Patience has never been Korra's strong suit.
She tidies up his apartment a bit, forcing herself to let Mako rest. Although it's been weeks since the battle against Kuvira's Colossus, she doesn't wish to disturb him after everything he's sacrificed for their cause. Clearly Mako has had plenty of time to sleep since then, but his wounds were severe enough to hospitalize him for days. A part of Korra still worries. The only loved one who was hurt more than Mako, Asami's father, is dead. The possibility of Mako losing that arm is all too real, the healers feel, if the spirit energy that struck him has critically damaged his muscles.
She remembers the night following the battle, sitting in a nearby hospital's room as Mako attempted to convince two nurses that his arm would be okay. He clenched his left fist for them, despite their protests for him not to, cracking the brittle, burned flesh on his knuckles until it began to bleed anew. Korra smacked his head for that, but she was thankful, so thankful, that the muscles below were not as ruined as his skin was.
He disclosed later that the arm felt as if the muscles were shredded in some places. They still don't know whether he will ever regain full motion of his hand and wrist.
There is far less danger of him losing the arm now, but recovering from such things takes time. She assumes Mako is feeling a bit down because he's been placed on bedrest by Chief Beifong, and none of their friends will let him help get the city back up and running. Everyone has been coddling him as if he were an injured child.
The fact that Korra doesn't want to bother Mako, either, proves that she is acting just as badly as everyone else. He would probably appreciate being given something to do. He can read books with just one arm, can't he? Mako may need some time away from here just as much as she and Asami will need that brain of his.
She can hear his breathing, soft and slow, and tries to match her own exhales with his. Korra sits with her legs crossed on the floor of his bedroom, watching the small flame in her palm as it breathes, too, casting dancing shadows on his wooden furniture. The light grows, shrinks and grows again with their rhythm.
When Korra was seven years old, one evening she became so sick of studying waterbending techniques that she began firebending instead. She'd had trouble maintaining fire in her little hands, mostly because she'd yet to have any formal training in the art, but she still tried to see how long she could hold it. In the process of counting seconds into numbers greater than her young mind was familiar with, she'd become distracted, and the flame had died.
She doesn't bother counting the seconds now. After a long while, she loses her focus and the fire flickers out, sending Mako's bedroom into a state of near-complete blackness.
How can he, a firebender, be comfortable in such a dark place?
Rekindling the flame in her hand, she stands. She finally decides to wake him with a nudge to the shoulder and a quiet yet firm, "Mako."
The content-looking expression on his snoozing face contorts into a grimace. He opens his eyes to blink at her blearily. Sitting up a little, he squints toward the light. "Korra?"
"Hi, Mako. I came to see you." She welcomes herself to an empty space on the side of his bed. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine." He sighs deeply, rubbing a hand over his face for a moment before sitting straighter. He leans toward her, then around, propping himself carefully on the elbow of his damaged arm as he reaches over to his bedside table. There's a few unlit candles in a drawer there – oh, right, she thinks dumbly – and Mako lights them with bending from his right hand. Korra extinguishes her fire once more.
He doesn't look so bad up close, just sleepy. She can tell he hasn't used product in his hair today because it's waving a bit, chaotic, as if he'd washed it but hadn't bothered to style it. Korra notices that he is still shaving his face, though, and that's a good sign. Perhaps he isn't feeling so down after all. Or perhaps self-cleanliness is something that's simply ingrained into him.
"Did you eat today?" she asks.
"Yeah, stop worrying," Mako grumbles. "I said I'm fine."
Yes, he's certainly tired of people babying him. This doesn't stop Korra from touching her palm to his forehead. He isn't clammy or warm or cold, just normal. No serious infection then. When he bats her hand away, she doesn't protest.
"When was the last time you changed your dressings?"
"I don't know. Yesterday," Mako answers. They both look down to his sling. "It's not seeping as much. There's new skin growing."
"You should let me look at it."
He doesn't say anything. Stubborn man.
His apartment is gloomy even in the candlelight. The last time he'd lit candles for her, years ago, they'd been in this same bedroom but in an entirely different mood. His once-perfect hair had been disheveled after she'd gotten a hold of it that night, too. Biting the inside of her cheek, she looks away from him.
She needs to speak with him about visiting the spirit library, but... perhaps not here. And she should try to heal his arm a bit since he hasn't been visiting the hospital as often as he should.
"It's so dark in here, Mako," Korra complains. "Get dressed and we'll head over to Asami's, alright? I'll see if I can heal your arm."
He listens to her, thankfully. He changes his clothes without needing assistance, donning a gray changshan and dark trousers that look newer than the rest of his clothes. When she asks about his attire, he explains that since Wu has left, he's had no need for his old uniform.
After he fixes his hair, Mako and Korra leave his damnable apartment building and head to Asami's mansion.
One of the perks of living in an upper-class neighborhood is that Asami's place has already had its electricity restored. Korra sits Mako in a chair in one of the mansion's powder rooms and carefully unwinds the dressings from his arm. He should be changing the gauze wraps twice per day and applying ointment, but it's apparent he's been slacking a little with it.
"You need to keep this clean," she chastises as she bends warm water over his burns. He winces as the liquid swipes across raw and cracked areas. "I know it hurts, but change your dressings more often, Mako. And visit the healers. If you can't reach them, I will personally make sure one will come to you, even if that means hauling my own butt over to your apartment to do it myself."
"Yes, ma'am."
"I'm serious! You don't want to get gangrene and lose this thing, do you? The last thing we need is for you to need an extended stay in the hospital again." She finishes rinsing his arm and moves away to dump the water down the sink drain. When she glances back at him, she catches Mako pursing his lips in amusement. "What?"
He shakes his head before letting it fall. "You're as overbearing as a mother moose-lion."
"Overbearing," she repeats flatly, though more than just that word catches her off-guard. Moose-lions are a cliché for being ridiculously aggressive when defending their calves. She isn't sure if being compared to such a beast is meant to be a compliment.
Korra gathers a smaller amount of water from the faucet. This time, she lets the liquid conform to the shape of his forearm, then presses some in, pushing the water through his skin and into the muscle. He muffles a cry of pain and kicks out spasmodically with one leg—it hurts, she knows, she knows, and she apologizes more than she probably has to. Waterbending healing is not always a painless act.
Bending water in this way, Korra is able to feel, to sense, the condition of his arm beneath the skin. The water glows as she attempts to heal any burned flesh she can find. She is not as proficient at sensing the damaged tissues as her sifu Katara is, but she can still heal the general area.
Relief overcomes Mako's face once she withdraws the water. He leans back in his chair, sweat beading on his brow and panting.
The difference in his arm before and after her treatment is barely noticeable. They look together at the angrily red skin. One spot at his wrist begins bleeding, so she gives him a towel to press against it.
"Waterbending won't do much for the scarring, will it?" Mako asks as Korra prepares everything she'll need for wrapping it. "Accelerated healing feels awful. We can tackle my other burn another time."
"The skin will heal the same way it would naturally, only more quickly," Korra says. "If something scars, it scars. But healing with waterbending can help with the pain and recovery time." It feels like she's lying through her teeth about the last part – this session has only seemed to cause him more pain. She couldn't really feel his flesh being repaired. But she's never healed such a serious burn before, and definitely not one caused by spirit energy. Purple energy had licked out from the Colossus' power source and struck him just below the ribs, but it fortunately doesn't seem as severely maimed as his arm.
"Anyway, battle scars aren't so bad, especially heroic ones," Korra continues in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Once this is healed up you'll have women flocking to you. The man that destroyed the Colossus." She considers that for a few seconds before chuckling. Mako has probably done more to save Republic City than she has, this time around. "You do realize, Mako, that your name will be in history books?"
"Right alongside yours. We did this together." He smiles at her even as she begins spreading cold ointment over his burns with her fingertips. "I've already been all over the newspaper. Someone showed me an Earth Kingdom copy. It was terribly flattering, even if it did use my mugshot."
"I thought you liked being in the spotlight, mister pro-bender."
"Yeah, well... Things change with time. Some things."
She considers those words as she wraps his arm, starting with his fingers and palm, winding the gauze all the way up to his elbow. He watches her work, and she can feel his eyes lingering on her face rather than her hands, just a couple feet away from his own. When she scowls at him, he finally shifts his attention away, busying himself by studying the miniature shelf of towels in the room.
When she is about to secure the last of the gauze, Asami knocks on the powder room's door before entering. Carrying a tray in her arms, she explains, "I made some hot tea for you both. Oolong, if that's alright."
They both thank her. Korra ties the gauze and tucks the knot under the edge near his elbow, but firmly instructs Mako to remain seated.
She meets Asami in the doorway. The tea was most likely a ruse to give her an excuse to check up on them. "Give me another minute with him," Korra mumbles less than quietly to her girlfriend. "I haven't asked yet. This is intimidating, ya know?"
Asami nods. When Korra told her that she wanted Mako to join them, Asami was all for it – they've remained fairly good friends while Korra was away. Asami, too, believes a detective like him would be a great help in the spirit library. "Good luck," Asami says enthusiastically. "You're hard to resist. There's no way he'll refuse you."
When Asami departs down the hall, Korra brings Mako's cup of tea to him. He wears a confused expression, looking toward where Asami had been standing.
Korra needs to speak with him now before she loses her nerve. They're leaving for the spirit world in the morning and she'll need him there beside her. She needs those investigatory skills of his, and with his added presence she'd have more motivation to work instead of just relaxing with Asami. Their next trip is a mission, not a vacation.
She suddenly comes to the realization that water from the spirit world may be able to fully heal his arm. Perhaps she could submerge his entire body and heal his head, too, and then he wouldn't be feeling so sorry for himself. Spirit water seems to work miracles, after all. After being poisoned, depression is something she has begun to take more seriously than ever. She knows all too well how easy it is to feel useless when you should be strong, like you should be able to help others, but cannot. Leaving him in his dark dank apartment to mope feels like the last thing he needs.
Korra leans her backside against the counter, appraising Mako as he raises his teacup to his lips, takes a sip, then gives his full focus to her. She wants him to speak first. How has he been feeling, really?
"Did you want to talk to me about anything?" she asks him as she drinks her tea too. "Because I know I wanted to talk to you."
He rests his cup against the top of one thigh. His other leg bounces a little, as if he's full of nervous energy all of a sudden. "I wasn't sure if you were ready," he says before clearing his throat. "I, uh. I wanted to wait a while before I asked you. We haven't been reconnected for very long, and with all that's happened… The time didn't seem right. I didn't want to get ahead of myself."
He's rambling. Korra furrows her brow. "Ask me what?"
"Um."
Mako is hesitant to clarify. A few too many seconds pass before he finally stands up, walking over to the door and closing it gently. He wants privacy for whatever it is he has to say. He sets his tea down beside Korra and inhales deeply, as if gathering the courage to speak.
Her confusion morphs into apprehension.
He doesn't know, she thinks. He doesn't know about me and Asami... and he wants to speak with me, alone.
"Do you remember what we told each other before," he begins to say, and each soft word curls inside her like something hot and wicked and frightening, "something about 'always'?"
Korra sets her own cup down beside his discarded one. Her fingers clench the edge of the counter, and as he steps closer, her eyes shut and sting. She's such a fool for not seeing this coming. There was a hint he'd given her at Varrick's wedding, meaningful words he'd spoken that echoed in her ears like the declarations of eternal love they'd shared years prior. But she'd ignored his words at the wedding because she had other things, and other people, on her mind. In her selfishness, she acknowledged only her own desires for the future.
"Of course I remember," she replies, and it feels like she's choking on the words. He's near enough that she can feel his body heat.
"I know it's been rough these past few years, and dating probably isn't on your mind, but—"
"Mako, stop," she gasps. She juts a hand out toward him and hits the solid surface of his abdomen. Korra opens her eyes at his pained exhale, realizing she's just punched his stomach burn, but he's so close, his presence so overwhelming that she can't stop the words from tumbling out and hurting him more. "No, no. I'm seeing someone else."
Korra doesn't want to see the expression he'll make now. Why is she always the one to cause him pain? She was a terrible girlfriend and now she is a terrible friend. She should have fucking realized that he still—
He still loves her, despite her not sending him a single letter for three years.
Of course he does. Of course.
Korra pulls away from him, not daring to look at him anymore as hot tears begin to well in her eyes. It was never her intention to lead him on like this. She presses her weight against one wall, as if attempting to hide from him. Her hand touches the cool, smooth tile of the wall, which only makes her think about poor Asami. They have hurt her so much in the past, playing games with romance while Asami stood on the sidelines, pushed away and away again while Mako and Korra had always chosen each other.
She won't do that to Asami. She won't cheat, for one thing, physically or emotionally. Asami deserves to be treated so much better.
And Mako... They never should have said 'always'. Because, while Korra does and will always care for him, she had never wanted him to wait for her. That is what he has been doing, isn't it? Waiting?
"I'm sorry," Korra stammers to Mako as she tries to wipe the sudden tears from her cheeks. "Please, just, don't— I didn't mean to— I'm sorry."
"Korra. Korra." His voice cuts through hers. A moment passes as he lets her inhale shakily, and then, "Does she make you happy?"
She frowns, finally meeting his eye as she tries to make sense of what he's said. "What?"
"Asami, right?" When Mako appears by Korra's side, offering her a tissue, she looks up at him with such bewilderment. But his face doesn't express anger or sadness or anything else. It's just... resigned, as if he's accepted his fate. As if in some way he knew this was coming. "Sorry if I'm wrong. I know you two are close."
"We are," Korra says with a sniffle. She takes the tissue and dries her cheeks with it. "We're... good to each other, I think."
How else can she word it? They are good. She and Asami understand each other, flow together. Whereas most of Korra's relationships with friends, family and lovers alike have been abrasive and rocky, Asami makes everything easy. It has been a welcome change of pace. But she doesn't elaborate.
Mako nods. He steps away to put on his sling, slipping it over his shoulder and fastening it around his arm. With a deep sigh, he pats her on the shoulder and moves to leave. "Excuse me. I'm going to get some fresh air. Maybe that'll make me feel like less of an idiot."
He isn't an idiot at all. He's beyond brilliant, and panic rumbles inside her when she remembers why she brought him here to begin with. "Wait!" Korra all but shouts. "I still need to speak with you about something. Please don't leave yet. Hear me out."
"I'm not going anywhere," Mako reassures. "I'll be on the upstairs balcony, so you know I won't run away. Just... give me a minute."
She wouldn't be surprised if he does want to run away. Uncertain about what to do next, she fidgets with the tissue in her hands, afraid to ask any of the important questions that are still in need of answers. She doesn't need his approval, but she wants it. Verbalizing anything about her relationship status feels like it would just twist the knife in his side. But Mako feels so tense, she doesn't want their conversation to end here, with both of them flustered and upset.
"Are you... okay, Mako? With this?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" The small smile he gives her looks forced, but the ways his eyes stare directly into hers conveys his sincerity. "Yes. I wish you both the best, honestly. You deserve someone who will treat you well."