Cold comfort for change

[mortemscintilla]

WHO: Korra & Hei
WHAT: Parting is such awkwardz.  

[ The days leading up to his departure pass in a blur. ]

[ He has enough to do. Arrangements and plans, between drifting from crowded walk-ups to cheap lodging houses -- (His and Korra's 'date' stretched entirely too long. Long enough to snap Tenzin's already-frayed temper. When they'd returned to Air Temp Island, he demanded, red-faced and practically frothing, that 'Li' pack up and leave the following morning. Hei was all too happy to oblige.) -- travel papers, guides and useful information on the colonies beyond Republic City. He's purchased tickets for the train journey. He's plotted out his routes on maps and snagged himself a reliable guide. ]

[ His separation from Korra isn't on his mind as much as he would have expected. But its absence seems linked to her lack of presence, because of course he'd think of it most when she's closeby, a visceral reminder of what he stands to lose. In the rare moments when he does allow the ideas to seep in, he's gripped by a vertiginous combination of sadness and dread, and wishes he could speak to her. ]

[ But he's said everything that required saying. She'd been sullen and resentful -- but she hadn't stopped him. (Would he have stayed, if she said Don't go? He wonders...) ]

[ The evening before he's meant to catch his train, though, he finds himself at the docks. Leaning against the rusted railing, he regards the lush green speck of Air Temple Island. The sun charts a course behind banks of iron-grey clouds. Though not especially bright, the day is pleasantly warm. The seawater doesn't glitter so much as take on a gleaming quality: long bands of ribbed light run across its waves the way light hits the reflective surface of a glass table. ]

[ It's unpretentiously beautiful, and Hei realizes he'll miss it. Realizes the city has sunk a bright hook into his chest, as surely as the constellation of red dots that link a part of his psyche to Korra -- as if she's a glittering lure from the dark sea depths, and he's the blindsided barracuda that opened his maw and bit. ]

Comments

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hei smiles. He can't help it. He was tense all over from the interruption before, vibrating at a high voltage. Yet now, indulgent thoughts are pressing up like puppies at a window, wagging for his attention, distracting him. It doesn't help that Korra's efforts at secrecy are usually far more endearing than her heroic ones. ]

Right. I forgot you're an inspiration to the midgets. [ Like late-nineties Britney? In a voice that is light, full of bullshit, he feigns a glance over his shoulder, pretending to be worried: ] Guess you better be mindful. Spies all around. No way of telling when one of them files a report to Tenzin.

[anatural]

[Korra climbs up and brushes the dirt off her pants.]

Don't even JOKE about that. I wouldn't be surprised if he did pay somebody to follow me. He's gone completely off the deep end.

[Either that or her time in the City has created a divide between them that can never be bridged. Korra doesn't like fighting with Tenzin. They've had their disagreements before, but never like this. She's always been largely obedient to him because she's always trusted his judgement and wisdom. She always felt safe with him because he was an adult and knew what needed to be done.

She can still find traces of that wise mentor now, but more than anything else she sees a terrified man grasping desperately at some semblance of control. A man who doesn't understand what's going on. And when he looks at her, it feels like he's not seeing her, but the Korra who should be there.
]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Diplomatically, Hei reaches out and plucks a twig from Korra's hair. Sunlight fills in the gaps between the trees with waves of mellow gold. Each time she gripes about Tenzin, it's easy to see Pai -- wilful and surly as she'd argued with him about curfew, tracking devices, chores -- superimposed. Indifferent as he is to Tenzin's situation, part of him can understand how the older man feels. He thinks, absurdly, of the days in Heaven's War, when each recruit was allotted a small bag of flour for his rations. Hei always tried to take good care of the flour. But back in those days, he'd had a condition of permanently sweaty hands. A stress-response; it couldn't be helped. Every time he touched the sack, it got wet. It started to come apart. He'd tell himself to stop fussing with it, but he couldn't help it. He'd keep touching it just to know it was there and safe. It ripped a little and then a little more until it finally split right open. ]

[ Sure. It was just a stupid sack of flour. But the point was that sometimes the more you cared for something, the more damage you did. Not on purpose. You just ended up hurting the things you loved because you tried too hard. That's what Tenzin does with Korra -- and what Hei used to do with Pai. He wanted her to be so safe that it ended up hurting her in its own way. But deep down, he can understand the fear. It's the hardest thing in the world, caring for someone. Trying to make sure that person doesn't come to harm. ]

[ Quietly, ]

He just has trouble understanding that your lives have diverged. That your ... adventures aren't his. I guess with how different you both are, you've never shared a common language. But now you lack even the context to make translations.

[anatural]

[Korra sighs and rubs the back of her neck.]

So what am I supposed to do about it?

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hei pauses, gathering his thoughts. Korra's expression has taken on a thin, wavery edge of indecision and second-guessing. He's been there so often himself once upon a time, he knows that tune by heart. (Still, it's surreal, giving her even a fragment of advice. Especially when he has no more moral sense than a Lost Boy.) ]

[ He exhales, his voice softening. ]

Remind him that you [ spent months fending for yourself, confused, dreaming, morally adrift, missing home and family like crazy ] haven't forgotten him. The reason he's being such a pain is because he's afraid he's redundant now.

[anatural]

[She shakes her head.]

He knows I haven't forgotten him. [Whatever he's afraid of, it's not being redundant. A train whistle blows, drawing her attention.]

You should catch your train.

[mortemscintilla]

[ No, Hei doesn't quite think that's what Tenzin's afraid of, either. He's noticed it before: the stifled flickers of desperation in the older man, the frantic way he harangues Korra about meditation and spiritualism. Almost like a parent trying to vicariously live their unfulfilled dreams through their child. As if whatever Korra's failing at, is something Tenzin's failed at himself, and doesn't dare give voice to. Because parents -- guardians -- hold an intrinsic need to believe in the essential invincibility of their protege: the child is a direct reflection of themselves, after all. Only better, because they'll never make the mistakes their elders have. Or so the delusion goes. ]

[ Hei doesn't say that, though. Instead, distracted by the shrill screech of the train, he murmurs, ]

Yeah.

[ It's casual. But a quiet tension pulls at his brows like a needle drawing thread. ]

[anatural]

[She reaches out to take his hand.]

Can I walk you there?

[There's a tug at her chest, knowing that it's really happening.]

[mortemscintilla]

I asked if you would, didn't I?

[ It's quiet, and his expression is more of a cipher, not because Hei's trying to hide but when he's processing at his most basic, he doesn't have the energy to make communication easier by letting the emotions trickle across his face. He squeezes her hand, drifting with her beyond the serene green curve of the park, out onto the clamoring streets. The lights at the train terminus are a dreamy blue that makes the place seem to exist underwater, an impression aided by the drifting turquoise shades of the sky, trapped in the transition from warm afternoon to cool evening, dampening the air. ]

[ Fixing on his train, Hei stands stock still in the midst of the shambling crowd with his duffel dangling at his shoulder, Korra's warm hand in his, feeling at sea. It's difficult, frozen here in the blue, to imagine being anything else. ]

[ With effort, he shakes the torpor off. ]

Well...

[alittlebent]

[The walk is surreal, and each step feels heavier than the last. She doesn't want this to happen. She doesn't want him to go. Does she tell him that? Would it matter if she did? She mulls the question over, and is surprised when they stop. They can't be at the station already...

She takes a deep breath, and leans in to kiss him.]

Take care of yourself.

[mortemscintilla]

[ She opens her mouth, and Hei braces himself for it to come, whatever it is. Some warning she feels bound to issue, or maybe a winsome, gently-worded plea that would exact promises from him, an emotional leash he'd be forced to wear with gritted teeth. Instead, it's: Take care of yourself. The tritest of words, yet they're like shocked lashings across his psyche, leaving glowing red brands in their wake. When she kisses him, he kisses back. Not a peck, not a token, but his hand running through soft strands of her hair as he traces the curve of her skull. Down, to loosely cup her jaw in his hand, her mouth like an oven to engulf all doubt. He feels on fire; he wants to fuck her, he can't bear to wrench away, he wants to leave this minute on his journey, he is torn and oblivious to anyone else in the station. ]

[ Drawing back forcibly, he swallows. Touches his tongue to the inside of his lips, tasting her kiss. ]

Don't I always?

[ What should have hit an arch note comes out sloe-eyed and wistful. ]

[anatural]

[The kiss leaves her knees feeling weak. He pulls away and she's breathless, dizzy.]

I love you.

[And clearly not thinking straight. She bites her lip, wishing she hadn't said it, knowing he's going to freak out. But so what? It's true, whether or not Hei will react well. And he's leaving, so it really doesn't matter how he reacts. 10 months. This might be the last chance she ever has to say it. He might as well know.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ I love you. (/lʌv/ A score of zero in tennis. A strong positive emotion for; same as: eu amo-te -- or -- wǒ ài nǐ (我爱你) -- or -- aishitemasu (愛してます). ]

[ Hei blinks, his expression not frozen but slack, like the force that animates it has been powered off. In a cognizant part of his mind, he thinks: I know that. But somehow, hearing the words, his usual game-plan is shredded. His brain seems to sway and trip sideways, barely brushing the edges of his surroundings. For a moment he feels it might detach and burst altogether like a water balloon on the stone-tiled floor. He should stay still, but his feet propel him backward, as if Korra's words are a mouthful of acid pellets flung in his face. A part of him wants to get the hell out of here. His heart is like a muscle-fisted clock in his chest, inert and long-stopped, refusing to keep time. ]

[ He knows she loves him. He also knows the traditional response to her words. But he can't say it, because it would be an ersatz prize. He doesn't know if he can feel love like she does. He doesn't know how to deviate from his narrow selfish groove of emotion. ]

[ But ... ]

[ But he cares about her. It's hard to build up a tolerance to love -- especially when it feels like a debt you can never repay -- but he likes what they have. He's happy with it, with Korra, if she is. ]

Okay. [ Like she's told him it's going to rain. He exhales, his brain a flat-line. Tries it again, gentler. ] Okay.

[ As in: I know. And it's okay. I promise. ]

[anatural]

[That went better than expected. Which is to say, it still feels like he stabbed a knife in her gut and ripped out her innards, but she's not bleeding to death on the ice. She knew better than to hope that he would say the words back to her, but an itty bitty portion of her couldn't help wishing that he would. And it's not even that he didn't that hurts the most — it's how he recoiled, like her love is repugnant.

This is the guy you fell in love with. She shoves the pain aside with a mental eyeroll and steps back.]

Okay. Now get out of here [Before I cry] Before you miss your train.

[mortemscintilla]

[ She steps back. And a cold, slippery eel ghosts through the ventricles of Hei's heart, cinching itself tight. He feels like both a leashed predator and a groveling mongrel. Unsure if he wants to wrench free from this miasma of unwanted emotionalism, or if he wants to reach out, gather Korra close and reassure her that it's okay. Because Korra's chosen to love him, though it is impossible for him to love himself. And if Hei stops to reflect on it, for even half a second, all that irrationality and fear and awe threaten to capsize him in panic. He wants to touch what his entire body says he doesn't deserve, because something this dangerously ordinary and miraculous doesn't happen to monsters like him. He'd always decided it wasn't for the likes of him -- he couldn't quite remember when it was that he'd resolved his lot in life wouldn't include it, but looking at Korra now, he can practically feel some part of his psyche rewiring itself. ]

[ He wishes he could tell her that. But he can't imagine how. Instead, he exhales, taking another step back. His senses feel so preternaturally clouded that he can only hear himself swallowing, a click of throat, a thick beat of blood in the temples. ]

I'll be back soon. [ A momentary harshness of emotion shivers through his otherwise steady tone. ] You know that, right?

[anatural]

[She smiles weakly.]

10 months. [Not her definition of soon, but whatever.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hei wants to say, Ten months go by in a blink, in that sensible tone loathed by children and sad-eyed girlfriends. But he's not so stupid. Instead he leans in again, and the kiss is short but questing, as if to find the bright glitter of the smile that's tucked behind the soft line of her lips. An unexpected surge of something comes over him -- grief or affection, or maybe both. Korra, Korra, Korra. For all her volatility, she steadies him. Makes life sweet. The idea of leaving her, being deprived for months, feels like the onset of a terrible draught. Except he's already in knots over his lack of direction, his absence of purpose. He may be happy with Korra, but joy and instinct don't always boast matched alignments. ]

[ Drawing back, he says, ]

Thank you. For ... telling me.

[ Sure, compared to what Korra's told him -- a bombshell, a cataclysm, a falling star -- the words carry no more value than a penny, but he is unable to offer anything more from the tense length of his throat. ]

[anatural]

[He comes perilously close to teasing it out.]

You're welcome? [She's not really sure how to respond to that. "I love you." "Thank you." "You're welcome." It's such a strange conversation.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ She should know by now: there's no such thing as a 'regular conversation.' Especially not between them. (Still. If he were as hardassed as the front he puts up, he wouldn't say Thank You, because he ascribes no value to I love you. Because words are empty wrappers around bitter pellets of self-interest. Because love changes nothing, and if it does, it's like insanity or an infection. So slowly that you usually don't notice, and by the time you say the word, it's far too late. Saying the word is just the last step.) But the fact that Korra's said it at all is a monumental bravery. Because she has no defenses, and her only shield is her innocence -- in itself double-edged. ]

[ He doesn't know how to tell her that he cares about her too -- because it's lopsided, mismatched -- but maybe someday he'll have the words and that depth of emotion. Maybe he won't die before it happens. ]

[ He exhales, before pushing his mouth into the cursory lines of a smile. The blue lights, the echoes of heavy machinery, the swells and ebbs of the crowd around him -- everything feels surreal. It's a struggle to inject the usual normality into his voice. ]

I better go.

[anatural]

Yeah.

[She's just going to stand here, watching until he's out of sight.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hei turns, and each step is like a descent through knee-high mud. The distance swells between him and Korra, yet he can feel her gaze itching like a hot blue flame across his spine. Still, he doesn't glance back. It's not his way. The idea of Korra, standing uncertain and unhappy, because that warm affectionate nature of hers, which she can never submerge for long, would be made wrongheaded and rejected in advance, stirs him so he has to stride at a faster clip. Korra lacks the emotional -- not toughness but stoniness -- to deal with this sort of a goodbye. Just as Hei lacks the softness to offer her something beyond a meager reassurance. ]

[ The crowd swallows him like a sea, and he's grateful for it. Because if she called for him stay, right now, he probably would. ]

[ (That's the first sign, isn't it?) ]