"I'm sorry," he whispers from the door, his voice cracking.
Tears are threatening to spill from his eyes. I should've been there, I should've been faster, I should've been able to help, he keeps saying to himself. She didn't hear him yet, at least, he doesn't, think so, but even if she did, she probably wouldn't have moved. The only light coming into the small room is from the window, and like his heart, the skies are overcast, giving the room an even more dismal atmosphere.
His hands curl and unfold with anxiety. He notices that his mouth is suddenly dry and his tongue feels too big for his mouth. He swallows hard, trying to push down his nervousness.
The two haven't really spoken in a few weeks. One-sided conversations here and there; he thinks it helps her to hear about normal life occurrences. He thinks it might distract her from all of the terrifying experiences she went through. He hears that she'll only speak sometimes, with Asami, but he doesn't mind. /Every little bit counts/, he tells himself, trying to gather positive energy. But it's all like grasping at straws, whatever he does, however he thinks, he just can't summon that optimistic spirit he used to possess. He remembers when he could see the silver lining in every dark cloud. Now, it's like he's stuck in a perpetual storm of darkness, with no hope of salvation. As long as she's not happy, he doesn't think he'll ever feel joy again.
"I'm so sorry," he whispers again, shaking his head a little.
Her back is turned to him, she's facing the window. He can guess she's looking at the horizon, but not seeing anything, as her mind isn't registering what's in front of her. He saw her singular tear at the ceremony. He saw how broken Korra looked, and he realized how much she must be hurting. Since the first time he met her, at the pro-bending arena, Team Avatar had helped her face threats to her identity. She'd told them about how the white Lotus had kept her from the world, forcing the idea down her throat that being the avatar and keeping balance was her sole purpose in life. Every threat they'd helped her face: Amon, who threatened to take away her power, to take away her ability to be the avatar; Unalaq, who destroyed her connection to her past lives; and Zaheer, who tried to break forever the avatar-cycle. He couldn't fully understand what it was like, to have all of these conflicts directed towards you, leaving you to wonder; Does the world even want me anymore? He only knew that it would leave him as crippled, broken, traumatized as her, if not more. He was hoping, against all odds perhaps, that she would fight again. He was hoping, but he was afraid, maybe just as much as her, that she might never be able to take her duties and old life back again. Even if she did, life wouldn't be the same; bad days would be worse, and good days just wouldn't be as good. People would treat her like a porcelain doll, always wondering if she would break.
Knowing all that, knowing that's probably what awaited her, he felt sorrow overcome him. He wouldn't pity her though, because he knew she would hate that. He would be there for her, just like she was always there for him.
He vaguely remembered when Tenzin had told him Korra wouldn't eat. He hazily remembers getting her favourite dish at Narook's, and hurrying back to keep it warm. His mind showed him how he had sat down in front of her, given her her meal and starting eating his own. He would look up from time to time, sneaking a glance between bites. Eventually he saw her pick up her utensil and bring a small piece of food to her mouth. He kept wolfing down his food as she slowly ate. When he was done, instead of waiting or leaving, he started talking to her. He would talk about everything and nothing, emulating the kind of conversation they would have on their various outings to their favourite noodlery. He remembers seeing that small smile, and how it meant the world to him. He remembers seeing Tonraq silently crying because his little girl was eating again.
He still stood in the doorway of Korra's room, looking at her wheelchair-bound form. It had been weeks since the poison had been retrieved from her system, but he guessed that her emotional suffering wouldn't let her heal properly. He vaguely remembered reading that a patient had to believe they would get better, to actually get better. With the state Korra was in, he couldn't blame her for believing that it would never get better. For whatever small victory they won, it seemed a million losses awaited them, ready to crush all of their hopes.
"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry," he told her sincerely.
He felt like it was all his fault. He felt like he should've been aware of his abilities sooner, so they could have come to her aid earlier. He felt like he should've just sacrificed himself so the others could leave and get there without his useless weight dragging them down. He felt like, like he should have been able to do something... anything. Now, almost everything he touched was destroyed. Except for Korra, he'd never hurt her.
Ever since they'd come back to Air Temple Island, everyone was as busy as bees. Helping Korra, helping out the city with its crime and the spirits vines, trying to just breathe between it all. And at night, they would all cry themselves to sleep... at least he did.
Everything had gone to hell. Bolin couldn't even control his lavabending anymore; he refused to bend because he feared he'd produce lava and end up hurting - or worse - killing someone. The only time he'd move from his spot in the farthest gazebo on Air Temple Island was to go help Korra, or get some food from Narook for the two of them. Every day for the past couple of weeks he would just sit, hugging his knees, on the stone floor, watching the ocean, fear in his heart. He only ate when he was with Korra, to make sure she ate as well. Last time he'd eaten with her, he'd noticed Mako worriedly whispering with Asami in the doorway.
Bolin finally steps into Korra's room, the wooden floor creaking under his weight. Although he weighs only a fraction of what he used to, his footsteps were still just as loud as before. Korra didn't show any signs of knowing he was there. Sighing, he made his way to her, pulling a chair up to sit next to her. Unlike her, he was slouching, the weight of everything sitting upon his shoulders and crushing him
They both had dark rings under their gaunt eyes, and pale skin that had a sickly, unhealthy sheen. Bolin notices that both their fingernails were oddly pale, and spotty. He gives her a sad smile in an effort to cover up his sudden anxiety.
"Hey Korra," he rasps, his voice dry from slight dehydration.
When she doesn't reply, he licks his cracked lips and continues to speak. "I wanted… I needed to tell you something."
He starts fiddling with his bony hands, and adjusting his now oversized shirt. He rakes a hand through his unusually thin and matted hair, accidentally pulling on some strands along the way. He coughs in his hand nervously before steeling himself.
"I'm... I'm sorry," he finally tells her, looking out the window. If he lookes at her now he knows he will cry. "I should've been there for you."
Spirits, he felt like a jerk. He felt like a soldier that failed to accomplish what they were supposed to do. He was part of Team Avatar, if it still existed, and had failed to come to the Avatar's aid in time of dire need.
Korra looks at him from the corner of her eye. His eyes look dead and empty of any spark of anything she would think of as happiness or life, hiw whole ofrm slumped over and exhausted. What is he saying sorry for? She wondered. He'd been with her nearly every day, talking to her, acting as if they were equals when she still depended on everybody so much. She felt as if she should be apologizing to him for being such a burden.
"When it boiled down to it, I just wasn't fast enough," he admits, looking solemn. "I should've gotten Mako and the others outta there faster. Maybe if I hadn't been so slow we could've done something... anything," he finishes in a whisper.
What is he talking about? she wonders weakly, her mind still cloudy. Why was he apologizing? she didn't get it. She felt so horrible, he looked half dead. Korra had managed to hear a private conversation between Mako and Asami about how Bolin wasn't eating. But whenever she would see Bolin he would be eating and talking to her, like usual. Having someone treat her normally like that helped her feel somewhat normal, for however short a moment.
"I know you're in pain, and I know I can't hope to understand just how much pain, but... I want you to know," he pauses, rubbing his sweaty hands on his dirty pants, "I need you to know that no matter what happens, no matter what people do, that the world wants you... We want you to be okay Korra, because you deserve a happy ending," he says, his raspy voice cracking with emotion and strong conviction.
He lowers his head, and Korra hears him quietly sobbing, and watching his now thin shoulders shake violently. He wipes his face, getting rid of the tears. But when he looks up, Korra can see the tears had left their salty mark upon his surprisingly fragile skin.
"Sorry," he apologizes, sniffing. "Korra, it'll be okay. I know how you feel like it'll never get better; how you feel like you're stuck in a dark cloud, trust me I do. I also know you might never forgive me for not being there when you needed help from your friends, but I will always be here for you."
He reaches over and gingerly envelopes one of her hands in his own. It felt odd. Usually his hand would have completely engulfed hers, but now it could barely close around it. He tentatively rubs his thumb across the back of her hand and he continues speaking.
"I'm sorry for everything that's happened. You may be the avatar, Korra, but you're still just a person. No one should have to experience what you went through, especially not alone."
But I'm not alone... she told herself, I have you guys... Weakly, she lifts her free hand and lies it on top of Bolin's. When he looks up at her, she offers him a weak, but sincere smile. He gives her a watery smile of his own, a slight sparkle lighting up his otherwise dead eyes.
"Thank you," she whispers weakly, her throat still wounded from the poison and the past weeks. "You help me feel normal again," she tells him.
His smile grew wider, his lips trembling as he struggles not to cry. He gasps for air, forcing himself not to shed tears in front of Korra. He looks, the weak daylight reflecting the unshed tears in his eyes, giving Korra a fake replacement to the usual brightness in his eyes.
He shakes his head softly. "You are so strong Korra," he tells her in a whisper. It was all he could do not to cry. "You even help me, when I'm supposed to be helping you," he jokes weakly.
"Why can't we help each other?" she asks him softly.
Bolin loses what little control he had over his emotions and tears now freely stream down his hollow cheeks; but there is a smile on his face. It was broken, and didn't hold its usual brightness, but it was full of joy, and relief.
Korra tightens her grip upon his hand, pulling slightly.
Bolin leans down, close to her, so they were now shoulder-to-shoulder. He gently lies his head down upon her shoulder, and soon felt her head rest against his. He feels her hair against his neck and shoulder; he revels in the feeling of their hands intertwined together.
"Korra," he asked her, weakly.
"Hmm?"
"Does this mean you forgive me?"
She smiles and kisses his temple. "Yeah, Bo, I forgive you..."