"I never want to leave this place," Asami breathes, her eyes focused on the swirling energy dancing across the Spirits' skyline. "It's so beautiful,"
Twilight tempting its desires of darkness upon the world; love, ribboned across the sky in purple and yellow, before it says goodnight once more for secret keeping. Fleeting reflections of warmth shimmer in their eyes as the painting's colors grow dim on the sky-canvas, then fade away, giving life to the creatures who inhabit it.
They are staring up at the sky, the Spirit Portal pulsing with light in the distance. She and Korra are two bodies molding into one against the plush grass, the mystical creatures flying, and running, and dancing around without a care in the world. Asami turns her head, and watches Korra bite her lip in awe; the way she tries to remain calm when she is so existed sends a blush up Asami's cheeks. She brushes her hair behind her ears once more, and Asami thinks that this may be the right time to tell her-maybe the only right time to ever tell her how he feels.
"Korra, I..." But she stops. They have more important things to worry about, than feelings.
As if Republic City and the Earth Kingdom aren't in shambles. As if things are not as such a big mess as they actually are. Asami feels her eyes crinkle, and hastily rubs away a tear. Beside her, Korra squeezes her hand.
"I know," Korra responds. "But we have to face the real world eventually." A little smile quirks her lips. "A week-long vacation in the Spirit World while the City is a wreck doesn't feel very Avatar-like." Korra doesn't want to admit it, but after three years of abandoning the world-abandoning who she is- this vacation does not feel well derserved. They are sure to be reprimands and gossip once they return.
But she had allowed herself to be selfish, just this once. If only to see Asami happy again.
Korra doesn't know when thoughts of Asami stopped being "best friend" and started to mold into something much more intimate. Maybe it was the weeks Asami had spent at her bedside, when the darkess had it's oily tendrils wrapped around her so tight that she barely dared to speak for days at a time. When the cold metal of the wheelchair seeped into her aching bones and the bags under her eyes stuck out like charcoal. The days on end where she turned her parents away, turned Tenzin and Pema and anyone away who tried to help her. Yet she let Asami stay. She let Asami stay and bathe her, feed her, dress her.
Asami had just seemed to make the pain a little less pitiful. She had seen Korra at her lowest, and through the years of letters, a bond had formed that she could not deny.
And here they were.
Korra didn't know exactly what they were yet. But it's a start.
Eventually, the Avatar lets out a weary sigh. She silently stands, and turns to Asami, whose brows furrow in confusion. She holds out her hand.
"Time to go home," she says.
Asami smiles, and grasps her hand, getting to her feet.
The Portal illuminates their silhouettes as they walk through, and then they are gone.
Bolin's eyes fly open in a start, the celling and floor crushing down on him too fast, and he falls out of bed. Something catches in his chest, like a fist clogged up in his throat, and for a minute, everything is hazy and he is not connected to anything.
A furry thing, that he knows somewhere in his mind, is Pabu, is chirping by his side, in alarmed yelps.
A round of coughs tear through him and tears burn his eyes. He scrambles for the edge of his night stand, and struggles to pull his weight up.
He takes in deep lung fulls of air, counting in his head, and exhaling every four seconds. He blinks and his bedroom comes back into focus.
His shoulders unclench, and he whips the sweat-matted hair from his temple. Pabu looks at him in concern, and he tries to smile back, but it does not reach his eyes.
This is the third night in a row that he's been woken up like this. Covered in a layer of sweat and his breath stolen from his lungs, in a way that is making him increasingly anxious.
He runs a hand across his face, and stumbles into his bathroom, where he flicks on the lowest light. He shouldn't be this unsettled, but something inside him doesn't feel right. He's not sure when he'd started feeling "off"- a week after Varrick and Zhu Li's wedding? Two weeks after? Either way, he's felt super cruddy for about a month now, and Mako and the others are starting to notice. The way that the sight of food just seems to twist his gut now, rather than wanting to fill his mouth with flavor, and he can go a whole day now with barely wanting to eat anything. How he's starting to fall into a deep sleep in the middle of the day, anywhere; at the Air Temple dinner table, in the back of Asami's car, on the ferry. It's a certain kind of tiredness that makes him feel rundown, stealing his energy more than when he was a scawny boy on the streets. And that's saying something. Climbing stairs, which used to be a mundane thing, now leave him catching his breath and the world swimming around him, woozy.
Something is not right.
Bolin looks at himself in the mirror, and paleness of his face and the dark rings under his eyes, only help solidify his anxiety.
He sighs, and takes his temperature just like the pervious nights. But-just like the previous nights- after it beeps and he pulls the rod out from under his tongue, the numbers prove safe, 98.6.
Bolin scoffs. That cannot be right. It's winter time, and he's covered in sweat and just feels...disgusting.
He braces his hands against the edge of the sink and takes a deep breath. If he tries, he can feel himself shaking slightly. He's cold. So cold, but so hot.
The thermometer has to be broken. He has to have some sort of fever. Either that, or he's loosing his mind. Pabu chirps and jumps up on the counter, then scurries up his arm to his regular spot on his shoulder.
Bolin shrugs him off, and he jumps down. "Not right now, buddy..." He mutters.
He turns off the light and decides that he needs some water, in the very least.
When he turns to leave the bathroom, something in his side twinges; a small spasm of pain. Bolin stops, backtracks into the bathroom, and flicks the light on again. He slowly lifts up his shirt.
There is a purple-black bruise, the size of a plum, blooming on his abdomen. It's darker in the center and greener around the edges. He presses his finger against it, and hisses at the pain. It hurts, but it...doesn't. Bolin traces it now, gently, with his fingertips, and it's warm to the touch, like a fever set in right there and nowhere else - and it's weird, because he doesn't remember getting hurt there at all. Like someone smacked him with a metal rod, and he has no memory of it.
A bud of fear starts in him. Is this why he is feeling so odd? Then again, no one exactly come out unscathed from the battle against Kuvira...
But that was a month ago, and Bolin definitely would have noticed this before. He glances at the ugly bruise once more, before pulling his shirt down. He bites his lip, and goes into his kitchen.
Maybe it was nothing.
.
.
.
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Hey, guys, so this is a new story of mine. Aannnddd...it's gonna have other characters of the krew it in. And Opal. Because Opal is my sweetie and I love her. The Krew are each going to go through their own personal journeys and help each other out. It's kinda like...strengthening their characters and relationships. Idk, I'm just trying something new. I've never tried Korrasami before so please bare with me.
A Mako part will come next, don't worry.
Also, extra points if you can guess what's going on with Bolin. If you know what's going on- and you know who you are- please don't spoil anything.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this first little chappie. I know it was short, sorry. I'll try to make them longer.
Reviews are my lifeblood. Please, no matter how long or short, I ask if you please tell me what you think.
Thanks, everyone :)
(PS. If someone could tell me why the new writing format on fanfiction is so odd and not letting me 'bold' or 'italicize' anything, that would be great! :/ I don't like this new set up...)