:)
He was her best friend. And always will be.
There were days when they would lay in bed together, talking of the Iroh's military duties or her work at the company. She would tuck herself into the crook of his arm and he would play with her hair, just the ends, flicking them about as he spoke. These were calm days, fun days. Their lives were so often filled with adventure, often spending months apart, that a time of rest together was a relief.
Nights were filled with the sound of skin against silk and play upon the bed. His tendency was to wrap his arms around her from behind, fingers skimming her belly and inching up her clothes. They would exchange a thousand kisses and the lightest of touches – as soft as the night summer breeze that so often rushed to welcome them into slumber. He had this habit to entwine his fingers with hers unknowingly during sex and to bite her as he came, the tiniest of nips. She long ago had decided not to tell him, because he was a considerate and conscious lover, and sometimes she wanted to hurt. They spoke of each other's needs often, laughingly and so very casually, because she believed communication was important and he was kind. For them, conversations like this never got old. Sex is not a one-dimensional thing, it is not only experienced physically. Each touch has an impact on the brain, each word spoken during love-making swims through your blood and makes its way to your heart.
Asami enjoyed the way he made her smile, the way he would confide in her, how he'd try to reach her even when they were leagues apart from each other. Sometimes when she came home from managing the unruly board of directors at her company and a package containing souvenirs (perhaps a collection of feathers) or a bouquet would be waiting at her front door. Inside of every little package she found a note- "I thought of you when I saw this. I miss you." She missed him just as much. She missed his cooking even though it never tasted right – he tried so hard for her when she was discouraged – she missed rubbing his shoulders after he came back from long bouts in the military. She missed his words and his smile and his eyes.
They discovered that they loved each other around the same time. She often supposed that it was a gradual thing, the casual touches, the need to be closer always laying beneath the surface of their thoughts. She only needed to look deeper, look down, look in to realize she felt it for him. However, she had not thought to examine her own heart after it had been broken. It began small. A warm glow that, like a lantern, lit her way in a dark world that rendered her ex-boyfriend immoral. A cold world that drove tiny thorns into her heart every time she had seen Mako and Korra together. A reality that allowed resentment towards Bolin for not having the integrity to tell her she wasn't imagining anything.
That entire situation had rendered her helpless. People often glorify a love that could not be stopped by anyone else, glorify it in old stories and in the histories that reveal the making of entire dynasties – what about the people they stepped on in the journey to find each other? Her pride was stepped on. Her heart was hurt. Asami had done what she could to support Mako, even as their relationship was falling apart and he drew away from her further and further. She tried. Failed. And the relationship dissolved. She decided to throw herself into her father's company (it had been in shambles) and rebuilt it from the bottom up. Better to be productive than to be incapacitated for months. That was not her way. That was not how she had been raised. Instead of dealing with her pain, she tucked it away in a secret place that remained untouched.
Iroh began to hang out with her around that time, suggesting little vacations and expeditions to explore countryside of the Earth Kingdom and the tropical Fire Nation landscape. It was in this way that their friendship was validated.
She remembered thinking that he was incapable of hunting animals, and that all the posturing as a general was useless if he couldn't survive on his own. It used to exasperate her to the point of endearment. It still did, even though they were busier these days. He often told her that he loved those trips with her, just them and the wilderness and the sky and the trees. During those days, he was caught staring at her, amused and fascinated. "What?" she often demanded and Iroh's only answer was a slight smile and a softness in his gaze. But she learned to appreciate him. His often silent presence, even their silly arguments made her days brighter, made her look upon her past with fondness.
The Day of the Moon was the day she visited her father in prison. Every other month this occurred. She would try to tell him how the company was doing, and how the new board of directors were handling being in charge. She wanted him to know that she wasn't a pushover and she that was strong and capable. Just as he raised her to be. She wasn't a mistake and why couldn't he see that? All she wanted was for him to understand that she did right, and that she was still his daughter. He never saw her, though, and refused to hear her words. After every visit her heart felt brittle and her soul was cold. Iroh would be waiting for her at the door and she would lean into him, weeping quietly, disappointed. "Maybe if I hadn't…maybe I should have…"
"I know. Come inside. I've got some tea." His voice was always gentle, never patronizing.
She would laugh a little. "You're tea sucks."
"It runs in the family." And he laid with her the rest of the night, listening silently to her worries. She wished often that she could do something for Iroh. It never felt like enough; how could she show him what he meant to her? How much he meant?
He was her best friend. He was her lover. He was a light in a dark time. He always would be.
