Along with writing this, I've been curating a bit of a sound track of songs that inspire the story.
Hopefully 2 per chapter but we'll see how that goes.
1st song - A Lot's Gonna Change - Weyes Blood
2nd song - To Love You - The Family Crest
Korra's nightmares were made of this.
Her best friend, the blushing bride, smiling up at him.
As he tossed the veil over her head, Korra saw it in slow motion. In her mind she could change the angle, the colour and size of the hands, see her own fingers trace the lace and thumb them, and arc the material up gently, savouring each moment, living deep within the daydream. All this she can imagine; instead of Iroh's lumbering and ungraceful throw.
Asami smiled at him all the same.
Korra's heart was stopping and starting, and her mind casting back through their decade of friendship, obsessing over the opportunities lost to entropy.
She settled on the teenage girl getting her ass kicked, and Asami looming over her, braces glinting like starlight, worrying over her for the first time.
Korra knew then what she knew now; she never had a chance.
She felt sick, twisting roses in her grip, almost snapping their stems, until Opal's cold fingers calmed her wrist.
Opal knew her secret, and like any good samaritan she reached out when she could. Ordinarily Korra had the grace to thank her with a wounded half smile, but in that moment, pressed up against her greatest fear, she was frozen.
The only way through was out, the scene in front of her was too much to bear, and all Korra could do was retreat into her mind. Asami would have known it if she were looking at her, she would have cupped her cheeks and her lips would move until the whispers made it through.
Alone in it Korra floated high above the scene, tears leaking, writing a list in her head to pass the time.
If I'm going to keep you, she thought, I have to let you go.
She thought about what she'd miss most, the hugs, perhaps, the feint fleeting memories of her hands clinging her own, so precious she often thought they too were imagined.
No more touching, she vowed, it shouldn't be that hard.
See her no more than once a week. She added, catching the glint of gold sliding along Asami's ring finger. Once a month. She corrected, knowing even seven days of separation wouldn't be enough to dull her infatuation.
She can never know, the bride sealed the bond with a modest kiss, even if it is too late to change anything.
I love her, she held the words inside in silence, closing her eyes and letting them hold her, for what she prayed would be the last time. This was something she'd tried before, most mornings coming to consciousness, or falling asleep in the small hours of the night she found herself whispering it before she could stop herself. I love Asami. For no good reason her foolish heart has held on, but the scene in front of her was punishment enough, maybe the prayer would stick.
The guests applauded, Korra made a point of returning to her body, clapping along. Asami had turned to her now, in the cacophony of sounds Korra couldn't read the moment to understand what was going on. A pale hand graced her left cheek, red lips her right, and Korra swore the heavens above opened up and poured light and voices over them both, until she sidestepped her and kissed Opal's cheek, then Bolin's and finally Mako's before rushing into that next part of her life.
Fuck.
"You don't smoke," hers was the voice Korra could catch in any crowd, her presence the only thing that had the down on the back of her neck standing up.
Korra fumbled with the lit cigarette in her fingers, doing every thing she could not to look back at the bride, staring at the butt and contemplating a drag.
"I didn't want to just be standing out here doing nothing," she shrugged, eyes catching involuntarily on the emerald eyes now in her periphery. Leaning over the balcony that had Republic City at their feet, winking up at them light by light. "Shouldn't you be in there? Enjoying your party?"
"That party?," the bride shrugged, tactically removing the cig from Korra's prone fingers, "It's kind of lame now that my best friend isn't in there,"
"It's pronounced Lamé," Korra teased half heartedly, pinching at Asami's painstakingly selected Versacé dress.
Asami hip checked her, only instead of bounding away, she kept their sides flush, so she could taunt her with a chin against her shoulder. Right on cue, Asami thought, watching Korra's neck and shoulders tense, hackles raised and jaw set.
"I just needed a minute," Korra whispered in a neutral tone, brooding over the city. Asami supposed she sought solace because weddings might not be her thing. What with the Tribe's current views on homosexuality. She tacked on that loud noises and music sometimes overwhelmed her PTSD afflicted friend despite once upon a time being fun loving and fancy free. She even mused that Korra hadn't found her happily ever after like she had, and was taking the time to contemplate catching up.
Korra adored how understanding her best friend could be, but right then Korra wished she would just ask. Asami seemed satisfied with the unsaid and the fog that came with it, and it honestly drove her best friend crazy.
"It's okay," was all she said, enjoying the cool breeze on the empty balcony that deterred party goers from lingering, but was delightful in their warm little huddle. Face flush with alcohol, community, reverie and dancing. The bride offered her back her cigarette. "I'll wait with you until you finish coughing up your lungs,"
"Get bent," Korra chuckled wriggling away unsuccessfully, taking it back.
"You want a bump?"
"A bump?" Asami balked, grinning, smile fading as she watched her best friend place the little stick of death between plump lips, pursing them just so, relighting the end and breathing in the fire. She couldn't help but stare as Korra's lips parted with an 'o' blowing the smoke swirling into the night. Asami couldn't pin point why she found that moment so mesmerising. It took perhaps too long for her to respond.
"I quit a long time ago," Asami remarked, emerald eyes falling, seeing the darkest time when the only light was the crackle of burning black and orange sunset tobacco and the short lived calm that came with it.
"The look on your face tells me you miss it," Korra teased, inhaling another.
There were things Korra was keeping from her, Asami knew, this was another she so happened to have stumbled upon.
When they were teenagers, idealistic if a little rebellious, Korra would watch while Asami smoked, while being anti-smoking herself. Much had changed since, and it stung a little that Korra had learned without her, and sober Asami would have said something, if tipsy Asami wasn't so captivated by it.
She imagined Korra in bars on nights out, using it as an excuse to stand outside in the quiet chatting up women, smoke and sweet nothings floating from her lips. Inexplicably the image became bright and vivid in the back of her mind.
She watched the corners turn up of Korra's mouth, the shape of it plumed and dancing with the smoke, Asami supposed it was the alcohol making it all so fascinating, but she thought better than to ask.
A welt of dread and panic bubbled in the brides chest suddenly, but in a flash the feeling was gone, replaced by the usual neutrality that she so depended upon for most things.
"But I stopped because I knew it was bad for me,"
Again too long before Asami took charge, snatching the cigarette back, flicking it over the edge.
"Come on," the bride ordered, "Mako's been doing a two-step for twenty minutes, we have to go save him from himself," before taking Korra's wrist and guiding her back inside, without another word.
Despite her new rules, Korra had a hard time setting a precedent. Asami's firm grip on her heart strings lead her through the flow of the evening. It was so easy to fall into those old patterns, to let the joy her best friend brought her fill her to the brim every second they were together. In her mind it was because this was the last night she could feel this way, at home in the pleasure of the Bride's company.
"I can't believe you did this," Asami gushed, eyes turn up at the 7ft ice sculpture she had commissioned from her best friend, "Korra it's…" She covered her lips, and chest in quick succession, gazing up at a rendering of herself and her husband in and embrace of calm repose.
While they two were the obvious feature, their togetherness, their convergence, she couldn't help but marvel at just herself. Asami wasn't vain, she considered makeup to be an art of war, but the way Korra had sculpted her face so beautifully, she felt the affection in waves. Only someone who loved her could see her like that.
"You don't have to say anything," Korra blushed modestly, hand habitually curling around the back of her neck..
"It's incredible Korra," Iroh slung his arms behind his new wife from behind, mirroring their ice-selves, "You've captured us completely," he added shaking his head.
You really don't have to say anything, Korra seethed internally.
She didn't hate Iroh, she just loathed that he took away any hope she ever had at happiness and was ignorant to the pain his every word and breath and being extinguished that hope with the force of a thousand typhoons. Hate was a strong word. What Korra felt was stronger and infinitely more intense to manage.
Thankfully her throat had closed, making it difficult to unload a volcano of vehemence she had been saving for him for quite sometime now.
Korra wished the symptoms of her heartache weren't so physical as she watched Iroh twirl and lift his bride. He had her chest burning and face grow hot. Her entire body thrumming with ugly, bubbling jealousy.
She was almost glad to see Asami pour herself into the back of the limo, but not before an agonising, lingering, gut wrenching, last embrace.
"I'll see you in three weeks okay?" she slurred, rocking side to side with glee and a lack of overall balance. An impressive feat considering how physically tense Korra was. "Stay safe until I get back,"
"I'll be fine," Korra chagrinned, "Go have fun on your ahem, go have fun, I'll be fine," Korra kept speaking in the hopes she could extricate herself from the trap she was in.
Asami stepped back to press her forehead over Korra's before she could retreat to safety. Little did she know the Sculptor was torn between savouring this last moment, and desperately trying to end it. Stuffing her feelings into a little black box she could open in a few decades, in the comfort of a therapists office, or padded cell.
"I know you will," she was drunk, and illegible, but somehow heartwarming and awe inspiring at the same time, pouring her loving good vibes into her with her hands and goofy grin. The conscious part of Asami marked the moments she was like this, giddy and content, sometimes Korra felt like her last living family member, that she could smile at and hold close and feel utterly protected by. No husband could ever match that, she knew. "I'm so happy you're here, K," she whispered, brushing her cheek into the warm crook of her neck.
"Forget about me," Korra hushed her, in a voice tight it almost sounded like a warning.
The bride looked stung when she opened her eyes, squeezing her hands as words failed her.
"Asami you ready?" Her husband beckoned.
"I'll call you when we get there," she urged.
"You don't have to-"
"Stay near a phone!" Asami winked, perception of the moment sliding into the default, the reality didn't match her expectation; but why would Korra ever be sad on a day like today?
"Goodbye Korra, goodbye everyone!" Iroh laughed and waved chasing after his new wife like a puppy with a plaything.
Korra noticed after the limo was gone the way her hands had gripped the empty space where Asami had been. For a split second she wondered how running after that limo would play out.
"Hey," Opal's voice had the fantasy come crashing down around her. "You did really well,"
Korra couldn't help but flinch when her hand met her shoulder.
"Did I?" she snapped, "Sorry," Korra's eyes widened and shame coursed through her, "I'm sorry I didn't mean-"
"I know," Opal had her in her orbit when she spoke then, and her arms around her when she added, "I'm so sorry Korra,"
It was the first time in years Korra let her self melt into another person, exhausted from struggling, weak from incredible loss, she let Opal prop her up as she took in gasping, grounding breaths.
It's really over.
It took a moment for her to realise exactly what she was doing, Korra reeled, exposed, panicked, wiping her tears and scanning for witnesses. Only Opal.
"Bolin and I can give you a ride home,"
"No," she sniffed, "I'll walk,"
"Across town?"
"I need it," she braved eye contact, taking the last of her strength and pushing it to the forefront for Opal to see. "I'm okay, I'll be okay,"
"You know it's okay not to be right?"
"I know." Korra crossed her arms, angling her body in the direction of home, "thank you…for your discretion."
Opal gave her a weak smile, the kind you'd give to a hopeless case or wounded animal.
"Whatever you need."
Korra tried not to wince at the pitiful creature she saw reflected in Opal's big doe-like jade eyes. One of her folded hands gave a weak wave, and she started on the long mindless walk to the firehouse she called home.
She was just over half way there when a voice called to her from the glow and glitz of a hole-in-the-wall bar.
"Hey hot stuff,"
Korra didn't expect to hear someone she recognised this late or lost.
"Hey you," Korra turned to her, lips braving a half smile, fully aware it may be slapped off at any moment. The smoking woman recognised her instantly.
"You didn't call," she pouted theatrically. A brunette with sharper edges, and eyes a paler green, but a draw to Korra all the same.
"Yeah, sorry…I've kind of been going through it."
"I can see that,"
The taller woman regarded her with a forgiving heart, tousled, dressed to the nines with nowhere to go at 3am.
After the one night Korra had given her some weeks ago it was hard not to. She couldn't have guessed the incredible self-less pillow queen session they'd had was Korra pretending to have someone unobtainable.
This mysterious gorgeous blue eyed stranger had come into her life, shown her the curvature of the earth and left her wondering if gods walked among us.
"You can make it up to me." she winked dropping her cigarette and crushing it underfoot. She exuded confidence and a touch of malice, as she lived in the moment she'd been hoping for since leaving Korra's firehouse that morning. Combing her fingers through that gorgeous head of chestnut hair, and capturing Korra in that hard kiss.
It occurred to her that this was a bad idea, but as she tasted smoke and felt heat coursing through her from another body, she lost the capacity to give a fuck. She wanted to watch the world burn, and her firehouse was merely minutes away.
Korra woke that following morning, beleaguered and exasperated that she could spend the night between someone's legs and still taste Asami's name on her lips.