A/N: I do not own The Legend of Korra, never have, never will, and this story is completely conjured from my twisted imagination. I hope you don't hate it.
After the Equalist revolution, Bolin was kind of a public hero. He couldn't even go to his favorite noodle place without being ambushed by a squadron of screaming fans, usually girls. He would have been flattered if he hadn't been so... lonely.
Mako was almost always spending time at Air Temple Island, either making out with Korra or helping her restore people's bending.
Bolin couldn't even flirt with Asami. When she wasn't too busy sorting out the Future Industries mess that her father had left her she was off on some date with General Iroh.
Bolin sighed. Pabu was all he had left.
The brothers had bought a new apartment in the city, but they were always welcome at the arena, which was where Bolin spent most of his time nowadays. He would spend hours at the gym, lifting weights and punching earth disks into nets.
He slung his gym bag over his shoulder and left the apartment, careful to lock the door behind him and cherishing the privacy that he had never gotten when he was living above the arena. Back then, the only thing that had separated his bed from the rest of the world was a small opening and a ladder. He had left a note for Mako, like always, but he seriously doubted that the lover boy would be back before he was.
Bolin shoved his hands in his pockets, walked to the ferry, and caught a ride to the arena.
The earthbender had worked out harder than he ever had before. He was just mad, and he needed something to take his mind off of things. By the time the sun had gone down he had nearly broken every disk in the gym and ripped every net within range of his bending. His shirt was soaked through with sweat.
Be sat on a bench and drank the last of his water. I need to take a shower. He thought. Yeah, I'll do that and then I'll punch some more rocks.
The arena was nearly abandoned, except for a few janitors and night guards lurking in the corridors.
Bolin found a washroom and ducked into a shower stall, slowly peeling off his sweaty clothes before turning on the hot water and steaming up the whole bathroom. His muscles hadn't ached that much since his last bending match with Tahno and the Wolfbats. He hummed a jaunty tune as he scrubbed himself free of the fine layer of dust that had settled on his skin.
He rinsed, and dried off, dabbing his tanned skin with a towel provided by the arena and wrapped it around his waist.
As he reached for his gym bag, which contained an extra pair of clothes, he realized that he had left it in the training room.
Bolin wasn't embarrassed about his body. He had gone to public school for the few years before his parents had been killed, so he had been in a locker room before.
It wasn't like he had expected to run into anybody who was still at the arena so late into the night.
He strode through the corridors without a care in the world, completely unprepared for what awaited him.