Disclaimer: I do hereby disclaim all rights and responsibilities for the characters in this collection. Kudos to Bryke, indeed.
Word Count: 15,536
Author's Notes: 9/8/2013. Wow. I should really try to write full-length, in-depth That One Night chapters more often because all I end up doing is writing more Personal Record. (-_-) Seriously, in the time that it has taken me to write three more scenes to this last installment of the current TON arc, I've updated two chapters to PR. And after this chapter, there are only two chapters left! Next is 4.9, and then Personal Record ends with 5.0. Hoping to have this realistically finished before the submission deadline for the evenly_matched Tahnorra fic & art exchange!
Musical Inspiration: From a feminist standpoint, I'm not a huge fan of Taylor Swift—but damn, I listened to her music a lot while writing this. Most notably "Red" and the "Story of Us." (You gotta admit, she does high school break-up songs pretty damn well, yes.)
Beta'd by Rhi.
4.8
Well, she thought to herself. It was no more than three minutes later, and she was lingering at the kitchen sink, watching the morning fog lift through the window. She could hear Tenzin and Pema and the kids readying their things by the front door and knew that she should join them, but—at least for a little while longer—she wanted to simply listen. It was almost peaceful in the kitchen, save for the hushed sounds of talking drifting in from the other room, and a quiet morning energy hung in the air. Beyond the hallway there was laughter and frustration, mischief and exasperation, and love; her aunt and uncle were searching Jinora and Meelo's backpacks for Ikki's missing box of crayons. The sun was rising later and later these days, and the kitchen was filled with a soft, gray light that washed out the brightness of the pale yellow walls. She was dressed warmly—soft jeans, rough boots, a big brown jacket over the dark hoodie she wore—but the crispness of autumn still filled her lungs, even while inside.
Korra's coffee mug was already rinsed and drying in the rack; as a habit picked up from one too many relatives, she normally brewed herself some tea with breakfast, but today she hadn't had the patience to do much more than microwave the water hot. Thursday, she acknowledged, twitching her fingers over the edge of the sink. It was time to get going.
Korra passed by the kitchen table on her way to the front door, drifting an easy arm to take hold of the strap of her backpack as she went, and fluidly hoisted it over her shoulder as she joined the others in the foyer.
She doubted this Thursday would be anything like the last.
And she was okay with that.
Korra wouldn't say that things got easier, per se, but she did notice a change.
As the morning progressed, Korra found herself feeling more and more steady. For the past few days—for the past few weeks—she'd felt so unbalanced, like she'd been desperately clinging onto what was left of her old life—her identity, her certainty, her security, her self—only to feel it slipping further and further through her fingers. (Like she'd been holding tight with all the strength in her arms, feeling her fingers numb little by little; with each passing second, forgetting a little more of why it was so important to hold on in the first place.) Like a great tidal wave had thrown her to the side of her rocking, rolling ship—and she was crawling back to the mast, reaching for the sails, and if she could just—
And then it clicked.
And then she'd found herself chatting with Asami that Thursday morning in the Satomobile on their way to school. Mid-sentence, Korra had glanced down at the black hoodie she wore, borrowed from Asami Sato's impressive closet. The sleeves weren't as long as she usually liked, and the zipper running down her front was sure to get in the way, but it was warm and comfortable and, not that she'd advertise the fact, it felt nice to be able to borrow something from a friend. Korra launched right back into conversation, unfazed. She told her driver that she was looking for a new goal—I've made varsity. Now what?—to which Asami started listing off all sorts of suggestions, including talk of half-marathons in the spring and upcoming obstacle course races in a neighboring town. Korra liked the sound of those, especially. Jumping over hurdles of fire? Crawling under barbed wire through pits filled with mud? Um. Where the hell do I sign up?!
She also noticed that she was much more able to actually focus on her school work, even if she didn't necessarily like it any better than the day before. She'd spent a lot of time that morning giving serious consideration—as maturely and objectively as she was able—as to whether or not this typical high school gig was really what was going to be best for her. She'd had an awesome education when her mother was in charge of her schooling, and the breadth of opportunities she'd had at her disposal even in the Land of Fire were still mind-boggling—especially after seeing how few were available to many of her peers in such small-town life, though she tried not to dwell on that part too much. It wasn't as if Korra had any new information to mull over; she was just looking at things from a different perspective.
Perhaps she could finish out the year here and then go home? Korra found herself considering this question above all others, over and over again. It would be enough to appease her parents, she was sure, especially with Tenzin's recommendation. Or maybe she could starting trying to graduate from high school early... Could she do that? Did they offer summer courses in high school like they did in some colleges?
When she asked Tenzin about it later during her study hall period, he told her that, being enrolled in such a traditional high school setting as she was, it wasn't very likely. He also said that it would be more than possible—and very much encouraged—for her to start taking college courses before she'd even received a high school diploma. As much as Korra still hated the idea of attending more 'traditional' school settings, she really liked the sound of Tenzin's suggestion. She could finish up her year at this regular school with the Fire Foxes while starting up some intro-level college courses in the spring, and then go back to Ushuaia and wrap up her accredited high school degree by begging her mom to hit her with an advanced, faster-paced program. Although she'd always loved to learn, she'd never really cared much for actually getting through her schooling before, mostly on a matter of principle; however, now that so many new and refreshing possibilities were on the horizon, it was hard not to want to just get high school all done and over with and move onto her secondary education as soon as possible. She had a feeling she was going to really like college much more, anyway. More freedom, more control, more independence—she didn't understand why high schools like this even existed. All schools should have been as specialized and relevant as college-level study, but whatever. Just like she wasn't an expert on civil engineering and the architectural reasons for why a great big wall deserved to slice off the local arboretum from the rest of the forest surrounding it, she wasn't an expert on educational systems, either. Maybe one day she could change the whole world—and she could, Korra realized—but she still had a long way to go yet.
Korra reminded herself that one day, soon enough, she would be running a company all her own. (People would listen to her. People might still judge her for her age or inexperience, but it wouldn't matter; she'd prove them wrong. She'd earn their trust, and then she'd make them listen.)
With these thoughts in mind, Korra walked with the others—Asami, Bolin, and Mako—to lunch, grinning and laughing along the way, and felt the beginnings of true satisfaction root deeply in her chest.
"You know Homecoming is only three nights away, right?"
Korra hoped Mako didn't notice how badly she'd just jammed her fingers against the wall of her locker. Hiding her grimace as best she could with a soft, half-hearted chuckle, Korra righted the short row of books she'd just completely overturned, and swallowed hard. Mako stood just off to the side, behind the open door of her locker; the young and affectionate couple that had been standing on her other side had already walked away, but Mako hadn't bothered to move. Korra was grateful for the protective barrier it provided her now, however meager. His question had come from nowhere.
Mako and Korra had taken up the habit of walking together to class whenever possible, talking about all sorts of things, though more often than not their conversations inevitably veered back toward the topic of running. The two of them rarely talked to one another during practice, since he was still the captain and Korra liked to stick close to Asami and Bolin, but in a way, Korra kind of preferred it like that; it made their daily walks from class to class even more special. Or so she liked to think. She wouldn't know how he felt about it, not really, since she'd clammed up on the subject of their feelings ever since... Well.
He shifted awkwardly when she offered no response. "You, uh... you haven't changed your mind, have you?"
My... mind? Korra shook her head to clear it, but Mako mistook this for an answer. "Er... No. I haven't changed my mind. Well, that is—as in—I haven't not changed my mind," she quickly explained, stumbling over her words as she eyed the disappointment so clearly etched into his jaw. "I just haven't thought about it," she clarified, and then added, rather pointedly, "At all."
Mako frowned thoughtfully. His voice was hushed when he asked, "You're not still worried about hurting Bolin, are you?" Her loud scoff of laughter surprised him.
"Please," Korra huffed, trying not to roll her eyes. She stacked her SAT practice book into the row lining the bottom of her locker, her fingers careful not to ruffle the twenty or so little tongues of post-it notes and bookmarks wagging at her from its pages. "Bolin and I have talked about it. He was over me faster than you can throw a hot potato—or at least he will be, especially by the time the regular wrestling fangirls start parading in. We talked about it over the weekend." Korra paused, and glanced up at him curiously. "I thought he told you," she said. It wasn't really asked as a question, though Korra belatedly realized she'd meant it as one.
"He did," Mako replied immediately, though for some reason, Korra was left feeling unconvinced. Not that it was any of her business, or anything. "I was just... So you can come, then," Mako concluded, watching in earnest for her understanding. "You're free to go with whoever you want."
Oh, crap. Her and her stupid mouth and her stupid brain and not putting two and two together fast enough! She was normally such a quick thinker—why did the presence of any boy she liked suddenly short-circuit almost every solid line of critical thinking?
"I'm... not really sure I still want to go," Korra replied honestly, feeling a strange mix of apathy and disappointment, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. "I mean, it sounded like fun when I first heard about it... but with everything that's happened these last two weeks, my excitement has gotten sort of all muddled up, you know?" She glanced at his face, stoic and guarded, but didn't wait long to offer up her next excuse. "And besides, my Uncle Bumi is in town, and I know that I'll be able to see him all next weekend, but I'm really hoping that he'll take me out somewhere after the race on Saturday." Like a wrestling match. Or the shooting range.
Mako nodded slowly. "Yeah?" he remarked conversationally, his tone as falsely cheery as his smile. The sight sent Korra's stomach all wobbly. No wonder Mako always tried looking so stone-faced, especially around strangers; when it really came down to it, Mako really wasn't very good at holding anything back. At least... not the important stuff, apparently.
"Besides," Korra shut her locker, then twisted the lock. She tried to keep her expression neutral, and not to look at him at all. "I mean, I like dancing as much as the next grew-up-in-South-America teenager, I think, but I'm just not feeling very into it right now." It's the truth, Korra nodded to herself. Even if it's just. Not exactly the whole truth.
The whole truth included a whole number of things that Korra had decided not to think about.
"Oh." Mako couldn't seem to quite look her in the face either. "You know, I was actually hoping that I might be able to change your mind," he admitted, as one corner of his lips curved into a small, self-deprecating smile. One that made her insides melt. "But that makes sense, I guess."
Korra felt bad, thinking that she might have somehow got his hopes up... but not bad enough to reconsider her answer.
"Will you come with us to the game, at least?" Mako asked earnestly, stepping into position beside her.
Korra blinked. That's right, she remembered, adjusting her shoulder straps. The Homecoming Game... That's kind of what this whole week is about, isn't it?
"Yeah," Korra shrugged, feeling safe in offering him a small smile. "I can do that. I mean, I don't think Uncle Bumi would mind too badly if I made him wait an extra hour or two."
And besides.
It's not like she had anything else better to do on a Saturday afternoon, anyway.
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"It's all right about the dance, by the way," Mako said, no doubt hoping to reassure her as he dropped her off at class.
There it is, Korra thought as she looked up at him, through the blur of the hallway. This was much closer to the Mako she'd been looking for; a quick glance, a soft look, a winning smile. Tall, confident, handsome, if not a little reserved. The same no-nonsense attitude, but with a touch more expression. This was much closer to the face she first grew attached to, on the first day of the season. She'd been wondering where this Mako went.
She wondered when the butterflies would follow.
"Yeah?" she breathed, and didn't understand why her smile felt strained.
"Yeah," he shrugged, looking down at her with liquid, golden eyes. "I mean. There's always next time."
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It wasn't until Korra watched him walk away that she realized
that she was already thinking of her next excuse.
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Korra spent most of that next class period—Spanish, for goodness' sake, because I can't focus the entire day, thank you very much—looking around the room at the different colors that everyone wore. Class Color Day, Asami had said, and handed her the soft, black sweatshirt she now had on. Class Color Day, in which the students dressed in colors according to their respective grade; in which Mako, Asami, and Korra had all come to school in their Junior Black—though Mako cheated, just a little bit, because he was still wearing that same, damn scarf that he always wore—while poor Bolin was left with Sophomore Brown. She didn't know many people in Senior Red, and felt a strange, vague pang at knowing that she probably wasn't planning on sticking around long enough to be able to wear it next year. But she couldn't think like that.
Yeah, she liked it here, but if she was going to be smart about things and if she was going to do what was best for her future, then she needed to go where she was going to be able to do that. She needed to leave. And she wanted to.
She wanted to.
It was as she was walking down the hallway to her final class of the day that a noise sounded from the cell phone in her pocket. She'd been wondering if Mako was going to be disappointed when he realized that she'd already left without him. As a landslide of thoughts dispelled at the tiny ring of a once-familiar sound, as brows furrowed above narrowed eyes, Korra pulled out her phone, and read her newest text message.
Hey, was all it said.
To: T
What do you want?
Sent: Thursday, Oct 18 1:02pm
From: T
Can we talk?
Received: Thursday, Oct 18 1:02pm
Korra stared down at the cell phone's screen, feeling the stiffness of her seat dig uncomfortably into her spine. Her thumb hovered over the keys, frozen with indecision. What if it's about the race? she wondered, feeling nervous curiosity burn away at her insides. She'd only just sat down, but class was scheduled to start any second, and she'd yet to remove her books or her notes from her backpack, which laid crumpled against one of the legs of her desk. What if they've made any progress with the investigation? she speculated.What if they brought him in for more questioning, like they did with Mako?
What if he's been told something about what's gonna happen to him?
She almost gave in. She almost let those nagging worries rationalize an excuse to answer him. But then she remembered Tenzin's promise to keep her in the loop—you'll be the first—and the calendar hanging on their fridge at home, the red circle of ink signaling another board meeting scheduled for that very night. And as much as Korra wanted to believe that the whole nightmare was coming to a close, that Tahno might have been told something definitive about the outcome of this mess, Tenzin's harried behavior and troubled eyes always made it seem like there was still so much more about the case for them to discuss...
Maybe he's just getting really anxious? she considered, squinting into the screen, torn. She felt awfully short of breath for someone who was only sitting down, and her mouth felt cotton-dry; Korra gave her head a fierce shake, rattling the irritating thoughts from her brain, and reread the message once more. Maybe he just needs to vent, since it's all coming to a head? Since it's almost over?
Korra's thumb hovered over reply, but hesitated.
And then her teacher entered the classroom in a great big hurry, startling Korra into reality, and she needed to make sure she was prepared to answer any of his questions when he called on her this time—as he was often apt to do—and she had to start thinking about taking her SATs more seriously and pick out which college courses were going to help her move forward the fastest, and she had another race in only a few days, which she was actually starting to really look forward to, and she just didn't have time to think about him or his pain or the way his words were still etched in blood-red ink into the cracks in her heart.
She closed the phone with a snap, and buried it in her pocket.
But the afternoon plowed on, and it didn't stop there.
Look, I know you're in class, but I really gotta talk to you. Can you talk after practice?
I know things weren't really okay the last time we talked, and I sorta said not to call me, but I just really need to talk to you.
Just text me when you get this, okay?
Hello?
Damn, Tahno, she finally texted back, punching the keys with her fingers in the open cave of her gym locker. Asami peered curiously at her from the side as she slipped on a sneaker, but Korra merely gave her a quick shake of the head, a small and reluctant promise to explain on the car ride home. I'm about to head to practice, she typed. I can't talk right now.
From: T
Later then?
Received: Thursday, Oct 18 2:27pm
Korra stared blankly down at the cell phone, flabbergasted by the sheer magnitude of his gall. She disentangled her fingers from a knot of shoelaces and dropped her sneakers to the floor with a careless thud, paying no mind to the wary look Asami gave her as she passed on by. Asami motioned to Korra that she was heading into the wrestling room to meet the rest of the team, but by the time Korra managed to wave back, Asami was already gone. Scowling, she reached into her locker and snatched her cell phone from its depths, scraping her knuckles along the metal edge.
To: T
Tahno, look.I get it. I acted a little crazy on Friday and said something confusing things and made you angry. I'm sorry. I already said so, but I'll say it again. I made you angry and I'm sorry. You were still angry when I called you Tuesday, and you ended up saying some really nasty things. And you know what? It's okay. It's not okay that you talked to me that way—and NEVER, in your life, should you ever think that you can talk to me that way again without getting a black eye—but I'm okay now. I think I get why you were angry enough to say those things, and I forgive you. Especially since I'm guessing "Hey" was your idea of an apology. So there you go. Forgiven. I'm sorry for what happened to you and what you're going through and I get why you said what you said. But I still have practice and I still don't want to talk to you.
Sent: Thursday, Oct 18 2:31pm
From: T
Wait. You get what happened TO me? What do you mean?
Received: Thursday, Oct 18 2:31pm
What the hell? Korra rolled her eyes. What did he think she meant? Out of all the things she'd written, that's what he'd picked up on?
Whatever. Any more of this and she was definitely going to be late for practice again. She doubted that Tenzin was going to be as forgiving about a second time this week, especially given all of her other strikes. Damn, already late, she glanced at the clock and frowned, slamming her locker shut.
This afternoon, her phone was going to stay off. She'd already decided; Korra had goals she wanted to accomplish, and she wasn't going to let any distractions get in her way. She had aspirations, and boys, she'd found, were bad for business.
Walking out to join the rest of her team, with her cell phone turned off completely in the dark abyss of her duffel bag, turned out to be much less difficult than expected.
Practice came and went, far too quickly for Korra's liking.
With her heavy bags slung over her aching shoulders, she slapped away the sweaty bangs that kept falling into her eyes. Asami had offered her a headband and she'd said no, afraid that she'd lose it as quickly as her latest elastic, but now she wished she'd taken her up on one. I wonder if she has any in blue...
On the lookout for where her team captain had run off to, Korra walked along the wire fence that ran the perimeter of the track. Most of her teammates were already gone and Tenzin was still in the middle of a phone call from who she could only assume was Pema, if his frantic tone was anything to go by. (Never panicked—no, not Tenzin—just quietly, undeniably alert.)It was as Korra caught sight of a certain pair of brothers rearranging equipment in the toolshed—and covertly hiding herself behind the bleachers—that Tenzin rushed over and quickly explained that he had to run an errand before heading home to prepare for the board meeting.
"Jeez," Korra huffed irritably, sipping loudly from her water bottle. "What are you guys even doing at all these meetings anymore? Happy hour?"
Tenzin was not amused by her joke. Not that it was a particularly funny one, Korra had to admit, but—yikes, he's even more tense than usual. In addition to the stress of the meeting, Tenzin had plenty at home to worry over too, which—as Korra quickly learned—also had to do with a particular errand.
"Spicy pickled chicken's feet?" Korra gaped, astonished. "That's what she's craving?" She was at a cross between being a little weirded out and wondering if Tenzin would bring home an extra so she could try some. It certainly wouldn't have been the most interesting thing she'd ever eaten. Probably wouldn't even make Top Ten.
"They sell them ready-to-eat in one of our neighboring towns, but the shop closes at six," he explained, stiff and calculating and very serious for someone who was talking about buying a chicken's foot. But then again, it's Tenzin. She twisted the cap back onto her bottle, guiltily.
"Isn't your meeting at seven?"
"Yes, and dinner is at five, so you see my dilemma," he added hastily—and rather pointedly, in Korra's opinion. "I'm sorry to rush you, but we really need to be going."
"It's all right," Korra quickly assured him, feeling even guiltier for giving him more stress, and especially unnecessarily so."Asami said she could still drive me home." Especially since Bolin bailed—again—on stretching tonight so he can help Beifong. Ugh.
He would never say as much, but this seemed to be just what he'd been hoping for; Tenzin looked ready to all but fly to his car, but he was Uncle Tenzin, so of course he had to ask. "You're sure?" he all but demanded.
"Seriously," Korra insisted, eyeing his car in the parking lot. "Asami's got me covered. Go rush off and save the day, or whatever."
"I'll be thirty minutes out of town," he warned seriously. "They don't sell these this side of the interstate."
"Then all the better for you to leave now and return home early. You have a pregnant lady with cravings—go!"
He didn't look all that happy about it, but after a quick goodbye, Tenzin gave a stiff nod and strode off toward his car. Yikes, she thought, watching him drive 's dinner was going to be an adventure. Korra had a feeling.
With a quick reconnaissance glance to the tool-shed—good, Mako and Bolin are still busy putting away the sandbags—Korra rushed over to where Asami was finally packing up her belongings. Halfway through shouting her name, Korra halted. Whoops. Looks like Asami's got a phone call, too.
And, upon getting a closer look, Asami appeared just as stricken as Tenzin had looked when he'd received Pema's. Korra waited a minute or two as Asami finished her hushed conversation, feeling anxious. Um, I don't mean to rush you, Asami... She glanced to the tool-shed. But I'm ready to leave... now...
An exhausted sigh distracted her from her nervous thoughts. Korra glanced toward Asami, intrigued. "You okay?"
"Ugh," Asami groaned. Korra blinked, surprised. Asami was not usually prone to one-syllable grunts as a form of response.
"So... no?"
"I got a call from my dad," she sighed, bluntly stamping cell phone into her palm. "For some godawful reason he decided that today would be the perfect day to invite a few colleagues over to talk business."
"Isn't... isn't that what businessmen usually do?"
Asami huffed scornfully. There wasn't much pride in her voice when she said, "My dad's not really your average businessman."
"Isn't your dad on the board?"
Asami's face fell. "Supposedly," she muttered, but didn't say anything more. Korra only grew more worried.
She waited, but Asami was still lost in thought. "So... what does this mean?"
Suddenly, realization dawned on her. "Oh!" Asami hissed, guilt clear as day on her face. "Korra—I was supposed to give you a ride! Oh my god—I'm so sorry. My dad—he's totally useless in the kitchen, and he desperately needs my help. And he's only given us three hours! Mom was always the cook in the family and he never bothered to learn, even after they got divorced. I'd make him order catering, but..."
Korra didn't really know what to say. She only really half-understood most of what Asami was saying, but one thing, at least, seemed painfully clear. "Oh," Korra breathed, nodding a little. "Yeah, I mean—no problem. I can call Tenzin back and ask for a ride."
Asami looked ready to implode with chagrin. "Oh my god, Korra. I'm so sorry," Asami apologized. "Oh, but—maybe if I take the back roads instead of the highway, I can avoid the traffic and—"
"Asami, don't worry about it," Korra insisted, feeling bad. She didn't want Asami to think that she was treating her as a chauffeur or something. I've already done more than enough to stir up her week as it is, anyway. "I'll just call Tenzin back."
"Are you sure?"
Like Tenzin, Asami didn't seem entirely convinced... but also jumping at the opportunity to go. It didn't escape Korra's notice that Asami had chosen not to give her any clarification on that off comment about her dad.
"Yeah, no, it's fine," Korra fibbed. "It's not like he could have gotten far."
"Well... All right," Asami sighed, standing to go. "But only if you're sure! And only if you promise not to run home! We had a hard workout today. Save your energy for the meet on Saturday."
"All right."
"And text me when you get home," Asami called, reaching her car in one of the nearby parking spots. She closed the car door behind her, twisted the engine to life, and hastily rolled down her window. "And text me if anything happens, okay?"
"Okay, okay," Korra waved, watching her go.
Asami smiled at her, and left.
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Korra's heart pounded, too loudly for her liking, as she watched her cell phone flicker to life. She looked pointedly at the ground as she blindly jabbed at the screen, dismissing any new message notifications before she'd had the chance to see if there even were any. Functioning purely on muscle memory alone, Korra punched in her uncle's number. Only when she thought she'd made it to the messaging center did she look down at the screen.
To: Uncle T
Hey! Where are you?
Received: Thursday, Oct 18 4:02pm
From: Uncle T
On the highway. Is everything all right?
Received: Thursday, Oct 18 4:03pm
Shit, she thought, feeling her stomach clench. Now how am I going to get home?
Korra hastily texted him back, reassuring him that she was just checking that he was making good time, then shut off her cellphone with a had to be a bus route around here somewhere, right? Oh, wait. This town was so small, the only buses these people ran were probably giant and yellow with built-in stop signs. She could always run home, worst case scenario, but she had all of her stuff to carry... and she'd promised Asami not to. Korra scowled. Maybe I can just walk most of the way, and call Tenzin when he gets closer to home... whenever that might be. He won't be happy, but...
She made it two steps toward the parking lot before someone ran up beside her. A familiar presence, tall, and out of breath.
Korra froze.
"Hey," Mako greeted, a little stiffly. "Where'd Asami go?"
The words almost got lost in her throat. She still wasn't entirely sure what had happened before last period. Or what to say about not waiting for him after class. Until this afternoon, Korra had felt the two of them come to a sort of understanding over the last few days, a comfortable emotional plateau that neither of them were quite willing to breach—or even discuss. It wasn't the most certain of co-existences, but it was a comfortable one, and it was the only one she'd felt she could really handle at the moment, given how the rest of her week had been going. She'd never considered Mako to be the most perceptive of the bunch, but even he seemed to have sensed this; after that talk of theirs in the library, after his break-up, Mako had not mentioned the specifics of their Monday morning—or his confession—again. And even while flustered, even while toying with the idea of being with him, in her mind, she'd found herself feeling more and more comfortable in his presence.
Just. Not in his exclusive presence.
And just. Not today.
Not right now.
"She had to run home," she said quickly, shrugging against the heavy weight of her backpack and duffel bag. "Y'know. Dad stuff."
He nodded, expression shifting minutely. It was a weird feeling, knowing that however close she felt to Asami, and however close she wanted to be to Mako, he and Asami still shared so many more memories together than Korra had with either of them. "Ah," was all he said, eyes lit with understanding.
"Where's Bolin?" she rushed out, as hopeful eyes scoured the empty field. Only a few teammates lingered in the parking lot, but they were already loading themselves into their cars. They caught sight of Korra's gaze and waved, then closed the car windows against the afternoon winds; Korra and Mako waved back, weakly.
"He had to go help out some more with the rest of the wrestling team," Mako explained, nodding to the side. Sure enough, way off in the distance, Bolin was in the far-away parking lot adjacent to the school, walking and talking with another student as they entered the building through the big, rusty door of the weight room. "Beifong always shortens her leash during this time of the year."
Korra could barely hear him. "Why didn't he say goodbye?" she demanded, feeling silly, even as she hardened her expression. Mako blinked.
"I dunno," he shrugged, equal parts befuddled confusion and familiar defensiveness. "We thought you'd already left with Asami."
Oh. That made sense. Korra unclenched her jaw, wondering when she'd clenched it in the first place, and nodded, forcing her expression to relax. Wanting to focus less attention on her face, and on Mako's face—and how close her face was to Mako's face—she jerked her thumbs behind the straps of her backpack, flexing her fingers and rocking back on her heels, feeling super awkward. Finally unable to take it any longer, Korra offered him a tight smile and a forceful nod, attempts at a controlled expression be damned, and then pivoted on her heels. "Well. See you," she said, walking off.
Ugh. Real smooth, Korra, she scowled. Real. Smooth.
"Wait!" he called, reasonably confused, sending an ice pick through her brain. She waited, but he didn't continue, not until she turned back around to face him. Confusion marred his handsome—serious—face. "You don't want a ride?" he asked, pragmatically, in a practical tone, like a practical person would. Because Mako, for all his hotheadedness, was a practical person.
Korra, not so much.
A ride?—her heart stuttered. Alone?
"Um," Korra paused, feeling her mouth twist with too many words. "No, that's okay. I was just gonna walk."
"All the way to Temple Street?" he asked, reasonably bewildered.
Crap, Korra hissed. He's right. If I were running, and if I didn't have any of my stuff, I'd get there in no time... But it's gonna be dark soon, and I only have Asami's hoodie and my jacket and it is pretty cold—not to mention I just left practice, so I'm covered in sweat—
"Okay," Korra replied uneasily. "So, maybe not."
His face softened, and she could tell that he was trying not to notice the awkwardness either. At least he looked a little amused. "I don't mind," he offered, trying to placate her with an easy smile.
"Thanks," she muttered, feeling something cold crash into the pit of her stomach.
Korra followed him, but she couldn't smile back.
Just when Korra didn't think things could get any more awkward, she went ahead and got into Mako's car, and life proved her wrong. It was almost impossible to sit in the passenger seat and not think about what had happened in that very spot almost a week before. A nighttime country skyline. The warm rush of heat from the dashboard. It had all felt so right, even though Korra knew that the timing was all wrong.
So what was wrong with her now? Asami and Mako were no longer together, and were still on friendly terms. She and Bolin were closer than ever, with very little chance of prolonged heartbreak on either end. She finally found a true friend in Asami Sato, a kindred spirit that she could rely on. She had a strong group of supportive, funny, and caring friends—something she had only ever dreamed of—who would tease her and scold her and listen to her. She was feeling more confident about school and making plans for her future. She was surrounded by family—of all kinds. Things were going good for her.
So why do I feel like I should be somewhere else?
She was still trying to figure out the answer halfway through the ride. Mako didn't seem to mind the silence so much, which was good for Korra, because it gave her plenty of time to think. The radio wasn't even playing.
It took her a moment to realize that he'd finally said something.
"Sorry, what?"
He didn't seem all that bothered by having to repeat himself, or that surprised. "I asked if you were excited. For the pep rally tomorrow night and the Homecoming game," he clarified. "It's against the Bau Ling Wasps, so it should be a good match."
Korra tried to recall where she'd heard the name before. "The Wasps... That was the team we shared our pavilion with at the meet last Saturday, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, they're all right," Mako said agreeably. He kept glancing toward his rear-view mirror, giving Korra the chance to sneak quick glances at him without his notice. She was feeling very confused at the moment—arguably more confused than she'd ever had reason to feel before—what with all these choices and all these people and all these feelings. It was just one source of conflict after another. (Did she feel the same way about Mako now, in this car on this afternoon, that she'd felt about him a month ago? A week ago?
She didn't know.)
But she had to admit... She still liked watching the way Mako's hands held steady over the steering wheel, the way he double-checked each glance to his mirrors, just to be sure. She liked the sight of him, the harsh line of his jaw contrasted against the fogged-up window, the broad shoulders settled into the seat next to hers. She liked the warmth.
"Korra?"
"Uh—sorry," she started. Korra tried not to blush. "What?"
"I asked if Coach Tenzin had another board meeting tonight."
Korra frowned. Just for a little while, I'd like to be able to think about something else... "Yeah," she sighed. "Though we're hoping tonight might be the last. It's been really hard on Tenzin—between teaching and practices and Pema, being pregnant and all." Not to mention the little devils already out of the womb. And me, of course. She was probably just as much of a stressor as all three of the kids. Combined.
"Y'know, I gotta say. It doesn't sit right with me, knowing that the sentencing might be handed out during Homecoming weekend," he scoffed. "The Wolverines are already up to something."
Korra took a moment to let those words sink in, just to make sure she'd heard him correctly, then she turned toward him, very slowly. "Sentencing?" she echoed.
"Yeah. Or, you know—the part where they actually tell us what the hell is going on, and when we figure out our chances for the competition at States," he said, far too nonchalantly for her liking. "The resolution. It just sucks that it's looking like it's all gonna come out right in the middle of all the heavy school rivalry. As if we didn't already have enough reasons to be on high alert."
His words settled strangely over her skin. "What do you mean?"
"I mean—well, Tahno's a goner, for sure," Mako began, conversationally, as Korra's spine tingled, like a trail of ice dripping down her back. "And we'll be left to deal with the rest of the uppity Wolverine crew, but we can handle them. The thing that I want to know more about, though, is the Northside brothers. Word on the street is that they're are also being investigated, though I don't get—"
"Street?" Korra demanded. "What street?"
"Uh," Mako faltered. "No, not literally. It's just an expression. You know? Like, it's a rumor. They're saying that—"
"Who is saying?"
"I don't know," Mako replied shortly, a tad impatiently. "People at school."
"Our teammates?"
"Some of them," he said, tone slightly defensive, which surprised her. "And I believe it, even if I don't get why they'd be involved in any of this. They are pretty sketchy, but it's a clear-cut issue. This is obviously an issue between the Fire Foxes and the Wolverines."
Korra frowned, but was unsure exactly what it was that seemed so wrong. Um. Everything?
"You don't think there might be anything else going on?" she asked, cautiously.
Mako frowned, too. "Maybe," he hedged, though Korra had the feeling that he was only saying that to humor her, which annoyed her. "But not this time," he added decisively, voice grim and firm.
Korra leaned forward, watching him closely. "Why not?" she asked. She wanted to know.
Mako glanced at her, expression uneasy and a little annoyed. Good, she thought, for no good reason at all. She was annoyed, and she felt that it was only appropriate that he be annoyed, too. I don't care if that makes sense or not. He's acting like a total—
"You didn't hear what happened before the race last Saturday," Mako's expression hardened, and Korra felt herself backing away into her seat. In the span of single second, Mako had gone cold and stern, the kind of cold heat from a fire burning too hot. Caught off guard by the intensity in his voice, Korra licked her lips, desperately trying to keep her curiosity at bay.
"What happened?" she breathed, and wondered where her voice went.
He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. Korra tried to wait patiently, but she was brimming with nerves. He took a deep breath.
"Right after your race finished, we started over to the warm-up line to get ready," he began slowly, his voice a low, steady rhythm in the quiet of the car. Korra only barely managed to keep still. "Just like the start to any race, we went for a quick lap around the grounds to get our muscles ready for some stretching. We occasionally run into another team or two, but we mostly keep to ourselves to narrow our focus. Especially at a race like this one."
Korra waited, but Mako paused. "And?" she prompted, leaning closer.
Mako side-glanced her nervously, and Korra belatedly realized that she'd almost completely intruded on his space. Oops, she thought with chagrin. Not what she should be doing to her driver. Not what she should be doing to Mako. "Sorry," she muttered quickly, then leaned back in her seat, and urged for him to continue with her eyes.
Eyes back on the road, he heaved another sigh. "It's not even... I shouldn't have been as bothered as I was," Mako admitted, though Korra privately thought that it would have been a whole lot easier to understand him if he would just get on with the story. "One minute we were running, the next we were at the starting line. Once the guys were settled into the routine, I... I tried to take Bolin aside to talk to him." Mako glanced at her, then back to his driving, leaving Korra with a fresh wave of awkwardness. "Bolin and I didn't go very far—we were still in sight of the others—but no one was really watching us. That's when Tahno and his gang showed up."
Korra's stomach twisted, and blood drummed through her ears. It grew increasingly difficult to hear what Mako was telling her, and she had to lean closer to hear over the sound of her heartbeat pounding in her chest.
"I don't even remember much of what was actually said at the beginning. Tahno made some jab, like the usual dick he is, but I didn't have time for it. I had to talk to Bolin—to make sure that he was okay, for the race. I didn't really pay him any mind. I don't even think I answered. But that wasn't enough for him, obviously, or the two cronies who always follow him around. He made another comment—and then another. I—my patience isn't exactly the strongest," he said suddenly, chancing a quick, nervous glance to his audience. "I mean, I really try. But I... I just can't with him."
As the moments passed, Korra got the distinct impression that he was waiting for a reaction. For judgment. For affirmation? Korra wasn't really sure that she had any of that to give, not at the moment, but she licked her lips and quietly said, "Okay."
Quiet relief sagged gently into his shoulders, until he took another deep breath and carried on. "I don't even remember what I said. Probably something about telling him to screw off, or something. I don't know. I wasn't in the mood to deal with him, what with—what with everything else I had going on, and with Bolin being messed up in the head, and the race about to start—but I didn't want anything I said to come down on us later either, and—and you know what that fucker said?" Mako scoffed, and a sudden palm being slammed down onto the steering wheel shocked Korra from her attentive listening.
"I don't even know where it came from," he went on, voice rising just slightly in volume, but tenfold in intensity. "And the way he said it—it sounded like he wasn't talking about the race at all."
Korra's lips were suddenly very, very dry. It took her a moment, but finally, she found the courage to whisper, "What did he say?"
"He said—ugh, it makes me so fucking angry just thinking about it. He said—he said, 'You think you earned what you've got?'" Mako swallowed, as if the words were actual rocks in his mouth, jagged and heavy and clogging his throat. Like he wasn't sure whether to swallow them down or spit them out. "And then I said something, and he said something stupid back, and then he said, 'I get what I want, Fire Ferret. Always. And hell if you think you're gonna take this from me'."
For a moment, Korra couldn't breathe. Couldn't even think. The words floated around her, distant and removed, as the cold rush of ice that had been forming in her gut—the something that felt an awful lot like realization—finally crawled its way up her spine and punctured her lungs.
She had a feeling she knew exactly what Tahno had been talking about.
"God," Mako snapped, hitting the steering wheel again, as ice spilled into her veins. Korra had to place a hand over her stomach, just to make sure that she didn't unravel. "I don't know what the fuck his problem is. It's like—it's like he was accusing me of everything that's ever gone wrong with his life, like it's my fault that he's such an asshole now. Like he'd somehow summed up our entire existence into those few fucking jabs, all of the shit that we've been through, and he wanted to rub my face in it, and then... Korra. It was Tahno who spiked me on the course. I've never been so fucking sure of anything in my entire life."
Korra was speechless. One hand on her stomach, the other clenched into the seat below her. Her head hung forward, and her unfocused gaze lay somewhere to the floor.
"That's how I know that the Northside Brothers aren't in on this. Yeah, they're weird as hell and—oh, by the way, they eventually showed up, too—the nasty creeps. And that Noatok guy is a real douche, almost as bad as Tahno, and I don't know what the hell would have happened had we not been called to the starting line. That Tarrlok kid didn't do much, 'cept for just stand there and let his older brother do all the damn trash-talking. After a certain point, I didn't even have a chance to get a word in, the two of them were going at it so bad—Noatok and the Wolverine scum. I thought one of them was going to end up punching the other, and all I could think about was getting Bolin back to the start-up line. And maybe that I couldn't decide who I wanted to see punched in the face more," he scoffed. "I never thought I'd meet someone else who hates Tahno as much as I do."
Korra's head drifted to the window, her hand still laid gently over her rolling stomach. She was having trouble breathing.
"Korra?" came Mako's voice, so much gentler than before. It was as if he suddenly remembered just who it was that he was talking to. "Korra, you okay?"
She wasn't, but she couldn't tell him that. Couldn't tell him why. Feeling the cold glass against her temple, Korra found her nerve. She licked her lips and whispered, very softly, "I don't think he did it."
A beat passed, but that was to be expected. It was tense, in the tiny space of this car, but Korra only recognized it in the way that she recognized that her chest was rising and falling with shallow, uneasy breaths. Or that she was cold.
Very carefully, he asked, "You don't think who did what?"
Something sharp and thick stabbed into her chest, and Korra actually released a breath at the pain. She glanced quickly to the ceiling, to the roof of the car, then back down to dashboard, old and worn and soaked with gray. She braced herself.
"Tahno," she said, focusing on the sounds, and not the name. Then, a little louder, "He didn't do it."
It was two full breaths before Mako's disbelieving scoff washed over her, and she knew that he didn't know what to say. And that was okay, because she had no fucking clue what else to say either.
"Yeah?" he scoffed again, a hand reaching up to rake itself through his thick hair. In frustration, in confusion—she didn't know. Probably both, and more. "You have a theory on that?"
He sounded accusing and angry and maybe even a little disappointed, though she didn't think she was supposed to know about that last one. And she got it, she really did. What reason did she have not to trust Mako's judgment? And she did believe what he told her, at least about what happened before the race, though she didn't know how to feel about it. (Though she probably knew more about the meaning behind his words than Mako did.) And yet here she was, completely disregarding his credibility—and for what? Her intuition? Her blind faith? (Her desperation?) What evidence did she have to support her claim, other than a few (secret) afternoons in a park and a (reluctant) dinner over a bowl of cheap noodles?
None.
She had none.
"I think there's more to these Northside Brothers than what everybody says," Korra tried again, listing her head in his direction, but not yet daring to look up from the dashboard. Her head was still too messy, her thoughts still too raw. "There's too much about them that doesn't add up. Asami's dad—"
Wait.
Korra sat up straighter in her seat, a spike of adrenaline flushing out the coolness around her heart. Her gaze snapped to attention, watching the world pass by through the window. According to the trees flashing by, she was almost home.
"What?" Mako asked, still stiff. If he was concerned by her sudden change of behavior, he was getting better at hiding it. The slightest trace of impatience was still present, but Korra couldn't care less.
"Isn't Asami's dad on the board?" she asked seriously, turning to finally face him. Mako frowned in response.
"Yeah," he answered, bewildered. "So?"
So why is Asami at home helping him to cook a dinner for his business associates when he should be at the meeting? "Is he not partaking in the investigation anymore?"
"I don't know. Asami hasn't mentioned anything," he told her, sounding much less interested in the conversation now.
"See, this is what I'm talking about!" Korra exclaimed, accidentally catching her fingers against the dashboard as her arm latched out. "Ow—but really, don't you think that's the slightest bit weird? I mean, it was one thing when I found out that Yakone is on the board—"
"Yakone? As in—"
"Yes, ugh. I can't believe I have to sit through biology with him again tomorrow. I've been dreading it all week."
"Yakone is on the board? Yakone. The same guy who may or may not be related to the Amon brothers?"
"Unfortunately," Korra muttered, slinking downward into her seat. "God, what a mess."
"No kidding," Mako agreed, sounding slightly stunned. At least that got through to him, Korra sighed. And just in time—Mako flipped the turn signal and carefully pulled onto Temple Street. "At this rate, Homecoming is going to be nothing but one giant shit-show this year. Between the end to this investigation and the Wolverines plotting their revenge, who knows what the fuck's gonna happen?"
Korra's head tilted in his direction, but she didn't bother to respond. There was a lot going through her mind, and she was grateful that she had the rest of the afternoon to sort through it all. She really was lucky that Mako had cornered her after practice, after all, otherwise who knew where she would have ended up by now without a ride. I would probably still be walking down Main Street, she groaned inwardly, feeling ridiculous. What was the big deal about getting a ride again? She turned to thank him again for the help, feeling chagrined, when she realized that he'd already stopped the car.
Under the willow tree.
"Look," Mako sighed, staring at the steering wheel. "Can we not talk about this anymore?"
Uh, sure, she thought, brows furrowing. Even though you're the one who brought it up in the first place.
"Okay," she replied slowly. "Is there something else you want to talk about?"
Mako's jaw tightened. She watches his throat at work as he swallowed.
Hard.
Oh, god. Korra's stomach dropped, watching as a faint blush spread across his cheeks. Oh god, there is.
"I... I didn't really want to bring this up—at least, not right now—but I don't think I can really hold it in anymore."
Oh, god. Not again.
She opened her mouth to speak—
"I've been trying to be patient—to not say anything or make a move because my break-up with Asami is still so fresh in everyone's mind and I—I didn't want to make you feel any more uncomfortable than I already had, but I hate the way it felt this afternoon, when I went to look for you and you weren't there. And even though we've been seeing each other every day, I get the feeling—I still feel like—like you're almost avoiding me now. I hate how things are completely different between us now, since Asami and I broke up. Sure, we're fine when we're in a big enough group, but this... this is the first time we've been alone with one another since that day that I found you in the library."
Oh, god. Oh god, oh god.
Mako waited for her to say something, but all she could do was simply sit in her seat and stare straight ahead, trying to breathe. She knew this was a bad idea. She knew this was a bad idea.
"Korra... what I'm trying to say is—"
"Mako, stop," she said suddenly, surprising even herself. Hastily, she rushed out, "I just... I can't really handle the idea of a relationship right now, okay? There's a lot going on."
He looked stunned. Stunned, but not deterred. "Korra, I don't need a relationship either, all right?" he told her, almost like a plea. "I just—I really like being around you. You infuriate me and you think I'm stubborn and stiff and I think you're crazy, but—it's easy being around you, okay?"
Not for the first time that afternoon, something about his words unsettled her.
"Is that it?" Korra asked, unsure as to where this dissatisfaction was coming from. "Is that why you think you like me so much?"
"Why I think I like you?"
"Because it's easy?"
Mako blanched. "Well—you, yourself, are not an easy person to be around, but yeah—it's easy to be around you. No. That's not what I mean. It's not easy to like you, but it's not hard. I mean. We fit together easily. Er—sorry, that's not—what I mean is—"
"It's because I'm so new," she announced, and as soon as the words left her mouth, she believed them. "It's because I'm new and foreign and bit of an enigma you want to figure out. Like a new goal to reach." Like a new toy to protect. "Aren't I?"
"What the—god, no! That's not what I fucking said at all! And you like me, too!" Mako's uneven breathing seeped into the stale, warm air of the car. "I mean. You do like me, right? You... you still like me?"
Mako, I... I—
"I actually think I might like somebody else."
She swallowed down, as if she were trying to swallow the very words down themselves. God! Why did you saythat!
"You... what?"
"I said... I think I might actually be into someone else."
Mako hesitated. He scoffed—disbelief and confusion. Korra swallowed again, but it did her little good. No, she thought. This is necessary. This is the right thing to do. This is honest.
It was also poorly-timed, blunt, and probably insensitive.
But that was Korra.
"You think you might..." He nodded, stiffly and sternly. "Is it Bolin?" He scoffed again, this time more derisively. "After everything?"
Korra frowned at his tone. "I've told Bolin nothing but the truth about how I feel about him," she announced, somewhat coolly. "Bolin and I are friends."
"So who is it, then?"
Korra gaped at him. "Mako, I get that you're upset—"
"How could you know anything about how upset I am?" he demanded fiercely, voice quiet with frustration and confusion. "I thought—I thought that we... I had it in my head—this whole time..."
A sickening feeling twisted Korra's gut. "I don't really know what to tell you," she said softly, her guilt far outweighing her awkwardness. "I was so into you for so long, but you were always with Asami. And then—"
"But I'm not with Asami anymore," he reminded her, uselessly. "That's the whole damn point."
"Yeah, and what if I didn't want to wait around for some guy to get tired of his current girlfriend and come skipping over to me?" Korra demanded, feeling annoyance and resentment rise in her throat. What if I don't have any proof that the same thing won't just happen to me? she wondered, feeling a new stab of fear pierce her battered chest. "What if I didn't want to just be an alternative?"
Mako's eyes widened, aghast. "You were never an alternative!"
"Technically, I'm still not an anything of yours," she spat.
"You're the one who said you don't want a relationship!" he practically snarled. "What I didn't realize was that you just didn't mean it with me."
"I don't want it with anyone!" Korra snapped, feeling the truth of the words more strongly than ever.
"Except for this guy that you suddenly like."
"It isn't suddenly, Mako," she spat, crossing her arms and staring stubbornly out the window.
"So you've actually been pursuing this guy?" Mako demanded. "While still letting me believe that you liked me, too?"
He was getting it all wrong.
"I haven't been pursuing anything! And you know what—I didn't fucking realize that I liked him until just before you tried to make a move on me while you still had a girlfriend!" Fuck! "And goddammit—I don't even know if I actually still fucking like him or not!" Korra's voice rose, both in volume and in pitch. "Especially since it's turning out that all high school boys are nothing more than lying, finicky, won't-say-anything-straight-to-your-face cowards!"
"Look who's talking!" Mako's shouted. "You can't even give me a straight answer about this guy, yourself!"
"That's different!"
"It is not!" he snarled. A fierce growl rose from deep within his chest, rumbling all the way up into his throat and into the hot, dry air of the car. He fumed while Korra fumed, his haggard breathing completely overshadowing her stony silence.
Korra was still desperately trying to find a way to rationalize the capricious way she had been acting, when Mako took a deep breath and asked, one more time, "Korra... do you like this guy or not?"
"Mako, I don't know," she tried to explain, though her tone was vacillating even more than before, and she hated it.
"Why don't you know?"
What a stupid—relevant—question. "Because—because we're in the middle of a huge fucking investigation that can completely alter the entire course of our season, and—and I'm not even sure how much longer I'm going to be living here—"
"What?"
"And we have other things to worry about," she ended decisively, feeling a sense of strength in the words now that she's spoken them out loud. "This isn't the right time."
Mako looked like he had too many things he wanted to ask all at once, but what came out of his mouth next was, "Well, when is the right time?"
"Mako... I'm sorry," she apologized through ragged breaths, feeling genuinely so. "But right now I'm just... a little confused."
Mako bit his cheek, and Korra worried that it might have been hard enough to break through the skin. Thinking that it'd probably be best for her to give him some space—just leave, you should just—Korra gathered her bags in her lap, and reached for the door handle.
"Thanks for the ride," she said softly, already feeling a lump begin to form in her throat. The sole of one boot hit the pavement, sending a shockwave rattling up her spine. Dammit, she hissed, feeling her eyes burn. She was not going to cry. Not here. Not over this.
Not again.
"Korra," Mako called, and his voice was tight, too. "Korra, wait."
But this wasn't the first time a boy she liked had called her back to his car after disappointing her, and she could only imagine what Mako would offer up next.
Korra really didn't think she had the capacity for any more disappointment.
Her call went straight to Asami's voicemail. Not trusting her voice, Korra hung up and texted her to call back as soon as possible. An incoming call from Mako—silenced—interrupted her typing. Two more messages from Tahno lay in wait in her inbox, but she didn't bother to look.
She threw her school clothes to the floor in a heap, tearing and stretching fabric needlessly as she ripped them off, leaving them in a useless pile. She banged open drawers, slammed them shut. She dressed in her sports bra and leggings and long-sleeved t-shirt as if she were preparing for battle; her sneakers, her armor. They stomped down to the front door, and out.
It was Thursday.
And for the first time since the previous Thursday night, she ran to the arboretum.
It was cold and it was dusk, and the trees seemed so bare; autumn had already come and gone, and left the coming winter in its midst. She ran through the empty lanes, passed through thickets and over gnarled roots. The fog bit at her skin as she slipped through mud and trampled over fallen leaves. Her fingers felt numb but the rest of her felt not, so she kept running and running and when she fell—she kicked at trees, and chucked branches and mulch and muck through the air, and shouted her throat raw. She got back up, fighting the burn all the way, and ran herself until she was exhausted.
But it changed nothing.
She was still running alone.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
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.
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.
.
Sorry, but I won't be able to drive you to school today. I got your missed call and your message, and I hope everything's okay. I really wish I could talk to you about it, but the reason that I can't give you a ride is that I'm actually not coming to school today at all.
Korra stared down at her phone in disbelief, heart thudding her chest. She received another message, almost immediately after the first; Asami would make it to the bonfire that night, but she wouldn't make it to class. Family stuff, she said.
Well, Korra thought with another sigh. Looks like I'll be riding with Tenzin again, after all.
And before she could do anything about it, another message flashed across her screen.
From: T
Look, I already apologized. I don't know what else I can do to convince you that I mean it.
Received: Friday, Oct 19 7:02am
Just as she was crisply wondering what apology he could be referring to, it occurred to her that she'd never checked any of the other messages he'd sent her the night before, after she'd gone to practice in a huff. Damn, she cursed, feeling frustrated with herself for letting herself see this message, and for feeling curious about the others. This wasn't how she wanted to start her day.
Of course, Korra should have known by now that she didn't always get what she wanted.
To: T
I appreciate the apology. Provided that you do mean it. But I haven't read the other messages you sent, and I don't intend on reading them. A lot has changed over the last few days, and I have stuff of my own to figure out. I have tests to study for, classes to pass, you know? I just can't afford any more distractions. Sorry.
Sent: Friday, Oct 19 7:03am
From: T
Wait. Distractions? Distractions how?
Received: Friday, Oct 19 7:03am
From: T
And I do mean it. I wouldn't have said it if I didn't.
Received: Friday, Oct 19 7:03am
Korra frowned. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, and held the phone more tightly in her hands.
To: T
I know that you meant it. But that's not the problem. The problem is what you had to apologize for in the first place. It's a distraction. ALL of this is one giant distraction.
Sent: Friday, Oct 19 7:05am
You are a distraction, Korra thought, sighing into her tea at the kitchen counter. One hand clasped around her mug, the other wrapped around her phone; her fingers hesitated over the keys.
To: T
And, you know, I'm not even particularly mad anymore. I've just got a lot of stuff going on, stuff that's sort of changed my plans for the next year or so. And honestly, I just really don't think it's a good idea for us to keep this up.
Sent: Friday, Oct 19 7:05am
To: T
And yeah, I'm sure I'll see you around eventually, but what I'm really trying to say is just. Please don't text me anymore.
Sent: Friday, Oct 19 7:06am
Korra wiped angrily at her eyes. Whatever happened to not giving a damn? she asked herself, sniffing sharply over her tea, feeling the heat of the steam prickle at her skin.
So, to remind herself, she shut off her phone.
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Korra made many mistakes that Friday.
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(Starting with that one.)
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Korra didn't think she'd ever get the hang of these high school customs. Much to her surprise, the school community was dismissed early in honor of the Homecoming festivities, which meant that the class she'd been dreading all week never happened; by the time Korra realized that her schedule had been changed, Yakone had probably already upped and left the building.
And now the student body—adorned in their Fire Fox red and black—trickled out through the parking lot to line the football field's bleachers with school spirit for the afternoon pep rally. (Which, if Korra was to understand correctly, was separate from the bonfire taking place that night. So much fuss over high school athleticism, in Korra's opinion, but whatever.) The real pre-football game celebration would occur later that evening—once the fire started, so-to-speak—but for now, the students were encouraged to cheer on all the teams. Most of homecoming is all about football, so this is the time to celebrate all of our sports' teams and show some school pride in general, Bolin explained to her, always looking for an opportunity to educate. But the bonfire tonight is really the actual beginning of the whole weekend—the first beating of the heart of Homecoming!
And so he continued to educate her while they sat together in the chilly stands. All the senior athletes were down on the field, as well as the various varsity captains; Asami was noticeably absent, but when Korra asked, Bolin said that she hadn't responded to any of his texts either, so there wasn't much else Korra could do. Mako was also down there, but Korra tried not to look at him. It hurt too much. She was still mad at him for the day before—and then some—but at the same time, she missed him. Even after all the stupid things he'd said and done—and her, too, she can't keep trying to excuse herself from the blame—he was still one of her first friends. She didn't want to let him go so easily.
But she needed space. And this time, she was going to get it.
Besides—it was nice, just her and Bolin, even if she felt Asami's absence like a hole in her chest. He kept her laughing, which helped keep away the bitter cold that kept threatening to slip under all her careful layers. Every so often, Asami would creep back into her thoughts, but Korra tried not to worry. Of course, it didn't help that she had no idea where she was. Or what she was doing...
"I hear they're coming tonight."
The fanfare from the marching band a few rows down was so loud that the bleachers were vibrating, which is why Korra didn't quite understand the soft-spoken conversation taking place right behind her. At first. Bolin's cheering was in her ear, and he was laughing with someone on his other side, but Korra's instincts—almost-forgotten, long-dormant, buried beneath her bed—poked into her awareness, and she stilled.
"What are they planning? The usual?"
Slowly, just slightly, Korra turned her head. She squinted her eyes, pretending to be looking very closely at something across the field. She strained her ears against the crowd.
"No," said the person behind her. The cheering was still ringing in her ears, fuzzy and indistinct, but as Korra's vision blurred and her heart pounded, the voice seemed to float down to her, soft as a whisper, loud as a gong. "Are you kidding? After everything we've put them through?"
"What? You think it'll be more serious than that?"
"It's the Wolverines. Who knows what the hell they're thinking."
"What do you think they're gonna do?"
"I don't know. But whatever it is, I'm sure not just gonna sit around and wait for them to—"
Something blunt and pointed got her in the ribs, and Korra nearly jumped out of her seat.
"Ahh!" Bolin sighed happily, still nudging Korra with his elbow, completely oblivious to her inner trauma. His eyes were joyously glued to the field, where the cheerleaders were starting their roundup. He gave her another meaningful nudge of his elbow. "Isn't this the greatest? Just wait until tonight, Korra," he told her. "Seriously, just wait. That's when all the really good stuff happens."
Korra looked out onto the field, and caught an unexpected glance of Mako, huddled together with a number of other athletes just beneath the bleachers, some cross-country runners, some not. Her spine tingled with an indescribable sense of foreboding.
"Yeah," she whispered, brows furrowing. Korra had to swallow before she could mutter, "I bet."
"Man—what a sweet dig!"
Korra deadpanned as Bolin flopped back down onto her bed, nearly shaking the poor mattress from its rattling frame. "Are you talking about Pema's dinner, or my room?"
"Both!" Bolin exclaimed. "Seriously, your aunt is like, an awesome cook. And the kids—"
"I know."
"They're crazy!"
"Believe me. I know."
"It's a little disappointing that your uncle wasn't home, though. Not gonna lie, it woulda been awesome to see Coach Tenzin in his natural habitat. And this house—it's huge! Like. So big! Simple, but really, really nice. No wonder you never go out."
Korra frowned. "I go out," she said.
"Yeah, what—on a run?" Bolin rolled his eyes, bouncing his spine into the cushiony springs. "That's not real."
She crossed her arms and huffed, but couldn't really argue. Snaking an arm out toward her desk chair, Korra pulled up a seat and plopped herself down, chair facing backwards, and she facing her guest. "So sue me," she challenged, watching him amuse himself with the buoyancy of her bed. "Not everybody is a social butterfly, you know."
"They could be," Bolin insisted.
"Yeah, okay," Korra scoffed, blowing her long bangs from her face. For once—mostly at the insistence of a curious request from Bolin—she had taken her hair out of its signature ponytail. It was a little annoying, having to deal with all that hair, but his pleased reaction was enough to convince her to keep it down.
"Seriously, though," Bolin said, a bit thoughtful, a bit unusually quiet. "If I had a house like this, I think it'd be hard to ever leave."
Korra paused, stricken by his tone; she made a mental vow to invite him over for dinner again, as often as she could help it. At least... for as long as she was there, anyway.
"Bolin," she began uneasily, feeling her chest grow tight. "There's actually something I should... Well, I mean, as long as we're—"
A ringtone, bright and loud and jolting, sounded from Bolin's pocket. He bolted upright as she jerked back, and then he was smiling into the phone, the common Bolin restored. Still feeling a little uneasy, she watched carefully as he directed the person on the other end of the line toward her house on Temple Street, and waited as patiently as she could when he finally hung up the phone. "All settled," he said, awfully chipper. "They'll be here any minute. Let's get our stuff—and don't worry, we'll do the face paint all together, when we get to the field." But she didn't move from her chair, and instead watched as he became a giant, whirling mess across her floor, a solid force of energy throwing itself from one side of the room to the other. "You still have the pin I got you, right?" he asked, reaching for his backpack for one final inspection. "You can put that on your hoodie, like I said. Oh! And don't forget an extra layer—the bonfire is massive, but you're not around the flames all night, and it's gonna get cold. Like. Chop your own ass off, cold. It's not winter yet, but the weather will sure as hell try to convince you otherwise. Let's see—face paint, check. Pins, check. The girls are bringing extra ribbons for their hair, but you won't need those—no, no, Korra, drop your hands, I told you to leave it down!—and I mean, I could probably find a few strands on my head somewhere that are probably long enough to rock a ribbon or two, but—"
"Bolin, are you sure the others won't mind giving me a ride?" Korra asked, suddenly feeling nervous. "I mean, I know we're on the same team and all, but... It's not like we really talk."
He blinked, not once, but twice. Just as Korra's discomfort started to rise, Bolin doubled over from the force of his amusement. "Pfffft. Oh, man. Korra, seriously. You crack me up. You know, it's really gonna suck when all of you graduate a year before me and all leave me behind to go off to awesome colleges and—whoop, there goes my phone, aaaaaaand—yep! That's them, so—oh. Oh, shit, they're already in your driveway—Korra, c'mon, let's go, let's go! No, no, tie your shoes in the car, we gotta go—we gotta go now! Korra, this is it, this it it—IT'S HOMECOMING TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIME!"
And to his credit, Bolin only fell down the stairs once.
Korra winced as he stumbled, then burst out laughing.
Okay.
Twice.
It wasn't quite how Korra expected, but she supposed that most of the subtle nuances of the bonfire's traditions were probably lost on her due to different cultural understandings. She was, however, a big fan of the war paint Bolin had smeared beneath her eyes—two thick, black lines, laid horizontally over her cheeks—and she liked being able to wear the school colors with so many other people all at once. It was a feeling of solidarity that Korra had never experienced before, and she liked it. Also, true to his word, Bolin had indeed found a piece of hair that could somewhat manage to hold a ribbon, and she particularly enjoyed the way it flew through the wind as he rampaged through the raucous crowd, howling chants and battle cries with the other rowdy Foxes in their midst. He made a point of raging past her quite often, like a stampede of landslides barreling through. She tucked her cold hands into her jacket's pockets, the hood of the sweatshirt layered underneath—Asami's—raised up over her head, and she laughed.
Bolin wasn't kidding about the cold temperatures, and though she hadn't entirely gotten why he'd cared so much about her leaving her hair down, she was grateful for the suggestion now. The hood helped brace her neck against the breeze, but it was nice to have an extra layer of protection, even if it did get in the way. Twice, purely out of habit, her hand flew to her wrist in search of her trusty hair elastic, only to remember, Oh, that's right. She'd gone and lost it, and now Asami wasn't even around to offer her another one to borrow.
A half hour passed, and then another. The coaches made speeches and the football team was cheered on as they all rallied around the fire. The football captain led a rousing chant about tearing down one's enemies with fire power! Everyone was having a grand old time and, after a while, it got old. For Korra, at least.
And, not to mention, Korra thought, as she accidentally locked eyes with a certain someone that she'd been hoping to avoid at all costs. She tried for a smile, tight as it was; Mako merely looked at her, eyes blank, mouth grim, and turned away. For a few seconds, she stared at him, blinking with shock. He was talking a group of people, people who weren't on their team, and he didn't look like he was particularly enjoying himself—until he smiled.
Looks like it's not just the temperature that's cold tonight, she thought, morosely kicking at a pebble on the ground.
At some point, Bolin found her on the bleachers off to the side, watching the celebration from the relative quiet of the field. A few people had been passing by every so often, presumably on their way to their cars in the parking lot beyond the open stadium, back by the school, but not many people had noticed Korra sitting alone in the dark shadows of the stands. Naturally—just like before, just like at the start of the fall—Bolin was the first.
His cheeks were smeared with war paint, and a lone ribbon hung from his left ear, but nothing could hide nor dull the sympathy on his face.
Korra smiled weakly as he climbed up the stairs. "He told you, huh?"
Bolin plopped down beside her with a sigh. Lightly, easily, he said, "He wouldn't tell me everything, but I'm guessing it had to be bad." He looked at her then, and she tried not to grimace. "What happened?" he asked.
Korra sighed. "I think... I think we sort of broke up," she told him. Ugh. "Without ever actually going out, if that's possible."
Bolin's eyes grew as big as saucers. "You what? When did this happen?"
"Yesterday. We were in the middle of a fight, or at least it felt like one. I told him that I thought I might actually like someone else—"
"You told him that?" Bolin's jaw dropped, aghast.
"I—I was trying to be honest!"
"Ohh, man, Korra—way to sucker-punch a guy! He must have been blindsided. I mean—I certainly didn't see that coming."
"What, you'd prefer that I have not said anything at all?" she demanded hotly, cheeks burning with angry embarrassment.
"I didn't say that!" Bolin defended, raising his hands. "I'm just saying that there are gentler ways of breaking that kinds of news to someone. And trust me, I know from experience."
Korra wasn't going to be sidetracked by guilt this time, although it was certainly still there. "Bolin, you know Mako better than I do, but trust me when I say that subtle doesn't work with him. And... I mean," Korra frowned, feeling her cheeks grow even more heated. "What I said is true. At least, it was. At the time. Or so I thought."
Bolin frowned, looking thoughtful. She really hoped he wasn't planning on trying to say something comforting, because she didn't think she really deserved it at the moment. Still serious, he carefully asked, "You didn't tell him who, did you?"
Her eyes widened. "Oh, god no," Korra replied immediately, horrified. "No. Definitely not." She'd only been planning on telling Mako about her stupid, possibly-or-not-possibly-romantic running stint with the Wolverines Captain, say—never. Absolutely never.
"I didn't think so," Bolin smiled slightly, trying to lighten the mood. He shouldn't have had to try so hard, Korra thought, what with the giant party happening less than a hundred yards away at the fire pit, but there you have it.
It was sort of peaceful for a few minutes, just the two of them sitting up in the stands, watching the bonfire rage on from afar. The air around the football field was quiet by comparison, with only the sounds and shouts of their fellow students drifting toward them on the wind, and the gentle autumn breeze dancing with the long branches of the woods that roamed behind them. It wasn't cold enough for her to see her breath, and it felt warmer with Bolin near, but the crisp, clean air was sharp and clear, letting the stars shine brightly against the sky's inky darkness. A lot had happened over the last month or so; some of it more painful than others, but all of it meaningful, in retrospect. She'd had to give up a lot, and she'd had a lot taken from her, in the move here.
But she'd gained a lot, too.
"Hey," Korra said softly, nudging Bolin's side with her shoulder. "You should head back to your fan club. They're gonna be wondering where you are soon, if they haven't started the search party, already. You don't have to take pity on me by keeping me company."
Bolin's eyes widened. "Korra, that's not—"
But Korra only nudged him again, much more pointedly. "Go," she told him, good-naturedly. "Don't worry about me. I kinda like just looking up at the stars by myself, anyway."
He did not look convinced. "Are you sure?" he asked, eyeing her carefully.
"Go," she said again, laughing as she gave him a playful shove. He grabbed onto the railing and pretended to stumble, dramatically. "Seriously," she promised him with a shrug. "It reminds me of home."
Almost as if against his will, his expression softened. With a defeated sigh, Bolin gave an easygoing shrug and bid her farewell with a formal bow, low and deep. She laughed, and then watched him trample down the stairs, and jog back to the fray, towards the others. Korra watched him leave, and sighed.
She hadn't been lying about it reminding her of home, but such things could be both good and bad—especially on a night like this. She wasn't really alone, and she didn't have any particular reason to feel lonely, but she still felt a little empty, a little numb. Korra didn't know how she was going to break it to Asami and Bolin—and Mako, more clearly—that she wasn't planning on hanging around past the end of the school year.
With a sigh, Korra stood and made her way down to the grass, feeling restless. It didn't do well for Korra to sit still for very long, but the fire—all that heat, all those people, and Mako—was the last place she felt she could be right now.
On a whim, Korra let her feet trail between the sets of bleachers, farther away from the light of the roaring flames. It was dark behind the bleachers, hidden away from the moon and the far-off street lamps, lost in the shadows cast by the towering trees that flanked the stands, the small expanse of woods that stood behind the field. It was much darker beneath the bleachers, and it was quieter too, which was exactly what Korra needed. Finally, she had a real moment to herself.
Feeling a sudden bout of resolve wash over her, Korra reached into her pocket and pulled out the item that had been weighing heavily on her mind all night: her cell phone. She hadn't turned it on since that morning. Biting her lip, Korra deliberated.
And then she held down a button, and watched the screen flicker to life.
She didn't realize that she was holding her breath until it came out in a gasp, a sharp exhale into the cold, night air, and she watched as message notifications flash before her screen. A missed call from Asami, which she'd hoped for. A good luck text from Pema, which she'd expected. And three missed calls from Tenzin, which surprised her. Which alarmed her.
And not a single other message from Tahno.
Korra stared down at her phone, feeling her feet sink into the cold, wet grass. She should have felt relieved, but all she felt was a little bitter, and a little sad. She'd asked him to stop, and he had. And stupid Korra, she'd for some reason had the tiny feeling that—just maybe—he would have persisted, anyway. She hadn't realized it, just how badly she'd secretly wanted him to, until now.
Sliding her thumb over the keys, Korra tried to type in Tenzin's number as steadily as possible, but she'd already messed it up twice. Releasing a frustrated sigh, Korra spat out a curse and tried again. As she pulled the phone to her ear and heard the first ring, Korra was starting to realize that this might be it—that Tahno might finally be done with her. That it was over.
That's when something grabbed her shoulder from behind, her instincts took hold, her cell phone dropped to the cold ground, and she punched someone in the face.
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It took her a full second to recognize the black and gray.
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"Ow—goddammit—what the hell, new girl?!"
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