Misconceptions

"While I thought that I was learning how to live, I have been learning how to die."
-Leonardo da Vinci

Mako had seen death before, he had been around it from a very young age. The death, no, murder, of his parents had left him homeless and struggling. Mako realized from a young age that life wasn't exactly fair. Who had brought justice to the murder of his parents? Who had helped them when they needed it? He and his brother, orphans, pulling of pathetic scams just to make stay alive. For the most of his life Mako had never lived. He had only survived. In his experiences, he knew that this world was hard and relentless to those in need. Yet, those with power and money were so, so, lucky. He grew up to be a solem boy, and an even more serious and stern teen. Now, now he just wished he had more time to have fun.

The world was beautiful. Looking up at it, he had never seen the skies so blue and the clouds so white. It's a shame really, he thought. It was if the world was mocking him. Showing him the best day when it was probably his last one. Taking a deep breath, he feels the pain rushing in with the air. Blood seeping from his mouth as he coughs it up. He didn't know how it happened, recalling just a few minutes ago, he realized that there really wasn't much he could have done. The strike would have hit him anyways, the fire charring his back, melting through his skin. He didn't even have time to scream, his mouth open in a silent cry. Knees buckling, crumpling under him. His back hitting the floor; the breath and blood knocked out of him. Help was not coming. He figured he could use the time to think. There were so many things Mako had wanted to do, so many things worth achieving. He had wanted to make money, to forgot those days of poverty and shame. He had wanted respect, the gaze of others upon him; his word absolute and commanding. Looking up at the skies Mako realized that he had wanted a lot of things in this world. But the world itself, owed him nothing. He never paid attention to what he needed. Even back then, when he and Bolin struggled for food, he had always wanted. Now, now he knew. He needed her. He needed her warmth and stability, or lack thereof, he guessed. He needed her smile and voice and very presence. He loved her, and it had taken him too long to realize. He had already fucked up once, and that was probably the only chance he would get; well, now it was. Listen to yourself Mako, he thought bitterly, you sound so pathetic, so dead. Have you already given up? Have you already thrown your life away? He had. Not by his choice, but he had. He could have kept fighting, could have called for help, could have done something. He hadn't. Mako had seen death before, but now, feeling it he knew that death was simple. He realized that death was always there, watching upon her victims. She was a relief for some. Many had chosen to see her by their own hands. Death did not judge, she did not discriminate or hate, she accepted anyone and everyone. He closed his eyes, the beauty of the sky fading before him, his senses preparing for the eternal slumber.

Wait, a voice rang out in his head, when did it start raining? He could have sworn that the day was perfect. How long had he been lying there? He tried to open his eyes, but his strength had left him. The rain was cold, oh so cold. Couldn't you have let me die in warmth? He asked no one in particular. It seems life really did not like him. He at least wanted to hear the pitter-patter of the droplets, yet he could only feel them. Falling upon his face and chest. It was cold, so cold. Was this death? Was it cold and harsh, stealing away what little comfort he had left? It was a shame. Really. Because, now he could hear voices. Actually, just one, just a voice. He didn't know whose. But something, something deep inside of him knew. He had to hear that voice. He had to listen to it. Frantically, he climbed, the depths of his mind had become a prison- holding him down with despair and pain. He trudged through it, his soul desperate. Death was behind him, catching up. Her long fingers reaching for him. He tried to get away, and he fell. Her grasp on him secured, he was sure he would die now.

But then he could see. He could see. The sky was beautiful. The clearest day he had ever seen. The clouds so white. The ocean of clear blue were open to him. Suddenly, something moved into his vision. A cloud, dark and big, swallowing the perfect day he saw. But then he could see. He could see. It was her. Her. her, her ,her, her. Korra. Her hair was matted, her face transformed into a look of despair. The tears the streamed down her face, he could feel. Falling upon his face and chest, they were cold. They were cold. He laughed. He couldn't help it. The soft laughter that escaped his mouth with relief. Peppered with pained coughs and blood, he laughed.

"Korra," he said, arms reaching out to cup her face, "Korra, you're so silly." Her reaction was immediate. The shock in her eyes. Her eyes filled with life. She clutched at his hand. Desperately.

"MAKO!" she sobbed, "Mako! Don't, don- you had me worried!" Her voice was strained, raw with emotion."You're going to be okay Mako. You- you have to be!"

He coughed. He knew he did not have much time. Death's hold was still on him, and he would take this chance she gave him.

"Now we both know Korra, that's not going to happen. I'm done." he smiled at her sadly.

"No!" she cried, "You'll be fine! Your chest- I, I healed your chest!"

He shook his head. "You tried to heal me didn't you, Korra? It's okay, you're not fooling me, or yourself. You tired and you know."

She pounded at his chest. He didn't have the heart to tell her that wouldn't help.

"It can be, Mako! It can't!" The fight had gone out of her, she slumped, her body covering his, "I tried to heal you! When it wouldn't work, I- I didn't know what to do! I still don't!" The tears that fell from her eyes were cold. So cold. "Mako, you can't die. We need you! Bolin needs you! Asami needs you! I-I need you! I love you!" With that she fell apart, collapsing onto his chest. Her sobs ripped through her, pouring out all her anguish and pain.

"Korra." He said. He had waited, waited for her say what she had to.

"What Mako?" her head rises immediately as she leans in to his face desperate to hear his final words.

"You shouldn't cry. Don't cry on a day like this Korra! It's a beautiful day. Actually, don't you know Korra? Your tears, they're cold. So, so, cold. So stop Korra, do me this one favor and stop. Smile. Smile for me one more time, 'kay?"

She did. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she knew she could at least do this for him. She smiled. He saw. He saw. A smile so radiant and warm he thought he would burn.

"Was that okay?" she asks, her voice soft and soothing.

"It was. Thank you, really." and it was. It was enough. More than enough. It was her, it was her smile. The smile he loved.

It's time. A voice in his head said. It wasn't his, but he knew.

The last thing he felt was the warmth of her lips, gracing his with their presence.

Then his world was dark.

Author's note: This was just something I had on my mind and could not get out. The idea that death is inescapable was something I just had to write about. And with how Book 3 is happening, we may see just that. This piece isn't the best, please excuse any mistakes or errors.

*Legend of Korra is not mine* though I wouldn't mind if it was.