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When Asami wakes on the morning Korra's leaving, the room is filled with soft amber light.
Her neck aches. She's drifted off in the chair by Korra's bed, like so many times over the last few weeks. Her hand rests by Korra's on the mattress.
She turns towards the window. Korra's shutters are open, like always, a dewy morning chill creeping, the light suffusing the room.
It's the day Korra leaves, and the sunrise is beautiful. The whole thing feels wrong, like the sky should be weeping and lowering, not filled with an orange-gold glow.
“You fell asleep here again.”
Asami starts, turns from the view. Korra's eyes are open, watching her. The words are heavy, slow, exhaustion and pain etched in the lines of her face. But she manages a half-smile when Asami's gaze lands on her, and Asami's heart cracks open.
It's just a couple of weeks, she tells herself. She won't be gone for long.
“Yeah,” she says. “I didn't want to leave you.”
Korra swallows. “Sorry,” she whispers, turns her gaze to the sunrise. “You've been doing too much for me.”
Asami shakes her head. “I wanted to,” she says. “I wanted to be here. I always will.”
Korra tries, again, to smile.
Asami shifts closer. Watches amber light catch Korra's blue eyes, like fire on the surface of the sea. Watches the rays kiss her skin. She looks exhausted, still, in the glow. Exhausted and so hurt. But Asami has never once looked at her and not thought beautiful.
“It's a gorgeous sunrise, isn't it?” she says. Squeezes Korra's hand. Can't take her eyes off her face.
Korra squeezes back, looks at her. “Yeah. Beautiful.”
They stay there together, watching the sun creep over the horizon, watching the clouds suffuse with colour, rosy and orange and golden. They don't move till it's fully risen, till the colours fade.
A few hours later, Korra leaves on a ship.
It's the last sunrise in three years Asami thinks of as beautiful.
The sun is sinking as they turn away from the Sato Estate, leaving Wu in the hands of Mako and Bolin's family.
Mako splits off once they're out of the grounds, heads back into the City alone. Something about filing a report with Lin related to the prince's targeting.
Asami tries to breathe steady, calm her nerves. Besides their brief greeting, it's the first time in over three years she and Korra have really been alone together. The first time since she realised how she felt, why her heart beats faster every time Korra smiles.
“I'm heading back past the station,” she says. “I should retrieve my car.”
Korra grins. “Don't you mean 'Sato-mobile'?”
Asami grins back. “I always feel a little egotistical saying it. Also, never tell the marketing team this, but it's not the name I'd've chosen.”
Korra's smile widens. She nudges Asami gently. “Your secret's safe with me.”
“Heading back to the Island?” Asami asks.
Korra shakes her head. “I'm coming with you, obviously.” Then, eyes widening– “I mean. If that's– okay. I don't... I know things got tense today, and it's been a long time, and I'm really sorry–”
“Hey.” Asami touches her hand, soft, hesitant. Korra's smile reappears, goes soft and bashful, and Asami tries to stop her heart flinging itself against her ribcage in desperate hope. “It's okay. I'm sorry, too. Readjustment, right? But of course I want you to come.”
The sun sinks lower as they walk, the whole sky a riot of orange and pink, smudging up against the darkness of the clouds like a watercolour painting.
Asami can't stop glancing at Korra. Can hardly believe she's finally back, solid and real and here at her side. Can hardly breathe at the way the sunset catches in her eyes, makes her skin glow, the short chop of her bob casting unfamiliar shadows. Asami aches to learn them, see her in every light, feel her close by in the darkness. Aches to never have to lose her again.
Korra looks up at the sky as they head down a wide street, wonder catching on her face. The spark is back in her eyes. Asami has never been happier to see anything in her life.
“Look at the sky,” she says, turns to Asami as their shoulders brush, her smile so soft.
“It's stunning,” Asami says. Doesn't move her gaze from Korra.
Korra ducks her head, grins, reaches up to play with the ends of her hair, like she understands. “Yeah.” Glances up again, catches Asami's eye. “It is.” Laughing, self-deprecating– “It's snazzy, even.”
Asami's breath catches in her chest. It's a joke, she knows, but. It's also Korra implying (confirming?) she meant Asami was beautiful.
She nudges Korra's arm. “I liked snazzy, by the way.”
Korra shakes her head. “It sounded terrible.”
Asami laughs, shakes her head back. “It was cute.”
Korra's eyes widen again.
They're teetering on something, Asami thinks. The idea thrills and terrifies her by turns.
She turns back to the sunset. But she lets herself walk close, lets their arms brush together. Lets herself dart glances, share smiles with Korra in the orange light, all the way to the station.
She can't keep her eyes on the sky. And yet still, it's the first sunset in three years Asami thinks of as beautiful.