All the things I never told you

not your fault

Korra hadn't expected to find these. Part of her knew that she was never supposed to. Asami mentioned that she wrote letters, ones that she never sent Korra, while they were dating. But after all these years she never realized Asami had actually kept them.

She coughed, inhaling and exhaling the dust that expelled throughout the air as she ripped the seal off one of the envelopes. The first one Asami had written, two weeks after she left the South Pole. Her writing, filled with guilt and sadness. Part of which, Korra understood was her fault brought tears to her eyes.

Still, she kept reading. Letter by letter. Eleven in total, some longer than others. Why she was doing it in the first place she wasn't completely sure. These were private things, from almost five years ago, but she had to know what kind of pain she caused her wife. Even if it hurt her in return.

Asami wrote about so much. Her guilt, her feelings, her loss, and the whole while she felt selfish about it. Why? Asami was the most selfless person she knew. Someone who loved and cared for her at her worst and continues to do it at her best. From the sound of it the three years Korra left were horrible for her. And where was she.

She left because she didn't want to burden her friends with her presence but it only made things worse. The sound of steps alerted her, she shoved the letters back into the box and whipped around.

"What are you doing in the attic?" Asami asked.

She clearly hadn't noticed Korra's expression. Too busy checking out spare parts she'd stored in this room years prior.

"Nothing."

She wiped the damp spots on her cheek with the long sleeve shirt she was wearing. Trying to clean up before Asami noticed as if she didn't know it was too late to get out of this. Of course Asami would notice.

"Hey, why are you crying?"

That sentence only made the pit in her stomach worse. She should have been comforting Asami, not the other way around. The taller girl carefully wrapped her arms around Korra. Pulling her in, she couldn't help the quiet sob that escaped from the back of her throat.

"It's okay. It's okay. I'm right here. You're okay." Asami whispered. Over and over again, the simple mantra doing little to comfort her.

Asami was here for her. She always had been, and when Asami needed her she was no where to be found. Asami spotted the familar box out of the corner of her eye. Envelopes clearly opened. Ripped down the sides because Korra could never open them correctly.

"Baby... you didn't..."

"I'm sorry." Korra choked out.

"No. No, don't be. I'm not mad. I just wish you didn't read those alone. C'mon. I think we need to talk."

Asami wiped the singular tear trailing down her wife's face. It took awhile, but she was able to calm down enough to have a talk. She struggled with that from time to time. Being so overwhelmed she couldn't talk, breathe, or even think straight. Asami understood, she felt it too. Sometimes after a long day at work or on the anniversary of her father's death. She related to Korra in those types of struggles in a way she could never with anyone else.

"I'm sorry you saw those." she whispered finally.

Not sure of what to say to make things better. If there was anything she could say. Nothing she did was inherently wrong and maybe there wasn't anything either of them could do about it. Korra had unintentionally opened an old wound. It would take time to heal. All she could to was try to patch it up and hope for the best.

"I'm horrible." Korra whispered. "I left. I left you, I thought I was a burden to you. When you wanted to come. I should have listened to you. I wanted you. I wanted you there."

"shh." Asami whispered. "It's okay. You're not horrible Korra. Don't ever say that."

"I left you. For three years. Those letters, you went through so much and I was gone, and you've always been there for me."

"And you haven't?" she whispered. Korra rested her head on Asami's chest as her hand drew shapes on her back.

"When my father was exposed. You gave me a home, no one asked you. You just did it and you didn't even like me."

"I liked you."

"Well you sure had a weird way of showing it." Asami chuckled. Kissing her forehead and sighing softly. "We were there for eachother in different ways. But Korra, my grief was never your fault. Alot of it was stuff I repressed for a long time."

"I just want you to know that I love you and that i'm never leaving again."

"I know my love. I know."

Korra nuzzled into the crook of her wife's neck. The familar fragrance of her favorite purfume still lingering, comforting her as Asami lulled her to sleep. Humming a soft song, rubbing her back, Asami didn't do it often but when she did her intentions were obvious.

Usually Korra would try to fight it. Especially when she was overwhelmed or overworked. Fighting like a young toddler to stay awake, but this time she didn't want to. She wanted to fall asleep in the safety of Asami's arms. To know that she would be there in the morning. Because for so long she was denied that chance, they both were.

And now, she wouldn't risk losing it for the world.