III. Find Me
He was losing her.
He was a fool not to take notice any sooner. Like the soft ebbing and pulling of the waves, she pulled away gently, unknowing and unassumingly. Yet he noticed. He noticed everything. He was losing her.
It showed in her smile. The once cocky and raucous teeth glaring grin morphed into a quiet and close lipped grimace. She was always eager to avoid him with a cartridge load full of excuses. She'd apologize hastily, lips curled into a painful quirk and fled away.
It showed in her laugh. Carefree and obnoxious guffaws slowly became asphyxiated and silenced. She was losing hope, her optimism held hostage by her circumstances. And she was yielding to them. She could not afford to be naïve. She could not afford to be a teenager. The world needed their Avatar and the Avatar did not "guffaw." Mako loved her guffaws.
The most painful realization, the one that brought the proud firebender to his knees begging, praying for respite; the one that left his heart aching to hold her—Her eyes. Her turbulent and triumphant cerulean tides quieted and lulled, as if tamed by the melody of a siren's song. But she was Korra. She could never be tamed.
Yet the world begged to differ. There she was, aloof and battered by nightmares. Solemn. Withdrawn. It happened so naturally, how she so fluidly and deceptively extracted her essence from his life. He almost prided her stealth and prowess. Almost. Mako clenched his fists, fire licking and singing away the under flesh of his palms. Good, he thought, a little self-inflicted punishment would only strengthen his resolve.
A breathy protest bubbled forth from the bed next to him. Even in her sleep the distress of carrying the weight of the world creased her cherub like visage. His molten gaze outlined the delicate curves of her button nose and cupid's bow. He frowned at the scars that dappled her skin—stains in the canvas of her innocent beauty. He reached out his palm, intending to cup her face as a lover should, but thought better. No, he hurt her enough with his mixed actions. Instead, he grazed his thumb across her knuckles, ceasing the urge to kiss each finger until she woke. Staring at her battle stricken visage he was sure.
For any vestige of goodness left within his cynical and crumbling heart, he was not going to let her lose herself.
For once, he allowed himself to love her.
The gestures started small, almost insignificant really—
A warm hand steadied the small of her back.
Stairs: the bane of her existence. She fumbled and cursed ungracefully as she tripped again for the nth time. Still, his hand remained firm, his silent guidance grudgingly appreciated.
"You need to be more careful Korra! You're recovering, not recovered. You can't just fly up these things," he grunted irritated. The spark in her baby sky eyes flickered in the glistening dew of the morning chill. He cherished that flare with all of his being. Slowly but surely, she was starting to find herself again.
"Calm down Cool Guy. It's not like I'm pregnant," she teased good naturedly. The quirk and dimple to her grin were similar, reminiscent of the fearless one before her capture. It was…captivating. She failed to notice the scarlet blush that flowered across the poor man's face. Pregnant? The thought of a "pregnant" Korra because he—No! That's absurd. He swallowed, the sudden increase of temperature made him uncomfortable.
Every day after that day, an insignificant day really, he was determined to try and bring her back from the brink.
He tried. Agni knows he tried. But no one could make her laugh as hard as Bolin. One more try. After a series of failed attempts, Mako was willing to trump his record for good. This one was gold. After all, he loved her guffaws.
Their walk was going well: peaceful and undisturbed. They walked alongside one another as respected comrades, friends even, their verbal spats forgotten. One would even tentatively call it pleasant. Yes, a pleasant stroll. Together. Alone.
Though for once, the two teenagers did not pay notice. So many more matters clouded their thoughts these last few days. Thoughts of war. Thoughts of destruction, of death. Thoughts of never seeing one another again. Those thoughts stole away their moments of haggard rest under downy covers, coughing and gasping for breath.
There were thoughts of being together. Thoughts of loving another. Those moments they awoke, terrified, ashamed and attempting to banish such taboo notions.
But for once, the two teenagers did not pay notice, their walk sending them into a wary sort of serenity. They did not pay heed to their thoughts, their dreams, their future. Just now. They just wanted to remember just now. Please, just give them now.
The vibrancy of the island so filled with hope lulled their torrent minds. They inhaled the brilliance of living, the caress of the breeze playfully toying with their senses. It was calm. It was refuge before destruction.
Today, he would make her laugh just as hard as Bolin. He was determined. He loved her guffaws.
He cleared his throat .
"So what do you call a nonbender's favorite cookie?"
She stared at him bewildered and slightly afraid. Startled that the normally taciturn firebender was actually attempting to, well, to be the opposite of taciturn. She felt a loss for words.
"I'm sorry what?"
He blushed and mentally winced. His sudden urge to crawl into a little ball and silently vanish made him huff in embarrassment. No, he refused to give up so easily. Staring at her alarmed state, he pressed on. "What do you call a nonbender's favorite cookie?"
"Is this supposed to be some sort of joke?"
She always found a way to make him feel like an idiot.
"Korra just answer the question," he bit out behind clenched teeth. She wasn't making this easy, but he was determined. Today, he was going to outdo Bolin.
"Alright, alright cool it cool guy." She paused. She just told guy to cool it. She giggled at her own pun. Man, she cracked herself up! His jaw ticked in impatience. She looked over and quickly cleared her throat. "Alright I give up. Pray tell, what is a nonbenders favorite cookie?"
She always managed to make him feel like an idiot.
He cleared his throat for the punch line, steeled himself and let that baby go: "cinn-Amon."
The wind howled in agony.
Deadpanned, "I don't get it."
His nostrils flared, "what do you mean you don't get it? That was it. That was the joke, the pun. That—That was gold," he growled.
"Cinnamon…" she tasted the thought on the tip of her lips. "I don't—"
"It's a spice for Agni's sake! A spice!" the shrill volume of his shriek caused an embarrassing crack in his voice that quickly prompted an end to his rant.
She paused and thought. Hard. Seconds turned into minutes. And more minutes. And more, moments that surpassed minutes.
"Korra, if it's hurting you to think that much…"
Her face morphed into one of pure elation, her eyes starry and wide as a new born babe's. "I get it!" She crooned triumphantly.
"You get it?" he replied cautiously optimistic. A tentative smile was itching to secure itself onto his face. Just seeing her so, so full of joy. It soothed him.
She began. "Cinnamon. It originates from the Fire Nation. So nonbender's would want to eat a cinnamon cookie in order to gain firebending. That way they learn how awesome bending is! Yes! Yes!" Her howls scattered the flying lemurs into the cloud clotted sky. Even Naga from the porch of the Air Temple entrance lifted her head in alarm from the vibrations of her owner's ecstasy.
Mako wanted to die.
"Amon, Korra! Amon."
She paused and eyed him confusedly. Stubbornly, she held onto her conspiracy theory. Obviously nonbenders would want to be benders. Bending's awesome.
"Amon Korra, Cinn-Amon. Get it? Because they're nonbenders, and nonbenders and Amon…" he trailed off embarrassedly.
Korra blinked. Mako burned holes at the termite ants littering the foliage.
"That—that wasn't very funny."
Mako sighed dejectedly. If only—
His ears picked up a miniscule shuffle. And then a hiccup. Then a snort. And then a snicker. A giggle, cute at first. It then rapidly mutated into an outright raucous guffaw that deafened the animal life within a ten mile radius. He turned his attention away from the termite ants and bashfully peaked back to her form.
Her eyes were scrunched tight in a manner that seemed almost painful. Her cherub cheeks were stained with what seemed to be cherry-lychee juice: raw and pink and adorable. Her dimples created indentations that compelled him to stare longer, to memorize harder. What was most captivating: Her smile. Beautiful and glaring and blinding and breathtaking. All loud, all obnoxious, all Korra.
He was lost in her.
And he allowed himself to fall in love with her. Just this once.
His gestures started small, almost insignificant really.
Still and quiet. Their eyes glazed over and tilted skywards, to the mystery of this hallowed eve. Stars that yearned for their gaze winked and vied for attention, coquettes in the hush of the goddess Nyx. It was quiet for once.
This time, it was her who shattered the stillness.
"Why?"
Such a mockery. Such a plead. Such a pain.
So many instances, so many forms, so many answers. One question, asking nothing and everything.
Mako waited for her.
"You—" she paused, frustrated. "You're being so nice," she stated simply. Lame. He flinched involuntarily. She chugged on. "I mean, you're following me around everywhere, and you're asking so many stupid questions, and you're cracking lames jokes—"
"Are you done yet?" He asked irritated, his eyes shooting lightning bolts into the milky night.
"Sorry," she stammered. "You," she paused self-consciously, "you care for me."
Mako opened his mouth to protest, she stopped him with a look.
"Too much. You care for me too much."
"I," he opened his mouth about to refute her claim, "I do." His back slumped in acknowledgement.
"Why?"
He didn't answer for a while, each staring at the nothingness of space, cocooned within the comfort of each other's warmth. She waited for him.
"I won't lose you."
"What—"
He pushed on, "I won't let you lose yourself." Finally, they tore their gazes away from the sanctuary of the evening ink. Head on, they faced one another. Not in disparity, in fact the opposite, in hopes to understand.
Korra stared at his steadfast gaze and his unblinking determination. He wanted to save her. They bored into one another's eyes, searching, allowing their souls to be read, learned. His baritone voice echoed in the breeze, "I won't let you lose yourself."
She sighed and broke the bond. She couldn't take the inferno he created in his wake; his burnished umber melting the chains of her heart, the cage of her soul. In dismay but never at loss, her resolve steeled itself to reveal her most closely guarded secret.
Licking her lips tentatively, she reached for his face yet went for his hand. They intertwined instantaneously. "You," she stopped and shook her head. Her crystalline dew drops cooling and healing his scorching irises, pleading for him silently.
"I will always lose myself in you."
He stared at her penetratingly, searching for deceit. What he found was earnest and truth. And pain. And love. His calloused palm moved on his own accord, intending to cup her face as a lover should. They were not lovers, but oh, the ache to be seared his flesh. Please, just give them now. Just now.
They pulled closer, gravitating towards their need, their want. They resisted the resistance of sanity, of reality. Just this once.
Closer.
He breathed in her essence.
Closer.
He lost himself in her.
