A/N – based off of the animatic that showed Asami's grief stricken face as she turns away from that guy who worked for her—my poor baby.
-This is Love-
Asami's eyes were swimming furiously as she took in her appearance. The dress she hadn't seen in years snuggled against her body and her soft, black curls hung around her shoulders. A clip held her hair back on one side, and her lips were stained red. She had soft gloves against her fingers, and earrings hanging from her ears. She looked mystic, but she looked gorgeous, and she knew that. But, her green eyes held everything she was feeling. She was walking around with fake smiles and eyes that covered her true emotions. Everyone was busy and surely didn't need another distraction placed on their plates. She couldn't look anymore, and so she turned from the long, antique mirror. She felt her heart constrict in her chest and hop up her throat, trying to break her completely. But she couldn't help the sadness that erupted from within. She felt so very alone. So very, very alone.
After her father's imprisonment, Asami had gone back to Sato Mansion and evaluated the state of the house; what was part of the equalists movement and what was hers and what was just junk. It was a troubling task but she accepted that it was what she needed to do. She had gone through room upon room over the past couple of weeks though she hadn't really been prepared for what awaited her at that moment. She slid open a closet door that had had a secret key she'd found in her father's study. She'd never been in the closet, but she had never really wondered nor cared what was behind the door. But as the secret confines of the closet were now in front of her, a sob erupted from beneath her chest and she felt her eyes gloss over.
Boxes sat around her, all marked precisely, along with a large painting hanging on the wall and a few headless mannequins dressed in beautiful gowns and dresses that were elegant and breathtaking—these were her mothers. The painting stared at her, and she felt a gasp of pain escape her lips. It displayed a woman she hadn't seen in years, though she recognized each part of her. Those lips that had kissed her forehead and whispered her love, those eyelashes that she had fluttered against Asami's own in butterfly kisses, that nose that would scrunch up when she laughed or when she smelled something awful, that hair that fell in tendrils identical to her own. It was her mother.
"Mom," Her voice was a squeak as she fell to her knees.
She was strong. She was a warrior. She aided the Avatar in ending the revolution and she had even taken on her own father. She wasn't weak. She was sad.
She doesn't really tell anybody. She's not sure why not, because really, who wants to deal with it all alone? She just doesn't know how to bring it up or what to say. They stop asking her if she's alright, because her answer was always the same. She was fine, because she was still more or less in shock. Now the shock and frustration had ebbed away, letting sadness and loneliness sink in instead. She's not bitter towards her friends, and she's not mad, and when she sees Mako and Korra together she doesn't feel jealousy anymore. She's happy for them, like genuinely happy because these are her friends and she loves them both and they both deserve to be happy. But it's when she's sitting all alone in the larger than large mansion she'd grown up in that she realizes maybe she deserves to be happy, too. She doesn't know how to make herself happy, though. That's the problem. She's sad because she feels as if there is no release; no one to listen.
She declines Korra's dinner invitation three nights in a row and completely ignores the others.
She had decided she was being pathetic and now she stood beside Bolin as they walked aimlessly around the city. He had showed up at her door and insisted they go for a walk, and that he'd get her an ice cream or something. She hadn't eaten in a few days due to the sadness eliminating her appetite—she wasn't interested—and so ice cream made her stomach scream in protest, but she'd only nodded. Bolin was sweet.
"And so that's how we came up with the name Fire Ferrets!" Bolin threw his arms up in the air. Asami couldn't keep the small smile off of her face.
"Yep," Bolin popped the p at the end of the word. "Pabu's honored." Asami smiled again.
"I'm sure he is. Pro-bender Champion mascot,"
"He's proud, too."
When Asami didn't answer, Bolin turned his head to look at the taller girl. He was shocked when he saw tears leaking from her eyes. He stopped in his tracks, though she continued walking until she noticed he'd ended his familiar pace. She turned around and gave him a small frown, before his little face contorted into a sad frown of his own. He looked almost as sad as she knew she looked, and when he opened his arms to her it was her undoing. Letting the tears make tracks down her cheeks, she launched into his arms. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she burrowed her face into the crook of his neck were it met his shoulder, and she let all of her tears unleash. It wasn't what she had intended, but she figured it wasn't the worst thing that could happen and it sort of was the one thing she had been hoping for. She let her sobs shake her whole body as she hung onto Bolin, his warm arms wrapped tightly around her. Her entire chest ached as she sobbed pathetically, staining Bolin's jacket.
"I'm all alone," She whimpered.
"No you're not." Bolin's voice was firm. "I'm right here. It's going to be okay, I promise." His voice was soothing, yet he didn't waver and she knew he meant what he said.
"Bolin," Her sobs mangled his name from her lips and her voice was muffled against his large frame. And though they stood in the middle of a crowded side walk, things finally felt maybe okay.
Bolin doesn't push or pry. He is gentle and he is soft and he is caring. His voice is like the sweetest symphony, like the brightest candle in the darkest night and Asami finds herself clinging onto it. She holds on as tightly as she can, because she still feels as if she is drowning. She claws at Bolin's very existence as if he is the only bit of life that is still real, the only part that can keep her afloat. She notices all of this one day when he is very busy and can't come visit her at exactly ten o'clock in the morning. She notices the way her hands fidget as she makes a pot of tea that she'll drink alone and the empty way the chair besides her look and the way her house seems so big—it's a mansion for fucks sake—and the way her heart beats slower than normal. She knows that she's come to rely on him and it kind of scares her and kind of makes her feel important.
He kisses her cheek gently and her entire body smiles. She feels herself react to him in a way she doesn't even mean to. He pushes her hair aside to whisper into her ear and though she's supposed to be listening she can't focus on the words, because his breath is hot against her neck and his nose is brushing against her face and she wants to sigh at how perfect he feels pressed up against her.
"Asami," His voice sounds urgent and she remembers that she should've been listening to him.
"Sorry," Her face flushes slightly.
"It's okay," He kisses her again, before whispering once more and she wants to melt into him, and she realizes she's not listening again and she realizes that what she feels is so strong and she feels so adored and she feels special and important and she feels like she's his number one and she feels so calm around him and she realizes that maybe he is the one and maybe this intense feeling eating her away is love and maybe she's healing.
His voice is uncertain, though she hears the complete sincerity; he means every word he's saying.
"It's just, I know you've had a hard time and I was so worried and I mean I still am worried about you and I just guess that-"
"Bolin," Her voice is soft and reassuring and he blushes.
"What I'm trying to say is that you're amazing, Asami. Like, you are so special and you make me so happy and your smile is like beautiful," He throws his arms out wide. "And your laugh is so, it's so happy and it makes me want to laugh and you are just amazing, Asami." He was talking in circles, but Asami found she didn't mind one bit. She didn't mind the way he stuttered, or the way his nose wrinkled in such a familiar way, and she just wishes she could always feel this way.
"You're incredible," Bolin concludes. "Amazing, spectacular and I love you, Asami." His voice is like simple melodies and first kisses and summer rain showers and he cups her face with both of his hands and he pulls her in closely as he lets his lips brush against her own in a tender touch. And she knows this is what love feels like.
"I love you, too, Bolin," She murmurs against his lips and she knows that she is healing and she will feel better as long Bolin never leaves her side, as long as he continues to hold her hand and rid away her nightmares and let her sleep over and whisper soft words and cuddle her closely. This is love.