[ Hei squeezes his eyes shut tighter. Hugs her waist closer, cradling soft handfuls of her weight, and rubs his cheek against her belly. Something hot scalds the back of his eyes, even as his throat briefly closes up against words, against breath. How can he explain, that after three years apart, at least for Korra, he's incredulous that she still wants this. That whatever she felt for him before he'd been snatched away, is still inside her. Still real. Comprehension of other people's emotions is always fleeting -- he'd figured that out a while ago -- but with those you love most -- and he loves her terribly -- it ought to be possible to, if not know one another, at least get a good glimpse. ]

[ Except he can't feel anything beyond his own gut-clenching anxiety. Korra is so close, right up against him. So familiar. Yet the sensory vividness is so strong it's almost unreal. Or too real. Does that make any sense? ]

[ Fuck, he has to stop overthinking this. Shouldn't think at all. Nothing good comes of it. ]

[ He glances up at her then, his palms sliding up, resting looped around her neck, one hand threading through her hair. ]

[ Softly, ]

I guess ... it's just a surprise. That I'd turn up in three years to find you're still thinking about me after all this time. I worry it's just you being surprised to see me. Like ... nostalgia.