this is how we keep on breathing.
By Luna Maria Boulevardes
chapter one.
From Psychology: An Introduction written by Dr. Lee Fire. Dr. Fire is best known for his work with the Fire Nation royal family, notably acting as the leading doctor in the treatment of Princess Azula. Dr. Fire's textbook series Psychology is currently used in classrooms around the world, including Ba Sing Se University and the University of Republic City.
I. maladaptive behavior (n):
a behavior that is counterproductive to the individual's ultimate goals.
a behavior that interferes with the individual's ability to live independently, maintain relationships; may even threaten his or her survival (see recreational drug use, alcoholism, eating disorders).
a maladaptive behavior is essentially self-destructive.
II. dysfunctional behavior (n):
a behavior that does not accomplish the individual's desired outcome.
a behavior that interferes with the individual's ability to get what s/he wants.
IIa. distinguishing a maladaptive behavior from a dysfunctional behavior:
a maladaptive behavior achieves the individual's short term goal, i.e., it responds to an initial trigger and neutralizes it. a dysfunctional behavior fails to neutralize the trigger; it fails to fulfill its intended function.
IIai. example:
Bolin gorges himself on noodles after he sees Korra and Mako kissing. The kiss is upsetting; it triggers a desire for comfort. Bolin's gorging is functional because it comforts him. Bolin's gorging is maladaptive; it is self-destructive. It hurts Bolin, and it does not get him what he really wants – a return of his affection.
"I really can't believe you right now."
Mako doesn't respond. He drops his gaze to his feet and Bolin sighs and sits down next to him. He puts big his hand over Mako's smaller one and squeezes gently. A minute passes then Bolin gently begins to peel Mako's fingers from the hot knife handle. This always makes his nervous. Mako's fingers are long and delicate like a pianist's, while Bolin's are clumsy and thick as sausages. It's funny that he's the younger brother; sometimes Bolin feels like it would only take a moment's inattention to shatter his brother into irreparable pieces. He tries not to think about that. It's just too scary. People think he's naïve because he makes jokes. That isn't true.
"Let me see," Bolin murmurs. He presses Mako's shoulder back, forcing him to open his chest. No matter how horrified he is, Bolin never says anything. Mako's fire is not a flame, but a volcano. When he bursts it's a no-holds-barred disaster, woe to he that was unfortunate enough to be in his path. There will be ashes. There will be screaming. Tonight's damage isn't that bad, but it's the worst it's been in a long while.
"I didn't mean to," Mako says. He tries to sound angry, but Bolin hears through it to the real underneath. He can hear that what Mako really sounds like is a child who's been caught breaking the oh-so-cliché vase. So instead of snapping Bolin smiles gently with his sad eyes.
"I know you didn't." He pulls Mako's arms so they're palms up and he can see the full extent. There are four swallow cuts on the inside of his left elbow, and two deeper and clumsier ones on the right. Blood soaks through his thin white shirt at the hip. When Bolin lifts the fabric, he sees three deep gashes marring Mako's side. Furious burns circle them like vultures waiting for their prey.
"I'm sorry," Mako tells him gruffly. Bolin surprises them both by pulling him into a hug. He buries his nose in Mako's hair, remembering the days when that smell meant everything would be okay. That smell was the smell of Mako's bed, and Mako's coat, and the smell of chased-away nightmares and well-fed bellies. In his darkest moments, Bolin wonders if this is some sort of twisted form of payback. Whether issued by Mako or the Spirits, he doesn't know.
It's a horrible thing to think about your own brother. This still doesn't stop Bolin from thinking oh Mako, what have you done?
"We should get you cleaned up, bro." Bolin guides him through the maze of Air Temple rooms to the men's washroom. He helps Mako strip off his shirt and scrubs the blood out while Mako methodically cleans his wounds. He hisses when the soap hits the burns, but other than that he's perfectly silent. After a few minutes the wound is clean and the shirt washed, so they go back to the room without talking. Bolin hangs Mako's wet shirt on a hanger to dry and throws him a new shirt from the closet.
"I'll be fine," he protests, getting ready to toss it back. Bolin rolls his eyes. His brother is an idiot.
"We both know you'll be cold, and unfortunately you've already run through your daily allotment of self-abuse," Bolin replies. "Now put on the damn shirt."
Mako obeys grudgingly. He climbs into bed and Bolin goes in after him, curving against his back. Mako trembles under his touch, whole body convulsing with the electric-spark weight of all the things he doesn't say. Bolin wants to help him, but he doesn't know what else he can do and he's aware that the problem is getting worse. He knows Korra was trying to be generous, but putting him and Mako in separate rooms had to be the worst idea ever.
Asami wonders, sometimes.
She's wondering now as she's eating breakfast at Pema and Tenzin's table, pretending not to stare at Mako who has failed to notice her not-staring anyway. He's too busy having a silent yet vicious argument with his brother. Clearly something has happened in the last twelve hours since Asami last saw them, but what it is and what it means is as mysterious as Ikki's disturbing ability to memorize useless information. Asami rolls a blueberry over her plate with her chopstick.
"I'm going to go take a shower," Mako announces suddenly, getting to his feet. Bolin's eyes narrow and their gazes lock in a battle of wills. Mako's nostrils flare and for a moment Asami wonders if he's going to breathe fire.
"I'll go with you," Bolin says in a kind voice that isn't really kind at all. He smiles showing teeth white as mourning gowns. Mako's fists clench and Asami's throat tightens. She is floundering, unsure of the role of the ex-girlfriend in this scene. Maybe there isn't one. Maybe she just exits stage right. Asami doesn't move.
"Don't," Mako hisses at his brother, clenching his jaw. "I'm fine." He begins to walk away, heading down the hall to the shower rooms. Bolin curses under his breath. Asami can feel the tension radiating off him, the sick-drowning feeling of someone who doesn't know the right actions to take. He finally releases a heavy sigh, and that's when Asami throws her arms around him.
Mako and Bolin have similar faces, but if you had only their bodies to go by you wouldn't ever guess they that they're related. Bolin is very solid, stable and strong as the earth. When he hugs her back she notices how the weight of his arms on her body make him so very present. She rests her head on his broad shoulder, his thick ropes of muscle rippling beneath her cheek. Bolin feels warm like a hearth; Mako is always cold.
Asami once took off his gloves and grabbed his hand because she wanted to feel his skin. His fingers became so icy she couldn't hold on; it hurt too much. She knows still the ridges and valleys of his too-sharp bones, the way his body is all angles and taut skin. Mako's vertebrae and ribs thrust out painfully beneath his flesh. They make Asami think of when she was a little girl and she learned that roses had thorns. To protect themselves, her mother said. Asami can still remember the shock of watching blood stain her white hand.
Mako is like that; he wants everyone just out of reach. Look-but-don't-touch. Even though they dated long enough, Mako never let Asami under his clothes. At first she thought he was just being a gentleman, and then she thought it was because she wasn't Korra, but in the end she realized that it was just Mako. Something in him violently resisted the revelation of skin, and even though she never asked Asami craves knowledge of his secret.
"I should probably go after him," Bolin says. His weariness is apparent in the slow way he disentangles himself from her. Glancing up at him nervously, Asami wonders if she can finally ask the question she's not supposed to ask.
"What's." No, she will not stop. Deep breath. She's going to do this, damn it. "Bolin – what's going on with Mako?" The words poured out in a rush like water from a burst dam and it takes a moment for Bolin to even process her question. When he finally gets there he looks at her for what feels like a very long time, even though it's probably only a couple of minutes. Asami turns away and stabs her blueberry. "Sorry."
"It's fine," Bolin tells her. "Mako just has some issues he needs to work out." Then he sighs and stands up, towering over her like the founders statues in the city squares. His shoulders, she thinks again, are so wide. Maybe it was a mistake to ask Mako to bear so much. His shoulders are thin and bony; how much weight can they really support before the bones just crumble?
Mako sits in the shower carving lines into his thigh. The blood mixes with the water and he likes the way it looks swirling down the drain. He feels a twinge of guilt for lying to his brother, then he remembers that all he said was I'm going to take a shower and I'm fine. Both these things are truth; the realization perks him up considerably.
With that thought in mind, Mako decides that four cuts is enough and gets up to finish washing himself. It occurs to him that he isn't really sure why he had to cut himself four times, but Mako pushes – no, shoves – that aside. This isn't a problem. It's just self-discipline, distributing punishment he knows he deserves. If he can't remember why at the moment, well, surely he'll come up with something later.
Mako is not an addict. He does not need to cut, it's just something he does when he does something wrong. If he didn't mess up so much, he wouldn't need to cut and burn himself. This is just the way that things work. It's not a big deal. Mako winces when the water hits his wounds. Last night's cuts rupture and the open wounds wail at the pain. Gritting his teeth, Mako continues his shower like nothing is happening. He is not going to let Bolin be even a little bit right.
Wrapping himself in a thick black robe, Mako pads down the quiet hallway back to his room. He likes having a space of his own, somewhere to be quiet with his head without Bolin's loud interruptions. He knows his brother is well-intentioned, but sometimes the world feels like too much and Mako can't stand it. He doesn't like noise.
On bad days, he feels like someone has stripped him of his skin, like he is all nerve and all rawness. It's like walking around with three degree burns all over your body. Or like drowning, trapped under the laughing sea with no way to get to the surface, no way to get a breath. Mako has nightmares sometimes about the water around the pro-bender arena. He dreams of drowning, of kali sticks and lightening and Korra's bloated body unmoving on the surface.
He has a difficult time getting dressed this morning. His clothes irritate his wounds, yanking at the skin like they were lined with sandpaper. After a while he gives up, throwing himself on the bed. Mako closes his eyes and tells himself (again) that this is the last night that this is going to happen. He's going to quit now, or at least getting better at hiding it. Mako hates frightening Bolin. It's a double-bind, because when Mako scares Bolin he is being bad, and when he is bad he must be punished, but it's the punishment that upsets Bolin and makes Mako bad in the first place. In the past, Mako has dreamed of getting his brother settled and then killing himself so he won't hurt him anymore.
It's not because it was hard being responsible all the time. It's not because he's lived with the fear of starvation and disease and violence his entire life. It is most certainly not the secret that hangs between them in words they cannot bear. Mako offers no answers; Bolin doesn't ask.
Mako-did-you-buy-the-food-I-ate-the-food-you-were-not-hungry-for-by-opening-your-body-to-men-who-were-hungry-but-for-something-other-than-food?
If you never ask the question, you never have to feel guilty about the answer.
Mako doesn't allow himself to remember it most days. Sometimes he even forgets for whole weeks. But then the nightmares come and he is only aware of soft gentleman's hands in unsharable places. He remembers teeth and nails that ripped his skin up, blood in places there shouldn't be blood. There are lips that are too wet (drowning in saliva), and then there are his own lips rounded in an O and gagged with something tooawfultothinkabout.
Even now, Mako sometimes pukes just from seeing yogurt, or mayonnaise, or melting vanilla ice cream. Cheese and cream-based sauces aren't allowed either. He once had to eat a whole carton of yogurt because Bolin was with him. Afterwards he went to the bathroom, stuck two fingers down his throat, and puked until he saw blood. Maybe that was it. Maybe that was the first time Mako saw blood and liked it.
"Asami? Can I, um, talk to you?"
Asami opens her door and forces a smile. Korra, Queen of Bad Liars, has her face arranged in an expression of forced casualness. Asami is unfortunately familiar with this expression of Korra's; it never fails to inspire feelings of great unease. She considers shutting the other girl out, but she looks so pathetic Asami relents.
"Come in," she says, stepping aside. Korra does so and looks around uncertainly. It is painfully obvious that she is putting too much thought into where to sit. Asami settles the question by pulling the chair out from her desk, which Korra accepts. She keeps down in a poor attempt to hide her pink blushing face and Asami cringes as she takes a seat on her bed. Oh Spirits. Maybe she ought to delegate this one to Pema –
"DidyouandMakodostuff?" Under other circumstances, Korra's ability to get all of that out in a single breath might be rather impressive. Asami however merely blinks and tries to fathom how she even begins to answer that question. After her father gave her The Talk, Asami figured she had successfully gotten through the most awkward conversation of her life. Because really, what could be worse that talking about sex with her father? Unfortunately, life now laughs in the face of her smugness and demands that she discuss the sex life of her and her ex-boyfriend with his new girlfriend. Asami is starting to think that there's some spirit who just really has it out for her.
"Can you be, um, more specific?" she finally squeaks. Korra looks at her like Asami has announced that there will be no more Winter Solstices ever again. Ugh. That was not the goal. "I mean, I don't know if you want advice on, ah, preferences, or something more general . . .?" She trails off, hoping Korra will take over from here.
Naturally, Korra doesn't immediately do so (because for all her Avatar training, it has always been abundantly clear that her education is, ah, wanting in some areas), but after a couple of minutes she seems to work up the courage (even if courage involves Definitely Not Looking Asami in the Eye).
"I want – to be with him," Korra says, her voice soft. She dares to glance up and Asami quickly nods to show that she gets it. Korra's whole body relaxes like someone unfroze her blood. She turns away again, and Asami silently ponders how very young she sounds.
"That's normal," she replies hesitantly. Are there Avatar-specific rules about these things? Or waterbender ones? She's heard the rumors about the full moon. Korra blushes again and plays with the hem of her shirt. "Did anyone explain the mechanics – "
"Yes!" Korra's voice goes up at least two octaves. Wincing, she clears her throat. "Okay, this is really awkward, but you're the only one who can help me," she pleads. "It's like Mako doesn't want me to touch him and I don't know what I'm doing wrong!" She raises her hand like she's going to hit something, then seems to think better of it and lowers her arm back down to her side. She screws her eyes shut like just to speak the words aloud causes her physical pain.
"Oh," Asami whispers. Korra buries her face in her hands and she makes an aggravated snarling noise.
"So you see – you see why you're the only person I can ask." Korra curls her legs up to her chest and wraps her arms around her knees.
"I wish I could help you but - our relationship never went there," Asami says. Korra's whole face crumbles, rock into dust. "Look, we weren't together that long, it's not unheard of," she adds, almost more to herself. Korra's distress is so apparent it's almost tangible.
"I hate not knowing what to do," she whispers. "I don't know how to move or what to say or what's … nice." She trips on the last word and Asami nods too quickly in a not-totally-successful attempt to save her some embarrassment. The two girls are quiet, both wrapped up in the enigma of a man lying just a few doors down. "I'm going to go talk to him," Korra says determinedly. She takes off, ponytails whirling sharp as whips.
Asami stares out the door and wonders if she'll regret not following later.
If she were being honest with herself, Korra might admit that she's scared. Since she's lying, however, she'll continue to repeat everything is fine. Sometimes she thinks that if she only repeats something enough times, it will start to become real.
She doesn't knock when she reaches his door because she's afraid of losing her nerve. Instead Korra throws the door open just in time to see Mako wincing as he pulls on a shirt. There is a hint of red across his cheeks suggesting he's embarrassed about something, but Korra doesn't know what it could be. Mako's face continues to be unbendable as platinum even to her; you only see what he allows, and he allows very little. So she stands in the doorway, uncertain, wishing there was a rulebook for these kinds of things so she would have some kind of bearing to find.
Shutting the door, she grabs his hand and ignores his look of surprise. Korra pulls him towards the bed, falling down on her back as she pulls him on top of her for a kiss. He hisses and jerks against her. When Mako pulls away his caramel eyes are very wide and his mouth is hanging open like he knows he wants to say something but isn't sure what.
Korra smiles, and ignoring her unease tries to pull him back down. He is perfectly still for a minute, then he is throwing her hand back at her and scrambling out of the bed. She's never seen him more so fast. Standing at the end of the bed, he eyes her like she's a wild rat-dog roaming the allies of Republic City. Her heart is pounding so loudly it almost hurts.
"What are you doing?" Mako asks. He doesn't sound right. He sounds tired, and annoyed, and although she can't quite believe it Korra thinks she might even sense fear. Mako stares at his feet, refusing to meet her gaze.
"I want to be with you," she whispers, getting up. "Please." She steps towards him and he steps back.
"You need to go now," Mako demands. When she doesn't he heads into the hallway and Korra chases after him. His hands are shaking and she wants to know why. This isn't right, this isn't the way things are supposed to be. She catches him by the shoulder and yanks back roughly. She wants answers (or at least she's pretty sure she does).
"What – what am I doing wrong?" She means to say what's wrong with you, but the words change on her at the last minute and now they're hanging in the air and she can't take them back. Mako's control slips, and for a moment she sees the devastating horror and grief exploding inside. Korra blinks and it's gone. It infuriates her, and she wishes he would yell and scream and fight with her because this silence is awful and it's scaring her.
"Oh, Korra," he murmurs. He moves to touch the side of her face and now she's the one to step back. Korra shakes her head, swallowing hard.
"I know – I know that I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm really trying, okay? I just – just – and look, I know I'm not as pretty – as pretty as Asami – " she stops short, needing to recover from the hit before she can continue. "Could you please just help me out here?" she begs, unshed tears shining behind her eyes.
"I can't do this." He says this more to himself than her, and before she can ask Mako what he means he's run away from her. Mako ducks into the men's bathroom and the sound of Korra beating her fists against the door echoes loudly, reverberating through both the bathroom and the hall. She is screaming, screaming his name but there is no response, no anything at all. Collapsing against the wall, she begins to cry and her keening wails chill everyone who hears her.
Standing under the shower again, Mako steels himself with a deep breath. Then presses his hand to the bone of his left hip, hating himself for all the terrible/dirty/sinful/monstrous things he's done. He reached past the hot blood the white bone the sinewy veins protecting Korra's so-vulnerable heart, and he has bitten the flesh to kill her dead. So steadies his hand on his hip, and as his skin begins to erupt the world goes white to the tune of Mako's screaming.
chapter one – fin.
