poly_chromatic | 二十一

Entry tags:

legend of korra: korra

二十一

[Coming out today in an Underground comic store near you -- a self-published comic by a local artist. Posters advertising the comic say: "INSPIRED BY TRUE EVENTS".]

[It's a good thing Korra's not working tonight, otherwise heads might roll. As it is, she's going to be pretty darn pissed when she finds out about this.

Who wants to break the news to her?]

[ooc: Art courtesy of the ever-amazing

candothat]

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[She stares at him. She's not surprised, but at the same time, she doesn't understand it at all.]

Because I said I'd listen if you wanted to talk?

[There's nothing of anger or hurt in her voice, only confusion. It'd just been an offer. Not a demand. Not an ultimatum. Not even a plea. What was so wrong with that?]

[ He turns his head then, meets her eyes. He looks so weary. It's already making him queasy, all these undertones of sentimentality. His reflex is to build an argument. Establish a solid foundation. Turn an emotional moment into one of cold logic. He wants to tell her, You shouldn't be here. Shouldn't even be talking to me. I don't know how to relate to people at all. I blow hot when I should blow cold, cold when I should blow hot, and when I should be real, I slap on fifty shades of fake. ]

[ He doesn't mean to speak; his tongue and palate are dry. The words fall out like moth-balls. ]

Because I shouldn't have started this in the first place.

[ Minimize the issue. Keep it simple and clean. It's what he should've done from the beginning. Not let it carry on until he's waking up and looking around him and seeing loose-end after loose-end in the map of skin and veins and capillaries. ]

Excuse me?

[He started it? It had been her decision too. She had chosen to have sex with him in the shed, to go home with him from the park. She had initiated it the third time. How dare he act like she's just a game, like she was something he'd done and not a person he'd been with.]

You heard me.

[ He drops his gaze, drinking his coffee in small sips, showing no sign that he's really taking in her reaction, or even her presence. But he can practically feel the energy pouring off her. He knows he's being cowardly. The reality of their situation has sunk in -- and it unnerves him. He clings to distance because it protects him from honest dealings with people. But even he knows that stance is getting a little shopworn. ]

[ At the same time, he's trying to accept his own irresponsibility and irrationality. He slept with her because he needed a painkiller. Because he'd been chasing ghosts for so long he'd gladly accept any substitutions in his life. That's a poor basis to get mixed-up with someone. Especially when it's based on deception and misrepresentation. It takes away your ability to choose. ]

Say it again.

[Treat her like a child again. Erase the choices she's made again.]

[ She's going to go there, isn't she? She's going to force him into a corner, make him be cruel. He wants to tell her that he doubts she's ever had attention -- the attention she craves -- given to her in a healthy way. That he suspects she confuses emotional abuse for affection. That it's reason#999 on why this is a bad life choice. At the same time he wants to plead with her, not to torment him, not to challenge him. Not now, while he feels so raw, still steeped in the memory of losses and failures from back home. ]

[ His mouth opens and he speaks like an automaton, ]

Fine. I'm saying this was a mistake. We're both aware that there are certain [ deceptions ] disparities between us. There's no reason to prolong something we'll just continue to be uncomfortable with.

...................so basically, you're running scared. From one little gesture of friendship.

[Because he certainly hadn't seemed uncomfortable when he slept with her, or when he flirted with her, or when he pulled her onto his lap. This "uncomfortable" feels like a pretty recent development to her. (Conveniently forgetting the knots he's tied her in from almost the beginning.)

She gets up.]

Fine. If that's what you what you want. [The words are understanding, but her voice is more than a little resentful.]

Do what you have to do.

[She told him she wasn't going to push. If he wants to run away, she'll let him. She has her own life to worry about.]

If that's what you want to call it.

[ Because he wouldn't call it a gesture of friendship at all. More like the beginnings of a very poor judgement. The situation is rife with that already. And Hei hates it, because he once had an orderly brain. Precise little boxes to categorize his thoughts, emotions, experiences and plans. Pai had her own box; so did Amber. The rest of the his team were lumped into a separate box, while the Syndicate in general had a whole honeycomb all its own. When he needed something, all he had to do was open the lid of the applicable box, fish around, take out what he required, and move on. ]

[ But now all the lids are gone and the locks are shattered, and everything is mixed like a Technicolor cocktail in his brain. He wants to loan her a portion of that feeling. Make her understand why he's made the choice to do this. ]

[ Things were so much simpler when all they were interested in was killing each other. ]

[Except she's never wanted to kill him. All she's ever really wanted, from the moment he hurled that canister of gas at her, was to understand him. To stop him, if necessary. But never to kill him.

She'd love to have some snappy retort, but words have never been her strong suit. So she just leaves, to lick her wounds in private.]

[ Hei waits until she's gone before he exhales, as if the booth is suddenly filled with space. His fingers are curled a degree too tight on the mug; he spreads them out, almost willing the tension to settle. In his head, a toneless spiel that is equal parts cognitive dissonance and rehashed logic is unspooling. ]

[ But he can't decide if he's made a nick-of-time extrication, or just shot himself in the foot. ]

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二十一

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