[ He both is and isn't surprised when she flees the bedroom. His clothes and his hair still have that soursweet bar-drunken fetor, and everything about him denotes the sticky, heavy-limbed languor of hang-over. Who wants to curl up next to that? ]
[ Even so, as he hears the front door click open and shut, there's a flare of something in his chest -- bewildered, angry, unhappy. The white ceiling undulates as he shifts restlessly beneath it, too spacey to feel the mattress under his back, fighting the hollow, watery sensation that makes him feel deliquesced in his head and guts. You drank too much. That's all this is. ]
[ Except that's a lie. There is no loneliness, he is quickly learning, like the loneliness of an empty bed, far from all you love, even if you're not that far at all. ]
[ Jerking himself out of the reverie, he lurches to his feet. Cautiously, he parts the slats of the blinds at the window and peers out into the sandy yard. There is Naga, fur glowing an unpleasant white in the bright dawn light, stretched out in a fluffy curl around the half-hidden shape of Korra's head -- a whorl of white cotton-candy around a dark dollop of chocolate. ]
[ Somewhat mollified, he steps away. She's holding herself apart right now, but he's hoping that sometime -- soon, not-so-soon -- they'll be able to fix that. Eventually. She has time, plenty of it, and so, he concedes, does he. But time can be both hot and cold, rich and thin, and somehow, nothing can convince him that his time with Korra isn't the same as his time with Pai's, with Amber's, with everyone who slipped away from him. ]
no subject
[ Even so, as he hears the front door click open and shut, there's a flare of something in his chest -- bewildered, angry, unhappy. The white ceiling undulates as he shifts restlessly beneath it, too spacey to feel the mattress under his back, fighting the hollow, watery sensation that makes him feel deliquesced in his head and guts. You drank too much. That's all this is. ]
[ Except that's a lie. There is no loneliness, he is quickly learning, like the loneliness of an empty bed, far from all you love, even if you're not that far at all. ]
[ Jerking himself out of the reverie, he lurches to his feet. Cautiously, he parts the slats of the blinds at the window and peers out into the sandy yard. There is Naga, fur glowing an unpleasant white in the bright dawn light, stretched out in a fluffy curl around the half-hidden shape of Korra's head -- a whorl of white cotton-candy around a dark dollop of chocolate. ]
[ Somewhat mollified, he steps away. She's holding herself apart right now, but he's hoping that sometime -- soon, not-so-soon -- they'll be able to fix that. Eventually. She has time, plenty of it, and so, he concedes, does he. But time can be both hot and cold, rich and thin, and somehow, nothing can convince him that his time with Korra isn't the same as his time with Pai's, with Amber's, with everyone who slipped away from him. ]