A touch. Everything in the universe can touch. Everything can bump up against something else. And whether the atoms get back to where they were before, whether we get back to where we are now, we touched one another. We can't escape that simple exchange, nor its consequences.

So we're sitting on your couch, a part of the universe. I am small. Your arms wrap around me like sky. I pull away from you kissing me — or am I kissing you? I pull away from our kiss. How did we get here? It's like being born again. "So this is why you came?" you ask with a smile. A smile. Not a smirk. You always smirk. I used to think you hid a secret in your smirk. I learned, though, from texting you late into the night, from riding with you in your car, from visiting your house. Our expressions aren't our own, are they? Or, they don't always come free of charge. I touch your cheek. I wish it didn't matter which one. But it does. It's supple and dimpled like a rose. Your smile is so big, you must not even notice. In this moment, he couldn't possibly restrain the joy on your face, even if he was here. There's joy in the little lines of scarlet on your lips and joy dancing in the amber in your eyes and joy wrinkled in the warm brown skin all over your face, and joy still and vibrant in the pink scar. And I think I love it all. Maybe I've always loved it all. But that's not the question you asked. So this is why you came?

"No, not exactly," I say, "The truth is, I just missed you." And if there's a second of hesitation, I must've passed out briefly, because we were in our kiss again before I put the period on my sentence. And my hand is at the tail of your oversized t-shirt. Oh my god. I can't believe I didn't notice you were in your pajamas. Is it that late? But your mouth is sucking time right from my lips, so it doesn't matter. Forever could pass us by with your hand bristling against the back of my head and your tongue doing exactly that. Yes, I don't care if it feels weird right now. It's your tongue. And we have forever to figure all this out.

When forever's over, I have to remember to send Azula a text. And Katara. And Sokka. And Toph, she'd want to know, too. Maybe I'll leave out some of the details. Like how he made a ladder of kisses up to my ear, and how I couldn't hold in a moan when he got to the top. And everywhere my hands had troubled under his shirt by now. That would also be left out of the text. But I need to thank them. Despite how evident it was now in your flurry of affection, I really didn't think you wanted any of this.

I thought you were just in need of a friend. Someone who could listen to you and let you know that you didn't need to do anything to earn their love. I remember thinking exactly that when we were eating ice cream at the gas station. Your mom was going to be coming back to keep you and your sister after your dad (is there not a list of reasons for which we can revoke that title) went to jail. And you were so afraid she would be disappointed in you. You were tucked under your black hoodie licking away (not too different from what you are doing right now tbh). I told you to look up and pointed out Perseus, jeweled and stored in the night sky. Then I told you the story about Perseus and his mother (a little more complicated, I know). As I blabbed on about Greek mythology, your smirk appeared illuminated by the neon red from the station's open sign. My ice cream was melting in streams across my fingers, neglected in exchange for stories. Your ice cream was gone, the victim of a focused listener. I knew even then that I could give up ice cream forever if I could just let you know you deserved to be loved. Deserved the love you were told to withhold from yourself.

I think you found that. After that night, we didn't hang out again. We texted plenty, at least for a few months afterwards. But we didn't go to the same school, our friend group kind of disbanded without a mutual enemy to plot against (read: your dad), and your mom really gave you the kind of love you needed. You started making friends at school (a first), got really involved in a bunch of school orgs, and just generally built a life that fit you.

So I faded out—it was no big deal. You didn't need me the way you did before. And I had things to keep me busy at school and friends to keep me busy outside of school. I think Katara noticed first, though. We only dated our freshman year. (No one should date their freshman year. Especially guys. I was a bit of jerk — demanding, selfish, short-tempered, etc. But, who's surprised? My voice hadn't even fully changed!) But she still remained my closest friend and she kept tabs on my feelings. Backstage at a drama rehearsal one day, she noticed my emotions had flatlined over the past month. I tried to explain, but, I was so clueless, it was like trying to remember what I had forgotten when I walked out of a room. Katara had me lay out the sequence of events. "You know," she said, "It's okay to spend time with someone just because. It doesn't have to be a need. And it definitely doesn't have to be centered on whether he wants it or not. It's okay for you to ask to hang if that's what you want, Aang." It took a few more repetitions from the others, and Azula texting me that you had been wanting to hang out before I finally went for it.

And now we are really going for it. We're horizontal now. When did I push you over? Or did you recline? I try everything with my lips that you did. I feel all of you through your shirt and your pajama bottoms. I'm sure you can feel me. And we don't have any shame about it. We both agree between licks and kisses, to leave it here. Why treat happiness like passion? Even if we did go all the way, I still think there would be all this laughter. People don't talk about sexy stuff and laughing, but it was mixed in like chocolate chips. Not essential, yet so satisfying and sweet.

It all slows down like the end of the day with people trickling out of work, the sunlight going from golden, to pink, to a deep night purple, and the lights turning on across the neighborhoods. I roll into the fold of the couch beside you and grin at your profile as you stare dreamily at the ceiling with intermittent glances at me. My arm stretches on your chest, right across the scar. Your arm sweeps around my back, right across mine. "How long?" I ask. You glance down at yourself with a look of discomfort. I tickle the room again with more laughter. "How long have you wanted to do that?"

You laugh and smile. I love your smile. How it spreads out and pushes away atoms of air so they could go tell other atoms, and they could tell other atoms, etc. that you are happy. "I don't think I knew at the time. Do you want to know when I first wanted it or when I figured it out?"

"Both," I said unable to keep myself from pecking the cherry of your cheek with a superfluous kiss.

"Well, I figured it out when you texted me earlier tonight." There's the smirk.

"And when did you first want it?"

You turn to look at me with something deeper than a smile. "I would say, 'Remember that time when you caused that explosion in that alley when you first met Katara and Sokka, and you climbed up the fire escape to run away before someone found you. But you looked back when you were at the top of the building and I was standing there looking at you?"

It was my turn to smirk. "That was the first time you saw me."

"Well, I would say that, but the first sight deal doesn't make much sense to me. So I must've wanted this in all the lives I've lived before."

"I hope our past lives got some action with each other," I say fitting my head in the groove of your neck like a sleepy puzzle piece.

With a peaceful sigh that echoes from your body into mine, you reply "And our future lives, too."