Title: One - After All these Years
Word Count: 1,480
Rating: T (for language)
Notes: One drabble per episode: Book4 Episode 1: BroMasami. Is this a thing? Maybe I can make it a thing. Or if its already someone else's thing, sorry! Thanks for letting me use this term! Partially inspired by the Masami Friendship Headcanons that I read a while ago~
Mako is clearly staring but he really doesn't give a damn.
He's reclined in his chair, absentmindedly swirling his drink in his glass—it's straight. No ice and its maybe his sixth or seventh. His gaze is unwavering as he stares into the crowd. Near the middle, there's a group of girls clustered together; their hips gyrating in tight, inviting circles.
One of them, in particular, is wearing a tight blue dress that frames her hips perfectly. She's lean and the lights dance on the clean lines of her arms…out of the corner of her eye, she spots him staring and a coy smile spreads on her face.
"Do you want me to give her your number?" says Asami. Her voice sounds like bells but it doesn't break his line of sight.
"Nope," he grunts as he tips the glass back before he pushes his chair away to get another.
He tells himself that he's not the least bit ashamed that the only thing he noticed about that girl was her hair. It was pulled up in a high ponytail, strung through a narrow tube that glinted in the colorful lights.
He doesn't even remember the girl's face.
….
"Seriously, Mako. When did 'Going out to get shit-faced for fun' Night turn into 'Stalker Stare' Night?"
"…I wasn't staring," he lies, distracting himself by unbuttoning the top of his shirt.
"Oh whatever," sighs Asami, before she kicks her shoes off. 'Going out to get shit-faced' Night usually transitions to 'Drunken Confessional' Early Mornings, because if the two of them aren't going to remember it anyway, who cares? They usually lounged around in the fire escape above the club—it was a bit rusty but the view of the city lights was spectacular.
It was roughly 2AM.
Asami breaks the silence first. "Was it because of her hair?"
"….Maybe."
"I thought so."
"Did you make out with that guy just to test drive his sports car?
"…Maybe."
"Thought so."
….
Asami stops coming to visit him. Instead, she sends…messengers. He notices that they're subtle, at first.
The first one is the girl from the club. She winks at him as she hands over the folder—he only notices its her because of the tube in her hair. He dismisses her quickly.
The second one is taller, and the robin's egg blue of her top matches the color of her eyes. He glances at her for a second before he signs the receiving slip and turns away.
It's the third that finally set's him off—he opens the door and as soon as his brain registers what he's seeing…he unapologetically slams the door in the poor girl's face. There's a muffled cry of surprise on the other side and then a gasp of shock as he rips the door open again, this time with his keys in his teeth as he jerks on his leather jacket. The girl nearly falls over the railing—at this, he shouts his apology over his shoulder.
….
"WHAT. THE. FUCK, Asami?" He has muscled his way into her clean, posh apartment and he's shouting.
She looks confused as she darts around him, quickly shutting the door for damage control, but it's too late—there's already a little old woman peeking out from behind her curtains. "What? I didn't do anything," she protests.
"The last one—that was the last fucking straw." He's practically spitting now and he doesn't give a damn if what's-his-name-number-eleven is sleeping in her bedroom down the hall.
"You mean Jai? She's dropped off some slips to you before, you never had a problem with her," says Asami. She pulls her cardigan tighter to her chest.
"Yeah, dressed in a freaking fur pelt with her hair pulled up in a tail? What the fuck?"
Asami's hands are up now, trying to calm him down but he has past feeling 'calm' at least an hour ago. "Look, Mako—"
"I know what you're doing, but you know what?" He's seething now, and heat building in his clenched fists is so overwhelming, he slams one of them into her walls. "None of them are her. You can dress them up like her and some of them practically look like they're wearing her face. But NONE of them are her, NONE."
The silence is deafening. "Mako, I just wanted you to be happy. That's all."
"...I know." He slumps on her couch. "It's just that…her being gone is hard enough. I don't really need to be reminded by seeing bad copies every day."
Her hand tentatively comes to rest on his shoulder, and when he doesn't angrily throw it off, she sits next to him. "I know, I just…I'm sorry."
They sit in silence that's not so loud, ignoring the blackened hole above them.
….
"I dumped Kei today."
"Oh. What's-his-name-number-thirteen? The jerk?" Mako doesn't miss a beat. It's just around Midnight, tonight. The club was practically dead so Drunken Confessionals was moved up early.
"Yeah," she sighs louder this time, taking a long swig of the bottle, "Honestly. It was because he…" She grimaces and he sits up, suddenly very interested. "He….had this weird obsession with my toes."
Mako's face wrinkles in morbid intrigue and disgust. "Toes?"
"Yeah, when we did it…he liked to…my toes! He had to suck on my toes."
Mako nearly throws up all of the drinks from that evening. "I hope what's-his-name-number-fourteen is a bit more normal."
Asami sighs a third time, and takes an even longer swig.
"But, in all honestly," says Mako, flipping the bottle cap expertly between his fingers, "You were way too good for Thirteen."
She laughs, but its hollow. "Really? He came from the best prep schools that the Fire Nation has. He was the CEO of his own company, by the time he was seventeen. He could speak four languages. FOUR."
Mako flips the cap up and catches it. "Yeah, but he was still an asshole. And he treated you like shit. AND he had a weird toe fetish. Asami, you are amazing, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. You deserve someone that'll treat you way better—you deserve respect."
Asami goes for one more swig but her coordination is almost entirely gone—Mako has to stretch to grab it as it slips from her fingers. The heavy glass is slippery but he manages to catch it by the neck; its golden contents squishing around violently.
She merely laughs, but it's so full of distress that he says nothing witty, he just listens and reaches over to hold her hand.
"All I really want…is for someone to love me, the same way that you love her."
"Aaaaasami," he slurs, scooting closer to wrap both arms around her head. He knows that she appreciates this because she starts to laugh and hiccup, simultaneously. "Don't give up! You've practically got your whole life ahead of you. He's out there, you'll see."
She mumbles into his coat sleeves. "You're a good friend."
He responds by giving her a softer (or perhaps drunker) version of a noogie.
….
"...And Beifong told me that Korra is getting in tonight."
"I can't wait to see her."
Both of them are all smiles, but her hand squeezes his arm assuringly before she leaves. She knows that he's nervous as hell. She can read it in the short breaths that he takes, the terseness of his speech. The way the corners of his mouth tend to turn downwards automatically.
Three years. It's a long time and he's still not sure how he feels about it.
Before he knows it, they're all standing out at the dock. All of them. In his mind, he was hoping that it' d be a small, private affair (perhaps just the old Team Avatar, and Tenzin maybe) but three years is a while—of course everyone would be there. He wasn't the only one who's been missing her.
But when Naga barrels out, and Tonraq is next—by himself….and Mako's brain finally puts two and two together (she's…not…here), his body tenses up until he can't take a breath. Wu stares at him, questionably, before he follows Raiko and his wife. Mako feels several little hands brush past him, followed by the warm, fuzzy wall which is Naga's side. Pema's hands pat his back and Tenzin nods solemnly as he passes.
Tonraq, on the other hand, pauses and places a heavy hand on Mako's shoulder. "She thought of you often," he rumbles, before he follows he crowd.
Soon, it's just Mako, still standing there, and Asami. They stand in silence for a while before she tentatively moves to stand next to him, hooking his arm with hers while resting her head against his shoulder.
He's rather grateful for her presence…its little comfort compared to how he feels but it's still something. Her silence means everything—she totally understands.
A/N: I wanted this to be a little funnier! But idk. BroMasami seemed more of heartfelt touching cool friend moments vs. funny friend moments. And I tried to minimize using Korra's name, to make her absence felt...a little differently. Is this weird? Tell me if read really weirdly, please. D: