the space between
Korra swirled the wine in her glass, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim. Her eyes drifted over the lively crowd below, but the buzz of conversation and laughter felt distant, like it belonged to someone else. Opal’s wedding was stunning—soft glowing lights bathed the room, and the scent of flowers and fresh air wafted through—but Korra couldn’t shake the feeling of being an outsider. The pieces of her life seemed to be scattered, no longer fitting the way they once did. Another sip of wine did little to erase that gnawing emptiness in her chest.
“Still hiding up here, huh?” a familiar voice teased, breaking her thoughts.
She turned to find Mako leaning against the balcony railing, his arms crossed with that characteristic smirk that suggested he knew exactly what was going on in her mind, but wasn’t about to push her.
“Just needed a break from the chaos,” Korra replied, her voice light, but she could feel the weight of the evening pressing down on her. It was hard to explain, even to herself, why she felt so out of place. “It’s a little much, don’t you think?”
Mako chuckled softly, leaning back a little as if he was considering her words. “I feel you. Opal’s got a pretty full guest list, huh? I thought Bolin was going to introduce me to everyone in the room.”
Korra snorted, the sound unexpectedly light. “He’s probably already trying to. I’m not sure I’m ready for a one-on-one with the entire city.”
Mako raised an eyebrow, leaning in a little closer. “You sure about that? You don’t usually shy away from a challenge.”
Korra grinned, but it was more of a reflex than real amusement. “Yeah, well, even I have my limits.” She took another sip of her wine, her gaze lingering on the distant night sky, the moon casting a soft light over the city. “I’m just… not sure this is my scene anymore, you know?”
Before Mako could respond, Jinora’s voice rang out from behind them, light and knowing. “You’re both up here avoiding the party, huh?”
Korra turned to see Jinora approaching, a glass of lemonade delicately held in her hand, her braided hair catching the soft glow of the lights. The woman who once seemed so young, so uncertain, had grown into herself—poised and calm, but still with that quiet fire beneath her exterior.
“Well, you know Korra,” Mako said, grinning. “She’s too tough for the small talk.”
Korra rolled her eyes playfully, leaning against the balcony. “It’s not that. I just don’t have the energy for it tonight.”
Jinora’s eyes softened with understanding. “I get it. Weddings are... a lot. Everyone wants to talk about what you’re up to now, what’s next, like your life is some kind of big project.”
Mako chuckled lightly. “Yeah, like we’re all supposed to have everything figured out. As if anyone really does.”
There was a quiet pause. Mako shifted, and his voice grew a bit more reflective. “You’ve come a long way, Korra. You’re not the same person you were in high school. You’re figuring it out. In your own way.”
Korra’s smile faltered, just for a moment. Mako’s words hit deeper than she expected. She wasn’t the impulsive teenager she’d once been—hadn’t been for a long time. But the silence stretched between them, and she realized how little she knew about what came after. The path ahead was unclear, and it unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.
“So,” Mako broke the stillness, his voice softer than before. “Have you... talked to Asami yet?”
The question hung in the air, a subtle shift in tone that made Korra’s heart stutter, even as she tried to keep her composure. Her gaze flicked briefly across the room, finding Asami effortlessly commanding attention, a soft laugh escaping her lips as she spoke to a group of guests. She looked radiant, graceful as always.
Korra swallowed, trying to steady herself. “No.” The answer came out quieter than she intended, and she couldn’t stop her eyes from lingering on Asami for a moment too long. Memories of late-night talks, their laughter, the warmth of her presence... it all felt like a lifetime ago. And yet, here she was, surrounded by people, and still... here. In this strange space between past and future.
She blinked, forcing herself to break the moment. “Yeah. I just... I don’t know where to start with that, you know?”
Mako’s look softened with sympathy, but he didn’t press. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Korra nodded slowly, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest. “Thanks. I’ll figure it out.”
Jinora stepped in, her smile lifting the tension in the air. “So... dance challenge with Bolin, or what?”
Korra laughed, grateful for the change of pace. It felt like a small relief, the weight lifting just a little. “I’m not backing down from this one. Let’s show Bolin who’s really got the moves.”
Mako rolled his eyes, but there was a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “You’re both gonna make me look bad, aren’t you?”
Korra flashed him a grin. “That’s the plan.”
Korra stepped away from the group, the familiar hum of conversation now distant as she slipped through the doors and into the quiet of the balcony. The cool night air brushed against her skin, carrying with it a welcome calm. She leaned against the railing, holding her glass of wine loosely in her hand as her gaze turned upward to the star-filled sky.
The stars—scattered like diamonds in the distance—offered an odd sense of peace, though they also made her feel small. They were so far away, and yet they were always there, steady and unchanging. She couldn’t help but think of how different she felt from the girl she used to be—the confident, unstoppable force who had once believed she could tackle anything. Now, even standing alone on this balcony, she felt more uncertain than ever.
She took another sip of wine, feeling the cool liquid slide down her throat as she let out a slow breath. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be here, surrounded by people who cared about her. It wasn’t even that she didn’t appreciate the quiet. It was just... tonight felt different. She didn’t know how to reconcile the weight of her past with the confusion of what came next.
The sound of clinking glass caught her attention, and she took another sip, her eyes wandering back to the vast stretch of the city below. The lights twinkled like fireflies, and for a moment, it almost felt like she was standing on the edge of something. The future? Or was it just her own doubts swirling around her?
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, breaking her thoughts. She pulled it out, glancing at the screen. Bolin’s name flashed up, and she couldn’t help but smile at the message.
“Hope you’re not turning into a statue out there. Don’t forget about the cake. It’s AMAZING. – Bolin”
Korra chuckled softly, slipping the phone back into her pocket. Maybe Bolin was right. Maybe she wasn’t ready to be stuck in her thoughts forever. There was still a wedding to be enjoyed, a dance floor waiting. And maybe, just maybe, a conversation with someone she wasn’t quite sure how to approach.
Korra took another long sip of her wine, the cool liquid offering little relief from the swirling thoughts in her head. She let her gaze drift over the crowd below once more, the laughter and chatter echoing up to her from the dance floor. But it was no use. Her mind kept wandering back to the past, to the conversation she had overheard that day...
Korra sat at the kitchen table, absentmindedly pushing her spoon around in her cereal. The morning sunlight poured through the window, bathing the room in a soft, golden hue. The house was calm—quiet—except for the occasional murmur from the living room. Korra tilted her head slightly, hearing her parents' voices. They were talking, but it sounded like one of those casual, everyday conversations. At least, that’s what she thought at first.
“Korra’s got talent, Senna,” Tonraq’s voice floated into the kitchen, low and serious. “But we can’t keep holding her back here. If she wants a real shot, we need to think bigger. This facility out west—there’s nothing like it in the city. Top coaches, better competition, more exposure. She could really go pro if we made the move.”
Korra froze, her spoon hovering in midair. She had always heard her father talk about the future, but this... this sounded different. The idea of moving, of leaving everything behind—it felt too sudden.
Senna’s voice followed, sharp with skepticism. “You’re not serious, are you? Moving the whole family just for some new training facility?”
Tonraq let out a soft sigh, but there was no doubt in his voice. “I’m serious. Korra’s got potential, Senna. She needs to be surrounded by the best. She’s doing well here, but out there, she could be great. This could be her chance.”
Korra’s heart beat faster, a sense of panic starting to creep in. She hadn’t heard her father speak like this before—so determined, so certain. He always pushed her hard, but this felt... like something more. Something bigger than she had been ready for.
“Tonraq, you’re not hearing me,” Senna responded, a slight edge to her tone. “Korra’s life is here. Her friends, her team, her whole world is here. This isn’t just about sports. She’s still a teenager. You’re asking a lot.”
Tonraq’s voice softened, but there was an underlying tension. “I know it’s a big decision, Senna. But it’s the right one. This is about her future. The opportunity won’t last forever. She’s ready for this.”
Korra’s chest tightened. The weight of their words pressed down on her, suffocating her. She wanted to say something—tell them how it felt like they were deciding her life for her—but the words wouldn’t come. She wasn’t ready for a change like this. Not yet. Not this fast. But her dad was so sure, so confident. He wasn’t asking her what she wanted, he was telling her what was best.
Korra slid out of her chair quietly, trying not to make a sound. She couldn’t listen to this anymore. The conversation was happening around her, but it felt like it had nothing to do with her. She felt like an outsider in her own life.
Korra’s thoughts remained clouded, the distant hum of the party below feeling like a faint echo compared to the noise in her own head. The stars above offered little comfort now, and the cool night air did nothing to ease the tension that had been steadily building inside her. She was lost in her thoughts, wondering where things had gone wrong, when suddenly—
The soft sound of footsteps broke through her haze. The quiet tread of someone walking toward her snapped her out of her reverie.
It wasn’t a loud approach, but it was noticeable enough to pull Korra’s attention away from her phone. For a split second, her chest tightened, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready to face what was coming. She didn’t turn around immediately, knowing who it was without even needing to see. The pattern of those footsteps—the slow, deliberate pace—was unmistakable.
The air around her seemed to shift, becoming heavier, like a calm before a storm. Korra could feel it, could sense the familiar presence drawing nearer. She didn’t want to acknowledge it, but there was something inevitable about the way Asami was heading toward her. It was almost as though the distance that had always separated them was closing in now, forcing them both to confront the silence they’d avoided for so long.
She didn’t move as Asami’s footsteps stopped behind her. Neither of them spoke. Korra wasn’t sure why. The words were right there on the tip of her tongue, but somehow, she couldn’t find the courage to say them. The quiet stretched on, thick and heavy, wrapping itself around them both.
Korra could hear the faint rustling of fabric, the subtle sound of Asami’s shoes shifting against the stone as she adjusted her position. Still, neither of them spoke. And for a moment, Korra wasn’t sure if she should—if she wanted to. There were too many things left unsaid, too many pieces of their past still hanging in the air between them. It wasn’t the kind of silence that felt comfortable. No, it was a silence full of unspoken words, and it made Korra feel as if she were standing on the edge of something she couldn’t quite name.
She swallowed hard, but her throat felt dry. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she turned her head slightly, her gaze flicking to Asami. Asami was standing a little behind her, her posture relaxed but purposeful. Her eyes held a quiet intensity that Korra wasn’t sure how to read. Her dark hair was swept neatly away from her face, the soft glow from the wedding lights catching on her features.
Korra didn’t know what to say first. The old Korra, the one who would have rushed in with some half-joking remark to break the tension, was nowhere to be found. This Korra, the one who had changed over the years, the one who didn’t always have the answers anymore, found herself stuck in this painful moment of vulnerability.
Asami’s eyes flicked to the drink in Korra’s hand, and then back to her face, as if she was trying to find the right words as well. It was strange. The two of them had always been able to talk easily, hadn’t they? Back then, there had always been something natural about their connection. But now… now it was different. The distance between them wasn’t just physical. It was deeper, quieter. And it was all the more painful because of it.
The silence lingered for just a little longer before Asami spoke, her voice soft but steady. “I didn’t expect to find you out here.”
Korra opened her mouth to say something—anything—but the words got stuck. Instead, she shifted her weight, leaning against the balcony railing a little more. Her gaze dropped to the city below, the lights twinkling, and the sound of the reception humming faintly in the distance. She took a slow breath, trying to steady her nerves.
“I didn’t expect to be out here, either,” Korra said quietly, almost to herself.
Asami didn’t press, allowing the words to sit in the air between them. Her posture relaxed a little more, and she finally stepped forward, moving to the railing beside Korra. They both leaned over the edge, looking at the city lights, though neither of them seemed to be focusing on anything in particular. The world stretched out before them, beautiful and vast, but for a moment, it was just the two of them standing in the quiet.
“I thought you might be avoiding me,” Asami said eventually, her voice almost teasing, but there was an edge to it. Something laced with vulnerability that made Korra’s stomach tighten.
Korra’s heart gave a little jolt, and she turned her head toward Asami. Her gaze softened, but the weight of everything they hadn’t talked about hung in the space between them. “I’m not avoiding you,” Korra said, her voice steady but not quite as sure as she would have liked it to be. “I just... didn’t know where to start.”
Asami’s gaze softened at that, and for a moment, Korra could’ve sworn she saw a flicker of something—of old memories, of something unspoken—pass across her face.
“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” Asami said quietly, her tone thoughtful. “I’ve missed this. Talking to you.”
Korra didn’t know how to respond at first. She wanted to say something profound, something that would explain everything, but the words felt stuck. Instead, she settled for a simple, “Yeah,” her voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the unspoken things hung between them, and for a moment, neither of them moved.
Silence lingered. The soft rustle of the night breeze was the only sound, carrying with it the faintest hint of jasmine from the flowers lining the balcony. It should have been soothing, but all it did was emphasize the distance between them—the years, the changes, everything they hadn’t said to each other. Korra’s heart pounded in her chest, her fingers tight around the stem of her glass.
It wasn’t until she finally looked fully at Asami that Korra realized how much she’d been avoiding it. She hadn’t wanted to see her, not like this. Not with all the old feelings bubbling to the surface. But there was no escaping it now.
Asami stood next to her, her posture elegant and poised as always, the flickering lights from the reception hall casting a soft glow over her figure. Her dark hair was swept back from her face, shining like silk under the soft light. The red dress she wore was striking, the deep crimson color hugging her figure in a way that was both effortless and commanding. It was simple yet elegant, the neckline low enough to be alluring, but refined enough to be classic. The fabric shimmered subtly as she moved, each step graceful, her presence like an understated magnetism.
Korra felt the sting of a breath catch in her throat. Asami had always been gorgeous—Korra had never doubted that. But now, seeing her like this, with her lips painted a deep, seductive shade of red that matched the dress, the way her eyes shimmered like pools of dark honey in the light, it was almost impossible to ignore. Asami’s eyes held a depth to them, sharp and intelligent, the kind that always seemed to see straight through Korra. But there was something else now—something softer. A vulnerability, perhaps. Or maybe it was just the distance they had put between each other over the years.
Korra couldn’t help but notice how Asami’s makeup seemed so deliberate—her eyeliner perfect, sharp, and accentuating the slant of her eyes in a way that was both bold and delicate. The red lipstick, however, drew Korra's attention the most. It was like a statement in itself—something vivid and unapologetic. It wasn’t just a color; it was an aura. Korra swallowed, her gaze briefly lingering on Asami’s lips before quickly looking away, feeling the flush rising on her cheeks.
Asami’s smile was subtle but warm, her gaze steady on Korra. It was as though she had waited for this moment too, just as much as Korra had. But the silence stretched on, filling the space between them, thick and heavy. The words that Korra wanted to say, the ones she had rehearsed in her head a hundred times, seemed lost now. All she could do was take in the sight of Asami—her beauty, her presence—without saying a word.
Asami shifted slightly, her red dress catching the light as she moved. Her gaze flicked to the city below, a serene expression crossing her face. Then, without warning, she spoke again, her voice softer this time.
“You’ve changed, Korra,” she said, her tone almost wistful. “You’re not the same girl I used to know. Not in a bad way… just different.”
Korra exhaled slowly, her grip on the glass tightening a little. Asami’s words cut deeper than she expected. She wanted to argue, to protest that she hadn’t changed that much, but she knew that wasn’t true. Everything about her was different. The person she was now felt like someone she was still trying to figure out.
“I guess that’s what happens, right?” Korra replied, her voice sounding quieter than she intended. “We change. Life does that to you.”
There was a pause, and for a moment, Korra allowed herself to study Asami again. This time, she didn’t look away. Asami’s expression softened, her lips pressing together in a way that suggested she was thinking, weighing her words carefully. There was something so captivating about her, something that Korra had always admired, even when she didn’t fully understand it.
Asami looked up at Korra, her dark eyes meeting hers with a kind of knowing that made Korra’s chest tighten. “You’ve got a lot on your mind, don’t you?” Asami’s voice was gentle, almost as if she was reaching out, trying to offer some understanding.
Korra wanted to nod, to let it all spill out, but the walls inside her chest felt too thick. She could barely bring herself to say anything, let alone tell Asami what she’d been feeling. It wasn’t just about their past—it was everything that had changed, everything that still felt unfinished.
Instead, Korra simply nodded, biting her lip in thought. She could feel the words tugging at her, but they stayed lodged somewhere deep inside her, locked behind years of unspoken tension.
“I’ve missed you too, Asami,” Korra said quietly, her voice thick with emotion. It wasn’t a confession—at least, not in the way she had imagined it. But it was something, and that something was enough to leave her feeling raw and exposed in a way that she wasn’t quite ready for.
Asami didn’t respond immediately, her gaze lingering on Korra, soft and searching. The way she looked at her made Korra feel like she was standing on the edge of something—something fragile, something that could easily break if either of them made the wrong move.
Finally, Asami broke the silence, her tone gentle but serious. “I didn’t know if you’d want to talk tonight,” she admitted. “But it seems like we need to.”
Korra took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling as the weight of Asami’s words settled in. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it, but there was something about being here with Asami, talking in the quiet, distant way they used to, that made her feel like maybe—just maybe—there was a chance for them to bridge the distance between them.
For now, all she could do was stand there and let the moment unfold, wondering if they could ever find their way back to the place where they left off.
But in this moment, with Asami so close, she realized that maybe they didn’t need to go back. Maybe they just needed to move forward, together, in whatever way that looked like. And that was a thought that felt almost too big to handle.