Asami
Republic City at night has always been hauntingly, strangely beautiful.
The dim yellow streetlights swirl seamlessly, mixing with the whiter luminescent lights coming from lines of shops. Headlights zoom by, morphing to red as you turn your head to follow them. Up above, clouded by layers and layers of pollution, you know that there are stars.
Who's to fault you if you just can't see them?
You hear your friend call to you from across the crowded cafeteria. You give a small smile and wave, carefully balancing your lunch tray on one forearm, holding it close to you. People mill around you, each one carrying their own tray with their own destination. It's scary, really, being surrounded by so much motion, so much... life.
You weave through the crowd, trying to not recognize anybody (and mostly ignoring everyone who shows signs of recognizing you), eventually making your way to the table where your friends sit. All two of them. The two people in the entire school you don't actively try to avoid.
Opal shoots you her (what you'd call under normal circumstances) adorable half-grin, dark green eyes smiling along with her pale pink lips. She tosses her dark hair. "What's up?" she says, her voice clear but soft.
"Nothing much," you say, sitting on the cold metal chair, focusing on your food. Not that it's particularly appetizing, but looking down makes it easier to hide your face from the concerned eyes of your friends.
The silence that follows your reply is almost deafening. You can tell that Opal and Bolin are having a (very engaging) silent conversation-probably about you-that you'd be able to participate in if you'd just lift your head, but you don't really care what they have to say, so you continue to meticulously cut the breaded chicken, stab the pieces with your fork, and bring them robotically to your mouth.
There used to be four of us sitting at this table, you think despondently.
It's my fault, you tell yourself for the millionth time. My fault.
There was a time, of course, when you were at least content, maybe even happy. Before relationship problems and the pure adrenaline of being careless and reckless became more important than responsibility, brain cells, and innocent fun, you four were inseparable do-gooders. You'd stay at each other's houses every other day during the summer, to the point where Korra's mom mixed up your and her own daughter's names at least once a week. You often ended up being cornered into helping old ladies rake their leaves, or helping your mothers (not yours, obviously, but you tried not to think about that) make dinner or clean the house. You never really minded, though, as long as you could do it together.
You remember hundreds of popsicle-stained mouths and fingers, leading to sticky clothes, board games, textbooks, wiring, and... basically everything. You remember evenings spent at the park, the warm summer air occasionally stirred by a soft breeze, trying to sync your swing with the person next to you. You remember Korra and Bolin rolling and wrestling in the green, warm-smelling grass, picking dandelions and rubbing yellow all over the other's face.
Opal and Bolin were great, of course, but they were never as close to you as Korra was. Opal was kind of ditzy, and Bolin was often too outgoing for you to be comfortable around. But you and Korra were just so similar; everything was always easy. You knew what the other needed always, what the other was thinking often. Korra had always been the more open one; you were heartbreakingly shy. It was a miracle you even spoke to anybody, let alone laughed with them. But Korra had brought the best out in you, eventually coaxing you to speak above a soft murmur, and getting you to sit with your shoulders back and your head held high. It had even been she who had convinced you to switch from the blocky glasses you usually hid behind to sleek contact lenses. She changed you, made you happier. And, in turn, you tried to make her happier.
My fault.
Korra
When you all got older, the park became a place to do more than just play on the playground. There were hundreds of trees, trails, and dandelion-studded fields, all ready to be used in the most dramatic of games or in the simplest of enterprises. In addition to being one of your favorite things in the world, climbing trees was the least complicated activity you did at the park. Each time, and this was no different, you hurried to the top, racing to find the clear expanse of sky that would always be waiting for you, placing first hands and then feet on the sticky branches.
"Hey," Asami calls from her perch on a tall root far beneath you, gently turning a page in her heavy book. "You having fun up there?"
You sigh contentedly, back against the trunk of the tree, looking up at the clear, bright blue sky. "Don't I always?"
From the corner of your eye, you can see Asami look up to you. "No, not always," she says seriously. "Actually, I'm pretty sure that the only time I see you like this is when you're in some tree or another." She pauses. "I still don't know how you do it," she mutters.
You look down at her in mock surprise. "What? Something that I can do that Miss Sato can't? That's unprecedented! Unheard of! Why, I'm surprised they even allow tree-climbing in this kingdom, seeing as you don't approve of it."
She rolls her eyes at you, shaking her perfectly styled black hair back. "Just because I'm afraid of heights," she says playfully. "It's not like I have a choice in the matter."
"No choice? Someone with as many talents as you can't be stopped by something as simple as a phobia." You smile innocently down at her. "Join me in the Dark Side... we have cookies," you say in a deep voice.
Asami laughs at you. "You... are in rare form today." She places her bookmark carefully into her novel and stands up, leaving the book on the ground. "Fine. I'll come up..."-she puts her hands on her hips and raises one eyebrow-"...but only if you actually make me cookies. With ice cream."
"Done," you say immediately, not considering that you've literally made cookies once in your life, and you basically put the chocolate chips into the bowl and ate chocolate chips while Opal and Asami put together the rest of the ingredients. At least you'd done more than Bolin, who'd just stared longingly at the mixing bowl until Opal had told him to stop ogling her hard-won chocolate or get out. Asami takes two steps to the base of the tree, looking up at the first branch. She puts her hand up, trying to reach it, then frowns. Taking a few steps back, she takes a running leap and comes within six inches of it. You snicker at her. "You know, if you asked nicely, I might be convinced to help you get up."
"Go away," she huffs. "I can do this." She closes her eyes, centering herself, then tries again. And again. The last time, she comes within two or three inches, but obviously it was all she had, because she pants, bending over and putting her hands on her knees, letting her hair fall into her slightly pink face.
"How does this make any sense?" she gasps. "You're at least four inches shorter than I am..." She stands on her tiptoes, reaching for the branch, but her fingertips still are inches away.
You can imagine her thinking, "Come on, Sato... do it for the cookies," before she finally gives in and asks, still looking at the ground, "Will you please come help me up?"
Asami
It's been three months since the scariest, saddest night of your life. Your memories from throughout the night-from the lulling, lapping sound of the ocean, reflecting the rosy sunset, to the interior of the car, the steering wheel in front of you, keys jingling together as you go to start the car, her hand upon yours as she sees you start to break down-are strangely vivid.
You didn't mean to get drunk that night-you really didn't. You'd promised yourself (and your overprotective and strict father) that you wouldn't drink underage, plus you were a designated driver, so you'd be doubly careful. There wasn't even supposed to be alcohol at the party. You'd only invited your three best friends. You'd made Opal and Bolin promise not to bring alcohol, and they'd both said that they wouldn't (you knew that Korra would never drink anyways, like you). So, when they offered you lemonade from a water cooler, you had happily let them refill your cup all night long.
You'd been through all of these reasons thousands of times. It wasn't your fault you were drinking. You didn't even know for sure that you were drunk: you just thought that you were nervous. The whole sunset-on-a-beach thing had seemed strangely romantic to you, and inviting your friends to see it with you felt odd. (And okay, maybe you were hoping that somebody would take this chance to ask you to prom, but whatever, that was a missed opportunity.) All those pent-up nerves had, maybe, caused a mild panic attack as you went to start your car.
After a few moments you felt better, so you nodded at Korra and started the car, shifting gears and turning in your seat to make sure Opal and Bolin weren't being idiots and standing right behind you as you tried to back up. The windows were rolled down, Korra's dark hair was blowing messily in the wind, and she was looking at you with a half smile, normally light blue eyes darkened with shadows and kind of sad (or maybe just tired).
The last thing about that night you ever let yourself remember was seeing the stars, blinking out from behind the ever-present clouds, or maybe dancing in front of your eyelids.
Korra
The stupidity of other people had always amused you and your bunch of crazy friends. Opal and Bolin in particular loved to make fun of the dumb things other people did. The main victims of their rants were often high schoolers.
You were all sitting around a table in the library, talking very softly and doing/pretending to do homework. Opal was tapping a pencil in time onto the wooden leg of the table, making a thunk just barely quiet enough to be ignored by the librarians.
"Hey," she finally said. "Did you hear about the bust up by my place?"
Bolin and Asami looked up at her and shook their heads, while you continued to stare down at your math worksheet. This equation literally makes no sense.
"Well, Kuv was with them when the cops came. She's gonna be grounded for like a decade," she smirked.
"I don't understand why anybody would do something like that," Bolin said, brows furrowed. "I mean, why would you want to not be able to control what you're doing?"
Asami chimed in. "Yeah, plus, can't you be crazy enough with just sugar and caffeine?"
Opal grinned. "Yeah, I mean, Bolin's already crazy enough without sugar, so I hate to imagine..."
Bolin smacked her lightly on the back of her head.
"Asami," you whisper, poking her arm. "Can you help me? I don't understand this problem."
"Sure," she said softly, scooting over closer to you and resting her head gently on your shoulder. "So it's an equation, right? So what you do to one side you have to do to the other. Do you understand that?"
Asami
The morning after that night, though... that you forced yourself to remember.
Through the foggy mix of immense pain in your head and arm and the fuzzy feeling of the drugs moving through your system, you can tell that the nurses are whispering to one another about something, glancing at you. Eventually you manage to send the correct signals to your mouth to open it and croak, "What?"
The nurses immediately dispersed. One of them comes up to stand by your head, leaning awkwardly over the railing. "How are you feeling?" she asks.
"Fine. What is it?"
The nurse bites her lip, glancing at you concernedly. "She wants to speak with you."
Your heart stops. Literally. Like, you can hear when the monitor stutters for a second.
She may have wanted to speak with you, but you were far from wanting to talk to her. You didn't want her forgiveness or her hatred or her indifference.
"Please," the nurse says, looking at you from over her glasses. "She may not have much time left, and her parents aren't here yet. Not for her, for you... You'll probably regret it forever if you don't go. Please."
Blip. Blip. Blip.
You see as she struggles to open her eyes. You can tell when she can differentiate between different objects, when she realizes where she must be. Her innocent, bright blue eyes, wide with fear, find yours. Korra's state is more than enough to make you forget your substantial pain.
Blip. Blip. Blip. Blip.
"Why am I here?" she asks softly, voice raspy.
You close your eyes, letting out a controlled stream of air through your lips. I can't tell her. I can't.
Blip. Blip. Blip. Blip.
She remains silent for a long time. On top of the heart rate monitor, you begin to hear the off-beat ticking of a clock, the soft padding of as nurses they walk through the hallway outside of the plain white door, and the irregular pants of your best friend.
You finally allow your eyes to slowly open, revealing again her strangely pale face, the bandages on her head soaked red, her pale, chapped lips, pain-filled eyes shining with unshed tears.
"Me," you finally gasp. "I'm why you're here. It's my fault."
Blip. Blip. Blip. Blip. Blip.
Korra's eyes leave yours to take in the rest of your body, from the dark bruises on your forehead to the black eyes caused by a broken nose to the dark blue sling on one arm. She glances back at your face in time for you to see the flash of remembrance. The second before she looks down you see distrust and pain overcome the fear in her eyes. That second, that single moment after hundreds of millions of perfect moments, is enough to break you.
You stand up, tears already flowing painfully from your blackened, bright green eyes, and turn away, ready to leave your friend (and quite possibly, the love of your life) forever.
Blip. Blip. Blip. Blip. Blip. Blip.
"Wait-" she rasps urgently. "Come back. I'm sorry."
You snap back around. "You're sorry? You did nothing! Everything is my fault!" You stop yourself with a hand over your mouth, choking down more sobs.
Blip. Blip. Blip.
Her next words-you'd never thought about them, actually. At the moment, Korra's life had been more important to you than her words.
"Hey," she whispered. "I love you, you know? No matter what. Whether or not you end up blaming yourself. Just know that."
Blip.
Could I ever move on?
You get a phone call while you're getting ready for bed. Granted, it's only like nine o'clock, but still, you deserve to get as much sleep as you want after all you've been through, and you're sorely tempted to just ignore it. But you flip your phone over on the black bedspread and notice that it's from Bolin. It'd be the first time he'd initiated a conversation since...
You guess... if he wants to talk to you about what happened, you'd be fine with having a few minutes to rant at him for getting you drunk. It was his fault, after all. And nobody else's.
"Hey," he says when you swipe to answer the call.
You open your mouth, ready to begin your tirade, but he hears your deep breath.
"Listen. Before you say anything to me, I'd like to say I'm sorry. And I know that it's not enough, that whatever I say will never be enough. But still. And Opal and I would like to invite you to come talk outside the library. As long as, y'know... you're there to talk stuff through, not to yell at us."
Clearing your throat, you inhale again. "Of course. Just to talk. I'll be there." You end the call and walk straight out of the door.
Twelve minutes later, still in pajamas, feet bare, you reach the library. Opal and Bolin are sitting on the curb at the corner of the parking lot, shoulders barely touching, completely silent. They must hear your footsteps, because they turn simultaneously, each wearing the same awkward half-smile and sad eyes. Opal stands to greet you, hug you or shake your hand or something, but you hunch your shoulders forward and fold your arms across your chest, and she recognizes your desire to be left alone and sits awkwardly back down.
Bolin pats the curb next to him, the part that curves, and you sit, staring at them.
Bolin clears his throat and begins to speak. "So, uh... how are you doing?" He shoots Opal a panicked glance. "I mean, that was a dumb question. Obviously you're... not doing great."
"Thanks," you mutter, pulling your knees close to your chest.
"I mean, uh, you're still here, so, uh, nice job making it," he trips out, blushing as he realizes again that he's made a mistake.
You just huff out a breath, trying to ignore his haphazard attempts at getting you to talk.
Opal puts a hand on his knee, effectively stopping him from making more a fool of himself, and turns to face you. "We know that you don't really think highly of us right now, but... thanks for sticking around. Thanks for not completely shutting us out. Actually... we'd like to formally apologize," she says, choking on the words. "We'd like to say we're sorry for..." She swallows. "For spiking the drinks. Believe us when we say we've learned our lesson."
Your surroundings have become kind of blurry again, and all you can focus on is his words and the feeling of your nails digging into your palms.
She stops speaking, waiting for a response from you. You open your mouth to speak several times, but the situation is just too much.
Eventually you manage to find your voice and words that are strong enough. "Sorry? You think that makes up for it? Sure, you're sorry. Sure, you didn't want to get suspended from school or go to juvie. Sure, you didn't want Ko... anyone to die. Like I care about your apologies. Like I care if you do it again. You did it once. That's enough. You've ruined enough." By the end, your voice has fallen to a harsh, choked whisper. How could they think that you'd be able to forgive them, after spending so much time trying to forgive yourself? How could they?
After a few minutes of silence, you raise your head from your knees to see what Opal and Bolin are doing. And what you see immediately softens you.
Tears are cascading down both of their faces. Neither of them are looking at each other or at you, and so you know that this is their own, personal grief at what happened. This isn't them crying because you're in pain or because you haven't forgiven them or because the other is crying. This is them in their struggle to forgive themselves, to reconcile themselves with the fact that their actions lead to someone's death. Someone who, you remember, was one of their best friends too.
You sniff one last time, mumbling an awkward, "Sorry."
Bolin turns his head to look at you. "No, it's all right. You're right. We... didn't expect this to be easy."
"No," you say. "I'm... sorry. I get it. I understand. Just... I'll forget about it if you do. I'm not sure if I can ever forgive you, but... if I forgot about it, it might be enough."
Opal stands up again to hug you, and this time you stand up to let her.
Does it matter whose fault it is? Forgive and forget, right?
The store lights around you flicker out one by one as the night gets deeper, soon leaving only the streetlights, which reflect off of the low clouds. You stay in the park, even though it's totally illegal to stay there past sunset, laying on your back in the slightly damp and very cold grass, just waiting for the stars, or even a single one, to show itself.
It takes the entire night, but you begin to see a new light appear. The streetlights fade out, and over the horizon of trees and tallish silhouettes of buildings, you can see the pink and orange of the sunrise begin to mix with the deep blue of the sky.
As the sounds of the city start up again, you walk to the trunk of a tree, laying your hand against the rough bark. You eventually muster your courage and reach up to the first branch; you're finally tall enough to climb it without Korra's help.
As you climb the tree towards the sky, you think, you know, it's all going to be okay.