closed his eyes. Nyahitha sat next to him, putting his hand on Kuruk’s forehead to check for a fever but quickly moving to run his hand through his thick, dark hair. Nyahitha had always loved Kuruk’s hair, and was glad he hadn’t cut it off. It made him look younger, more like the Kuruk, Nyahitha knew, the Kuruk he had fallen in love with. “Do you want me to make you some tea? I have the fancy kind from the palace, now. I think you’d like it.”

Kuruk breathed a heavy, solitary sigh. He kept his eyes closed, as if the golden light of the sunset would burn him. “Nyahitha… I think it’s time.”

Nyahitha didn’t have to ask what he meant by the words, it was all too obvious. They had been expecting this conversation to happen for years now, but back then it had just been a cruel joke of fate, a matter they could laugh about because of it’s distance from them. One day, Kuruk would die, but they didn’t have to think about that now, when they had each other and they had the moment. Their time had passed all too quickly. Nyahitha sat up. “That doesn’t mean you can’t have some tea. It might make you feel better, who knows.”

Kuruk laughed, although he restrained himself from using up what little strength he had left. “Yeah, maybe. Yangchen willing, your fancy royal tea is actually the death cure.”

Nyahitha forced a smile and helped Kuruk sit up, propping him up against a headboard covered in pillows. He deserved to feel nothing but the soft and gentle in his final moments. Nyahitha adjusted Kuruk’s collar before stepping back. “Don’t die on me while I’m gone, ok?” If they made jokes about it, maybe it would ease the pain of the inevitable.

Kuruk nodded and smiled. “I’ll try…” His gaze drifted away from Nyahitha’s. “You should probably hurry up and make that tea, though.”

Nyahitha nodded and stepped out of the room, to his small kitchen, nearly running to save time. Making the tea was methodical and brief, each moment spent one away from Kuruk. He couldn’t boil the water fast enough to quell his nerves. Relief only came to him when he had two cups of tea in his hands and was returning to his bedroom, where Kuruk was.

“That was fast.” Kuruk smiled as Nyahitha returned. “You boiled the water with firebending, right?”

Nyahitha forced a smile and handed Kuruk one of the teacups. “You know me too well.” Tea in bed was all kinds of improper, but they were far past prosperity at this point.

Kuruk took a sip of his tea and relaxed. “You’re right, this is pretty good.” He gestured to his side, for Nyahitha to sit with him. The firebender complied, climbing into bed and leaning against Kuruk like they were lovers again and this was but a calm evening shared in a paradisiacal dream.

“Good enough to cure death?” Nyahitha sighed, taking a sip of his own tea.

“We’ll have to see.” Kuruk replied. His voice was weaker than Nyahitha hoped it would be. He was supposed to be strong, he was supposed to live longer. Things were supposed to go well for him. They were supposed to be able to grow old together, like a faraway dream in a perfect world. In the perfect dream, the histories would tell of their eternal, lasting love, and how they passed in each other's arms after a long life well spent. Kuruk wasn’t supposed to leave him when he had so much time left to spend.

“It’s twilight…” Kuruk mused, casting his glance to Nyahitha’s curtained window. Rays of what was once gold but now a near-pink filtered through the spaces between the sheets of cloth over the window, making shapes of light over their bodies. It was the perfect mergence of their elements- the bright force and warmth of fire meeting the cooled mystery and night of water- one of two moments they could truly meet as equals. This moment was as much of him as it was Kuruk. It was the perfect place to die.

Nyahitha set his cup of tea on the bedside table. It wasn’t doing much to stop the racing beat of his heart, anyways. Kuruk followed his motion, but strained as he moved. Nyahitha put his hand over his chest, to feel the hollow beat of his heart. “You should rest. We… we don’t want to speed up the process any more than we have to.”

Kuruk nodded and let Nyahitha guide him back to a resting position. “Thank you, for everything.” He breathed. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“You have nothing to thank me for.” Nyahitha sighed. He put his hand over Kuruk’s. “I wasn’t able to help you, I never gave you anything but borrowed time. Look where we are now.”

Kuruk paused. “You gave me your time. You gave me what you could. I’d say that’s worthy of thanks.”

Nyahitha nodded. He tightened his grip around Kuruk’s hand, as if that would prevent him from leaving. “It’s always been you. I don’t think I’ll ever fall in love again.”

“Ah, don’t say that.” Kuruk sighed. “You’re too young to say that.”

“You’re too young to die.”

Kuruk paused. “Yeah, I guess I am. Not much I can do about that now, though.”

“Not much you could do about it ever.” Nyahitha replied. It was important to him, that even in his final moments, Kuruk knew that all of this wasn’t his fault.

“I know.” Kuruk sighed. He turned to Nyahitha and traced his cheek with the back of his hand, wiping away tears Nyahitha didn’t know had formed. It was a gentle motion, reminiscent of a faraway love. “It’s always been you.” Kuruk breathed, moving closer to Nyahitha so that they were only a movement away from a kiss. “I’ve loved you all along. I wouldn’t pick anyone else to say goodbye to.”

Nyahitha closed his eyes and, instead of responding with words, silenced Kuruk with a kiss. It was a brief moment that would have lasted an eternity, had things had gone the way they were supposed to. They were supposed to be the star-crossed, unlikely lovers who found each other despite the world’s wishes. They were supposed to get married and live together and say goodbye at the same time before disappearing into an eternal dream. This was supposed to be the beginning of their story, not the end. What a cruel trick of fate it all was, that things had happened the way they had. Their story wasn’t supposed to be a tragedy, and yet, it was.

Kuruk broke away from their kiss out of a need for air. It didn’t matter, despite what Nyahitha wished, they couldn’t last forever. He sunk into an embrace, resting his head on Nyahitha’s chest. “I can feel it coming. We- I don’t have much time left.”

“What does it feel like?” Nyahitha asked.

“Terrifying.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, it’s not like we can stop this.”

Nyahitha hummed in response. He put his hands over Kuruk’s head and started to gently stroke his hair. If he closed his eyes, maybe he could pretend this was one of those long ago summer days, and they could spend this moment with each other as long as they wanted to and ignore the world. He could feel Kuruk’s heart slowing, though, a reminder of what was only moments away.

“Nyahitha…” Kuruk murmured. His voice was softer than it normally was. “Thank you. I’m so sorry.”

Nyahitha closed his eyes and held onto Kuruk. He was afraid to let go. “You don’t have to apologize to me. You’ve done nothing I won’t forgive you for.”

“I’m sorry I’m leaving you so soon.” Kuruk whispered. “I’m sorry I loved you in the first place, only to leave you like this.”

Nyahitha blinked away his tears. It was hard to keep his composure, but he needed to, for Kuruk’s sake.

“I love you, Nyahitha.” Kuruk whispered, putting his hand around Nyahitha’s.

It was too soon to say goodbye. They were both too young. It seemed only a day ago, they were both young and in love for the very first time, together. Nyahitha couldn’t help but cry. Kuruk deserved so much better than to die in his lover’s arms at the age of thirty-three. He deserved the very world. Nyahitha couldn’t give him that. There was so little he could give in this still, temporary moment. “I love you too, Kuruk. I always have, I always will.” He paused. “I’m so, so, sorry. Thank you.”

Nyahitha wasn’t sure when the sound of Kuruk’s breath and the beat of his heart fully faded. It was a slow, gradual process, like the turning of day into night. They spent it all in silence, holding onto each other like it would prevent the inevitable. Nyahitha ran his hands through Kuruk’s hair and fought back tears. The least he could do was wait until his lover was really gone to fully grieve. The moment was still, and almost paradise had it not been what it was. Nyahitha wished they could stay like this forever, or at least die in each other’s arms. By the time night had fallen, he was certain Kuruk had died, leaving him completely alone. Nothing could stop his tears as he took in what had happened, the dream of paradise falling out of his grasp like sand.