487 Acacia Willows
Two: Newspaper Headlines
Mako catches her in the hall the next morning, his fingers pressing against the back of her hand as he stops her, and Korra can't tell if it's concern or anger that bows his brow. He's bit taller than Tahno (who already has quite a head on her), but she doesn't feel any scrutiny or intimidation beneath his gaze. Mako doesn't scare her—she knows him too well to let his temper better her, she likes him too much to shrink to submission.
He's quiet for a moment, and they simply stare at each other, his eyes drilling flames into hers, and Korra kisses her teeth with her tongue, growing agitated, and tugs her hand away from his.
"If you're only going to stare at me, go get a newspaper. I'm sure you can find my face somewhere—"
"Where are you going, Korra?" He cuts her off, and Korra draws back, settling her weight on her hip.
"Excuse me? Why does it matter?" She knows she shouldn't be so defensive, because it'll only rouse more suspicion from him, but her freedom is already limited enough, and she isn't doing anything that pertains to him. Deep inside, however, she wished she could tell him the truth, that she was going to see her boyfriend (even though she was hesitant to label whatever it was that she shared with Tahno), but Korra suspected that the bundle of hope was one of her past lives whispering the evils of lying in her ear.
Mako bites the inside of his cheek, and narrows his eyes at her, as if he's trying to read text that's too far away to be seen clearly. "You know Tahno's bad news, right, Korra?" He says it so casually that it fills Korra's veins with rage, and her lip curls up.
"I'm not going to see him," Lies. "And even if I was, I think I'm a better judge of character than you." In that moment, she wishes for a wristwatch, if only to glance at it impatiently for the show of her attitude.
Mako is quiet again, but Korra can tell he's boiling inside, and would rather leave without scorching her clothes.
"If we're done here…?" She gestures between them, the question in her voice sarcastic, for she's leaving regardless of whether or not she has Mako's approval, and she knocks into his shoulder as she heads down the hallway, her destination clear in her mind.
Bad news.
No. Tahno isn't bad news—he's simply in bad newspaper headlines.
It's a whisper past noon when she arrives at Tahno's apartment, and she stands in front of the door for all of three seconds, eyes tracing the golden numbers that spell out 487 on his door, contemplating whether or not she should be polite and knock, or take advantage of the spare key that he's not-so-cleverly hidden beneath the potted bamboo plant just beside his door.
Korra decides on the latter, and opens the door with the key, cringing at its squeaky hinges. Gone are her plans of coming in undetected. But her worry is, for the second time in twelve hours, fruitless, because it's as soon as she closes the door and locks it (and pockets the spare key, because it might prove itself to be useful at some time in the future) that she hears the running water of the shower from upstairs, and it doesn't seem to be stopping any time soon.
She's never been in his apartment without him close behind her or near her, and she feels odd, because Spirits, his home is beautiful, and she feels as if she shouldn't touch anything. But she's curious, and promises herself that she won't break anything as she slowly begins to look around, her eyes dancing across the art deco paintings that adorn his walls, and she wonders, as she lifts her fingers to trace over a particularly interesting oil canvas of a faceless woman in a yellow dress, if this is what a museum is like.
Somewhere along the way, she stumbles upon his memorabilia display. She's noticed it before—dusty, and pushed into a dimly-lit corner of the apartment—but hasn't asked him questions about it, due to a fear of accidentally triggering painful feelings.
With wide eyes, she inspects the display, leaning so close to it that her breath fogs up the glass. Inside, it's a museum of Tahno's career. Newspapers from four years earlier, pictures of his first time in the arena, drafts of the Wolfbats' early concept, trophies, masks, everything. He really was incredible and his legacy lights up her eyes and brings a soft smile to her face.
But the triumph is ruined, for in the very middle of the display, taped hastily with black duct tape, is the front page paper from two months ago.
Tahno Kurosawa & Wolfbats, Equalized ; The End of an Era
The tape scars his name, and the paper itself is torn and wrinkled, and there's a large, red X across the picture of his face, just beneath the headline. Her expression sours, brows turning in, and lip jutting out into a pout.
She wonders how he's dealing with it, and wonders if he's really as OK as he insists he his.
She's absorbed in the display, and doesn't hear the water stop running upstairs, and doesn't hear the gramophone on the other side of the living room start up, humming its leisurely tune to fill the silence in the apartment, and she certainly doesn't hear him walk up behind her, doesn't even know he's there, until strong arms slink around her waist.
She jumps, and lets out a small yelp of surprise, turning in his embrace to face him, eyes wide and shoulders tense.
He looks at her down the bridge of his nose, a sly, too-wide smile taking his face, and Korra almost smiles back, until she realizes that something's off about his expression. His mouth has been trained, but his eyes deceive him, and Korra can't decide if its anger or sadness that dulls his icy blues into a bleak grey.
"I was just curious," She begins to explain herself, huffing a bit, because she feels like a child being scolded beneath a scornful glare. He doesn't seem too upset, however, and Korra realizes that she's read him completely wrong.
"Nothing wrong with that, Sweetheart," He purrs, but she hates the distance in his voice—it's as if he's not even talking to her, and she shifts uncomfortably on her feet and wiggles from his hold. Again, she turns, directing her attention to his display. This time, she's bolder, and lifts her fingers to run delicately across the glass. Her fingertips leave smudges across the spotless surface, but he doesn't say anything.
"Are you…" She begins, but pauses and clears her throat, because her words aren't coming together, and she wishes she were as eloquent as he. She sighs, and starts again, dragging her eyes away from the ugly newspaper, and ugly headline, to turn and face him once more.
"Are you okay?" She asks, her voice low, eyes wide, because she means it—she wants to know. It can't be this easy for him—he can't be as flippant as he pretends to be.
Tahno looks down at her, and grabs her hands, squeezing them softly. "Ab-so-lutely, Honey."
Korra shudders, because she hates that nickname, but can never find it in herself to care when he bestows it upon her. Her lips turn down, and her brows crease together, forming lines in her forehead as she looks at him. She's skeptical, because he always says he's okay, and always insists that his problems are of no worry to her—his problems are insignificant.
"Tahno," His name is strained on her tongue, a demand and a plea all at once.
He smiles. "Korra," The mimicked repetition.
She wants to slap him.
"I'm serious," She says. "All of the things in here," She gestures toward the display, as if emphasizing her point. "You can't be fine with this."
Maybe she's arguing with him because she feels guilty that she couldn't protect him. Or maybe she's trying to clear her conscience, because only months before, she had wrongly convinced herself (with the help of Mako and others), that if anybody deserved to lose their bending, it was Tahno. Or maybe she just wants to connect with him, and reverse the roles. Korra's not used to being the damsel in distress, not used to being the one with all of the problems. And she doesn't want the basis of their relationship to be built upon her cracks and his solidity.
He hesitates, and Korra can practically see the gears turning in his mind, beyond his eyes. He's contemplating something, but she doesn't know what, and it's a bit irritating, because she's never had to contemplate whether or not to tell him something—because she trusts him. And she shouldn't care whether or not he trusts her—Spirits, she shouldn't even be here in the first place—but she is. She's here. She's with him. And she cares.
He's quiet for too long, and Korra bites the inside of her cheek and swallows her words, because she wants to become irrationally angry at him for being so distant, but she's not the ill-tempered child she was only two months ago, and she knows that patience (though she has yet to master the art) is key.
"It doesn't get easier," He finally admits, though his words are slurred and drawled no differently than they would be if he were teasing her, and Korra can't quite tell if he's serious or not.
"Tahno—" She says again, but her breath is cut short when he brushes his cold hand across her cheeks, his knuckles, a bit rough from neglect, caressing her skin. It's then that she notices the way he's looking at her—eyes so cloudy and hazed with gentle affection that she's glad they're not in bed, for she would never leave. He's smiling too, though its soft, his teeth hidden behind a close-lipped, crooked grin, and Korra thinks it's the prettiest she's ever seen him look before.
"I'm fine, Sweetheart," He assures her, and the tenderness in his voice can only be compared to that of the tone a lover would lay upon their other, and Korra lets her eyes flutter shut beneath his words—even if she doesn't completely believe him.
If ever she questioned her reasoning for chasing ghosts, she found her answer in moments like this—when the romance outweighed the taboo (the questionable taboo, because he wasn't nearly as awful as everybody claimed he was), and the tenderness outweighed any scolding glances they received beneath the public eye. He's different around her—or at least she has a possessive hope that the softer, sweeter smiles that he gifts to her are for her eyes only.
She sighs and pulls away, turning her head to the side, because she can't take his affections any longer. It's horrid of her, she knows, to use him as her paramour, and hope that he isn't doing the same, but if she's going to sin, she'd rather it be with Tahno.
"I think Mako's onto us," Korra tosses the words out, almost bashfully, into the air, and distracts herself by stepping around him and circling back into the living room with leisure, unsure of her own motives for saying such a thing. Behind her, she can hear a hum of laughter from Tahno.
"Oh, really?" He purrs, and follows her trail, like a predator flirting with its prey, and slips behind her, his chest against her back, and Korra jumps, his scent encompassing her. He's just gotten out of the shower, and he smells faintly of aftershave and a cologne that she can't identify by name, but associates with him nonetheless. His arms fit around her waist, and she leans against him, eyes fluttering shut.
"He always gets on to me about smelling like cigarettes," She murmurs, and it's not the entire truth, but she bites back a laugh anyway, and Tahno detects a smile in her tone. There's much more to Mako's suspicions than the nicotine that lingers behind on Korra's skin, but she holds her tongue and the conversation piece for a different time.
"Oh dear." He breathes against her ear, and her eyes flutter shut. Spirits, how sinful. "I really should kick the habit," He remarks, but they both know he's only teasing. Korra shakes her head to dismiss the idea, anyway.
"No—I don't care what he thinks," There's a hesitation afterward, and she adds, as an afterthought, "And it's kind of sexy."
He laughs behind her, and the soft glow of a blush dusts across her cheeks. She doesn't know why or how he does this to her—turns her normally brash behavior into that of a shy school girl—and she both loves it and hates it. It's uncharted territory, their relationship, and neither of them are particularly skilled at cartography. Still, Korra holds tight for the ride, for Tahno spoils her, and she quite enjoys pretending that she's a normal girl, if only for the few short hours that spends with him.
"Aren't you bold," He remarks, releasing her from his hold, only to circle around her with slow, languid steps (that remind Korra of a playful tiger-kitten) and look at her down the careful curve of his nose.
Korra matches his glare, though suppressing her smile is quite a task, for more often than not, their playful banter concludes with soft laughter on her part, and a sweet smile and finishing remark on his. Her tongue brushes across her teeth behind closed lips, and she almost wants to stand on the tips of her toes and press a hard kiss to his lips, if only to clear his face of his smug disposition.
Instead, however, she says, "I came to eat. I thought that you'd be generous enough to take me out today." She's hinted at no such thing before, and smiles, an expression that's equally cheeky as much as it is prideful. Manipulation has never been a trait that Korra's held dear, but she doesn't mind teasing him, because he always retaliates back.
To her surprise however, he only smiles and winks at her—the wolfish charm that's swooned countless women over the years—and draws away from her.
"You think you're clever," he murmurs, shaking his head softly. "Fine, Honey," Tahno turns, and begins to head upstairs, waving his hand flippantly about the air. "Pick your poison—I'm going to go change." He sings to her, before completely disappearing to the upper level of his apartment.
Korra can't help but stick her tongue from between her lips at him, a childish response to his girlish need to always dress himself up for the town, even though she really does adore him.
He's quite the diva.
I probably should've warned you all earlier, this is going to be a very slow-moving plot, and it'll focus more on Tahnorra moments than anything else. :)
Next update is going to be a double, because it would be unfair of me to post a short (but important) chapter and make you guys wait another week. Thanks so much for reading, please comment if you'd be so kind!
See you guys on the 26th of December. Happy holidays!