Disclaimer: I do hereby disclaim all rights and responsibilities for the characters in this collection. Kudos to Bryke, indeed.
Word Count: 4,937
Author's Notes: 5/1/13. This isn't necessarily a filler chapter, per se, but it does help lead us to our next set of events; after all, you have to untangle at least a few knots before you can screw 'em all up again. :P Also: I hadn't planned on posting this until after Tahno Week because I was afraid that people would be so bombarded with awesome Tahno material that they'd be less likely to leave feedback... :/ Please don't make me regret posting it sooner!
And again: to get the full impact of this story's events, read the Tahno-POV companion fic, 4.1!
Musical Inspiration: "A Drop in the Ocean" by Ron Pope, because I'm still obsessed, and"Mirror" by Kat Dahlia. Thank you for the rec, likeabirdinflight!
Beta'd by ebonyquill.
4.4
"Hey," she greeted, voice quiet.
There was a pause as a voice sounded from the receiver.
"Hey, so—stupid question, but..." Korra swallowed, clutching the cell phone in her hand, standing at the window; the Sunday morning looked cold outside, with the bare branches floating in the blowing winds.
"Would you go for a run with me?" she asked.
"Thanks," she said abruptly, when she had him trappedat a stoplight. "For meeting me, I mean."
Bolin sent her a wary sidelong glance. "Uhh, sure," he said casually, returning his gaze to the red light.
"I mean it though," Korra tried again, feeling helpless; she knew what she needed to say, but she didn't know how to bridge the gap between hi! and oh my god, I'm a terrible person and I suck, so please forgive me.
"Yeah," he assured her half-heartedly. "No problem."
It was another half a mile before Korra started to grow well and truly anxious. Their running companionship had never been known for silence, and the space between them was so filled with distant car engines and gentle autumn breezes that it might as well have been a mile wide. As she was wracking her brain, feeling close to her wits' end, he asked, "You wanna head in the direction of the arboretum?"
"What?" she started. "No!"
Bolin blinked. "Um, okay. So that's a solid negative on the trees."
"No—I mean, it's not—sorry," she said hastily, suddenly much more out of breath than she should have been. "I, uhh... I've never really liked it there very much."
"You got something against the woods?"
Korra frowned, feeling her chest burn.
Softly, she admitted, "No... It's just a little too close to home."
"Well, that should about do it for the day," he said rather decisively, glancing about the mostly empty playground. Most people had the good sense to wait for a warmer day—or maybe even snow. "Any more than that and Coach Tenzin will have our heads."
Panic seized her.
"Wait! But it's—it's such a nice day!"
Bolin looked at her like she was crazy; she felt crazy. "How about we stop and stretch here? On the grass?"
"Do my ears deceive me?" Bolin teased, smiling in spite of himself. "Miss Korra of the Wild, willingly subjecting herself to the tedious task of stretching?"
"Pffft," Korra immediately dismissed, gracelessly plopping to the ground. Ah! Cold! "After what Asami did to me yesterday with her foam rollers, this should be cake."
He didn't look convinced, but with a sigh, he settled himself on the ground next to her. "Well?" he looked at her expectantly.
Oh! Korra's mind twitched. Right! Oh my god, how do I start? What do I say? What did I ask him to come out here with me for? What the hell was I thinking! "Well, what?"
"What do you need to stretch?"
"Oh," she breathed. "I'll just, uh... I'll just follow you. You're kind of the expert on these things."
Bolin scoffed under his breath, slowly curling into a hamstring stretch. Korra still couldn't believe someone so stocky and well-built could bend that way; both of his hands were gripping the sole of his outstretched foot, and he made it look easy. "Yeah," he sighed. "Sure thing."
She didn't like where this was going—where this was not going—at all.
Just say it.
Suddenly, Korra grew inexplicably and undeniably angry. Back in the beginning—back before she knew about the world of cross-country, or teenager dynamics, or the infuriating world of high school—she had always complained about people being too complicated with their thoughts and feelings; she didn't understand why someone would choose not to be open and forthright about their opinions, or how they felt, or what they wanted. In Korra's (old) world, life had been direct, audacious; the truth didn't always bring about honesty, because it just was, because things were the way they were, and people felt the way they felt, and you gotta deal with it. And for as much as Korra hated the burdensbrought down on her for holding true to that belief, the walls she rammed into, the barriers that blocked and the heads that butted, there was a fearlessness in that belief, at her core, that made her who she was. It made her Korra, and it made her strong.
(Or so she'd thought.)
Because then she'd been picked up and transplanted, shoved into a world she'd never wanted to enter in the first place, expected to adapt and learn and change, and Korra had never felt more out of her element. She'd always known who she was, but who wasthat, who was she really? For the first time in her life, she'd been surrounded by people—people her age—and suddenly, she didn't know. All her life she'd been told that she needed to learn whennot to open her mouth, and now... Now she couldn't seem to find the words, let alone get them out. They got jumbled and garbled and lost in the mass of emotion swirling in her gut, drowning in the fear of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, again, again, again. The anger redoubled. They wanted her to find balance they said; to find a way to work with others, to be a leader, they said; to find a way to reconcile her true self with the self that she was expected to be—
But how did anyone expect her to find a balance when they weren't even going to let her?
"I have a tent," she blurted.
Bolin paused, stunned. "Um. That's nice?"
Korra shook her head, gently, staring sadly into the grass under her bent legs. Her hands rested limply over her knees. "It isa nice tent," she laughed under her breath, feeling tired. "It was the first one I ever had of my own, just for me. It was a present from my dad, right before our first father-daughter duo trip into the mountains. We still shared his tent for a few years after that, of course, when it was just the two of us," she added as an afterthought, with a touch of a smile. "It didn't make sense to waste pack space. But having a tent of my own meant that I was finally old enough to handle sleeping alone, and that he recognized that. Whenever we went out in packs, it was mine." Korra swallowed, then, glancing at Bolin. "It meant a lot to me."
He was confused, which was understandable. (But he also looked sorry for her, which didn't make any sense at all.)
"People were always complaining that I was too headstrong as a kid, that my parents let me run wild... And maybe they did," she laughed. "I don't know. I never had much of a chance to compare it to anyone else's childhood. All I knew was that this tent was the first time my parents showed me that they trusted me with true independence. They never said it in so many words, but they told me then, that they knew I could take care of myself." Korra sighed, long and deep. "I'm sorry, Bolin."
He blinked. "For what?"
"I've changed a lot since I got here," Korra admitted, meeting his gaze. "And I don't always think it's for the better."
"Yeah, well," Bolin scoffed a laugh, trying to keep it light. "High school can do that to people."
Korra smiled, but it was too soon. She still had things she needed to say. "I think one of the things I've forgotten about the person I was before is how to be honest with people," Korra frowned. "I'd always been too open before, and it got me and my family into trouble. When I got here, I was stubborn. I was mostly determined to prove to my parents that they couldn't cage me, that I could handle the challenge and still come out myself—at least until they gave up and dragged me back home... And then I got here, and—I didn't even realize it until after it'd happened—but I got caught up. I... I got scared, I guess. I was suddenly stressing about a lot of stuff that would never have fazed me back home, and before I knew it, I'd gone and started to become exactly what people back home had told me to become, only not. Instead of learning more and finding a balance... I mostly just forgot how to be myself, I think."
He took this in. "So... now what?"
She looked him very seriously in the eye. "Bolin, I'm sorry I hurt your feelings," she said sincerely. "I didn't meant to let things get so out of hand."
He blinked, then turned to the swing set ahead, looking rather uncomfortable. Korra let her gaze drop to the ground with a sigh, and waited. The wind seemed to slip right through the fabric of her jacket, but she thought that maybe she deserved the cold. (And in a weird way, it was comforting; it reminded her of the familiar winter, which would be arriving soon. Maybe then things wouldn't feel so strange.)
"Swing with me?" he asked, nodding to the empty seat a few meters away. Korra blinked.
"Sure," she agreed.
"I'm not gonna say anything to anyone, you know," he told her, toes dragging along the wood chips. "I wasn't lying."
"Bolin," she groaned. "That's what I—I mean, thank you, but... That's not what I care about right now."
"Look, I don't know what's going on between you and my brother—"
"Bolin," Korra cut him off, trying to seep every ounce of genuine feeling she had into her words. "Nothing is actually going on between Mako and I... I was really confused about how I felt about him, but it doesn't matter anymore. Asami and I are friends now... But even if we weren't—it wouldn't change anything." I realize that now. Not because she and I have gotten closer, and not because I just learned that she's been waiting for the right moment to break up with him, anyway...
But because there was more to it than that.
(And maybe she'd finally realized it.)
"Really?"
"Yeah," she said with a thoughtful nod. "Yeah, really. And I do still like him, but... there are too many complications. You know?"
Bolin blew a raspberry. "Preachin' to the choir, sister."
Korra's face twisted. "What?"
He laughed, light and real and Bolin. "Never mind. It's an expression, though admittedly not a very funny one. I was just saying, 'tell me something I don't know'... actually," he paused, twisting his swing towards hers. "As long as we're on that note..."
She watched him warily.
"So... you and the Wolverine King, huh?"
Somewhere, deep inside of Korra's brain, welled a tiny ball of panic.
"Hey, hey, hey! Calm down! I haven't even said anything yet!"
"It's not what you think, Bolin," she snapped.
"And what is it that you think I think?" he quipped. His legs gave a ferocious pump, and soon his speed greatly outmatched hers. Korra kicked herself into gear.
"I know what a Fox would think," she scowled.
"Well, I've never really been one for the rivalry, anyway," he said, shrugging against the chains. "Too much bad karma."
Korra stared at him in awe. Is he being serious?
"What?But what about everything you said at the first meet?" she demanded. "About White Falls being a school that pays people off instead of using its own merit?"
"Still true."
"And what about—what about him being a nasty dude?"
"Still true."
"Bolin, I'm not sure what I'm supposed to think anymore."
"Let me put it this way," he smirked, and it occurred to Korra—he's playing with me! So much for bad karma. "Despite what I said yesterday about not being surprised, well... surprise doesn't quite cover it," he said thoughtfully, looking out over the playground as he glided back and forth, a bouncing pendulum on a child's toy. "I was pretty upset."
Korra's heart squeezed. "Bolin, I'm—"
"Let me finish," he insisted, staring a the swirly slide. "And you knew it, too. I was upset because I liked you, and I suspected that you had feelings for my brother," he said quietly, still swinging on. She'd never heard him sound so serious before. "But what you probably didn't know was that I was upset because I thought you deserved better, and I felt like I could be that."
Korra felt like she'd been smacked in the face.
"I was mostly upset with Mako, because he already has an awesome girlfriend... though I don't know how well they're actually doing anymore. Things have seemed rocky ever since before September, even before you came along."
Her stomach sank. "I didn't mean to—"
"I know," he said quickly, assuring her just as much as he was silencing her. "And after Friday night, I thought I understood. I went to the meet feeling slightly off-balance, and even though Mako didn't really tell me much of anything, I felt like I'd been able to piece enough of it all together myself... which was why I don't think I would ever have expected to hear Coach Tenzin call Tahno of the Wolverines a friend of yours," he sighed a scoff. "I mean, when I saw you arguing with Coach, I just assumed it had to do with Mako, and came over... I guess this is what I get for eavesdropping."
Korra frowned, feeling awful but totally lost as to how to make it better. "I know it probably won't make much of a difference, but... I don't think I ever really expected to call him a friend, either."
Bolin looked at her then, and she could see it: beneath the overwhelming layer of disappointment, it was there—curiosity.
"How... in the world... did a girl like you end up becoming friends with a guy like Tahno?"
Korra sighed, squinting away her discomfort. "Are you sure you want to know?"
Bolin took a few moments to consider it, but then merely laughed.
"Why not? I really doubt anything would surprise me anymore."
They were running again—neither of them could sit still, even swinging in motion as they'd been—and Bolin hadn't said anything for almost a full minute.
"Bolin?" she tried again, ready for a breakdown. (She had a terrible feeling that Bolin was a crier, and though she didn't really think the situation could warrant tears, she still prepared for the worst; Korra was no expert in consolation.)
"Hold up," he said suddenly, placing his outstretched hands in front of them while they ran along the path through the park. "Hold up."
"Um, should I be stopping, or—"
"I get it!" he exclaimed, still running. "I totally get it now!"
"So, should I not be running anymore? I'm not really sure what—"
"You like him," he claimed, swiveling in front of her and taking her by the shoulders. "Ew, oh my god," he jumped back, shaking out his hands as if he'd been burned. Korra blinked back in shock. "Oh my god, you like him! You like Tahno of the—"
She tackled him.
"Will you please keep it down?" she hissed, searching the area frantically for any signs of witnesses. There were still by the playground, and she'd thrown him to a soft patch of grass, but someone was bound to see them eventually; she just didn't know how long she'd have to keep him on the ground yet. "I'd really rather not announce that to the world, you know!"
"Owww! Gah!" he cried from within his headlock. His hands tried to wrench her arms apart, but it was no use. "Haven't you hurt me enough, woman?"
Korra frowned and released him, quickly pulling back. Bolin scooted a few inches away, but Korra was alert and ready on her haunches, prepared to pounce: equal parts determination and defiance, and a little bit of oh god, I'm in so much trouble on the side.
"Er," Korra looked down at her crouching, defensive stance. She tried to relax. "Sorry."
He gasped out another ow and soothed a tender hip. "You know, two days ago, I would have been rejoicing over the fact that you just jumped me."
But Korra didn't really know how to respond to that.
"Man," Bolin sighed, once he'd regained his composure. "You actually like this kid." To her growing dismay, she blushed. Dammit!
"I'm really not all that happy about it either," Korra sulked.
Bolin blinked. "Why not?"
She was flabbergasted. "Are you kidding me? What's that even supposed to mean—why not? What do you mean 'why not'?"
"It's a legitimate question," he said quietly. "I mean, what's wrong with it?"
What.
"I mean—I think it's gross, but I'm also not the one who has to get with him. If you like the nasty dude, you like the nasty dude—I don't really see how it should bother me, personally."
"But—but—"
"Look, I'm not gonna lie. It does kind of weird me out, and I definitely wasn't prepared for it, but so what?"
"But what about the team?"
"Screw 'em."
She stared. "Who are you?"
"Korra," he began, shifting his weight onto the elbows over his knees. "The thing you have to know about cross-country is that we're a family," he sagely described. "Not everybody is always going to agree with you, but when it comes down to it, we're there for each other. Even if you don't know every single member on your team, we're all Foxes. That's why I run cross-country every year, even when my wrestling coach thinks I should by hitting the mats instead of the track."
"So... Wait. Let me get this straight. You're... you're okay with this?" she tried to clarify. "You're not mad?"
"Oh, I'm still a little mad," he confirmed with an easy smile. "But not for the reasons you think. I was just pissed that no one told me anything, which you've already addressed. I mean, really... I'll get over you fine, eventually. You're just some girl I met a few weeks ago."
Ouch. She probably deserved that.
"An awesome girl, but still just a girl... Who will probably make an awesome friend," he nudged her, while Korra nodded her head along, taking it in stride. "But Mako... He's my brother. Or supposed to be, anyway," he muttered. "He could use a few reminders in team dynamics."
Korra's sigh turned sad. "He does really care about you."
"I know," he sighed back.
"I really care about you, too." Even if you might not believe me. "And I am sorry... for your neck, too."
Bolin considered her for a moment, with light eyes and a quirky grin. "Ahh, I'll be all right," he decided eventually, dismissing her concern with a wave. And then: "But... we have fun together, don't we?"
The tone she heard in his voice warmed her heart; things wouldn't be the same, but they would be okay. Eventually.
Maybe even better.
"Yeah," she agreed with a smile. "I'd say so."
"Just... next time, do me a favor, all right?"
"What?"
"Just see what happens when you offer someone a little trust. People might surprise you."
Inevitably, warmth surged in her chest. This time when she smiled, she didn't fight it; it seemed like an apology to Tenzin was also in order.
"All right," she softly promised, still feeling warm. And then: "You really are one of a kind, Bolin."
"Ah!" he mock-swooned, fanning himself under the cold autumn sun. "Please, go on. I enjoy praise."
She slugged him instead.
"By the way, Bolin, I forgot to ask... who's your wrestling coach?"
"Oh, you'd love her. She doesn't really participate anymore, herself, but she's anything but past her prime. It's actually rumored that she's still so strong she can bend metal."
"What? Who is this lady? She sounds just like the kind of woman I'd get along with."
He smirked. "I agree."
"Well, who is it? Have I met her before?"
"Yep," he skipped. "She teaches Chemistry."
"What? Really? Where? At our school—?"
She paused.
He smiled.
"Son of a—"
"Beifong!" he chirped boisterously, his bubble of anticipation finally bursting free. "You guessed it."
"Well, I'll be damned," she sighed, laughing under her breath. It seemed she really was overdue for a heart-to-heart with Tenzin. She'd have to snag him for a moment or two when she got home, provided that none of the little monsters had flown him off the deep end. Which reminded her...
"Hey, Bolin," she began, feeling rather surprised by her lack of fear; it seemed that this opening up thing was getting easier. (Or maybe it just felt that way because it was Bolin.) "As long as we're talking about all this stuff, I'd like to tell you something else about where I'm staying. Where I live now, I mean. Not like with the tent thing—although, I mean... I do still have the tent, but it's inside a house, which is what I want to... Hey. What's up?"
She wasn't sure what was more worrying; the uncharacteristic tilt to his brow, or the fact that he'd strayed so far off the path he'd almost fallen into the sandbox. Bolin looked up, totally unfazed by his near-stumble, but instead wholly and completely focused on her. What...?
"What's wrong?" she asked warily, fighting a frown.
He didn't respond at first, which didn't help. "It's just... Have you talked to him at all?"
Oh. Korra's mouth ran dry. Carefully, she wet her lips, feeling the cold wind scraping along the skin. "Not yet," she admitted quietly.
Bolin nodded, staring straight ahead as they walked along the grass, hands stuffed into the pockets of his dark green hoodie. He was frowning.
"Is that... bad?" she asked.
"Do you think it is?"
Korra suddenly felt queasy. "I don't know what to think. I'm not sure he'd want to talk to anyone... let alone me."
"Why do you say that?"
Korra's feet slowly dragged along the blades of grass, drifting farther away from the playground until they finally came to a halt beneath the large, naked branch of an old oak tree. She kept her eyes on the ground. "I didn't really tell you the whole story," she confessed, looking up, but still away. "We sort of... got into a fight."
Bolin's face was strangely blank, but his eyes were bright with intensity. "When?" he asked.
Shamefully, Korra gave a little shrug. "It started Friday afternoon."
"Started?" Bolin repeated; she could see the mental calculations whirring through his mind. None of them pointed to anything good. "When did it end?"
"It... hasn't, exactly."
"And you don't think he'd want to talk to you?"
"Bolin, what could I even say?" she snapped, feeling angrier with herself than anything else; she honestly didn't know what to think—and that's the fucking problem! "Even if I told him that I don't believe he did it, how is that going to help? It's not gonna change his situation." Korra roughly crossed her arms, fighting off the cold. "I'm not good at this stuff, Bolin."
"What stuff?"
"Talking to people when they're in trouble. Being... tactful or sensitive or whatever."
To her chagrin, Bolin cracked the tiniest slice of a smile. "Oh, yeah?" he nudged, offering her shoulder a gentle poke. "How about you tell me 'bout that tent some more?"
Slowly, Korra's nose began to scrunch. "Will you... oh, for the love of—goddamit, Bolin!" she cursed, yanking down the drawstrings of her hood to hide her expression. She wasn't supposed to feel relieved. She wasn't supposed to be laughing. I am a terrible person.
"What?" he laughed.
"Do you always have to make me feel better?"
"I could start charging, if it'd make you feel better."
"Ugh, damn you," she hissed, thrusting her hip to the side, straight into his. This time when he stumbled, it was right back onto the path. "And to think I have to put up with you for another year, at least."
"Two, if you count us being seniors," he quipped, dragging her back onto the paved path. Unfortunately, it also brought Korra crashing right back to where she started. Seniors, she thought to herself. Right.
As they neared the main road, the wind picked up; Korra's hoodie wasn't all that thick, which meant that the chill spiked right into her skin. Bolin's normally-rosy cheeks were growing even rosier, and their breaths became swirling mists of vapor right before her very eyes. It was getting close to noon, but the sky tried its best to prove that it was much later.
"Hey, Bolin?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think... Do you think I should call him?" she asked quietly. "I mean... do you really think he'd want me to?"
There was a pause. As Bolin came to a stop on the sidewalk along one of the side streets near the school, Korra stood still and watched the wind ruffle his wavy hair. She appreciated the way the fabric of his sweatshirt brought out the green of his eyes—so bright in the chill of autumn—and for the slightest fraction of a moment, she wondered what it would have been like if things had turned out a little differently; one of his hands reached up to pull a fallen leaf from the tangled mess of her hair, and Korra briefly wondered if perhaps she was the biggest idiot of them all.
And then it was over before it'd even begun, when Bolin looked off into the distant swing sets and heaved a heavy sigh and said, "I think... the best answer to that question is to ask yourself..."
He hesitated.
"What?" she breathed, leaning closer. "Ask myself what?"
He looked at her then, directly in the eye, and soon she was swimming in green, but she'd yet to feel any better.
"Think about it, Korra. You said that you're fed up with acting on everyone else's expectations, right?"
She swallowed, catching onto where he was going, but not entirely sure if she liked it. "Right..."
"And you're frustrated that people keep telling you that you can't get what you want or do what you think is right because it doesn't match the rules of their game. Right?"
"Well... Right."
"So it's simple," he shrugged, aiming for light, but all Korra felt was a ball of lead in her chest. "You asked me if I thought he'd want you to; I think—in this case?—that's not what it's important."
"Then what—?"
"Korra," he interrupted, staring at her like she was a child, half-smiling like someone who'd just aced a test but was still amusedly leading the classroom dunce to the obvious answer. He almost looks like he's enjoying this. And, in a strange way, she bet he was; she wouldn't really hold it against him. Much.
"What, Bolin?"
But he merely laughed and set a warm hand on her shoulder, before giving a gentle push.
And then he started to run.
"Hey—!"
"Think, Korra," he called back with an easy smile, as she strove to catch up. "Stop asking what you think he'd want you to do, and answer me this.
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"What do you want to do?"
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When she got home just a little after noon, Korra greeted her family at the door, and was told to go wash up; they were having her favorite dish for a late lunch within the hour and Meelo wasn't going to be making any exceptions. Korra changed clothes and washed her face, replaying Bolin's words over and over in her mind. What is he doing, right now? she wondered, glancing at her phone on the bathroom's marble countertop. Is he even awake yet?
Her hands shook as she reached for the phone. She moved so quickly—so as not to lose her nerve—that she nearly forgot to dry her face first with a towel, and absently blotted away the drops of water as her fingers punched the dials. Her hands were still moving, robotically, along the trails of wetness dripping down her neck, when the first ring sounded into her ear.
She called him twice.
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He didn't pick up.
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