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Katara knew she was pretty.
The words of past friends and family stuck with her over the years. Gawks from people telling her how beautiful she is and how lucky her boyfriend must be.
Katara understood that she was objectively pretty.
So why didn’t she feel like it?
Katara looked at herself in the mirror. Her long dress fell to the ground around her shoes and she studied herself. The dress itself was flawless. It was a long burgundy dress with a long slit on her left leg. It was a one shoulder dress with that flared the dramatics once it reached her chest. The dress had a separate piece of fabric that ruffled and formed into an abstract rose shape.
Zuko had chosen it.
She sized herself up, adding some finishing touches to her hair that was in a loose bun. She looked at herself again and turned to her side.
She self-consciously held her open arm over her chest. Over the years she’s spent in high school, her chest hadn’t grown any more than a B cup. She held a piece of the dresses fabric in her hand and scrunched it. She hated doing this to herself, constantly criticizing her looks. But she couldn’t stop, the endless criticisms toward herself never seemed to end.
Her stomach seemed to bulge out of the dress. It wasn’t completely flat in the dress unless she sucked in her stomach and held it. That, however, was beyond exhausting. She stood straight in the mirror and looked forward again. The small curves in her body felt overemphasized in the dress. She hugged herself as she stared, unmoving.
A knock on her bedroom door finally unfroze her.
”Come on, perfectionist! We’re gonna be late!” Sokka yelled at her, only half joking.
”Got it,” Katara replied, rolling her eyes.
Katara picked at her hair again, messing with the few loose strands to make sure they were perfect. She grabbed her clutch that was laying on her bed before staring at herself in the mirror again. She let her head fall and rubbed the back of the neck (an anxious habit she had picked up over the years).
Another knock at her door.
”Sokka, Jesus, I’m-“ she was interrupted by the door opening to reveal Zuko.
He was wearing a fitted black suit with blue accents (she chose it for him). His hair wasn’t as messy as he usually left it, but it was still maintained. Katara couldn’t help but smile at his appearance.
”I thought you were waiting downstairs?” Katara questioned, feeling a bit more guilty about her tardiness than before.
”I wanted to see you before everyone else,” he spoke, walking up to her and giving her a quick kiss on the lips.
”Mmm-“ she pulled away, “lipstick”.
”Right,” he rolled his eyes. He lowered her head to press another kiss on the crown of her head. When Katara looked back up, Zuko’s face had contorted into a look of confusion.
“Are you okay?” He asked.
”Yeah, why?”
”The back of your neck is red,” he explained.
”Oh,” Katara distantly replied, slightly turning her head from him.
”What’s bothering you?” He led her to the foot of her bed where they both sat down. He took Katara’s hand in his own and she squeezed back.
”I don’t know. I guess I just…” she struggled to find the words to explain her feelings, “for lack of a better term, wish I liked my body more?” She offered an awkward smile. Although she phrased the statement as a question, Katara still felt tears begin to well up in her eyes.
Zuko nodded and let out a hum.
”I think there are parts of ourselves that we all fail to understand and accept,” he finally began after a long pause. “I mean, look at me. I have a huge scar on my face but you sit next to me and tell me how beautiful it makes me.”
”Well, your face would be boring without it.” Katara lightly joked.
”The same goes for you.” At this, Katara’s smile faded. “Whatever you may dislike about yourself, I know I love it more than you could imagine.”
Katara let out a sigh. “Yeah.”
”Seriously, Kat! I mean, I love women for their personalities more than their bodies one hundred percent, don’t forget that— but literally everything about you is beautiful in my eyes. I mean, it might actually be a problem how rose tinted my glasses are when looking at you.”
Katara laughed.
”We all have things we’re insecure about, yeah. But I think the opinions that matter most are those closest to us and can best shape us to love ourselves the most. If that even makes sense.”
”it was perfectly worded.”
”Good. Now, can I please share a kiss with you on the lips?”
Katara pretended to think for a moment before pressing her lips against his own.
”Oh my god, lovebirds, hurry up. He have a reservation!” Sokka called from downstairs Katara’s bedroom.
”Right, we’re going to prom,” Zuko smiled.
“Can’t we stay here instead?” Katara complained, only slightly serious.
”We could… but the tickets were eighty dollars,” he argued.
Katara smiled and stood up. Zuko followed suit and once again, took her hand in his.
”Ready?” He asked.
”As long as you are.”