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. ]

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[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?) ]