Disclaimer: I do hereby disclaim all rights and responsibilities for the characters in this collection. Kudos to Bryke, indeed.
Word Count: 17,160
Author's Notes: 8/1/13. Yikes. Almost two months since my last update? :X That's definitely something I had hoped would never happen to one of my Tahnorra stories. Alas. I've been so focused on trying to finish up an arc in That One Night that I've been paying almost no attention to Personal Record or the break the ice series... which will hopefully change soon! Once I wrap up the That One Night segment, I'm aiming to post the first installment ofstorm clouds come rolling in—hopefully before the end of the summer! Or maybe even before my birthday on August 14th! My (unrealistic) dream is to have all of my Tahnorra fics finished before NaNoWriMo. Wish me luck. :P

BEFORE YOU READ THIS CHAPTER, I HIGHLY ENCOURAGE YOU TO GO BACK AND READ BOTH 4.1 AND 4.45. (If you don't, you will most assuredly miss important details in 4.5.)

Musical Inspiration: "Masterpiece Theatre III" by Marianas Trench. It's more applicable to Tahno's (mystery) POV, but I've become obsessed with this song and the whole feel of it is what allowed me to finally finish this chapter!

Beta'd by ebonyquill and Rhi.

4.5

"So," she prompted quietly, trying not to choke on her nerves. The empty classroom was dark compared to the bright fluorescent lights of the hallway, and when she looked up, Mako's face was all hard lines and shadows. Korra belatedly realized that she shouldn't have set her books down on a nearby desk; now she had nothing to do with her hands. Hastily, she crossed her arms, feeling defiant and anxious and painfully aware of what a rash decision this had been. Why isn't he saying anything? she thought impatiently. What could she possibly say? "How's your leg?" she asked, quickly breaking the silence.

Korra immediately regretted bringing it up, even if she was concerned. And I am! she quickly insisted to herself, remembering her own forgetfulness; she'd gotten so caught up in the Tahno's dilemma that she hadn't even thought to check on Mako or his injury. Some friend I am, Korra thought miserably, watching in the dark as Mako's face turned bright red, an awkward shade of anger and embarrassment.

"It's fine," he stiffly replied, and that was clearly the end of the discussion.

Not really having any better ideas, Korra merely nodded. It sucked; even amidst all the soul-searching she'd done over the weekend, Korra was still at a loss over how to act, what to say. And what was worse was the fact that probably not even the forthright, boisterous Korra of old would have known how to approach something like this. She'd never been good at handling delicate situations, and this one may as well have been made out of glass.

But Mako still didn't immediately offer up any other path of conversation. "So," she prompted again, trying not to fidget. Korra was reaching an all new level of anxiousness, and she wasn't quite sure why; she was used to feeling fidgety and fluttery around Mako, but this time, it felt... different. Stronger. More pervasive, even, and Korra knew that it had little to do with the deserted hallway outside, or the slight chance that someone would pass by and happen to overhear them. No... Korra suspected that instead, it had everything to do with the fact that the last time she'd seen him, he'd been on a stretcher covered in blood. And I'd all but forgotten. But now that she saw him... She couldn't stop thinking about the way she'd sent him off to his race on Saturday at the starting line-up—right in front of Tahno. Or their ride in his car the night before...

Or the almost-kiss that hadn't happened, just down the road from her Uncle's home, in a little spot under the willow tree.

I should have talked to Asami about this in car, she thought, glaring hard at a row of desks. I'm such a freakin' coward. I had the perfect opportunity, but I let it slide. And now she was missing her first period class for nothing. She heaved an angry sigh.

"So, what? You wanted to talk?" she clarified at last, impatiently hoping to get the ball rolling so she could just get out of there. But still, he said nothing. Frustrated, Korra glanced up, gesturing for him to take the lead,but his expression only hardened. Feeling feisty, she made a point of looking at her watch. "I sure hope you weren't expecting me to skip second period, too."

His brows furrowed. "It's not exactly an easy topic,"he muttered, a bit testily.

You're telling me. "Well, it's not exactly my mother tongue, either, but somehow I'm still more verbose than you are."

"Hey, I didn't insult you when it was your turn to—"

"Does it have anything to do with what happened this weekend?" she prompted impatiently.

He considered this. "Part of it, I guess."

"Then just come out and say it already," she ordered, ignoring the plea (not-so) hidden underneath. "I was there. If you're mad about what happened—and don't get me wrong, you should be—and you want to say something about it, but you think you're gonna shock me, you're not. I promise I'm not gonna freak out or anything."

"It's... not that."

"Not what? About you being mad?" A single brow raised high. This guy is making less and less sense. "Or about shocking me?"

"Uhh, no," he muttered, crossing his arms. Korra tried to recapture his gaze, but he kept looking down. It didn't help that he'd started shuffling, either. "It doesn't really have anything to do with any of that... Hey, it's not that simple!" he defended hotly, leaning down to catch her rolling eyes.

"Mako, if you've got something to say, just come out and say it," she pressed, feeling her shoulders tense with impatience.

"The thing is... I've already said it before."

"So then just say it again."

"Would you quit that? I'm working on it!"

"Are you? Because as far as I'm concerned, we've just spent the first half of first period talking about absolutely nothing in the dark!" she hissed, digging her nails into her skin.

"Would you just shut up and let me get on with it?"

"Just as soon as you stop shutting up enough for the both of us!"

"I am trying to tell you something, but you're not making it any easier!"

"I'm sorry—is that my job? Because in case you haven't noticed, you self-absorbed, class-skipping asshole—I can be rather difficult."

"Which is why I must be at least half as insane as you are!" he spat. "Because I actually—I actually—"

"I told you that nothing you'd say could shock me, you brutish, self-centered, stupidly handsome—"

"Um," he stilled, blinking rapidly. "What did you call me?"

"God, you irritate me," Korra ground out, then actually shoved him back. Mako stumbled a little, unprepared as he was, but he was still rooted to the spot, and so he merely swayed back into place, releasing his arms for balance. Korra's fists clenched at her front, which Mako watched warily from above. "You told me you had something important to say, and I believed your stupid face—though I can't understand why—and I did not come here to have you tell me to shut up, you disrespectful moron, especially when you should be the one—"

"I want to be with you."

Korra stepped back. Her face went slack, but her body went rigid, and all the while, he stood over her, breathing hard. Waiting.

"What?" she breathed. "What did you say to me?"

"I said... Look, I know what you said," he managed, swallowing hard. "About you thinking that you're not all that easy to be around, but... I still stand by what I told you—back when this whole Bolin thing first started—that I disagree with you. Do you remember that?"

Korra swallowed. "Yes," she quietly replied. She remembered it a little too well, actually. "So, that's... That's what you brought me in here for?"

"Well, I... I want to be with you, anyway," he told her. "I just needed to tell you that."

Her mouth was suddenly very dry. Korra resisted the urge to wet her lips; she wasn't sure what good it would do, if she did. "You... you said that to me the other night," she reminded him blankly. "In the car." But as he shook his head, Korra witnesseda tiny muscle tighten along his jaw. She held her breath, transfixed.

"Not like this," he whispered, stepping forward.

Korra shifted back, and Mako immediately froze. She looked up at him, like a deer caught in the headlights. Like she'd never seen him before. "Not like how?"

She could sense him, Korra realized. Now, more clearly than ever; long lines of lean muscle, hard angles, and heavy warmth, and—this close—a faint scent, rich and masculine, clinging to his clothes. He was more muscular than the average runner—broader shoulders, thicker neck, taller and wider frame—all packed into one brooding reserve of quiet energy. He was as strong as he was fast, with eyes that shined like gold in the dark.

Her lips were still dry.

And he couldn't answer her.

Clearing her throat, feeling the linings of muscle rub against one another like two sheets of sandpaper, Korra tried to find her voice. "What about Asami?" she whispered.

He looked startled by the question. "I still care about her," Mako said with some measure of surprise, as if he hadn't been expecting the topic of his girlfriend to come up. It was possible that he was looking to reassure her by saying this, but nothing about this conversation was making Korra feel very reassured. "But... It's obvious that we don't feel the same way about each other that we used to," he continued, golden eyes solemn and serious; not quite pain, but still a sense of mourning, nonetheless. "I think we both know that it's not going to last," he admitted quietly, and this pain, she realized, was real enough.

"Both as in... You and I? Or you and Asami?" Maybe she was stalling, maybe she wasn't; this was something that she needed to know.

"Asami and I," Mako said openly, catching onto Korra's drift. "I've been getting the feeling lately that we've just been... waiting. Until the right moment."

The right moment, her mind echoed. For some inexplicable reason, this made Korra incredibly angry. "So you have no trouble dragging me in here to share all of this with me, but you haven't bothered to talk this over with her?"

Mako blinked, mouth falling open at the accusation. "Well, it's just that—with the meet and us both being captains and—" Abruptly, Mako cut himself off, eyes turning cold and defensive. "Look, I've tried to talk to her about this, but it's not that easy, all right?"

"If the first few minutes in this stupid classroom are any indication, I can easily imagine why."

His lip curled in embarrassment again, and Korra briefly felt a twinge of guilt. She'd always been pretty good when it came to low blows.

"The ball is in her court," Mako said stiffly, crossing his arms. Korra regarded him suspiciously, having no idea as to what he could mean. "I've been doing everything I can to be there for her, but she and I... we've just been growing apart. I've told her in every way I know how that I wanted to make it work, and she's told me that she wants the same, but every indication she's given me over the last few weeks has screamed otherwise. If she doesn't end things by the end of Homecoming, I will."

Korra's eyes danced wildly across the floor, desperately taking in all that he'd revealed to her. It's way too early in the morning for this, she thought, a tad deliriously.

"That's why I just... I just wanted to let you know where I stood," Mako continued awkwardly, nervously raking a hand through his thick hair. "In case you... In case you were interested."

In case I—in case I was... oh, Naga.

This was quite possibly the worst timing ever.

"Mako... I—"

"Wait," he halted her, stepping forward in his haste to interrupt her. Korra's instincts meant to send her shuffling backwards, but her hips were already against one of the desks. She hadn't noticed before, but now it felt like a brick wall against her back. "Before you say anything—I just need to get this out, before you give me an answer."

Answer? Korra's mind thought fuzzily. Her breath was coming rather quick, and it was making her dizzy. Was there a question? Have I missed something? What are we talking abo—?

"The other night in the car, you told me that you liked me," Mako said quietly, leaning just the slightest bit forward in his attempt to keep his voice low. This time, Korra didn't shy away, but listened intently, watching as his wild eyes—bright and purposeful and determined—roved over her face. "I think I made it clear how I feel about you, too, but I don't want to take any more risks," he admitted, giving his head a gentle shake. "Not with this. I mean, I haven't actually seen anything to prove that what you said has changed, but I—" He swallowed. "I get the feeling that something is different. And I just want to be sure."

Korra opened her mouth, her heart pounding in her chest, in her ears, but nothing came.

"Mako, I... I don't..." Know what to say. I don't know. "I wasn't expecting this," she finished lamely, feeling her insides twist.

His face, so few inches away, fell then and there. Disappointment clouded his eyes, but after a moment his lips curved upward, curling into an ironic, self-deprecating smile. His laugh was soft and light, and just the slightest bit resigned, just the slightest bit bitter. He nodded his head, so close to hers, and said, "You know, I don't think I'll ever forget how much I admired you that day, right before that first scrimmage we had at the beginning of the season. When you came up and told me point-blank that you really liked me and—"

"Don't," Korra begged, pushing down that awful memory. Mako looked at her, softness in his burning eyes, and Korra looked back, feeling her walls crumble down, feeling herself being drawn in. A moth to a flame.

"I... I could never have had the balls to do something like that," Mako took a deep breath, and Korra could almost feel the heat of his chest, so close to hers. He stepped closer, just slightly, until he was looking almost directly down at her, his gaze nearly reverent as he took in the lines of her expression. "I promised myself that I'd strive to be more like you, to just say what I meant, when I meant it. I told you that I like you, Korra, but I don't think I told you just how much I mean it."

This is dangerous, Korra's mind thought suddenly, as a warm, calloused finger slipped through the strands of hair framing her face, carefully tucking it behind her ear. Her head was light and her chest was heavy and her stomach was flipping, every inch of her at war. Without meaning to, Korra's eyes dropped lower, to his mouth... with a hitch, Korra's breath tore them away, back to his own. He'd come closer.

"I just want to be sure," he repeated, though she could barely hear him. "You know where I stand, but now I... I just..."

And finally, Korra licked her dry, aching lips. There was something deep in her gut, a force stronger than she'd ever encountered, a temptation more irresistible than she'd ever imagined, a magnet pulling her toward him, linking her to him. Chills lined her body, sweeping down her arms, and all Korra could remember, in that moment, was the warmth that she felt that night in the car, when she had leaned in and—

Korra paused.

She saw many things at once: a cluster of dark eyelashes, tangled together at the corner of his eye; a cup of tea at a coffee house and a small plate of Biscottis placed beside it; a flash of color, too fast to see clearly—black and silver; and then—gold eyes, intent and focused, the way he sometimes looked down the line of the long road of the track.

Like a finish line to cross, Korra's mind supplied suddenly, feeling her face fall.

"The only thing I'm sure of is that you have a girlfriend," Korra quietly replied, gentle in its disappointment, firm in its resolve. "No matter where you think it stands."

Mako pulled back, but Korra didn't bother to look at his expression.

With arms filled with stone, Korra carefully turned to the side and lifted her books from the desk. Brushing past, she strode toward the door. Chancing a single glance backward, Korra muttered a half-hearted "See you at practice," and then she left, leaving Mako alone in the dark, empty classroom.

The day didn't improve much from there.

Biology was almost impossible. Korra sat fuming in her desk, her pencil clenched tightly between her fingers. She'd broken two in the course of an hour, and by the time the third pencil was replaced, Korra was half-certain that flames were sure to burst from her fists at any moment, no doubt causing an indoor brush fire from the shards of wood flickering onto her textbook. She'd taken both a bathroom break and a water break, even at the cost of being called out for her lack of discipline by the student teacher with the weird, round safety goggles and creepy mustache—in front of the whole class—and she'd stayed out for as long as she thought she could get away with. She just couldn't handle this right now.

Not any of it.

Korra burst into the classroom, startling its sole occupant.

Tenzin blinked up from his desk in the corner, a piece of dressed-up lettuce dangling from his mouth. Swallowing hastily, and then nearly coughing it right back up, Tenzin wiped his mouth with a napkin and watched her approach him with surprised, concerned eyes. "Korra? What are you doing up here? You don't have lunch until next period."

By way of answer, Korra's arm snaked out to one of the nearby desks, gripped the seat of the nearest chair, and dragged it loudly along the linoleum floor. She plopped down onto the seat backwards, her elbows splaying out to the sides over the backrest. Her chin sank down onto her arms.

"You don't have any classes right now," she muttered wearily, eyes downcast. "Right?"

Tenzin's expression tightened, but his eyes were gentle when he gave a small, nod. Accepting. Maybe even encouraging. Just slightly, Korra began to relax.

He finished his meal in silence, leaving Korra with plenty of time to sort through her thoughts. Her eyes trailed over the model skeleton hanging in the opposite corner, as well as a poster of the newest food pyramid, which hung beside the white projector screen, complete with the most archaic projector Korra had ever seen; its wires and cords twisted into neat little bundles, sorted with yellow and orange ties. Strange life-size, three-dimensional diagrams of the human body lined the shelves by the windows, some displaying the muscular system beneath opaque, transparent skin, some with all the skin and tissues cut away, revealing nothing more than organs and innards, the plastic replicas carefully arranged in proper order. Spare textbooks were stacked against the wall, and an old TV screen rested on a moving cart next to the old chalkboard. Korra smiled in spite of herself. It was just like in her movies.

Granted, she could have done without the posters thoroughly displaying the male and female reproductive systems—especially knowing that her uncle sat right in front of her, munching on the last of his carrots—and not for the first time, Korra thanked the universe that her parents had gone through the trouble of advocating for her transfer credits—no matter how much she'd fought tooth and nail to avoid coming here in the first place—because now it meant that she would never—ever—have to endure the awful, painful, impossible embarrassment of sophomore Health Class... with Uncle Tenzin.

"Something troubling you?"

His deep voice was soft, but still boomed through the classroom nonetheless, resonating through her ribs. Blushing slightly, Korra snapped to attention, hoping that he hadn't caught where—on what—her gaze had been resting. His expression was neutral, but Korra had come to learn that that didn't always mean much.

Her eyes flickered over the clock on a shelf of the small bookcase behind him, and her stomach gave an awful lurch. It was barely even noon. With a low groan, Korra let her forehead drop to the hands clasped over the back of the seat, and tried to imagine that Naga was here, at her feet. The image helped some, but then Korra opened her eyes, and she was left twice as miserable than before.

"What is it?"

"I'm sick and tired of feeling useless," Korra said suddenly, then blinked as if she hadn't realized that it was what she'd been planning to say. She'd intended to say a number of things: where she'd like for Yakone—and his two maybe-sons—to shove his head, how she'd wish for a blue time traveling box like the one on TV, or even how she'd like to be able to punch somebody in the face again, just to hear the comforting crack of her knuckles tearing into someone else's jaw, and instead... that. That was what had come out.

They were all very true desires; but this, Korra realized with a start, this was the truest of them all.

Tenzin considered her admission very seriously, half-surprising her. She'd almost expected him to send her away as soon as she'd arrived, back to whatever class she was missing—Spanish, she remembered abruptly, and oh, please—but he seemed to understand the special circumstances that had sent her up the two flights of stairs into his classroom. She never visited him here.

"Have you encountered Biology yet today?"

Korra's stomach churned at the very thought. "Last period," she admitted with a grumble. Tenzin nodded knowingly. "I just left a few minutes ago."

"Any word from your...?"

Her dark look silenced him immediately.

"All right," Tenzin nodded. "I'm not that old. I can take a hint."

Korra scoffed, though it wasn't intended to be mean. "Hints," she muttered, as her face crinkled with displeasure. "Look, I know what you said yesterday—about lying low and being patient and everything, but... I just don't know what to do with myself. Can't you please just tell me something? Anything! Even a teensy little detail?"

"No," he shook his head, effectively crushing Korra's sparkle of hope to dust. "I'm sorry, Korra. But this is just something that I can't yield on."

She hadn't really anticipated any other answer, but her powerful pout still appeared, anyway. To no avail. "Fine," she muttered, rubbing a hand across her face, feeling inexplicably exhausted. She couldn't really find the energy to say much of anything else.

"What I can do, however," Tenzin continued, an unfamiliar hint of mischievousness coloring his old, deep tones. Korra peeked through the cracks of her fingers, curious. "Is tell you that things are looking... reasonable."

Korra sat up straighter. "Reasonable?"

"Reasonable."

"Tenzin!" she exclaimed. "That's not helpful at all!"

His eyes danced with withheld information, which wasn't very helpful either. "It is when in the rather capable hands of your uncle."

"That's unusually immodest of you," she deadpanned.

"Oh, no, no—not me," Tenzin looked startled. "My brother, Bumi." He blinked. "Though, perhaps—on second thought... 'rather capable' does sound a bit generous, doesn't it?"

"Bumi's coming?" Korra repeated aloud, blinking unseeing eyes. "But I thought he was all the way over in—"

"Yes, yes, but he's been called in as an authority on the matter. He was a master coach of track and field, if you remember, and he has been a long-time member of the county board." Vaguely, Korra recalled a flash of her Great Aunt Katara's home, and the pictures resting on the fireplace mantel; a younger version of Tenzin, perfectly balanced in an intricate knot atop the jutting ledge of some mountain overhanging a beach, draped in the shadows of rising dawn; a young woman standing high on a long, bouncing plank, prepared to swan dive into a large, indoor pool; a man, with eyes as wild as his hair, flying through the air. On a pole.

"Um. Yeah, I remember," Korra absently confirmed, blinking herself back to the present. "But what does he have to do with anything?" And then, eyes narrowed: "Are you expecting Amon to have even fishier business planned?"

"Well... It's complicated. It's not so much of what he can do, but rather what his presence can do. He continues to be a respected member of the board."

Korra smirked; she couldn't help it. "Bumi?" she asked dryly. "This is Bumi we're talking about?"

Tenzin looked stern for but a moment, and then caved into a sigh. "Don't ask me. I don't know either. Your other uncle has always been very... charismatic. Though I can say with confidence that he has experience in unique dealings such as this."

Well, Korra thought to herself, feeling the tiniest bit better. She didn't know what good her uncle could really do with such a messy situation as this, but she did love seeing her Uncle Bumi. The grin spread even farther, for she was already thinking of the weekend beyond; Tenzin looked as if he very much regretted sharing the news. Maybe the week won't be a total disaster, after all. She let herself hope, just for a moment. Oh, well. At least Uncle Bumi would help her box some ears, if it came down to it. No. No, he wouldn't. But he'd break out the punching bags and that, at least, would—

"So he'll be staying with our mother for the next few days while we address the proceedings, and though you might expect to find him over for dinner a few nights over the next week or so, I wouldn't anticipate seeing him around the school."

Korra frowned. "Why would I see him at school?"

"Oh, ah—no reason," Tenzin muttered quickly, abruptly packing away the empty tupperware that had continued to rest on his desk. Korra peered at him suspiciously.

"Why are you acting so funny?"

"I do not act funny," Tenzin argued, fumbling with the lid locks. Korra deadpanned, again.

"I'll say."

With a mild glare, Tenzin tore the zipper to his reusable lunchbox shut. "Aren't you supposed to be in class?"

Korra winced. That reminds me... "Actually," she hissed a breath, already shying away from what she knew was coming: The Tenzin Fatherly Look of Shame, Level One. "I should probably warn you. If you happen to, you know... get a call from the main office or anything..."

He did not look amused.

"Korra."

"I... may not have made it to my first period class this morning."

Ah—there it is. Already moving up to Level Two... "Korra," he repeated, with great difficulty. "Am I to believe that there was a valid reason for skipping?"

Korra squinted her eyes uncomfortably. "It seemed pretty important at the time," she muttered, feeling her stomach flop. He paused.

"Hmm. While I do not condone you purposefully missing class, I suppose... this week is a bit unusual... But don't let it happen again!" he scolded suddenly, while Korra nodded furiously. She did her very best to swallow her smile. Don't push your luck! "I mean it, Korra. Save your visitations for your lunch period. And you're to march off to your fourth period class right now, with the pass that I give you! I don't want to hear any more about skipping class, no matter the cause." And so, Tenzin scribbled out a hasty late pass and, with unusual flourish, reached it across the desk for her to take hold. "This will not become a habit," he declared.

As the pass fell into her hands, a tiny bit of the smile leaked out. "Nicely done, Uncle T. You'll have that tone perfected in no time, long before Meelo ever reaches high school."

Korra left the health classroom in a significantly calmer state; the uncle she left behind, unfortunately, did not.

"Where have you been all day?" Asami hissed, continuously sending Korra glances in between layers. For the first time ever, Korra had chosen the nook of the locker rooms where Asami usually got changed for practice, but now that she was here, she was finding it rather difficult to focus on what she wanted to say. "I looked for you at lunch, but couldn't find you anywhere!"

I was hanging out in the bathroom for most of it. I was trying to avoid the cafeteria. And the library. And the bio labs and the health classroom and any other empty classrooms, for that matter. I've been trying to avoid looking at my phone, and failing. I've been trying to avoid your boyfriend, who I'm pretty sure tried to kiss me this morning. I've been trying to avoid this entire school. I'm still trying to avoid this week.

"It's been kind of an off day," Korra admitted lamely, feeling all of the inadequacies of the phrase. Asami looked on sympathetically, making Korra's stomach curl in on itself even further. Had she even eaten anything today? Her mind instantly recalled the crushed and crumbled granola bar she'd found at the bottom of her backpack. "It's gonna be a rough practice," she added, retying her hair. No matter what she tried, her fingers kept fumbling with the elastic, leaving strands of hair to slip through. "Dammit," she muttered, as her ponytail fell out again.

"Here," Asami sighed, though her sigh of exasperation sounded suspiciously like a laugh. She took the elastic from Korra's clumsy fingers and bunched Korra's thick dark hair into her hands. "Oh my goodness, Korra. You're using a rubber band? What happened to your other one? That blue one you like to wear?"

Great. Just another reminder of how much this day sucks. "You know the color of my hair-tie?"

"That's not all I know the color of," she smirked, leaning around to tease Korra with a saucy wink.

"All right, all right, fox lady," she grumbled, crossing her arms. She desperately hoped that Asami wouldn't be interested in making any other kinds of sly color innuendos, particularly ones that included black or silver. Korra frowned, staring at the side pocket of her bag. The place where she knew her cell phone would be.

"Fox lady? I like it. But really, Korra—this is terrible for your hair."

"I know," Korra sighed, feeling Asami expertly twist and tie up her long locks. "I lost it the other day and I'm still in mourning."

"So? I lose mine all the time, but I don't resort to rubber bands. Do you need to borrow one?"

Korra hesitated. "Nah. I'm just usually better about keeping track of them and I'd had that one for a while." She'd gotten it from a tiny market in Peru, actually, while she was with her father on a trek through the Andes. It'd been one of the only times she'd been able to sleep beneath the open stars, without a tent to brace her from the cold. Now, the bugs on the other hand... "Anyway, remember when I said that Bolin and I talked yesterday? I think... Things are going to be okay. At practice today, I mean."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Korra said again, this time with more confidence. "We'll be okay." That's one thing that won't suck about today, at least.

Asami considered this. She smiled at Korra, but her eyes still burned with one very important question. Korra shut her gym locker door just a bit too hard out of nerves, startling her teammate into silence; as they walked out with the rest of their team, she had a feeling that Asami wouldn't have asked it, anyway. There wasn't really any need to.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Have you talked to him?

As predicted, practice was exceedingly awkward.

There was no way around mentioning the events of last Saturday's meet, and so Monday's practice started as a rather somber affair. Mako was surprisingly silent and guarded throughout Tenzin's opening remarks, save for the very end, when the captain in him returned to the surface—leadership and determination shining boldly in his bright eyes—and he made sure to remind them that the season was not yet over. His left calf was still patched up with gauze, but he stood taller than anyone; they'd encountered a serious setback, but they would move past it. The Fire Foxes were still relevant, capable, and had plenty of work to do before Regionals.

Korra didn't see much of him after that, and she tried to convince herself that it was a good thing. After exchanging a brief hello and a few words—which Korra pointedly ignored, cheeks reddening—Asami and Mako parted ways for the long run. He remained at the head of the pack, leading the varsity through a set of intervals that hurt Korra's legs and lungs just thinking about, and Asami took up the middle, leaving the new captain candidate to take up the elite's helm. It was time for something Korra had been waiting for all day.

It was time to run.

The bright side was that instead of running alone, as she had been on Friday before the White Falls invitational, this afternoon she had two friends flanking her sides. Bolin did more than enough of the talking for the three of them, and Asami didn't believe in uncomfortable silences, which meant that Korra had plenty of time to laugh off her obliques as well as sort out her thoughts. It might have had something to do with the top-speed varsity distractions running beside her, but Korra didn't feel at all as tired as she would have thought. Either her endurance and speed really were improving, or her brain's pain receptors were on the fritz and would probably be kicking in any moment now.

Unlike any other part of her day, it ended too soon.

"Rest up," Tenzin told them. "Tomorrow will be a shorter practice, a simple meet-prep jog in honor of Wednesday's race with the Wild Cats. I want plenty of stretching this week and no shortcuts. Now is not the time to cut corners."

"Tell that to Tahno of the White Falls Wolverines," someone muttered behind her.

Korra's fist was clenched before she'd even completed the thought; it wasn't until she felt Asami's tight grip over her wrist that Korra remembered where she was. And that she was supposed to be playing it cool. Fuck that! her mind snarled. Tenzin only ever mentioned Yakone and Amon and the other investigators—he never said anything about douchebag teenagers on my own team!

Almost as if Asami had been reading her mind, her captain's hold tightened imperceptibly over the hand that hung innocuously between them. Korra glanced up, only to find Bolin giving her a subtle, meaningful shake of his head.

It'd been too quiet for Tenzin to hear, even with his eerily-capable paternal senses, because he was still reminding everyone at what time the bus was going to leave on Wednesday after school. Mako, however, was frowning.

Korra, for her part, didn't hear much else of what Tenzin said afterward. It didn't even really occur to her that she'd be able to ask him at home. Blank. (Control.) While he finished the rest of his speech, Korra was on a thoughtless cloud, in an almost meditative state—not unlike what sometimes happened to her while she was on a run. Looks like all the running is really paying off on the anger management, after all, she thought bitterly. Her fist pulsed, twitching from the tension running down her arm. You happy now, mom and dad?

There was a final team cheer to end the practice on a high note, but Korra didn't hear it. All of a sudden, her exhaustion began to creep up with her. Her head hurt. She barely registered Asami asking her if she needed a ride, but she had enough sense to realize that she couldn't, she just couldn't. Korra wanted to go home. (Her real home.) The last thing she wanted to do was get into the car with Asami and pretend for even fifteen minutes that the reason why she skipped first period this morning wasn't because one of her closest (only) friend's boyfriend had tried to make a move on her. She couldn't.

After a half-hearted apology and a promise to text later—to text both of them later because for the love of god, if they are both gonna be mother hens, then this simply isn't going to—Korra threw herself into the passenger seat of Tenzin's car.

She didn't give a damn who saw.

Korra stared gloomily into her tea.

She felt bad about how she'd left practice, but couldn't bring herself to pick up her phone and call Bolin and Asami to let them know that she was all right. Korra hadn't done much of anything when she got home, save for make a cup of tea and avoid her phone. Actually, staunchly avoiding her phone was all she'd really done. Pema had made the tea.

"Everything all right, Korra?"

She glanced up at her aunt, who was still busy with the rice in the steamer. Just five minutes ago, the wooden spoon in Pema's hand had been used for not-so-culinary means—as Meelo had been made very well aware. Note to self, she'd thought, watching in awe as Meelo practically flew from the kitchen. Never ask a pregnant lady how long it's gonna be until the grub is good and ready. A deep sigh escaped her, only cooling her tea further.

"Not really," she admitted.

Pema glanced back at her. Still fluffing the rice, she noted, "Tenzin was worried about you on the way back home. You must have had a hard day."

Had she? Sometimes Korra really had to wonder. Her problems always seemed so trivial in retrospect, but in the moment they all but consumed her. She didn't look up from her tea when she said, "Yeah. Maybe."

The day wasn't all bad, she had to admit. She'd got to see Bolin for a little bit, and even as all the other nonsense was going down, she couldn't deny how relieved she was that she and Bolin were back on good terms. She'd missed him so much, and despite his (valid) teasing, she really valued his help. And even with everything that had happened that morning with Mako, she'd (eventually) come to her senses, held her ground, and made herself indubitably clear. She'd tried not to think too much about his offer while at school, and hadn't honestly been able to give it much thought since arriving back home. Her thoughts couldn't seem to pick just one problem to focus on. Instead, her mind kept replaying two-second flashes of every single thing that had gone wrong all day, instead of sticking with one—or five—and trying to produce any sort of solution. As if there are any, she thought moodily, tucking her fingers into the hood of her dark red sweatshirt. She didn't know what to make of Mako's early-morning declaration. If only he'd asked me... What? Later? After he and Asami broke up—officially? Korra frowned, fiddling with the handle of her cup.

If Korra was going to be honest with herself, she had to admit that it wasn't really... that it wasn't really the fact that he still had a girlfriend that bothered her. In fact, for some really uncomfortable reason, Korra had a feeling that in another time—another place, maybe another universe—she wouldn't have thought twice about taking exactly what she wanted, wouldn't have even reconsidered kissing Mako in a dark, empty classroom. If she really wanted to take a hard look at what was going on with her and Mako, her hesitation had more to do with who the girlfriend was, rather than the existence of a girlfriend at all. And that's not even all of it, Korra admitted, pursing her lips. There was something about the way he'd looked at her today, something that just didn't seem totally right. She'd never noticed it before, but... had he always looked at her like that? With such reverence and care? Like someone... to be protected? Achieved? Like a goal?

(In fact, if Korra were being honest with herself, then perhaps she would have admitted that her hesitation with pursuing Mako actually had very little to do with Mako at all.)

Ugh. I can't think about this now.

She needed to talk to Asami. First thing in the morning. Everything else was irrelevant until Korra told her about what was going on... she didn't know exactly what she was going to tell her yet, or how much she was supposed to reveal—she did want to give Mako a chance to redeem himself, after all—but a conversation was going to happen. She was sure of it.

Korra still couldn't believe how lucky she was that she had someone like Asami to talk to. Hell, if I'm going to lose her so quickly. And over a boy, no less.

She snorted into her tea and, strangely enough, felt loads better.

"Anything I can do?"

With a start, Korra glanced up. For the second time in just over an hour, she'd almost forgotten where she was. "Um," she said intelligently, blinking at her aunt. "No, I... Thanks, Aunt Pema. But I think I'm just going to take it easy tonight."

Pema smiled warmly at her, laughing lightly to herself as she scooped spoonfuls of rice into a set of five bowls; Korra frowned at the number resting on the counter. Looks like Tenzin will be home late from the meeting, after all, she sighed.

"Hey, Pema? I think I'm gonna go wait upstairs until dinner is ready. Is that okay?"

"Of course," she answered, reaching for the packaged strips of roasted seaweed from one of the cabinets. "Shouldn't be too long, dear."

Korra rose from her chair at the kitchen table and slowly pushed it back in, then carefully made her way over to the sink with the half-drunk cup of tea. After a moment's worth of deliberation, Korra left the tea on the counter next to the microwave. She'd just heat it back up again later. (And then make the kids swear not to tell Great Aunt Katara and Great Uncle Zuko on her.)

"Oh, Korra?"

She paused in the archway that led to the living room and ultimately the stairs. Pema had a strange look about her, but Korra couldn't put her finger on it. What the hell? she wondered, eyeing her aunt suspiciously. She almost looks like... Like Tenzin had, that morning when he'd been holding onto a secret.

"Uh. Yes, Aunt Pema?"

"I know it's hard, but I wouldn't worry too much about this week, dear." Her eyes sparkled, and now Korra knew she wasn't imagining the resemblance to Tenzin's crazy behavior. "After all... you never really know what's just around the bend!"

"Um," Korra blinked. "Thanks... Aunt Pema."

Then, very slowly, Korra backed out of the kitchen.

Dude, what is going on? she demanded to no one in particular, as soon as she reached the stairs. Was there a special night class going on somewhere that was offering really bad secret-keeping tricks for parents? Because she didn't think she could handle another pseudo-apocalyptic crisis today.

She really didn't.

After dinner, Korra decided to try calling again.

The meal itself had passed by relatively smoothly, which was unusual. She hoped she hadn't been too much of a dark aura looming over their happy little clouds at the dinner table, but she just couldn't seem to break herself from her thoughts—which was even more unusual. They must have sensed that something wasn't quite right with her, however, or at least maybe her aunt and uncle had seen fit to warn the kids before any other crayon wars could be declared, but her cousins were relatively content to continue all sorts of crazy conversations amongst themselves and only intrude on her personal space a little. Which Korra appreciated.

Which meant that it wasn't long until she was back in her room, laying on her bed, staring at her phone.

Again.

Okay. It'd been three whole days. She definitely—a thousand times definitely—understood why he wouldn't want to hear from her on Saturday, after everything that happened. He must have been so... Korra squinted her eyes shut, barely able to let herself consider the possibilities. Okay. Okay. She could also understand that he must have wanted the weekend to himself, but... It was already Monday. Surely that was enough time to... to what? Was there a social calendar of appropriateness in reaching out to a boy you liked—and screwed everything up with—before he lost everything?

I am so fucked.

No. She was going to be fine. She was going to call him, like she decided to twenty minutes ago. And five minutes before that. She was going to call him, right now.

.

.

.

.

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.

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.

.

.

.

.

.

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.

(And she almost did it, too.)

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Despite the belief she'd desperately clung to late Monday night as she'd finally fallen asleep, Korra did, in fact,
wake up on Tuesday morning feeling a hundred times

worse.

From: Cap'n A!
Man, I still can't get over your name for my car. Don't worry—the Satomobile is coming your way, bright and early. ;) I hope you're feeling better... I'm sorry I didn't get your text message until pretty late. I wish I could have called, but I assumed you were already asleep. And I figure we'll have a little bit of time to talk in the car, too. Do you think I could actually come by and pick you up early? We could do a coffee run. It would give us more time to talk, even if you don't like coffee.
Received: Tuesday, Oct 16 7:06am

From: The "Amazing, Bouncing, Beautiful" Bolin
Morning, Korra! I hope you're doing okay. Anyway, thanks for your text message last night. I appreciated not having to worry about whether or not you were going to end up riding out to avenge a certain someone in the dark of veil of night. :P
Received: Tuesday, Oct 16 7:08am

From: Cap'n A!
Yeah, never mind. You of all people would not be a morning person. See you at the usual time!
Received: Tuesday, Oct 16 7:09am

From: The "Amazing, Bouncing, Beautiful" Bolin
Also, seriously. Did anything happen with Mako yesterday? He's even surlier than usual—and that's including AFTER the White Falls' meet. Everything okay?
Received: Tuesday, Oct 16 7:09am

From: Mako
Korra, I am really sorry about yesterday. I didn't mean to freak you out or anything. And I really didn't mean to screw anything up. I don't want things to get weird, and I totally get it if you need some time or space or anything. Just let me know, okay?
Received: Tuesday, Oct 16 7:10am

From: The "Amazing, Bouncing, Beautiful" Bolin
Korra, I'm not kidding. The man is like falling apart in his pancakes over here.
Received: Tuesday, Oct 16 7:10am

Korra slid into the Satomobile passenger seat, slammed the door shut, and announced, "Boys fucking suck."

Asami's eyes widened. "Good morning," she greeted, bemused.

"You know what I dreamed about last night?" Korra demanded, immediately launching into a rant. She'd barely even buckled her seatbelt.

"Um. What?"

"Lancelot and Guinevere, that's what."

"I... Is this... Have you been watching a lot of BBC again?"

"No," Korra groaned, feeling incredibly embarrassed by the truth, but still determined to stay strong. "I kept thinking about this stupid Homecoming dance as I went to sleep and how I don't know anything about it. And what a mess it's probably still going to be even though Bolin and I are okay now."

"So you're going?" Asami exclaimed, smile widening dangerously.

"Asami."

"Ah. Right. Not the point. Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I was saying that all I really know about this Homecoming business is this weird King and Queen custom and somehow it must have gotten really confused in my brain because all I can really relate it to is The Once and Future King, and it probably didn't help that my little cousin likes to retell every mundane story as some sort of medieval lore, so the next thing I knew I was dreaming of our entire cross-country team in sixth century Europe—"

"Ohh, cool."

"Except for the fact that I was actually Guinevere and I was being burned at the stake because no one came to rescue me and then I thought to myself, What the fuck? I'm Korra, and then I rescued myself."

"Oh. Wow. That's not... what I was expecting."

"Living in society is making me docile," Korra huffed, crossing her arms and slouching grumpily into the car seat. "I don't like it."

"This is docile?"

"Asami."

"Ahaha, all right," she gave in, turning onto the main street. "Well, I can tell you where else the dream went wrong; it sounds like you were expecting Lancelot to be Tahno, but I'm not so sure he's knight material."

"You're going to have to take that up with my cousin," she muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing," Korra said quickly. Maybe there'd be a time in her life when Korra felt comfortable sharing more information about The Dark Flippy-Hair Knight, but this morning was not one of them.

"You are so weird," Asami said fondly, pulling up the ramp onto the highway. "Hmm. You know, as much as I doubt our dear Wolverine King being Lancelot, I have to admit that Bolin probably would make a better Arthur. At least within the context of the story."

Korra swallowed.

Oh, crap.

It turned out that her story had been missing a vital detail. Or rather—a whole character.

"Well... The truth is," Korra paused, panicking as her mind ran absurdly blank for one frightening moment. "The truth is that Bolin wasn't actually a part of the dream. At least—not the main cast," she explained quickly. "He was there, but he wasn't... well." He wasn't what? Arthur? Then who was?

Korra wasn't even sure she knew anymore.

(This was not quite how she'd been expecting this conversation to begin.)

"Look," she said suddenly. "This isn't the best time to bring it up, but I've got to say it now."

"Korra," Asami said worriedly. "Is everything all—"

"I liked Mako," she said, and then almost choked on her next breath.

Asami's eyes narrowed slightly, as if she hadn't heard her properly. Shit. She probably didn't. "Sorry," Asami said very softly. Very carefully. "What?"

And then it came out, all in one giant rush.

"It was before you and I became friends—actually, it might have been one of the really stupid reasons why we hadn't become friends yet—though that's not to say, I mean—I had only just moved here and I was really nervous even though I'd never admit it and he was just so easy to like and I just totally fell into this trap—not to say that your boyfriend is a trap—not to say that I actually fell into a trap, or that he trapped me—oh my god. Asami, he didn't trap me—nothing happened! Not even close! I just had this stupid crush on him for weeks and it was really awkward and really inconvenient and I couldn't even look him in the eye sometimes and I hated every minute of it and I don't know what to do around people so I actually told him sometime like, a month ago—but he turned me down! As he should have, you know, and it was awful and humiliating but we somehow ended up not being so awkward anymore over it because of everything that started happening with that whole mess with Bolin, and—god I have been trying to fucking tell you this ever since last Friday, but I just—you were so nice and nothing like I expected—that came out wrong, I'm sorry, but we've already talked about this so I hope to God you know what I mean—and there just didn't seem to be a good time and..."

Oh, god.

That was not what she'd wanted to say at all.

Korra was barely breathing.

"I see," Asami said softly, expression blank. Eyes guarded. "Well, that... helps explain some things, I guess."

It physically hurt her to swallow. In a very small whisper, she asked, "Are you mad?"

It took Asami a moment to answer her.

"No," she replied slowly. "I don't think so... Weirded out, maybe. A little. Okay, a lot," she amended honestly, sending Korra's stomach zigzagging in fear. "But... I don't think I'm mad. I mean, I can't say how I would have reacted had I found out any other way, or if I'd found out before I knew about all the other stuff. With you and Tahno. And Bolin, but..."

"What?" she breathed.

Asami spared a glance her way and, for a split second, Korra almost thought she saw guilt.

"Look. I'm not really proud to think this way, but as long as we're being honest... Korra, if I'd learned about any of this earlier, I think... I'm pretty sure I would have jumped at the chance to break things off with Mako."

Korra winced. That confession affected her on many levels, though she wasn't sure she could name them all.

"But then I wouldn't have had the chance to get to know you," Asami continued on, with feeling. (Wouldn't have had the chance, is what Korra heard; wouldn't have bothered, is what Korra felt.) It was an almost-apology for something that could have—but didn't—happen. Korra and Asami shared a glance then, just for a few moments, before Asami returned her eyes back to the open highway. "I guess we're just lucky that things worked out the way they did."

She huffed her agreement, and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut. "Yeah," she whispered. "Definitely."

Well... it could have gone much worse, Korra decided. On the one hand, it still didn't feel real. (Too easy, Korra's mind whispered.) On the other hand, the silence in the car was thoughtful, and the music playing on the radio was soft and upbeat; it was probably the most cheerful thing that had happened to her all morning and, for the first time since last night, the bit of cheer wasn't bothering her.

"You said... you liked Mako," Asami observed, a disconcerting combination of casual and careful. "As in that you don't anymore. Is that how you feel?"

Korra's stomach flipped.

"Wait," Asami said suddenly, her concern much clearer now. "Before you answer... Just let me say something."

Korra nodded, earnest and uncharacteristically timid. Oh my god, her mind repeated uselessly. I knew it was too easy. What have I done?

"First, I just need to say that if you do like Mako... then it's okay," Asami told her, effectively shattering Korra's brain into a thousand pieces. She opened her mouth to respond, but Asami cut her off. "I mean it. You know more than anyone what a dire state our relationship is in... Mako and I aren't going to work. I've been sure of it for a long time, but... I mean, I'm not completely blind, Korra. I do notice these things." The steering wheel was steady under Asami's hands, but Korra still felt like she was spinning. "This isn't a total surprise."

What in the—?

"But that's not what I need to say. I just want to... Look, it might not even be any of my business and I know things are pretty complicated right now, what with Tahno and... I just wish that I knew some things beforehand, that's all. About Mako. He is a great guy," she said suddenly, surprising Korra once more. "In many ways, he really is. And if you still like him—then you like him. Even if you like Tahno, too. I'm not gonna judge you or anything. And he'll always take care of you, that's for sure. But...

"What if you want more than to just be taken care of?" Asami asked her, openly and genuinely. "What if you want to take care of someone, too? What if you want to explore different interests? What if you want to set different goals? And in the end, you realize that that's what you were. A goal."

Korra frowned, thoughtful. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... Mako has had a rough life. Every step he's ever taken has always been to provide for him and Bolin, which is huge and more than most people could have ever handled. And you know, I... Part of me does still really care about him that way," she admitted, sending Korra into an even deeper pool of self-loathing. "And maybe that's why it's been so hard for me to let go. Why I just keep making excuses about finding the right moment, but... That's the thing. It was what drew me to him, initially, but it's also what drove me away. He's a very ambitious guy, Korra, because he's always needed to be. He does what he thinks will best provide for his family and what will best protect the ones he cares about. He relies on a lot of gut instinct and intuition. He's very determined and he sets a lot of goals. He likes to take care of people and he's good at it. But that's the thing.

"Mako may have really loved me... but I honestly think he was just more in love with the idea of loving me."

Korra frowned, letting Asami's words sink in. How was she supposed to process this? Sure, Asami had good reason to be a little biased, but... Wasn't I just thinking along these same lines, just yesterday? No matter her doubts, Korra had to wonder.

Is this what's happening to me?

"I'm sorry, Korra. I didn't mean to... intrude. I just. I really care about you, okay? And I'm really rooting for you and Tahno. But I totally get it either way. I do. I don't know," Asami sighed, obviously frustrated with herself. Korra blinked slowly, letting the sounds of the radio wash over her. "Do you know what I mean?" she asked, a little desperately.

Korra answered, but her frown hadn't really gone away. "Yeah," she nodded a little. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"So? Do you know?"

Of course not. I still don't know anything, apparently. "Know what?"

"If you still like him. Do you?"

"Yikes. You look like you could have used an extra couple of winks."

Korra slammed her locker shut, rattling the door in its frame. "Thanks, Bolin."

The hallway was crowded with people, but Korra made plenty of room for herself as she stormed down the high school halls. Most of them were dressed like superheroes. What the hell was going on? Ah, Korra remembered, glancing at a sign on the wall that laid out the rest of the school Spirit Week festivities. Great, she thought, as Bolin hurried to catch up. Just what I need. More spirit.

"Er. That came out wrong. Sorry," he laughed, falling into step beside her. Korra tried to keep up her 'offended' face, but it didn't last very long; his words hadn't really bothered her and, unfortunately, he was right. "So what's next on the agenda for today?"

"History. Thank goodness," Korra muttered, though she didn't honestly feelmuch of a relief. She wouldn't feel that until at least a few more periods of the school day were over. (Or until—) "Luckily Mr. Page isn't as much of a hard-ass as your wrestling coach."

"Um. Firstly, nothing about that guy even remotely hints at hard-ass. Secondly—where are you learning all of these swear words from? And thirdly, I am telling you that if you would just try to get to know—"

"Agreed, don't worry about it, and no."

"It's him, isn't it?" Bolin teased. "He's a bad influence on you. I can tell."

"Shut up, Bolin."

"You wouldn't have said that to me four weeks ago."

"Then just imagine what I'll be saying next."

"I bet that'll be his influence, too."

Her arm shot out.

"Ouch," Bolin pouted, clutching his arm as Korra retracted her own. "You trying to puncture these biceps or something?"

"Sure," she glibly replied, her smile full of smirk. "It's not like you really need them for running, anyway."

"Yeah, well, I'm gonna need them when I help Coach Beifong with the wrestling room prep after practice. Ouch," he repeated, for emphasis.

Korra's expression faltered. "After practice? Wait. I thought we were gonna stretch and stuff. You know. Some of the ol' sworn Bolin secrets." Like you promised, she added, if only mentally.

"Ohh... yikes," Bolin hissed, sucking in a sharp breath. "Korra, I'm sorry—I totally forgot! Beifong called us all in for some manual labor tonight. She's getting antsy for the start of the season."

Korra frowned. "Is Tenzin gonna be okay with you working so hard the night before a meet?"

"Pfft," he laughed. "I'm not sure Beifong cares much for Tenzin's track and cross-country opinion when it comes to the winter sports season, unfortunately. In fact, it's more probable that she deliberately called us in tonight to mess with him."

That was the second time Bolin had mentioned an interesting dynamic between her uncle and her chemistry teacher; she had to remember to make a point of bringing it up the next time she and Tenzin had a chance to talk. But there were more important matters to attend to at the moment. "So I'm not going to see you at all tonight?" she asked, trying not to show just how disappointed she was.

He did look fairly regretful. "Nah. Not tonight. Maybe Thursday night though?"

"But the meet is Saturday. Why wouldn't we want to stretch together on Friday?"

"''Cuz it's the night of the pep rally bonfire," Bolin winked. "Duh."

Oh.

She glanced at him from the side, checking for any signs of awkwardness at the abrupt mention of Homecoming, but nothing seemed to be amiss. Bolin either hadn't been kidding about how quickly he'd be able to get over her rejection—or else he was just insanely good at hiding it. Korra wasn't super proud of the fact, but she wasn't entirely convinced that one was better than the other. Was he always this self-aware? she asked herself, as Bolin waved to a large and rowdy group down the hall. He walked into an open locker. Never mind.

"You're gonna go, right?"

Korra blinked at the question. "Go?"

"To the bonfire," Bolin replied jovially. "And even to the dance, too. Now that you don't have to worry about us going as a date."

Whoah. "Um. I'm not sure..."

Bolin laughed at her, somehow completely relaxed, which only made Korra feel even more self-conscious. "Sorry. That was a bit much all at once, wasn't it?"

"I wasn't lying, you know," she said quietly, holding her books tight. "About not really wanting to go to the dance."

This, of all things, seemed to bother him. He looked at her like she'd grown two heads. "You're joking, right? This is a joke?" She shook her head. "Korra—that's crazy talk! I mean, even when you—I didn't actually think that you weren't planning to go! At least—not because of any reason that didn't have to do with me asking you out and you turning me down!"

Korra looked around nervously. "Um, dude—could you say that a little louder? I don't think the people on the second floor heard you well enough."

"I'm serious, Korra—you can't not go to Homecoming. It's only like the best thing since... it's like Prom—but cheaper!"

Korra blinked.

"Prom?"

Bolin looked pale.

"Oh, dear holy mackerel," he whispered. "We need to talk."

"Um. I don't—"

"Look, the next time we have some stretching nights available, you and I are going to have a crash-course of high school culture and customs, you hear me? Every insane tradition, right down to the very last drop of pep rally face paint."

She was incredibly intrigued, but also very wary.

"That would be... nice," she replied, rather diplomatically.

"All right—I gotta run before Beifong hangs me."

"She'd hang even you?" she demanded, aghast.

"Of course," he replied easily. "She doesn't play favorites. If anything, she's even more watchful. Which—as I said—means I have to run. See you later!"

Korra raised her hand to wave, but Bolin was already gone.

The worst part of it all, Korra decided, was the boredom.

A sigh seeped out of her, slow and languid, which was pretty much how she felt in general. Constantly worrying—waiting—was exhausting, and it seemed that Korra's insides had finally gone on strike. Shut down. Closed up shop for the day, that's right—because she was finding it rather difficult to focus on much of anything. Here she was, cooped up in a secluded corner of the library, actually trying to utilize her midday study hall time for—god forbid—studying. But she couldn't focus. Most of the time she spent her free minutes aimlessly wandering the stacks, reading random spines of books in each section and waiting for something to pop out at her. (Incredibly, it'd taken her eight minutes to realize when she'd wandered into the entire section of encyclopedias, which were all labeled accordingly.) But now she was back at her solitary table-desk with a giant book of SAT test-prep questions in front of her, and the closest she'd come to actually practicing was identifying each of the colors on her workbook's cover with the help of a handy color dictionary, which had been incorrectly stacked in the encyclopedia section and you are welcome, careless librarian.

Like she'd said. Boredom sucks.

She missed having something to look forward to at the end of each class period. (Right there, in her pocket. Like clockwork.) She missed having something to look forward to at the end of the week, too... And it didn't even matter that waiting for something so far away would make each day feel slower and longer, because the reward of waiting was constant. Reliable. (Always.) Even if she hadn't known it at the time—even if she'd doubted it then—she could always count on those Saturday afternoons, on going for a post-race run in the park. She missed the speed. She missed the feeling of running through thickets and creeks and endless trails of fallen leaves. Training on the track was helpful for improvement and racing on a course was (more than) all right, but nothing could beat running in a mostly-forgotten sanctuary of trees. She missed the arboretum.

She missed her running partner.

Sometime near the end of study hall, while Korra was fruitlessly staring into an open textbook—chin resting atop the stiff stack of pages—her cellphone vibrated.

From: The "Amazing, Bouncing, Beautiful" Bolin
Red Alert: Asami
Received: Tuesday, Oct 16 1:12pm

Korra glanced at the screen, smile twisting with confusion. Is this a joke? If it was, then she wasn't exactly in on it. She ignored it for the meantime, and went back to the glorious pastime of trying to count the number of carbon atoms in one of her diagrams.

Until she got a second text message, not thirty seconds later, which read: Sorry I sent the first one by mistake. Red Alert: Asami broke up with Mako in the library an hour ago during lunch.

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Korra's eyes stared vacantly at the screen.

Ten seconds, twenty seconds. Thirty.

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Then, very carefully, she reached up, gently pressed her finger over the button in the uppermost corner, and watched

the silver screen

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"Asami."

She looked up as Korra approached her, seemingly not at all surprised by the ferocity of her steps. Asami gave a nod of hello then finished pulling her gym shirt over her head and fluffing her hair out of its collar. Korra let her duffel bag drop to the bench with a heavy thud, then tore open one of the lockers next to Asami's, pointedly leaving its door hanging into the open cavity of hers. With a sharp yank of her arm, Korra unzipped her bag and ripped her running shorts free. Asami watched in silence.

"You heard," Asami observed evenly, sliding her jeans to her feet. She carefully stepped out of them one foot at a time, and slipped into her leggings with a grace that was more befitting a dancer than a runner. Korra couldn't find it within herself to be impressed.

With a rough flick of her wrists, Korra straightened out her wrinkled t-shirt, dark blue and faded from too many washes, too many wears. Her jaw tightened as she tore her school shirt up and over her head. She thrust her wrists into her running shirt and grabbed it down over her head, yanking it down over her stomach. "Yeah," she muttered, digging for her sneakers. "I heard."

Asami lowered herself to sit on the bench, tying her shoelaces as she watched Korra search in vain for her running shoes. She wasn't frowning, per se, but it was a thoughtful enough expression to make Korra feel scrutinized, to make her feel a little caged. "I wasn't sure," Asami carefully replied, switching to her other shoe. "You didn't answer any of my texts." She was silent as Korra gave a frustrated huff, who resorted to ripping out all of the articles of clothing in her bag. Finally, she found them, folded in the tangled mess of her hoodie. "Korra?"

Korra's bag rammed into the metal wall of lockers, letting a heavy thud echo out into the rest of the changing rooms. A few of their teammates looked up, but most had given them a wide berth when they'd entered in the first place and didn't pay much attention to the noise. Korra watched out of the corner of her eye as Asami smiled encouragingly to one of the younger runners, who went back to changing and, for the most part, minding her own business. Dammit, she spat, fingernails tearing at the knot in her laces. This isn't exactly a private setting, Korra. Pull yourself together.

"Korra?"

The shoe dropped to the bench as Korra's fingers fumbled, making Asami jump in surprise, but instead of either of them bending over to pick it up, they merely ended up looking at one another.

Korra's shoulders jerked upward, and with them came her hands, limp and heavy as they fell back to her sides. "I turned my phone off." Asami blinked as she took that in.

"Why?"

"Why? God—Asami," she said, and then abruptly scoffed, licking her lips as she fought to find the words she'd decided on an hour before. (As she'd upped and fled the library, then proceeded to skip stopping by her regular locker to pick up her books for her final period class; at the time it'd seemed like a better idea to arrive to class unprepared than to be... cornered there, by anyone.) "Asami, what the hell are you doing?"

She'd meant it to sound much angrier; it certainly sounded that way in her head.

Instead, Asami considered the question seriously, before calmly answering with one of her own. "What's bothering you about this so much?"

"What's—Asami, how can you ask that?" Korra demanded, though it sounded much more like a desperate plea for understanding than the what the hell, are you crazy? approach she'd been aiming for. "After everything that we—" She glanced to the other girls in the locker room, most of whom were already finished changing and were already making their way past them, toward the entrance to the gym. "After everything that we talked about this morning," she finished, barely louder than a hiss.

Asami nodded, pondering. Completely throwing Korra for a loop, she asked, "Are you worried that I broke up with Mako because of the conversation we had this morning? Because you like him?"

Korra balked. "Jesus, Asami," she whispered, unconsciously shifting a stiff palm over her brow, like a protective wall. With even more deliberate force, Korra ripped her jeans down her legs and ruthlessly shoved one leg through a hole of her shorts. "Do you think you could you not mention that in front of the whole team—please?"

When Korra looked up at her, Asami was frowning.

"Korra."

Stupid leg. Stupid shorts. Wasn't anything going to go her way today?

"Korra."

"What?" she snapped, then froze when she realized that Asami had stood, and was now peering down at her from under her long, dark lashes. Her hands were on her hips, and on her lips was a frown.

"Korra, it's okay," she said, in an infuriatingly calm voice. "I mean—I even said it this morning. We knew that it was going to happen sooner or later. Right?"

Her teeth worried her lip. After a swallow, Korra conceded, "Yeah, but—"

"But what?" Asami asked, the tiniest hint of a joke laced into her tone. Of a challenge. "You just didn't expect it to happen so soon?" Korra's stomach tightened; for one brief second, she lost control of her expression, but it was enough to immediately shift Asami's into one of concern. "Korra... this has nothing to do with what you told me this morning."

Her eyes slanted Asami's way, narrowed. "Nothing?" she huffed, resuming her impossible work of wrenching apart the knot of her laces.

Asami pursed her lips, giving her a head a little wobble in thought, then relented, "Okay, so maybe not nothing." Quickly, she sat down on the bench and scooped up Korra's other shoe, promptly setting to work on untying the other hopeless knot. "It wasn't so much to do with you as what you made me realize."

"Great," she droned, hissing as her thumbnail cut a shallow slice in the skin along her forefinger's knuckle. "Because that definitely makes me feel less guilty."

Asami shot her a pointed look, with the most daring expression she'd seen on her captain all day, and Korra tried not to let it deter her mood. There was a reason she was upset with Asami; she just couldn't seem to connect the message from her brain to her mouth.

"Korra, you knew we were going to break up. It was inevitable. But talking to you this morning... it got me thinking, you know? Even after we both left for class. All of what I'd told you, I already knew... I just hadn't really let myself think about it very much. After everything that you said, though, and after really looking at all of it again—I just couldn't go any longer, Korra. We were both trying to kid ourselves—Mako and I—by staying together. It was best that we just end it now, before it got any worse."

Her fingers fumbled once more, dropping the shoe onto the chaotic pile of clothes hanging out of her bag. Defeated, Korra let the shoe simply lay there, letting her head fall back and her face fall skyward. Absently, she realized that Asami had already finished Korra's first shoe and was already moving onto help with the second. Slowly, her head drifted back down, and for a minute or two that's all she did: watch as Asami carefully disentangled the knotted mess that Korra had made. After a while, Asami carefully set the shoe down on the bench, right next to its partner.

Korra stared forlornly at her sneakers, feeling incredibly foolish.

"Are you mad at me?"

The question surprised Korra. A frown, deep and miserable, crossed her lips. I'm being ridiculous, she realized.

"I just... I don't know how I'm supposed to act now," Korra admitted glumly, collapsing back onto the bench. "Now that... I mean—things made sense when you two were together. It was awkward, I guess. But there was order, you know? Now... Now that you're..."

"Single?"

Korra winced. "Now that both of you are. I mean—what am I supposed to do? Am I not allowed to be friends with both of you? How are we supposed to all be okay as a group? Won't this affect the team?"

"It might," Asami conceded with a shrug.

"But aren't you worried about that?" she demanded desperately.

"Korra," she said calmly, carefully shifting her body towards hers. Korra pretended not to notice and bent over to stick one foot in a shoe, assembling the laces this time with a little more care—barely. "I broke up with Mako because it was the right thing to do. Not because you like him. Not because you said anything to change my opinion of him. I broke up with him because... it was the right time to. Because I made time for it, finally."

Korra stared at her sneakered toes, tapping them against one another. One, two. She had a feeling that not all high school relationships ended quite like this.

"So... now what?" Korra ventured, though she was too cowardly to say anymore. If Asami's arched brow was any indication, she'd probably already caught the rest of Korra's drift.

"What? You mean... what will happen between us? Or what will happen with you and Mako?"

Korra resisted the urge to hide. Biting her cheek, sticking her chin out determinedly, she looked Asami in the eye, and curiously admitted, "Maybe... both."

Asami managed a straight face for a mere four seconds.

"You are so fucking precious," she told her, echoing a sentiment that she had expressed just a few days before. An arm slipped around Korra's shoulders, tugging it tightly into Asami's side. Korra felt stiff and awkward amidst the display of affection so soon after what she suspected was an argument, but she did have to admit that it did sort of help make her feel better about the whole mess. Sorta.

"Awesome," Korra muttered spitefully, though a tell-tale smile was steadily creeping through. "Just what I've always wanted for my reputation. But if I'm precious, then you're—oh, shit!" Korra exclaimed, spying the clock.

"Excuse me? I'm—?"

"Late!"

Nobody was all that surprised when Asami and Korra came sprinting out into the gym, nor did anybody stare too pointedly when they awkwardly inserted themselves into the attendance line-up. Tenzin sent a slanted warning glance their way, Bolin winked from afar, and Mako... Well. If there was one place he was going to avoid looking, it was probably in their direction. Luckily for him, Korra currently had the same idea.

Nobody noticed the rubber band in Asami's hair or the dark red elastic in Korra's. Just like nobody thought to ask how Korra had tied her shoes; one lace double-knotted, the other knot tripled, both tied by a different pair of hands.

Mako was single.

It was this thought that stayed with her all throughout practice, even while Bolin determinedly chattered her ear off about a number of safe, irrelevant topics, including but not limited to: the weather, the pros and cons of wearing temporary tattoos on one's face during a sporting event and—don't ask—rocks. For all intents and purposes, Asami looked and acted as if nothing had changed, but Korra had picked up a few things over the weekend, and she knew Asami's thoughtful eyebrows when she saw them. The point was that Bolin and Asami were both acting very strangely—in that they were both very determinedly pretending that nothing was strange at all.

As if, Korra scoffed. She didn't miss the curious glances Bolin kept shooting her way. Or the thoughtful stares Asami sent her when she thought she wasn't looking. Though they never said anything, they both seemed to be asking Korra the same question.

What are you gonna do?

Too bad Korra had no frickin' idea.

"Uncle Tenzin," she began, once they'd gained enough speed to merge onto the highway. "Why... why do you run?"

They hadn't exactly been mid-conversation when she'd asked it, but Tenzin looked no more surprised by it than he would have had she asked him the time. As with everything, however, he did put a little more thought into answering.

"Why did I start running... or why do I run now?"

Korra hummed in thought. She hadn't really considered that. "Your reasons are different?"

"In some ways," Tenzin replied, checking his mirrors. "As a health-conscious adult, I understand the short- and long-term benefits that regular exercise can have on the body and mind. From a scientific perspective, I appreciate the mechanics of the body and what is required to fuel and hone such an incredible machine. I view the sport of racing as a great opportunity to study technique, to build character, and to find both humility and pride in discovering one's limits, and pushing past them. But even more than all of that is the spiritual element that I find in running, the connection between the mind, body, and spirit; oftentimes, even the most elite runners will declare running as an act of placing mind over matter, whereas I have always believed that it is much closer to a union."

Korra smiled to herself, staring out the window as she listened closely to his words. Leave it to Tenzin to turn a simple question into a theory of philosophy. "So all of those are your reasons now?" she asked, laughing lightly. "What was your reason before? A better warm-up for your stretching?"

Very subtly, she felt the air between them change; it'd been a while since she last saw Tenzin smile. Even one as small as this.

"I loved running with my father."

Korra's smile remained, but the sides slowly started to wobble. Her eyelashes lowered down, teasing the softness of her cheeks with the dark strands, fluttering madly. It happened all the time, this awe—this reverence—in the voices of all of her relatives when they spoke of him, and she knew it was rather silly of her to feel this way. (Perhaps it was because she missed her own father so dearly, that she felt this swell of emotion.) Maybe it was the tiny spot of jealousy too, irrationally blurring her vision, that wished she could have known him, the legendary Great Uncle Aang, who had died shortly before her birth. She'd never gotten the chance to meet him, but through their stories—their smiles, their laughter, their tears—Korra felt like she had come to know his entire life. She just wished he could have been there for hers.

"He never dwelled on the technicalities, but he was a mastermind when it came to innovation," Tenzin continued. "He was always looking for new ways to train, creating his own techniques... It was a lifestyle, but it was also a game." A rare breath of laughter escaped him. "That was how he treated most things. My mother used to tease him, about using such wisdom for a mere game, and he would usually respond by doing some sort of elaborate somersault into the air and remind her that we call it a meet."

In spite of herself, Korra laughed. To her surprise, it was a bit wetter than she would have liked; Tenzin didn't comment, though she suspected that he noticed.

It was silent in the car for a few minutes then, easy and comfortable as they glided down the highway. Korra didn't do so much thinking as she did watching the world float by, and she absently wondered again, at just how much time she'd been spending in the passenger seat of various cars. It felt a lot like the rest of her life lately.

"You know," Tenzin gently began. "Sometimes I have to wonder."

"Wonder what?" she asked softly, head resting against the window pane.

"If this is really what's best for you."

Feeling sluggish, Korra twisted her head to face him. He kept his eyes on the road. Feeling a trace of alarm creep up her spine, Korra shifted herself higher in the seat. "What do you mean?" she asked curiously, voice still soft.

"Don't misunderstand me, Korra," Tenzin continued, sounding thoughtful and tired. Old, Korra would have said, except that wasn't a word she liked to use with Tenzin; she liked to joke about him being old when she was little, and tease him about being old now—because he usually ran over ten miles before most people had eaten breakfast—but this was not the kind of old that she liked to think about, and definitely not what she wanted to recognize in the worry—laughter—lines of his face.

"Misunderstand what?"

"Pema and I are more than happy to have you," he went on, and already the pieces in Korra's mind began to fall into place. "And I am very grateful to be able to share this experience with you, for you to see what other opportunities could be offered to you in another style of life. But I can't help but wonder if, perhaps, you would be happier elsewhere."

Korra could barely blink. "Are you... Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Tenzin's expression remained neutral and his eyes remained on the road, but she could tell that his senses were tuned very clearly towards her; every minute shift, every sigh, each pause. "I'm saying that, if you would so desire, I would be willing... to send word to your parents," he told her, very seriously. "And give my recommendation for your return."

She could barely believe it. "You would do that?" she whispered.

Tenzin nodded once. "If I believed that it would be in your best interests," he answered. "And if I believed that it was what you wanted."

The blanket of fog from the car ride hadn't yet lifted, leaving Korra's processing slow and groggy. Home, she realized. That, above all else, stood out to her. Tenzin was offering her a chance to go home.

"Why would you... why would you think that I would be better there than here?" she asked, barely understanding where the curiosity had come from, but feeling an indescribable need to satiate it.

Tenzin seemed to be having more difficulty answering than before. At length, he said, "I've seen how you've grown over these last few months. The running and the team is part of it, yes, because with these things comes a certain mentality and sense of self-awareness that I think can be harder to find in many other aspects of life... But I also know how closely you form attachments." He glanced at her, concern in his warm blue eyes. "And how quickly."

Korra didn't really have much to say to that.

"I know you miss your family."

"You're my family, too," she said immediately, before she'd even registered the thought.

Tenzin seemed surprised by this admission, though Korra figured he probably couldn't have been more so than she was. Of course, Uncle Tenzin had always been family, but... This is different, Korra inhaled deeply, resolve firming in her mind. This isn't a simple summer-stay or a quick visit for the holidays. Somewhere in the course of these few crazy weeks, this family had shifted; somehow, Tenzin and Pema and their three wild creatures had literally wormed their way even deeper into her heart.

"And we'll always be here," Tenzin quickly assured her, steadily moving on. "But I just want you to know that you have the choice."

Choice?

And Korra began to wonder how it'd come to be that her life was suddenly, incomprehensibly full of choice when, a mere three months ago, it had seemed like there simply was none?

"I'm not asking you to make it now," Tenzin said evenly, as if reading her mind—or perhaps her silence. "I'm not asking you to make a choice at all. I've seen a lot over the last few months, including the way you are able to handle yourself in a variety of difficult situations. There have been incredible changes in you since you first arrived here off that small wreck of an airplane, and you have more than earned your chance to prove your new case to your parents."

Regardless of her case, Korra snorted. "Handle myself?" she echoed, a touch of self-deprecating disbelief to her tone. "Tenzin, you just chewed me out yesterday afternoon for skipping class."

Finally, an expression cross Tenzin's face; naturally, it was a deadpan. "Are you willingly revisiting the topic of your conscientious absenteeism?"

Korra stilled. "Um," she managed. "No?"

Tenzin chanced another glance toward her, and this time a different kind of concern was shining in his eyes. Korra was beginning to realize just how tired she was of everyone looking at her with concern all the time. Before—before—she'd been used to wariness. (She'd even been used to weariness.) But concern for her own well-being? She didn't know how people could keep it up all the time. Asami, Bolin, Tenzin, Pema, the kids... Mako. They all—

"I must admit that I've noticed other changes in your behavior as well," Tenzin began anew, though this concern held a slightly different edge. "Ones that are not quite as helpful as some of the other developments you've made. It is not like you to be so quick to cut yourself down, Korra."

She frowned. "Maybe I just got tired of everyone else doing it for me," she muttered, knowing that her argument would fall flat even before it had a chance to float. Tenzin sent her a pointed look. Probably didn't help.

A heavy sigh escaped him. "I won't presume to know all of the troubles that you're dealing with during the rest of the day while we're not at practice—"

"Or even while we're at practice," she muttered meaningfully, letting her head collapse back against the headrest with a dull thud. Well. He wasn't wrong about the stupid attachments.

"But I will say that the Korra I know isn't afraid to tell others when something isn't right. To stand up for something."

Now Korra was just confused. "Um. Excuse me. Didn't you tell me that I should try to be patient?"

She really hated him when he smirked.

"Balance, Korra," he told her, smiling just enough to get on her nerves. He seemed greatly amused by her annoyance, which she desperately wanted to be further annoyed by, but it was just really damn hard to be angry at such a calm-and-happy Tenzin. Especially given the weight of the choice he'd just provided her. "It's all about balance."

Korra understood his point, but still rolled her eyes on a matter of principle. "I'm not even sure I could handle a balancing act between continents."

"You never know," Tenzin shrugged, flicking on the turn signal for their exit home. "There is a great saying that many runners know and live by. It says, 'Don't be afraid to give up the good to go for the great'."

Korra frowned thoughtfully. "That sounds familiar."

"It was said by a great man, a running legend who went by the name of Steve Prefontaine, or simply Pre. It also happens to be printed on the back of last year's team shirts."

"Oh. I must have seen it while doing laundry or something."

"Or perhaps it is because you are always running behind me."

Korra's brows slanted indignantly. "Um. Excuse me? Did Mr. Humble Guru just trash talk me?"

"You have not understood the meaning of 'trash talk' until Uncle Sokka has challenged you to a steak-eating contest."

"But you're a vegetarian."

"Precisely. Imagine the possibilities."

Strangely, it was all too easy to. Korra was torn between laughing and outright crying. God, I miss them.

After a few minutes of pensive silence, Korra glanced his way once more. "Hey, Uncle Tenzin?" she tried.

"Yes?"

She paused.

"Don't say anything to my mom and dad yet, okay?" she asked, much more quietly. He glanced at her. "I'm not saying yes or no," she hastily explained, anxious to make herself understood. "I'm just saying... not yet."

They let that soak in for a moment, the both of them.

Finally, he replied, "All right," and continued to drive them all the way home.

"Hey, Uncle Tenzin?" she asked, very carefully. "Can I ask you one more serious question?"

Tenzin looked even more surprised than before. "Of course," he said immediately, as if the impossibility of such a thing were absurd.

"And you'll answer honestly?"

"As honestly as I can."

"What happened between you and Beifong?"

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Somewhere in between the wondering and the waiting

for the text message that was never going to come,

Korra decided to grow a pair.

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"Oh my god, hey," Korra breathed, clinging onto the receiver with all her might. "Hey."

"New girl," he said, and she was so relieved she could die. Or at least pass out. It just sounded so... him. Albeit a little more tired than usual, and with a bit more of an edge, but it was Tahno, sure enough. She never thought she'd be so happy to hear such cold sarcastic disdain in her whole life.

"Hey," she repeated, feeling lightheaded. She scooted her legs underneath her, then back out again. "Hey, I'm so glad you finally answered—I've been trying to get a hold of you for ages."

There was rustling on the other end, like he might be doing something while on the phone. She tried to imagine where he was. Did he go to practice today? her spastic mind wondered. Has he been back to school? Was he at the small kitchen table? Maybe the room she'd never seen?

"Really," he responded quietly. "I didn't get any messages from you over the weekend."

Korra's heart froze in her chest—then started pounding wildly, drumming against her ribcage. How the hell was she supposed to respond to that? It was true, after all. What do I say? In one giant breath, Korra rushed out, "I tried to call you Sunday night." Her fingers toyed with a loose thread hanging from her pillowcase. Every time she tried to yank the string off, she only pulled it out even further, making even worse of a mess. "Didn't you see?"

"I couldn't really answer," was his vague response, to which Korra felt herself growing irrationally annoyed. Despite the small seed of self-doubt currently spreading in Korra's mind—that this was a stupid idea—she refused to let him guilt her into feeling badly when she knew she'd done nothing wrong. And anyway, he must have been feeling—what? Like a total mess? Probably in ways that she wouldn't understand, but.

Didn't he feel... the least bit of something? Korra wondered. About hearing from her again?

In spite of her self-assurances to handle this phone call with dignity, and to not let her insecurities get in the way of intuition, Korra's resolve was quickly beginning to fade. The edge of her pillowcase was practically in shreds.

"Oh," she said. "Sorry, then."

Goddammit. Why was she apologizing? And if she was going to bother apologizing at all, why didn't she choose something more significant? Because you are useless when it comes to meaningful human interaction! she mentally spat. Knowing her, it would probably come off as insincere—or worse... trite.

"I was afraid of bothering you," she tried to add, then cringed. Why the hell didn't I just call him out on his silence, too? It's not like he called me, either! she defended hotly, feeling another wave of indignant rage wash over her. And why the hell isn't he saying anything?

"So," she cleared her throat, as gently as she could. Unable to take the tension, Korra leapt from her bed and began to pace the room. She dragged her slow, steady steps across the wooden floorboards, clinging to the phone and—Oh, god. Just say something already, please.

But Korra was already seeing the changes in him, clear as day. Why isn't he saying anything? Should I not have called him, after all? Am I just annoying him? Tahno was the kind of person who liked to hear himself talk—to anyone, didn't matter who—and, although she'd always made a fuss, she honestly sorta-kinda liked it, too. Korra would gladly take any of his condescending, arrogant jabs over this awkward silence. She was afraid to breathe too loudly. And then he sighed.

"How was practice?"

Korra paled. "Are you sure you really wanna ask me that?"

She could practically hear his shrug. "There's not much else to talk about and it's gonna come up, anyway," he scoffed. "Might as well get it over with."

She could see his point, but at the same time, she wasn't sure how she felt about being part of something he just had to get over with. "Things are... pretty tense," she admitted quietly.

His sigh whistled into the receiver. "Here, too," he revealed. "People want revenge."

Korra frowned. "Against whom?" Korra may have been unfamiliar with a lot, but she wasn't exactly naïve; still, trying to follow Tenzin's advice and pay heed to Asami's insight went against all of her natural instincts. Tahno just seemed so... apathetic, so unlike his usual behavior. He usually acted indifferent, but here... he just was. She couldn't tell if his silence meant that he was judging her for her trust and faith in her teammates, or if he was still angry with her, or if he just didn't care. She wasn't sure which was worse.

Oh, fuck it—

"Look. About the other night—I'm sorry. I should have just saved the messages for after the meet, or been more honest at the very beginning, at least—"

"It's fine," he said stiffly. "Wouldn't have changed much, anyway."

She felt many things all at once. Had she sounded presumptuous just now? She hadn't intended to imply that she thought she was connected to the mess made on Saturday, or any of his distress—but apparently, he thought she had? (And then she wondered, had she, though?) Had she influenced anything? And if his words were trying to reassure her, his tone was doing anything but.

"What's that beeping noise?" he asked suddenly. His voice cut straight into her frantic thoughts, jolting her upright.

"What?" she jumped, feeling her heart pound all over again. Korra pulled her head away to check the screen; an incoming call was signaling through. Mako. Oh, god.

"Did you just... Did you just say Mako?"

"What?" Korra breathed, snapping the phone back to her ear. "What? No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did," he argued, low and intense. "You just said his name—right now!"

—fuck!

"Ah, sorry," she hissed, slapping a clammy palm over her forehead. Shit! Shit! I didn't meant to say that out loud! "It's just that he—sorry, just. You know." What? Tell him what? That it's just team stuff? No—don't say that, you insensitive asshole! "Don't worry about it," she brushed it off, urging him to just forget she'd ever said anything so stupid. Korra waited, not quite sure what to hope for, but all too willing to put that unfortunate slip-up behind her. Except...

He still hadn't said anything.

"Hey," she said softly, as her stomach turned to lead. "Tahno?"

Nothing.

"Tahno?" she tried again, feeling fear crawl under her skin. A sigh, deep and heavy and tired, sounded from the receiver. Korra distracted herself by counting the seconds of his exhale, and then—

"Are you fucking kidding me," he muttered under his breath.

Her brows rose, then furrowed. "Excuse me?"

A scoff, broken and crisp, came from the other end of the line. Korra's head was still spinning. Should I be angry or worried or—?

"How long has he been trying to get a hold of you?" he asked, in an unnaturally level voice. What a weird fucking question, Korra's mind decided, even more confused than before. Do I answer it honestly? Is that genuine curiosity? Morbid curiosity? She couldn't fucking tell.

"Not long," she lied. But Korra still noticed his pause. "Tahno?"

"Let me guess," he demanded tightly, suddenly angry for reasons she could only imagine. "A while now?"

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

"I—I guess so," Korra's tongue tumbled out the words, shell-shocked. "But it's not like—"

"You know what?" he spat, voice gritty with disappointment and frustration, while Korra's brain exploded. "Save it. If you're gonna fucking lie about it, don't bother answering in the first place."

Korra's feet stomped across the trembling floor, her fingers squeezing tightly over the cheap plastic clutched in her sweaty palm. She could barely get the words out, she was sputtering so badly. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he threw back, voice rising.

Her jaw dropped. "What is your problem?" she demanded, feeling her own voice raise with the deafening beat of her heart.

"You know wanna know what my fucking problem is?" he spat, and Korra could feel shudders wrack all the way down her body, itching against her skin like slime. He'd never spoken to her this way before.

"Yes, I want to know what your fucking problem is," she challenged, outraged.

"Well, let me tell you," he continued, and the blows just kept raining down. "I'm fucking sick and tired of my life revolving around this asshole, wannabe Fire-kid; he comes up in conversation when you're eating my food, three nights ago you ignored my texts for hours in favor of spending the evening with him—after some fucking confusing as hell texts, by the way—and now he's calling you, repeatedly, and all I can hear is that goddamn buzzing noise in my fucking head!" His words cut through her like a knife, but he wasn't done. "So here, you know what?" Tahno spat. "I'll make it easier for you: when you can be reasonably certain that Mako won't somehow insert himself into anything to do with you and I, let me know. Until then, I don't want to fucking hear from you."

He might as well have slapped her in the face.

After a long moment, she licked her lips and managed, "I don't... I don't understand. Where is all of this..." But she couldn't finish. Where is all of this coming from?

"Look," he said quietly, in a voice that was tight and weary and very much not his own. "I'm sorry," he said, abruptly. She could hear the slight tremble in his voice, if she listened close enough. But she didn't want to. "I just... can't really deal with this right now."

Her walls slammed down. "Tahno," she blurted, feeling panic rise in her chest. "What the hell is going on? I mean, I already said I'm sorry about the other night and that I can explain—"

"New girl," he sighed. "Don't."

Devastation rocked her. "Why did you... What did I—?"

"Just leave me alone, all right?"

"But—"

Click.

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For a few long minutes, Korra could only stare down at her phone.

She dropped onto the bed. Shocked. Numb.

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"What... the fuck?"