AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hi guys :) So, this is probably a little frustrating to read, but I wanted to give Mai's sorrow a voice, in a way. ^^ I think she's a great character and while I'm a big Maiko shipper, I see why she needs some space in the comics. Reviews would be cool, of course :) Have a nice day and thanks for reading!

"Avatar: The Last Airbender" and its characters don't belong to me.

So what?

Mai threw a knife towards the ceiling, angrily.

Why did it always have to be like this?

Why did she always have to stay behind, to be left behind?

Couldn't there be one time, when people where honest with her for once? At least the people she needed the most? At least him?

.

Mai felt her eyes tear up, as thoughts about her childhood crept to the surface. Thoughts about all these events and dinners she'd seen, quietly sitting in a corner and politely looking towards the ground, while the adults talked about politics. Not speaking, not laughing; just sitting there, being inconspicuous. Trying to merge with the wall, or preferably disappear in it.

"Noble people" weren't loud and loquacious, as her mother liked to remind her every day. "Noble little girls" were allowed to nod, perhaps. Or to clap their hands, sometimes, if someone had said something exceptionally formidable. But apart from that?

.

There was no room for being silly, or loud, or talkative in Mai's family.

"Always think about your father's political career first, Mai! If you embarrass us tonight you'll be very sorry for it!", her mother had warned her, each and every time before such nights, while combing her hair and severely eyeing her little daughter through the mirror.

.

Mai sighed. Her mother wasn't really the problem though. Mai's upbringing wasn't a problem. So what if she was a little reserved most of the time? So what, if she wasn't as bubbly and giddy as Ty Lee was? Mai was really fond of Ty Lee, but she also really didn't want to be like her. Mai was okay with being Mai. In fact, she was proud of herself.

.

She knew that she was intelligent. She'd been a good student, she'd always read a lot. She was a pessimist, alright, but that also made her a good tactician. She was a non-bender, and still more than capable of defending herself and others. Mai was smart, and strong, and loyal, and not a bad person. She'd worked with and for Azula, who probably was the definition of a "bad person", but she'd set an end to that at one point. And no, not just because of him. Mostly perhaps, but not entirely. She wanted to do something that felt right, for once. And not just something against her boredom.

And perhaps, it had never really been all that much about boredom in the first place.

.

And SO WHAT, if Mai was a little sarcastic or overly ironic now and then?

Perhaps, not everyone could be carefree and smiling all the time, after experiencing a lifelong lasting stock of frustration. And after being constantly manipulated and pressurised by one of your best friends, as a kid, and still having to compliment and obey them, because this person happens to be the princess... Perhaps, not everyone could constantly be an optimist, after seeing someone you really care about get publicly tortured and shooed away, maybe never to be seen ever again? And after moving in some boring, foreign city with your family, then, for a few years, to be alone all the time...

.

Perhaps, Mai didn't have as many choices, to begin with.

Perhaps, she never had the choice to become a bubbly little sunshine like Ty Lee, or a motherly, constantly caring person like Katara. Perhaps, some people weren't supposed to be all positive and nice. Mai could be like that, if she wanted to. And she did want to! Sometimes. Towards some people. And there were people who knew that, and who understood her, slightly. Who understood the worth of these moments all the more.

.

The thing with him was, that he sometimes didn't really understand it, even though he was the one who should be able to get her above everyone else.

.

Because she loved him.

.

And she'd told him that. More than once. And she'd shown it to him. More than a hundred times. In a thousand little ways, each and every day since she knew him.

Maybe, he hadn't even noticed, how far she'd opened up her heart already for him. How much she let him break her walls, and let him creep under her pale skin. How difficult it had been for her, to let herself feel that much for someone at all.

.

And she'd always been there for him. In her own way. So what, if she wasn't like other girls? So what, if she was herself? She loved him, damn it. And she really had thought, he'd love her, too.

But perhaps, it wasn't enough.

.

He'd kept secrets from her.

.

He hadn't turned his back to her, because he was exiled from their nation, or because of his moral values or honour, this time. He had turned his back to her, because he didn't trust her enough to openly talk to her, as it seemed. So instead, he'd sneaked away, at night, to talk to his cruel father about his feelings. About his doubts and problems and all that stuff.

.

Wasn't it ironic? All that time, Mai had felt as if her past would follow her, drag her down and hinder her from being open about her feelings towards others, in a way.

.

But now, as she was growing up, and finally getting better and better at these things, he – who had already fought his demons in such an aggressive, heroic way, (by helping to end a war, for spirits' sake!) - was still a victim of his past. Was still crawling back to his father, in the middle of the night, like a small kid after someone stole their sweets on the playground, and not like the leader of a huge nation.

.

Why didn't he see, how amazing he was? Why did he do stuff like that, each and every time? Why did he constantly let his fears get the best of him, and keep these secrets from everyone?

Why couldn't he see her, the way she was, and notice her being right there all this time? Why didn't he get how much he meant to her? And why couldn't he stop hurting her?

.

But so what, if Zuko hurt her, Mai thought all of the sudden. She stopped to throw knifes at her wall, for a second, and looked in the mirror next to her. There she was, all angry and sad, with a blade in her left hand and a few leftover tears on her cheeks.

.

Zuko perhaps didn't really love her. But she did. She loved that passionate, brave person she was becoming. She loved being honest and smart and sarcastic. She loved being herself.

She'd survived the deep, sharp pain of losing him more than once already...

And if he didn't really love her, then, perhaps, she should stop loving him, as well.

.

So what.

.