[ There's a quirk to Hei's lips that might or might not pass for a smile. He leans forward, hands folded in his lap, and regards her. His level gaze inquires, assesses, though his head is pounding and exhaustion and nausea makes his stomach churn. There's a patch of thoughtful silence, unbroken except by the susurration of water, before his gaze falls. ]
I wanted to ask, [ he says, affecting a nonchalance despite the tension in his jaw ] if I said right now, that I won't come near you again, that taking up with you was a mistake, that I made a bigger one by refusing to acknowledge that, what would you do? [ A slow breath. ] Would you be relieved? Or just angry that I'm taking your choices away?
[His phrasing confuses her. She stares at him, running his words through her head over and over, trying to make sure she understands them, but it's not the same as rereading the same passage of a book until the words make sense. The more she thinks about it, the more confused she gets.]
Are you dumping me again?
[Because it's beginning to sound a lot like the last time he dumped her. All the same statements, this time dressed up as questions but still statements. It pisses her off.]
[ Hei resists the urge to rub his temples. There it is again, that defensiveness, that emotionalism, so unconcealed, and it makes him exhausted and apprehensive and frustrated all at once. He cuts his eyes to the side, watching the pindots of stars on the rippling water, not checking Korra for reactions. ]
I'm not 'dumping' you. [ Such a highschoolish word. Dumping. But it's an effort to remember that she's only eighteen. ] But I do wonder if that's such a bad thing. Not dumping you but agreeing to end ... this. [ A vague gesture, to encompass what this signifies -- ambiguity, futility, limbo. ] After what's happened tonight, can you honestly say being around me is good for you? For your friends? Or that you find me even remotely likeable? [ His face is so flat now, his eyes so dull, that his stare has something horribly empty about it. ] There might be moments where you think you like me. But it's no better than Stockholm Syndrome. You're stuck with someone awful, so you try to focus on positive things about them. But it doesn't take away from the truth of what they are.
That doesn't make any sense. [The words rip out of her. It's only after she speaks that a distant part of her realizes she hadn't been breathing.]
If we're stuck together, then we can't choose to end things. And if we're not stuck together, then that whole Stockhome thing is stupid! It's a total contradiction!
[Frustrated, she grabs a stone and hurls it at the bench (not him). It bounces off the back and flies towards the water, disturbing the ducks. She takes a shuddering breath, trying to marshall her words, her thoughts, around her, and if he tries to interrupt her, she will punch him.]
I don't always like you. Especially right now. You can be really, really awful. And you can be okay. [It's been a long, agonizing 10 months, but if there's anything she has finally learned here, it's that people are complicated. The world isn't as simple as "good" and "bad."] You can kinda be nice.
I'm not "stuck" with you. [She'd felt that way once, like the City kept throwing them together and she didn't have a choice in the matter. But she hasn't felt that way in awhile, not since that night when they looked up at the stars and kissed under the mistletoe.] I'm not trying to make the best out of a sucky situation.
There are things I like about you and things I don't. [How they balance out now, whether tonight has tipped the scales towards "end this," she's not yet sure. But this idea that her feelings are a delusion, just some kind of twisted coping mechanism... she wants to nip that in the bud right now.]
[ When she picks up the stone, Hei braces himself to be pelted. It's not with a sense of dread, or even expectation. Just a passive sense of waiting, the way he sometimes used to wait, after Pai's disappearance, for his own death. Each time the bullets whizzed too closeby, each time the night was too suffocatingly still, some obscure part of him, that was ever-ready to take a swandive into release, struggled against struggle, saying, Just let it happen. ]
[ Except he'd never listened to that voice. His retort was always: Why should I? ]
[ He prepares to dodge, but the stone ricochets off the wooden slats. It skitters near the pond, and the ducks fly off, but Hei isn't paying attention. His focus is on Korra. He lets her explode. Lets her get what she needs to off her chest, to reveal whatever rationale she's clinging to. Whatever justifies this bizarro hookup of theirs. He can tell how strongly she resists the idea that it's a coping mechanism, even though, from a detached viewpoint, it's true in a lot of respects. ]
[ But Hei is aware that clinging to your own worldview is an intellectual imperative, the mind's equivalent of fighting, feeding and fucking. People will eagerly twist facts into wholly unrecognizable shapes to fit them into existing suppositions. They'll ignore the obvious, select the irrelevant, and spin it all into a tapestry of self-deception, solely to justify an idea, no matter how impoverished or self destructive. ]
[ Isn't that what you're doing too? ]
I don't mean 'stuck' like two people in a box, Korra. [ He doesn't snap it; his voice is quiet and reasonable. ] I mean two people who are obviously ill-suited for each other. But there's an idiotic alchemy stopping them from making the smart choice and splitting ways. [ He scrubs a hand through his hair, suddenly impatient. ] I've threatened to kill your friends. Threatened -- and nearly succeeded -- in killing you. Those aren't trivial issues. I know this is a tiresome conversation. And I don't want to give you the wrong impression. But think for a minute. Wouldn't you be better off with someone safer? More age-appropriate?
[Maybe he's right; maybe it is self-deception. Or maybe she's just tired of other people putting her into their own little boxes.
Korra, the spiritual failure. Korra, the half-baked Avatar. Korra, the reckless thug. Korra, the little ballbuster. Korra, the pathetic girl clinging to a bad relationship.
All of it true, and none of it the entire picture, but everyone she's met tries to shove her inside their favorite box, confused and frustrated when she just won't fit.]
What impression are you trying to give me? [The words come out angry and eerily calm.]
Because the impression I'm getting is that you're disgusted with yourself, but instead of trying to fix your behavior, you're trying to change mine. You're acting like you're some big force of nature and I can either move my hut or stay and die, but you're not. You're just a person.
[She stands up and brushes the dirt off her pants. A part of her is ready to walk away, and another part of her simply refuses to sit beneath him like a student before a teacher.]
[ Her words are pellets of acid, splattering his face. Hei jerks back, then quickly goes steely. ] 'Change.' That's an easy word to toss around. People talk about it all the damn time. But they just clang along doing the same stupid stuff year in and year out. [ Ice creeps into his tone. ] But believe me, I haven't. If you knew me five years ago, you'd think I was as foul as they come. And you'd be right. This person -- whose behaviour, according to you, needs fixing -- is here because he decided to 'change.'
[ But there's still enough filth left in him to leave nothing of you. That, he doesn't say. There's no need to. It makes a headache pound behind his eyes. Because however much he changes is irrelevant; they'll always be wrong for each other, and by that logic, they should finish this. The whole damn thing is nothing but diseased and inflamed, like a slashed wound that won't scab over. ]
[ At the same time, a voice, so much like Amber's, intrudes: Why is everything so negative with you? It's because you've never been tied to something larger than yourself, outside of Pai's safety. You don't believe in anything anymore. So you can't imagine someone who does. They must be either deluded or lying or naive. ]
[ He's been alone for so long, he's begun to conceive of himself that way. But slowly and inevitably, the conception has begun to include other people. The knowledge scares him, so some wretched part of him always searches for rationalizations, excuses, whatever it needs to pat itself on the back and say, See? You can't trust anyone. I've always told you. ]
[ Hei exhales a breath through gritted teeth. His whole body aches, and he can't account for the incredible sadness that suddenly comes up in slow bubbles that burst painfully in his chest, over and over. Exhausted, he says, ] You want me to say that I need someone's shoulder to cry on? An intervention? Because I'm not going to do that, Korra. [ His eyes drift to hers then. There's a tinge of pain there. ] I can keep trying to change though. [ He's never stopped. ] But there's no guarantee I'll change into something that suits you.
[It takes her a few moments to speak, her throat is so tight with unshed tears and exhaustion and disbelief that he could miss her point so completely.]
I just want you to say you're sorry.
[I'm sorry for hurting you, not You're broken for wanting me. At this moment, she doesn't care whether he learns to cry or talk about his problems or finds healing or peace or whatever. He can stay as broken as he wants. She just wants him to stop trying to control her when he hates himself.]
[ The look Hei gives her then is soft and blindish and bewildered, like he can't believe how dense she is. His body feels hollow now, a cold wind blowing through him even as his skin feels clammy in the still air. Remorse and I'm Sorrys have never been for the likes of him. But part of him feels them all the same, with a yearning sort of incomprehension, like an academic half-wit in a roomful of A graders, full of stymied willingness to try. His voice is suddenly cut down to the force and volume of a kewpie doll's. ]
I wouldn't be here if I wasn't sorry. [ For hurting her. For carrying on this mess with her. For touching her in the first place, that night in the shed. All of this could've been avoided, if he'd kept less alcohol and more wits about him. ]
[The confusion on his face makes her want to slap him and hug him all at once. Then just say so! ("I'm sorry" is one of the few things she rarely has trouble saying.)
She does neither. Instead, she shoves her hands in her pockets and lets out a shuddering breath.]
Then you're forgiven. This time. [She's reckless and naive and young, but she's not that soft. If something like this ever happens again, she will end things herself, completely and irrevocably. There is something of Avatar Kyoshi in the way she holds herself right now, the calm promise in her voice. Something of Master Katara too. Aang had the tender heart that offered Fire Lord Zuko another chance, but Katara had had the love & wisdom to demand that the exiled prince work for it.
Whether Hei decides to work for it or not is up to him. There is nothing sad or pleading or helpless in Korra's manner. If he chooses to throw in the towel at this point, it's to protect himself, not her.]
[ Perhaps it's just as well that she doesn't touch him. He's not sure he'd permit contact -- not sure he could endure it -- just then. Instead he nods dully, offering her an oblique look out of tired red-edged eyes. Her anger has something magisterial to it now, with that eerie calm unclouding the blueness of her eyes. Hei can be imperious too, but that's not what this is about, really. It's not about tossing a rabid mongrel a scrap of meat on the stern warning to Behave next time, either. ]
[ It's nothing more or less than a second chance. He tells himself he ought to be grateful. ]
[ Still, there's something he needs to clarify. Boundaries he needs to establish. It's not a warning but a reminder, that she's been party to some bad choices too. ] I don't know if you were cursed or not. But don't sneak into my flat again. [ His tone isn't accusatory, but it drops to a low, flat register. ] I'm not Chekov or Bolin. I don't have it in me [ maybe I never will?] to not retaliate to tricks. There wasn't a lot of 'playtime' where I grew up.
[You're going to order me -- The words don't come out, because a part of her knows it's...not fair, and not right, but... acceptable. She and Chekov had known going into it that Hei would be pissed off by the prank. They knew they were crossing a boundary.]
I'm sorry. [Her crime may be small compared to his, but it still warrants an apology.]
[ A nod, not churlish but weary. He doesn't have it in him to contain all that resentment just now. His exhaustion is sudden and terrible; he can't feel his limbs. His gaze isn't steely but it's careful, studying the planes of her face, trying to reach some decision within himself. ]
[ When he finally speaks, the words are thick and blocky as if yanked from dried mud. ]
I'm going to give you some time to think this whole night over. If you're still sure you want to continue this [ because if there's one thing he's learnt, it's that distance and a full night's sleep can make you reassess a lot of choices made in the heat of the moment ] then I don't think we should carry on the way we have been.
[ Changes. That word again. There'll have to be changes made. ]
[ Hei takes her twitch for what it is -- a gesture indicative of imminent departure -- and manages a barely-there nod. He occupies the bench almost deadweight now, the bags under his eyes, the almost imperceptible sagging of his whole body, projecting his exhaustion. ] Go hom-- [ He starts to say, but he yawns quite suddenly, one of those wide spasmic seizures that signal the body's had enough of everything. ]
[ There's a very palpable threat of him dozing off on the bench. ]
Korra just....stares. She's seen him sleepy before, but never asleep. Ever. Never even "I thought he was asleep but he was actually awake." She's almost tempted to poke him to see if it's some kind of trick, but it's not the kind of trick he'd play. Not tonight, anyway.
He's...actually asleep.
Any other night, she would stay. Enjoy the view. Savor the novelty. Memorize the look on his face, so different from his normal expression. Tonight she's not that sentimental and he's not that forgiven. She briefly debates waking him up and sending him home, or at least to the Welcome Center, some place with an actual bed, but that would involve touching him and even though she's tempted, she's not yet ready.
He'll be fine, anyway. It's a nice spring night, and she doesn't doubt that if anybody tries to mug him, they'll get more than they bargained for.
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I wanted to ask, [ he says, affecting a nonchalance despite the tension in his jaw ] if I said right now, that I won't come near you again, that taking up with you was a mistake, that I made a bigger one by refusing to acknowledge that, what would you do? [ A slow breath. ] Would you be relieved? Or just angry that I'm taking your choices away?
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Are you dumping me again?
[Because it's beginning to sound a lot like the last time he dumped her. All the same statements, this time dressed up as questions but still statements. It pisses her off.]
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I'm not 'dumping' you. [ Such a highschoolish word. Dumping. But it's an effort to remember that she's only eighteen. ] But I do wonder if that's such a bad thing. Not dumping you but agreeing to end ... this. [ A vague gesture, to encompass what this signifies -- ambiguity, futility, limbo. ] After what's happened tonight, can you honestly say being around me is good for you? For your friends? Or that you find me even remotely likeable? [ His face is so flat now, his eyes so dull, that his stare has something horribly empty about it. ] There might be moments where you think you like me. But it's no better than Stockholm Syndrome. You're stuck with someone awful, so you try to focus on positive things about them. But it doesn't take away from the truth of what they are.
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If we're stuck together, then we can't choose to end things. And if we're not stuck together, then that whole Stockhome thing is stupid! It's a total contradiction!
[Frustrated, she grabs a stone and hurls it at the bench (not him). It bounces off the back and flies towards the water, disturbing the ducks. She takes a shuddering breath, trying to marshall her words, her thoughts, around her, and if he tries to interrupt her, she will punch him.]
I don't always like you. Especially right now. You can be really, really awful. And you can be okay. [It's been a long, agonizing 10 months, but if there's anything she has finally learned here, it's that people are complicated. The world isn't as simple as "good" and "bad."] You can kinda be nice.
I'm not "stuck" with you. [She'd felt that way once, like the City kept throwing them together and she didn't have a choice in the matter. But she hasn't felt that way in awhile, not since that night when they looked up at the stars and kissed under the mistletoe.] I'm not trying to make the best out of a sucky situation.
There are things I like about you and things I don't. [How they balance out now, whether tonight has tipped the scales towards "end this," she's not yet sure. But this idea that her feelings are a delusion, just some kind of twisted coping mechanism... she wants to nip that in the bud right now.]
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[ Except he'd never listened to that voice. His retort was always: Why should I? ]
[ He prepares to dodge, but the stone ricochets off the wooden slats. It skitters near the pond, and the ducks fly off, but Hei isn't paying attention. His focus is on Korra. He lets her explode. Lets her get what she needs to off her chest, to reveal whatever rationale she's clinging to. Whatever justifies this bizarro hookup of theirs. He can tell how strongly she resists the idea that it's a coping mechanism, even though, from a detached viewpoint, it's true in a lot of respects. ]
[ But Hei is aware that clinging to your own worldview is an intellectual imperative, the mind's equivalent of fighting, feeding and fucking. People will eagerly twist facts into wholly unrecognizable shapes to fit them into existing suppositions. They'll ignore the obvious, select the irrelevant, and spin it all into a tapestry of self-deception, solely to justify an idea, no matter how impoverished or self destructive. ]
[ Isn't that what you're doing too? ]
I don't mean 'stuck' like two people in a box, Korra. [ He doesn't snap it; his voice is quiet and reasonable. ] I mean two people who are obviously ill-suited for each other. But there's an idiotic alchemy stopping them from making the smart choice and splitting ways. [ He scrubs a hand through his hair, suddenly impatient. ] I've threatened to kill your friends. Threatened -- and nearly succeeded -- in killing you. Those aren't trivial issues. I know this is a tiresome conversation. And I don't want to give you the wrong impression. But think for a minute. Wouldn't you be better off with someone safer? More age-appropriate?
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Korra, the spiritual failure. Korra, the half-baked Avatar. Korra, the reckless thug. Korra, the little ballbuster. Korra, the pathetic girl clinging to a bad relationship.
All of it true, and none of it the entire picture, but everyone she's met tries to shove her inside their favorite box, confused and frustrated when she just won't fit.]
What impression are you trying to give me? [The words come out angry and eerily calm.]
Because the impression I'm getting is that you're disgusted with yourself, but instead of trying to fix your behavior, you're trying to change mine. You're acting like you're some big force of nature and I can either move my hut or stay and die, but you're not. You're just a person.
[She stands up and brushes the dirt off her pants. A part of her is ready to walk away, and another part of her simply refuses to sit beneath him like a student before a teacher.]
You're the one who needs to change. Not me.
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[ But there's still enough filth left in him to leave nothing of you. That, he doesn't say. There's no need to. It makes a headache pound behind his eyes. Because however much he changes is irrelevant; they'll always be wrong for each other, and by that logic, they should finish this. The whole damn thing is nothing but diseased and inflamed, like a slashed wound that won't scab over. ]
[ At the same time, a voice, so much like Amber's, intrudes: Why is everything so negative with you? It's because you've never been tied to something larger than yourself, outside of Pai's safety. You don't believe in anything anymore. So you can't imagine someone who does. They must be either deluded or lying or naive. ]
[ He's been alone for so long, he's begun to conceive of himself that way. But slowly and inevitably, the conception has begun to include other people. The knowledge scares him, so some wretched part of him always searches for rationalizations, excuses, whatever it needs to pat itself on the back and say, See? You can't trust anyone. I've always told you. ]
[ Hei exhales a breath through gritted teeth. His whole body aches, and he can't account for the incredible sadness that suddenly comes up in slow bubbles that burst painfully in his chest, over and over. Exhausted, he says, ] You want me to say that I need someone's shoulder to cry on? An intervention? Because I'm not going to do that, Korra. [ His eyes drift to hers then. There's a tinge of pain there. ] I can keep trying to change though. [ He's never stopped. ] But there's no guarantee I'll change into something that suits you.
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I just want you to say you're sorry.
[I'm sorry for hurting you, not You're broken for wanting me. At this moment, she doesn't care whether he learns to cry or talk about his problems or finds healing or peace or whatever. He can stay as broken as he wants. She just wants him to stop trying to control her when he hates himself.]
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I wouldn't be here if I wasn't sorry. [ For hurting her. For carrying on this mess with her. For touching her in the first place, that night in the shed. All of this could've been avoided, if he'd kept less alcohol and more wits about him. ]
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She does neither. Instead, she shoves her hands in her pockets and lets out a shuddering breath.]
Then you're forgiven. This time. [She's reckless and naive and young, but she's not that soft. If something like this ever happens again, she will end things herself, completely and irrevocably. There is something of Avatar Kyoshi in the way she holds herself right now, the calm promise in her voice. Something of Master Katara too. Aang had the tender heart that offered Fire Lord Zuko another chance, but Katara had had the love & wisdom to demand that the exiled prince work for it.
Whether Hei decides to work for it or not is up to him. There is nothing sad or pleading or helpless in Korra's manner. If he chooses to throw in the towel at this point, it's to protect himself, not her.]
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[ It's nothing more or less than a second chance. He tells himself he ought to be grateful. ]
[ Still, there's something he needs to clarify. Boundaries he needs to establish. It's not a warning but a reminder, that she's been party to some bad choices too. ] I don't know if you were cursed or not. But don't sneak into my flat again. [ His tone isn't accusatory, but it drops to a low, flat register. ] I'm not Chekov or Bolin. I don't have it in me [ maybe I never will?] to not retaliate to tricks. There wasn't a lot of 'playtime' where I grew up.
[ Only violence and death and one-upmanship. ]
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I'm sorry. [Her crime may be small compared to his, but it still warrants an apology.]
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[ When he finally speaks, the words are thick and blocky as if yanked from dried mud. ]
I'm going to give you some time to think this whole night over. If you're still sure you want to continue this [ because if there's one thing he's learnt, it's that distance and a full night's sleep can make you reassess a lot of choices made in the heat of the moment ] then I don't think we should carry on the way we have been.
[ Changes. That word again. There'll have to be changes made. ]
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Gee, thanks. [Not that it's not a good idea, but... she's still hyper-sensitive.
Shaking off a wave of exhaustion and irritation, she turns to leave. It's been a rough night. She's ready to be done with it.]
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[ There's a very palpable threat of him dozing off on the bench. ]
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BK201. Interpol and Pandora's most wanted Contractor. Dreaded scourge of Heaven's War ...
...is asleep. ]
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SERIOUSLY.
Korra just....stares. She's seen him sleepy before, but never asleep. Ever. Never even "I thought he was asleep but he was actually awake." She's almost tempted to poke him to see if it's some kind of trick, but it's not the kind of trick he'd play. Not tonight, anyway.
He's...actually asleep.
Any other night, she would stay. Enjoy the view. Savor the novelty. Memorize the look on his face, so different from his normal expression. Tonight she's not that sentimental and he's not that forgiven. She briefly debates waking him up and sending him home, or at least to the Welcome Center, some place with an actual bed, but that would involve touching him and even though she's tempted, she's not yet ready.
He'll be fine, anyway. It's a nice spring night, and she doesn't doubt that if anybody tries to mug him, they'll get more than they bargained for.
Shaking her head, she goes home.]