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#4 Unrequited: Asami thinks of the feelings she believes Korra will never return.
When Asami thinks of Korra, all she can do is feel completely exhausted. There's the pinch of feelings in her throat and a nagging sensation that burns throughout her body, and it takes all of her energy to simply look at Korra.
Except it doesn't.
And that confuses her. Looking at Korra is like a sweet lullaby – she dazes you and fills you, she sends you sweeping into the depths of relaxation as your head meets the soft coolness of your pillow – but she is toxic. She is toxic in a way that her compelling sense of allure is like a death sentence, and the longer you look at her the more you push yourself into the brink of darkness. It is a darkness so bleak and so dense, you have no hope of escaping; the sad thing being you would probably never want to. Asami thinks that maybe Korra isn't so much like a lullaby; a more accurate way to describe her would probably be a siren's call. She sings her honeyed melody and reels you in like a fish caught on a hook, and then she sends you to your eternal misery.
Asami never thought she could be so happy and yet so completely empty. When her green eyes look at Korra and she sees the girls beautiful blue eyes, the soft brown of her hair, and the absolute majesty of her body and her movements and her words, she can only feel hopeless as the smile tugs at her lips and the wallowing of both love and pain fills her heart. Looking at Korra is easy and simple and beautiful – it is one of the most beautiful things she can do – but it is almost treacherous and hard, and Asami cannot take such malevolence within her body. It is a constant war of love, fear and sadness, but all of it stems from the same place: her feelings for Korra.
Oh – feelings – feelings – it makes Asami want to laugh and laugh and laugh until she can no longer breathe. Her feelings for Korra; it's just hilarious in how damn pathetic it is.
She loves Korra. Every inch of her being swells with delight at the simple mention of her name and Asami knows denying it is pointless. She can look at the girl in front of her – The Avatar, the most powerful woman on earth – and it takes all of her strength and all of her courage just to go on breathing because loving Korra is the hardest thing Asami has ever had to do.
When Korra takes a seat next to her and wraps her hand with Asami's, and when she smiles at Asami and takes a sip of the tea Asami made for her, and when she hums in delight with closed eyes and lets herself snuggle down into the sofa, Asami feels like crying. It's everything about her – it's every little movement and every tiny, insignificant moment of her perfect being that Asami feels herself falling deeper into the darkness; she is blind and can't find her way out.
Her only solace is Korra and she is the very cause of the problem. When Asami reaches out to touch her, panicked and scared and unsure, and she feels the Avatar's cool, smooth skin beneath her own boiling touch, she can feel her whole body calming in relief. Korra is her only light in the darkness of her love, and Asami doesn't understand how the very thing that blinds her also heals her and rejuvenates her, but she does not question it.
And when Asami takes the first sip of her now cold tea, she feels Korra shift next to her and for a moment Asami is worried. But Korra only takes the drink from Asami's hand, puts it on the table and snuggles into Asami, her head resting against her, their arms entwined, and sighs a relaxed and happy sigh.
"I love you Asami. I don't know what I would do without you in my life."
Asami hates the warmth that rushes through her body at the words, but, more than that, she hates that when she says it back, it means far more than Korra will ever know.