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Chapter One

Chase two girls, lose the one

When it first started, Korra couldn't move a single muscle. 

Smashed glass and profanities echoed into the walls of a darkened room: bittersweet memories and a broken heart shattering in the process. Light brown eyes welled up with defeat and hopelessness while raging fists took to work on whatever was in sight - photo frames, old bending scrolls, perfume bottles, and the nearest wall.

A wall that was far too hard to cause any real damage to, at least not with the injured, clenched fist, being pathetically swung at it anyway. 

A wall that had lived centuries yet remained as sturdy as the day it was first built. Maybe it was the excellent workmanship that maintained it in such condition. Or maybe it developed its rigidity from having to withstand the wraths of the short-tempered firebenders that lived there previously. 

And it didn't take a genius to work out who would win in a battle of flesh and bone vs bricks and cement but maybe that wasn't the point, maybe he didn't want to win. Perhaps the stinging sensation that flowed through him from each hit was what he craved – because the pain in his fists dulled the growing ache in his heart and he'd rather that over the latter pain, any day.

So, he continued to punch, hard. His burning knuckles split deeper, releasing more red with each hit.

And in the archway by the door left ajar, stood soft green eyes that overlooked the disquieting encounter.

Eyes that seemed to have had their fill for as much suffering as they could endure already, that much was obvious from the way they faltered as they took in the mess before them.

Eyes that followed the boy's erratic movements and didn't run or walk away but gravitated towards them. Eyes softened as they approached the boy in an attempt to diffuse, to quell the dark cloud overtaking him.

Gentle hands neared the rampant boy, whispering sweet melodies of optimism and consolation as they reached out:

"It's okay Mako",

"You're going to be okay",

"Just let me help you."

And when gentle hands met trembling shoulders, they squeezed down lightly and slowly, as if the body they were holding onto was the most delicate thing alive. 

Hushed assurances escaped soft lips once more, mouthing quiet I've got yous and I'm here for you.

And Mako must have heard. Amid his harsh and ragged breaths following the tears streaming down his face. He was a mess. A crying stressed heartbroken mess. Mako stopped shaking for a single second, and when green eyes met brown, his lips quivered a bit, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't form the right words.

"She's the one who needs help, Asami."

She remembers he said it with so much pain. How his voice was shaking, and his knees gave out on him, making him crumble onto the floor. Asami never knew she could see a person in such a state.

She remembers how hopelessly in love Mako was with the injured girl. She remembers how he would've done anything for Korra to be able to walk out of that battle with not even a single scratch. How he kept muttering that it was his fault for not following after her when she flew after Zaheer. How he lived with unnecessary guilt.

She remembers how Korra looked the night she asked her to come to the Water Tribe with her instead of Mako. How Mako blew his whole apartment to dust because he didn't understand, why Korra wouldn't want him to be with her?