A World Of Grey (Legend of Korra)

Chapter 4

Mako turned into the corridor as he reached the top of the flight of stairs, though the staircase rose on for a few more floors. A small briefcase was clutched in his right hand, his coat slung over it and almost dragging along the floor as he walked. He reached into an inner pocket with his free hand, momentarily digging until he came upon the cool, slim metal of his keys and pulling them out a moment later. He absentmindedly spun the keys through the air as he approached his door, the thin key ring bouncing along the end of his finger. The corridor was filled with a metallic jangle as he contemplated the thought of spending the night alone.

The previous night had become a blur to him. Once the police had revealed themselves and taken down the unsuspecting Equalists, everything seemed to pass by in a rush, leaving him little time to truly make sense of things. Korra's reaction to what had happened, he knew, was justified. But he had not been expecting the ferocity she exhibited. He felt uneasy for not telling her in the first place, and then in the wake of her reaction guilty, particularly considering the thoughts and feelings she had been sharing with him as of late. But Mako had received his orders. His superiors told them all that there were to be no exceptions, whether it be their husbands, wives, children or friends. Or their Avatar.

In hindsight, Mako thought that he should have been honest with Korra, that he should have trusted her with the information. But yet still, a small part of him held back. He knew Korra well, and it was not difficult for him to make an educated guess as to how she may have reacted. The information had been incredibly sensitive and Mako, working directly on the case, fully appreciated it. He just was not sure that Korra also would.

He saw her heading out of the Arena before he had been swept up into the hustle and bustle and laboured with new orders. He liked to think that she simply hadn’t heard him above the noise of the people still gathered in the atrium. It was quite late when he finally returned home, the vestiges of an old day melting into the tentative dawn of a new one. He had steeled himself for another confrontation with his partner, assured by way of his gut instinct that Korra was waiting for him on the other side of the door, having stubbornly remained awake as she waited for the opportunity to lay into him. He found his apartment empty however. It had surprised him.

Korra favoured staying in the city more than staying on Air Temple Island, and even when they had their disagreements and engaged in arguments he wasn’t certain the walls kept from his neighbours, it was rare that she wouldn’t stay the night with him regardless. There was also the fact that even if she did choose to spend the night with Councilman Tenzin and his family, she would generally call to let him know. He had had a telephone installed in his apartment two years previous at her behest. He rarely made use of it outside of talking to her, but he admitted that it made things much more convenient between them. He received no such call the night before, however. He sat up for close to an hour after coming in, waiting. He didn’t think she had forgotten. If anything, it was a very clear indicator as to how angry she was.

Waking up alone was a disconcerting feeling for Mako; he was so used to the thought of company. When his life had been the hard streets of the city, he had woken to find himself curled up besides his brother, an arm protectively curved around his small form. They may have both been boys, but the cruel, cutthroat ways of the streets purged him of pettiness and embarrassment, young as he was. When they moved into the attic space above the Pro-Bending Arena, they had grown older and of course occupied separate beds, but still Mako knew that he would awake to see Bolin there beside him, the only family he had left and the only thing keeping him sane. And then, of course, came along Korra, who branded herself so unforgettably upon his life.

When he first moved out and got himself his own apartment, he had for a moment gloried in the prospect of having a space that he could firmly call his own, even if it technically did not belong to him but rather the generous landlord he was fortunate to stumble across. When he woke, he stretched wide and yawned loud, seemingly content with his surroundings. He would flop down on the dark brown and clearly previously owned couch that occupied a sizeable chunk of space in the small living room. He would flip the radio on as he stepped into the kitchenette to make himself breakfast before heading out for work, humming to whatever tune was piping out of the small, battered box. But it didn't take long before he quietly began to lament, particularly as his relationship with Korra grew.