Author's Note: Hey all, you I haven't written a fic for any particular fandom in ages. I just sorta lurk the waters of FFN whenever I deem fit, but today I was inspired. Out all of the characters in the show, I relate to Mako the most (even though sometimes he's a complete butt head), I feel for him. I understand his past, I get him. So I wanted to see if I could tap into it and after reading someone's essay that defended Mako's angsty disposition, followed by watching an LoK clip, I felt inspired. So here it is. I hope you enjoy.

p.s. I haven't slept in hours and when I start writing, I don't stop until I drop. So if I didn't grammar or typo'd or made any sort of boo boo, I'm sorry. It's 7AM and I've been up since 9AM yesterday. Forgive me. I tried to proof what I could.

p.p.s This start immediatly after Korra and Mako have their fight

Edit: I realized I said Hasook's instead of Narooks. Fixed it, or most of it.

Disclaimer: I own not the Legend of Korra, but if I did...Oh, I'd buy us a big house where we both could live.

Other disclaimer: I don't own the song referenced in the previous disclaimer, and if you don't know that song already then shame on you!

Shattered

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by OniH

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July 24th, 2012

"But when you're with her, you're thinking of me, aren't you?"

The young fire bender was blowing faint streams of smoke out of nostrils as his body radiated with heat, anger, and frustration. He continued to hit the punching bag strung up in the living room of the small apartment. Bolin was chattering in the corner as he cooked dinner; it was his turn tonight, but Mako heard nothing his brother said as Korra's stinging words bounced around in his mind over and over.

She couldn't have been more right. And it made him so angry.

Punch, punch, punch. Uppercut, undercut, duck. Repeat.

He replayed the scene in his head again, and hit the punching bag harder. And then he thought about how Bolin got back from his date. Spirits, he could barely think the word. Of course Bolin was excited. He's had the hots for Korra from the start. When he came home last night his feet were just barely on ground. He was practically floating. Floating! And he went on and on about how they went to dinner. And they got milkshakes. And toured the light tour. And how she stood up to that slick, slimy, arrogant, snobby, nose-on-his-forehead Tahno. He wished he was there to see that and the belching. He could imagine her doing it and not giving one damn. Burping out loud for everyone in a twenty feet radius to hear, it sounds abnormally adorable. His heart gave a pang. His mind fueled his anger.

Punch, punch, punch. Uppercut, undercut, duck. Repeat.

The sweat soaked his shirt and stuck to his chest. It slid from his brow and over the sharp angles of his face. He couldn't possibly like Korra. She's so self-absorbed and conceited. She thinks she knows everything. She so impatient and abrasive and brash. How dare she accuse him of lying. Why would he be jealous? He is courting the most beautiful, sweetest, richest girl in all of Republic City. They get along fantastically. Asami doesn't stress him out. Asami doesn't make him want to pull out his hair every five seconds. Asami is simple. Asami is classy. Asami is easy to get along with. When he's with Asami, he can keep himself in check. To put it lightly, Asami is easy, but Korra. Korra brings out an entirely different side of him. She knows how to push. Every. Single. Freakin'. Button. She drives him nuts.

Uppercut, undercut, duck...

Korra, Korra, Korra.

Repeat.

Sure she's pretty. She's beautiful and strong in many ways. She's physically strong, mentally strong, strong-willed and stubborn. Spirits! She's so unbelievably stubborn, but the way she walks, her confidence, her willingness to help, her caring nature, her inquisitive attitude. It's so attractive. He's so attracted to her that it irks him, but Asami. Asami never asks him anything in depth because she doesn't want to push him. He rants to Asami about Korra all of the time about how obnoxious she is. Asami would never want to cross him the way Korra does, but Korra. Korra, Korra, stupid, crazy, Avatar Korra!

…punch, punch. Uppercut...

The first night they ever really spoke, the night he almost lost Bolin, he was so scared, so vulnerable, and he opened up to her like moonflower in the shade after a hot day under the sun! Not to mention he lent her his scarf when they were trying to rescue Bolin. Does she even acknowledge what he did there? Like seriously, his scarf, thee scarf! His most prized possession. The only other person to have ever touched that scarf besides his own father is Bolin and even then, that was only on the coldest nights when they were sleeping in the streets as kids. But the night they fell asleep next to each other under the tree in the park was unusually peaceful. The way she comforted him, the soft, satin-like texture of dark, warm skin, the way she smelled, the way she murmured nonsense, even the way she creepily giggled in her sleep–it was like heaven or something. He doesn't know. He just knew that it felt right. It bothered him. She was so cute. And those stupid, obnoxious big blue eyes and those killer curves! She was so voluptuous. Her hips, the way they curved from her slim waist. His body was starting to feel hotter than it already was.

Punch, punch, punch...

Asami is like a stick, but Korra… she's just so much– so much woman! He was out of control in her presence. She tested him. She brings out the worst in him, and in doing so, he realized that she brings out his best. She was so…perfect. Hell, maybe he really did have feelings for K–

Out of nowhere, a rather large and earth bended pebble flicked him in the back of his head and loudly clattered to the floor at his feet. He turned around to face his brother and literally set himself on fire for a split second causing his brother to cringe, but only for a half a second.

"WHAT!"

"DO NOT blow up on me, Mako! Spirits, I don't know what the hell your problem is, but if you'd chill out for a sec and listen to what I've been saying for the past five minutes, you would know that I finished making dinner and that your plate is getting cold," Bolin said hotly. "And whatever you're pissed off about, you need to stop being such a jerk face and not take it out on me. You're plate is on the counter."

Great, now he's pissed off two of his closest friends in less than an hour. "Aww, Bo. I'm sorry. I'm just–"

"Save it. I don't want to hear it. Come talk to me when you've sorted yourself out," he muttered curtly. With that Bolin took his food and climbed up to his room slamming the door shut behind him with the fire ferret curled around his neck.

"Dammit!" Mako punched the punching bag hanging behind him in one fluid movement tearing down the wooden plank that held it up to the ceiling. Everything came crashing down and clattered on the floor.

"Shit!" He ran his fingers through his hair and growled while pulling at the ends of it before sighing. "Now I gotta pay for that." He weakly kicked the plank on the floor, pealed of his sweat-soaked shirt, and resigned to sitting on a stool to eat his cold dinner, which he reluctantly used his bending to warm-up. He came to the conclusion that he's going to have to talk to Korra and set things straight with her. There's no way that he can let this get out of control. It would ruin everything he's built for himself, his relationship with Asami, whatever remnants of a relationship that he has with his brother, the Fire Ferrets, the Champion ship pot if they made it through the tournament. If he didn't resolve things now, Korra would be his demise. He'll talk to her after the match tonight, but first he's gotta set things straight with Bo.

…

Mako was in some state of shock.

The fire bender kept replaying the last few hours in mind over and over as he lay in his lumpy, uncomfortable bed. Each moment etched perfectly in his memory, but every time he thought of this evening's events, he grew more frustrated with himself. He rolled over in attempt to find a comfortable spot.

Argh! I can't believe I kissed her back. What is wrong with me?

And Bolin. Poor, Bo. He hasn't come back home, yet. Narook gave him a call and informed him that his brother is in his restaurant drinking himself in to a stupor and eating himself into a comfort coma. He also added that he's passed out on the table and would look out for the boy since he didn't seem to be in a rush to return home. Mako tried to explain things, but Narook cut him off. He didn't care. Bolin was his best customer and he was getting paid. At least at Hasook's Bolin would be safe. He could pick him up when he's ready.

But really Mako? Your own brother? The only thing you have left in this world and what you do? You stab him in the back. Argh! How could you be so stupid!

Mako rolled over in bed and clutched the pillow closely as he tried to close his eyes and catch some sleep.

He can't worry about Bo right now; he can't keep stressing himself out like this. He needs to sleep. They have the biggest match of their Pro-Bending careers and he can't afford to lose tomorrow. He was not interested live off of Flame-O Instant Noodles likes last month. Really there are only so many ways you can cook noodles before you grow sick of it. Not mention Bolin eats the stuff like it's going out of style. Ugh.

He fucked up. Just this once, Bolin found a girl that he really liked, genuinely liked, and what did he do? He goes and makes out with her. He kissed the girl his brother wanted most. He broke the bro code. He is shitty brother, an inconsiderate, selfish, shitty brother.

He sighed and rolled over on to his back.

"I am a complete and total loser," he said to no one, but himself. "And Asami. Ugh! Why do I suck so much when it comes to women? Sure! I can stomach Flame-O Instant Noodles for a month. I can beat up bad guys. I can even shoot lightening out of my freakin' fingers tips. But I can't even figure out my own feelings for a couple…of really…wonderful… perfectly, beautiful women."

He tossed in his bed once more and laid in the darkness. And then slowly, he brought his fingers to his lips as he remembered what had only happen hours ago for the umpteenth time that evening.

He is going to set things straight with Korra once and for all. He is going to march straight up to her and tell her exactly how it's going to be, and she was going to listen to what he has to say, and she is going to comply. Easy enough, right?

He spotted her on the roof top under the gazebo and strided in her direction with precise, determined steps. Finally, he came to halt.

"We need to talk," he started. "Look, sometimes you can be so infuriating, but I-"

"Save your breath. You've already made it clear how you feel about me." She looked so… so defeated and sad. Never before had he seen Korra look so forlorn and resigned. Instead of standing tall and erect with confidence like she how usually did, she slumped all of her weight against the column beside her and held her arm as if she'd been hurt. She looked insecure, broken. He'd made her feel this way, he of all people. This is his fault, all of his fault. He was going to fix things. He's going to try to bring back the Korra that he missed, the Korra that he had feelings for and everything was going to be okay because he'd figure something out. He always does.

"No, I haven't. What I'm trying to say is: as much as you drive me crazy, I also think that you're pretty amazing." And like that, he felt like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. Saying the truth out loud and to her felt absolutely liberating.

And then the way she perked up for a second, it almost made him feel ashamed again. Almost. "So you do like me?"

"Yes," he said too quickly looking into her gorgeous clear, ocean blue eyes. It pained him because she looked so hopeful in that one second. He averted his eyes because he couldn't stand it. He has to make things right, and right now, Korra isn't right. Asami is right…he thinks. He rushed out, "But. I like Asami, too. I don't know, things are complicated But 'm feeling really confused and–"

And it happened so fast. If he hadn't looked up, from the ground for a moment, he probably would have thought he'd made up the whole scene in his mind. She blindsided him, caught him completely off guard with all defenses down. Both of them stuck in a state of feeling fragile, vulnerable, as if the faintest of words would make their entire world shatter. But instead, it made everything feel right, even if it was for just a few seconds. It was heavenly divine those few moments that they were kissing. And her lips…

Mako groaned and sprawled across his bed to stare at the ceiling, but not for long. He pulled his pillow over face and screamed out in complete and utter frustration. Asami never kissed him like that. But Korra. Spirits! Her sweet, smooth, silky lips–how could she pack so much passion in just a few seconds? Korra didn't simply feel like heaven, she is heaven. She is his symbol of peace; she brought peace to him just as quickly as she brought Hell blazing behind her when she stumbled into his life and unleashed chaos and tumult over what little control he possessed. She tore through his façade like wet toiled paper. She tore it down and broke through its walls until there was nothing left but its foundation. She showed him that his control was an illusion. A blanket of comfort and nothing more and she ruthlessly ripped it away from him until there was nothing underneath except pure, raw, and burning Mako. But it was okay because in those few moments that they were physically and emotionally connected, they felt security and tranquility. The peace he felt washing over him made up for everything. The anger, the frustration, the soreness in his body from hitting the shit out of the punching bag earlier, the confusion, the irritation, it was all washed away down into a tiny drain somewhere in the back of his head.

He remembered feeling her cheeks heat up as their tongues brushed oh-so-briefly. He felt his own cheeks heating up, as well as the rest of body while he was kssing her. Hell, he was blushing now as he remembered and relished in the memory of feeling her against him. Every curve, from the curve of her lips down to her hips–she was so muchwoman.

He groaned again and rolled over. He had come to accept that there would be no sleeping for him this godawful evening as he replayed the memory of kissing her in his head for another time.

And then way she looked shy afterwards. Amber met cerulean. Nothing else mattered in the world. And then the look of shock that suddenly tore her away from whatever moment they were having.

Fragile.

Vulnerable.

Bolin.

Standing there.

Ruined.

Broken.

Destroyed.

Shattered.

He tried to explain, but Bolin was long gone.

And in an instant their feverous, precious moments of ardor, peace, and passion had disintegrated into dust.

"Great! Look at what you did!"

The anger.

"You're blaming me?"

The frustration.

"You kissed me!"

The confusion.

"And you kissed me back!"

She was testing him again.

Irritating him.

Infuriating him.

Driving him completely and utterly insane.

All over again.

He threw up his arms and growled in aggravation. Twice in one day he's hurt his brother, and for the billionth time he was going to figure it out. Because he always figured it out.

She brought out the best in him.

She brought out the worst in him.

And just like that, they were back at square one.

Fin.

It's been a while, so leave me a review and tell me what you think. Imma try to hit the sack because I is tired.