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When Asami woke up that morning, she immediately knew that something felt off.
Her girlfriend laid soundly asleep beside her, the decor the couple had carefully selected for their bedroom walls sat just right, and the room was beginning to gain some semblance of light as it permeated through the curtains.
Everything was how she remembered it— unchanged. Yet, something still felt off.
Well, in the kind of way that wasn’t obvious.
Compared to the several moments in her life that were spent worrying about the balance of the world, the safety of the city, her company, or the well-being of Korra during her dreadful absence— that gnawing feeling in her gut fell short of any urgency.
Despite this, she reluctantly pulled away from the warmth flushed against her, and carefully shifted the plush duvet off her legs. She pressed a chaste kiss to Korra’s cheek before trudging towards the full body mirror situated nearby.
It only took a single glance of assessment in the mirror to realize…
“Spirits,” she choked back horror, allowing that feeling to reside back into her throat and form a lump of unease that could not be swallowed. A lithe hand went up to feel her face, and the surface of her skin against her touch only confirmed things further. She needed to call her dermatologist.
So, Asami did just that, disconnecting the nearby telephone from the wall and making a soundless exit from their room to make an urgent call— as urgent as the situation allowed her to be.
Fortunately for her— her dermatologist had begun her day early, so she was able to be accommodated quickly without any thorough scheduling needed.
Upon ending the phone call— the CEO hadn’t hesitated about leaving their shared home in just her sleepwear, and neither did she think twice about matters like makeup or any proper attire that is accustomed to the appearance of Asami Sato.
Stepping into the office, she contained a harrowed breath as her dermatologist examined her with an attentive look, and a dermascope waving around the surface of her skin.
“Did you use anything different on your face lately?”
“Hmm..” Asami thought carefully. Some may say that she is prone to experimenting— never sticking to one solid thing for a prolonged amount of time, and always chasing different ways to confirm her hypotheses.
However, as true as that may be, if there’s one thing Asami always sticks to— it’s her skincare routine. “No. I’ve stayed with the same regimen I had since I was fifteen…”
“So it’s not a new product… How about diet? Have you changed it?”
“No, I don’t think it’s that either…” Diet is another thing Asami stays committed to— and it’s mostly because she’s a picky eater at heart. Even if she tried, she couldn’t stomach unfamiliar dishes, unless prior research was conducted beforehand, and if Korra tasted the dish with her.
“How about work and environment? Has anything changed?”
Asami ponders on that question. Varrick has been piling more projects onto her plate— more than she can truthfully handle, and what she can actually admit is lesser
It silently dawned onto her that this might’ve been the cause behind her current predicament.
The young CEO looks into the mirror again, and sighs. Stress was the most logical answer, but it refused to explain why she never had this kind of physical reaction to previous stressful situations. Her skin remained flawless when she fled with an unconscious avatar in her arms— and she definitely did not have an abrupt breakout of redness and splotches when her company almost went bankrupt a few years back.
“Try not to downplay your feelings.” A difficult request by itself, “Stress is stress irregardless of the severity.” Her dermatologist says in response— zeroing in on the affected parts of her face, and Asami isn’t sure if she should shrink from the scrutiny, or if she should dread that the professional would discover anything new. ”How about the environment?”
Varrick sometimes strings her into unfamiliar settings too, so Asami informs her dermatologist on this.
After some time examining the expanse of her skin, the doctor sets down the device in her hand. “Well, it looks like you have nothing to worry about.”
What?
“I… don’t?” Asami looks around at the minimalist aesthetic of the office, and starts to wonder if there was some hallucinogen in the air that made her imagine things, “I mean, My skin isn’t looking the best right now. I thought you’d prescribe me something new, honestly…”
“Oh, no. Your skin is way too sensitive to prescribe anything new right now.” From the way her dermatologist’s eyes crinkle at the corners, she can sense that her own expression’s too readable for her liking. ”Since your condition seems to be stress induced, what if you came back tomorrow morning around the same time? I won’t charge you for this visit—”
The idea of coming back tomorrow drained any hope of immediate action from her face. “Tomorrow? I’d be glad to, but…”
The creases in the older woman’s face deepen as she sighs. It’s not out of exasperation but foresight, like she expected there’d be some doubt lingering, “Ms. Asami, it might sound ridiculous coming from me— but what if you took some downtime to yourself?”
As her dermatologist began to list down different reasons and ways to unwind, the CEO can’t help but know that it’s more of a request instead of a suggestion from her dermatologist. Perhaps it’s one of the few cons of maintaining the same dermatologist ever since she was a tween. Maybe it’s the fact that she was previously made aware of her occasionally workaholic nature that closed her off from seeing anything differently—
“— If symptoms persist, you can return for further examination, but for now, try to take a break and see how it impacts your skin.”
Asami sighs at her own resistance to the plain idea of resting, and begins to question if it’s too late to have a shift of career and enter medical school for her own assurance. Although stress may be a true factor to her current state, she had hoped for some instant remedy or a prescription— which looking at it now, wasn’t just for her skin’s sake, but also for her peace of mind.
She was tempted to just drive to the nearest bookstore, and order a mountain of dermatology focused textbooks, but…
Nothing could change the fact that her dermatologist had several years of medical expertise under her, so she resigned herself to being honest— despite previous reservations. “…Okay. Thank you.” Some may perceive a visit with such results (or lack thereof) as futile, but at least she was able to see the cause of things from a professional’s perspective.
The only thing the visit fails to do is shred away that feeling of defeat, and Asami only registers the feeling when she’s forced to sit in a puddle of it— driving back home in silence, visage still reddened and littered with pigmentation.
Parking her Satomobile in the garage— she makes a beeline to her vanity, forgoing any proper acknowledgement of anyone nearby while doing so, and proceeds in trying to pack on as much concealer and corrector as physically possible.
The outcome of this attempt to save face is a cakey waste of product, and it only further accentuated all texture on her face.
Defeated, beat already as she was down— she cleanses her face of all makeup, and makes that lengthy walk of shame back to her office.
She doesn’t know why, but she’s crumbling once she’s locked alone in her office— shrinking in on herself as hot beads of crystalline flood their way down her cheeks.
“It’s pathetic, crying about this.” A voice in her mind announces— to no one, but herself. Asami furiously swipes away tears with her sleeve to prevent drip leakage onto the floors. She should’ve felt relieved when she was told that she had nothing to worry about, and basically— had to try and let this horrifying stress phenomenon subside from her features within a day.
But she wasn’t.
She knew it could’ve been because of underlying ideas she forgot to reset. Her family was built on the foundation of perfection— albeit not anymore, considering the public’s opinion on their character had made drastic changes over the years. Asami knew that statistically, there was no way anyone perfect could exist — but it would’ve made sense if she was subconsciously clinging onto those expectations, longer than her realization would allow her.
Perhaps, it was actually because the image of Asami Sato was dependent on looking flawless according to all standards. She won’t lie and say that she hadn’t noticed the kind of attention she had received over the years. From lingering glances to outward advances, Asami could say that she saw it all.
Now that she’s happily taken, that form of attention has faded away. Not that she really missed it— since Korra was becoming consistent in her life.
Korra made it a point to fill in all of the blanks with Asami, despite how new the relationship was for the both of them. Countless of nights were spent tucked in bed with the avatar, doting on each other’s features while whispered adoration made its way into her mind and heart. There were plenty of things Korra remained timid about, but reminding Asami of how beautiful she found her wasn’t one of them.
How would Korra react if she saw her current predicament? Going barefaced around Korra wasn’t new for Asami, but it was nothing compared to her current situation.
Foregoing makeup around someone— someone she cared about— was already vulnerable as is, but this?
She could imagine it already— but what exactly? The confusion? The shock? The pity? Or was it the spine chilling indifference slathered all over her beloved partner’s face? What if Korra realized that she didn’t want to stand next to a woman that had a face that was actually a stark contrast from what was presented to the public —
The woman wrings those thoughts out of her brain, and wounds up crumpling a loose blueprint underneath her.
“Right— distraction.” She remembers, tossing her hair back as she takes a tentative look at the balled up blueprint in her hand. Distraction is the one thing that could take her mind off of things, because the kind of hypothesis she was building up to wasn’t beginning to make any sense.
She’ll think about leaving her office once the situation on her face subsides. For now, she’ll do whatever she can to distract herself from such unsightly dilemmas.
When the avatar woke up that Friday morning, the sun had only begun to settle in the sky, and the personification of the word gorgeous had her face tucked in the crook of Korra’s neck and an arm slung comfortably around her toned torso.
They were blissfully entangled in each other’s touch, so it made sense that Korra— a light sleeper through invention— woke up to the sound of hushed footsteps hurrying its way out the bedroom door.
She was confused, but assumed it was just Asami starting an early day. It had to be that— since Asami starting the day on an early note wasn’t an uncommon sight.
The avatar’s confusion only doubled when she decided to wake up (for real this time), and realized that the telephone was missing. Theft? Possibly, but the robber had to be smart enough to steal more than just the telephone. (Or maybe the intruder was actually dumb enough to snatch just a telephone)
And when you consider that the room contained personal belongings of the avatar and the CEO of Future Industries— Korra didn’t want to gloat, but the telephone was probably the least valuable thing in that room.
She was confused, but figured that she’d talk to Asami about it when she got back.
Then noon came around, and Asami wasn’t back yet.
If Asami didn’t return for lunch, then that was a hugeindicator that the day was swamping her with work. Usually when this happens, Asami relays a message for her, alerting the avatar that she’s busier than usual— but otherwise fine.
There was no message, which had to mean that Asami was really busy.
Deciding to do her a favor, Korra makes her way to her girlfriend’s office— picking up some of her favorite takeout from Kwong’s and personally delivering it to her, in hope of lightening up her presumably hectic day with some good food.
Her quick effort for an arrival didn’t make a difference, however, because it was empty— but had signs of work and presence all around it.
Remembering that she just glazed over the receptionist in a hurry, she decided to ask the woman stationed out in front, and when she did— she got the most uncharacteristic response.
“Ms. Sato is… out.”
Out doing what? Out where? The avatar’s mind was already kicking into overdrive over the possibilities, but decided to maintain composure for all outwardly purposes. “Do you know what she said she’d be doing?”
“If I recall, she mentioned working…”
“She went out… just to work?”
The receptionist— usually polite and accommodating— suddenly goes mousy in her presentation, as if she was withdrawing a missing puzzle piece that’d complete the entire ensemble.
“She’s… got her hands full.” The receptionist gathered after a moment of thinking, “I recommend you come back later.”
Korra’s eyes narrowed, these discrepancies were just increasing in number. “If something’s wrong with Asami, you’d tell me, right?”
Nodding with an unusual level of enthusiasm, the receptionist agrees. “Certainly, avatar!”
“Now, if you excuse me…” With that agreement settled, the receptionist ducked her head underneath the desk, and began ruffling an array of folders and papers, as if she was busying herself out of the conversation.
“Sure…”
The conversation only posed more questions than solving them, and as Korra walked away from the office, she couldn’t cease the various worries and concerns from making themselves known.
Try as she might to recount the events prior to the sudden strange behavior exhibited, she couldn’t remember anything of significance. Or maybe that was the problem itself— the fact that she was unable to pinpoint the current issue presented within the relationship, because she didn’t take the caution to?
Korra turned around to face the office, feeling as if the architecture was staring holes into the back of her head— pushing her out, but simultaneously provoking her to come back.
She was provoked, alright.
Flipping the switch, Korra inverts directions and makes a u-turn back into the office. She grabs at the opportunity to bypass the distraction receptionist, and she believes she can hear the receptionist call out to her, but she’s already one step ahead.
This might be the only way to grasp even a fraction of understanding, and if she fails to discover the issue now, then she isn’t sure if she could handle discovering it later.
Korra walks up to the door of Asami’s main office, and proceeds to kick it open when she earns no response to her several knocks. It's an unceremonious effort— and certainly a habit she has yet to grow out of, though she figured that she’d think of a solution later, once the actual elephant koi in the room was addressed.
There— at a sudden, complete stand still, was the woman she had been searching for.
Korra let out an exhale brimmed with relief.
“Korra!” Asami exclaims, sounding overly excited for someone so unreadable. The tone used to call her name normally disarmed the avatar from all worries, but today seemed to be a special case, since it only gravitated her attention elsewhere.
“Asami,” Korra started, noticing the way the business woman’s shoulders tensed under her purple robe— wait, why was she still in her sleepwear? “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Despite all outward acknowledgements and attempts to converse, Asami made no move to refocus her attention towards the avatar.
Asami had her back facing the door, and remained leaning against the window sill. It was as if she was contemplating deeply, and as much as Korra would like to observe her girlfriend’s body language all day, it didn’t detract her attention from Asami’s complete unwillingness to actually face her.
Uncooperative as Asami’s obscurity may be, it wouldn’t do much in preventing Korra from attempting to gauge the situation.
Korra knew the engineer like how she knew of bending, and was deeply intertwined in her life to not know the dilemma brewing within that genius’ mind– that actually, might not be thinking like one at that moment. The aforementioned genius honored eye contact within their relationship the most, which made the absence of it be regarded with special notice.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t… really expecting you.” Asami admitted, after what felt like discomforting amounts of unbearable silence. “I was kind of in a rush today, so it kind of explains my… yeah.”
“Yeah?” Korra reflected back, somewhat amused at how Asami’s demeanor relaxed at her own answer, and Korra’s— as if the reason was enough to excuse the string of odd events and behaviors. “So does that explain why you can’t face me?”
Another rush of stillness took a hold of Asami’s shoulders, again. In fact, it seemed like she was trying her best to conceal all signs of discomfort, or secrecy, but failed. “I… shouldn’t .”
She never said she “ couldn’t ” or “ can't ” face her, so that was a preferred surprise. There were surefire suggestions of internal conflict, rather than a situation that prevented the action from being done.
“Because?” Feet shifted forward before the notion could be registered. It was in subconscious effort to comfort the woman before she tumbled into insecurity— a concept even Asami Sato knew, a sure con that came with knowing everything, it seems.
“Asami,” Korra’s tone was a clean slate of any bark, any malice, or… sign of displeasure. Only a devotion of tenderness lingered. “Please? I know something is wrong. Was it something I did? Is that why you left in just your pajamas?”
“No!” Asami rebutted, hands tightening into enclosed fists, like she was resisting from fleeting her current position. “It wasn’t you, it’s… me. ” She pauses, not knowing what her next choice of words would be. “... I don’t look like myself.”
“Could I be the judge of that?”
Not to say that Asami could manage to ever not look like herself, though.
The words remained hung within the air, being the next step towards such intimidating action— but Korra knew that sometimes, hurdles of struggle only required initiative, which acted as that first move towards amending.
Asami made a conflicted noise, but made no effort to prevent Korra from inching closer. Her hands released all contact and fell to her sides. It reflected her decision in resigning herself to the current situation, aware that there was no benefit in evading.
Placing a warm hand— gentle, but wielding power — she turned her girlfriend around, and used her other free hand to move locks of hair away from her face. Eyes, as blue as crystalline glaciers, scanned the entire layout of her face.
Silently, she observed the pigment dashed all around her face with concern— rather than disgust or mortification. Once she had taken the liberty to make observations, she attempted to get a hold of that eau de nil gaze, which remained fleeting and avoidant of all eye contact.
Asami tries to pull away after the hand used to brush hair back descended to her side, but the effort is futile. It felt like Korra’s attention lingered a second too excessive, but the avatar remained devoted to her position. Her assertion on this spoke volumes of her stance, and the constant warm expanse of Korra’s palm was grounding in comfort.
“I promise I’ll be better,” Asami promised, which only managed to pull Korra out of confusion, and into heartbreak. The sound of her wavering tone devastated her. “Tomorrow, I’ll get my skin sorted out with my dermatologist.” Her gaze hardened, remaining locked away from Korra’s own, “I’ll make sure of it.”
Asami’s wavy hair hung forward as she looked down, resulting in inky curtains protecting her entire visage. She looked almost afraid to even glance at her— or look at anything that speaks Korra. She had made peace with facing the situation, but… there were a thousand ways to go about this, which meant there was room for another thousand ways it could go wrong.
One could fill in the gaps on that aspect, and it seemed like Asami’s mind was already working overtime doing so.
“Why would you say that?” Korra pondered out loud, not being rhetorical or sarcastic in the slightest. “Asami, you can’t get any better than this— you’re perfect.” Reaffirming her point, she had picked her hand up to brush the obscuring hair out of the way. Asami’s hair was beautiful regardless of style, but it was no rival for her attention at that moment. “Why would you promise something like that?”
“You flatter me, Korra, but my face has been the worst it has been since forever.” Asami’s voice wavers when she admits this. At some point, she started to wonder if admitting moments of weakness got any easier— it doesn’t, and probably never will. Standing there only solidified that. “A Sato, especially the CEO of Future Industries, isn’t supposed to look like this.”
Korra’s features bunched in disagreement, like she had seen a horrendous twist on traditional water tribe cuisine. It was familiar, but it was weird seeing it be directed towards her. “Asami, I don’t think it’s fair to reduce yourself to just the CEO of Future Industries.”
“You don’t really get it, Korra.” Asami scoffs at the idea, only to wind up being swarmed with regret upon seeing Korra’s features make a slight drop at the jab. Of course Korra doesn’t get what it’s like to be the CEO of Future Industries, but it wasn’t as if the pressure was foreign to her.
Defeated, she could only sigh— having realized that her current attitude wasn’t just in the slightest. “Sorry, I don’t mean that,” Asami said, exasperated. She was just… tired. Not at anything, most definitely not at Korra,
“...It’s just difficult being me right now,” The words are difficult to digest, even more difficult to spew them out, yet Korra manages to gently pull out the admission one by one, unraveling and unpacking each layer presented as naturally as possible. “It’s hard to remember that I’m not just the CEO of Future Industries, when it feels like most of my life has been building up to my succession. The CEO is normally presented as perfect, but what will happen if they’re not?”
“People look at me, and are given a choice on whether or not they want to respect me,” It’s a fact that Asami wishes she could change, “Then they end up deciding based on how I look. I get underestimated just by presenting how I do in my field, so imagine how things would be now that I look like…”
This. A disaster. She mentally added on, turning her face away from Korra’s view once more.
She’s ashamed. She couldn’t dare to say what she thought, after all— if anyone else had her issue, she’d coax them into reassurance, and say that it’s a normal part of life with ease. Yet for some reason, she is unable to gift herself that same luxury of grace.
So, she chose to continue explaining everything, yet nothing at the same time. Asami lets the words spill out of her naturally, and allows the line between sense and nonsense to blur, because Korra’s hand is still warm against her skin, and she listens— those glaciers of blue eyes never leave her face once.
The mantras of explanation come to an end, and once all the sound in the room comes to a total halt, Korra collects her thoughts.
“It’s true that I will never understand what it’s like to be the CEO of a company like Future Industries, but I can understand the immense pressure you’re feeling to be perfect all the time.”
Korra doesn’t try to deflect, or attempt to credit herself with something undeservingly foreign, and instead— decides to admit the following words with all of her honesty.
It was only confirmation of certain bits Asami had rightfully assumed. If there was anyone else that understood the pressure of being perfect, it would be her Korra— bearer of all four elements and bridge between two worlds. “I know being presentable is an important part of your job, so I also get why you feel so… obligated to look the part.”
“So, I’m pretty sure you know that I’ll support you if you want to do something about your skin.” Korra reassures gently, absent of pressure or deceit. “But I’ll still be right here to remind you that I don’t see you as the CEO of Future Industries all the time.”
“I think you’re what defines the CEO of Future Industries.” Korra says, a powerful statement embodying conviction all throughout. “The CEO of Future Industries is hardworking, empathetic, considerate despite sitting on a mountain of wealth— and none of these traits would be here without you, Asami.”
“It’s not something entirely physical.” Korra’s dead serious when she says this, and it corners Asami out of doubt. The circumstances may not have been entirely physical, but it ceased to explain why Korra still looked at her like that—
“Asami Sato, you are the CEO of Future Industries, but you are still the same person who geeks out over cars and all kinds of machines,” Asami blinks, caught off-guard upon registering the observation. It’s unexpected, but not unwelcome in the slightest.
“You’re the same person that wakes up from my snoring and doesn’t immediately yell at me,” The couple chuckle as they both remember the night prior, wherein the exact scenario played out as described.
“You’re the same person who remained patient towards my expression of emotions,” The gap between them was beginning to narrow, inch by inch.
“You’re the same person that dabs the sweat from my forehead, and built a damn statue and home gym for me—” It's an emotion that’s rooted deep in her viscera; intensely warm, unchanging.
“Korra—” The gap between them is near to nonexistent, and Asami’s stumbling with her train of words when she gauges it.
“Wait, love, let me finish—” The laugh that resounds the space between them is enough to stun anyone; strong or weak. It’s a gorgeous symphony sourced from Korra that Asami wishes to replay in her mindscape for eternity.
“Do you want to know the most important part, Asami?” The merriment tone from the laughter died down into a hushed question.
“What is it?”
Korra leaned in, whispering into her ear. “You’re the same person that loves me, and I think there’s nothing more beautiful than that.”
Asami mirrors the whisper. “Oh.” The confession causes a surge of weakness in her knees— perhaps in all of her joints if she thought about it for a second longer. The steely walls of fear, and the barriers of insecurity melt, akin to Korra’s embers being steadily applied to the stubborn defenses.
“Yeah,” Asami’s attention is drawn to the movement of Korra’s lips like a moth to a flame. Everything outside of Korra was being tuned out, all she could focus on was Korra, Korra, Korra. “Do you believe me?”
“Yes,” She nearly purrs out the truth, with lying being the furthest thing from her mind.
“Tell me you believe me.” Asami’s mouth falls agape when Korra attaches a kiss to the shell of her ear. The sensation permeates into her attention, and Asami embraces it.
“I believe you.” Asami says through a bitten lip, sighing at the sensation permeating into her attention.
Before Asami could embrace it any further, Korra pulls back— satisfied with her effect.
“Good,” The corner of Korra’s lips are tilted up into gentle satisfaction. It’s obvious in the way Korra smiles, that she got what she was aiming for.
“Now, can we please come home? ” Korra whines, both hands coming down to hold Asami’s hands. The dexterous set of hands squeeze her once, then twice, before entangling deft fingers with lithe ones. “I’ve been missing you all day, and it’s only the afternoon…”
Korra suddenly sounded forlorn, which forced Asami to remember how the day began. “I’m really sorry for disappearing,” Asami expressed, wistfully. “I kind of panicked, and I didn’t want you to see me…”
“So? You’re still my girl, y’know?” Korra replied, consistently uninfluenced by all reason. She temporarily releases her hands— much to Asami’s chagrin— only to swing one arm behind Asami, and another around her lean waist.
“But if it helps,” Korra, being the shorter of the two, rests her head on her shoulder. She sighs, as she professes the following words through pleased caresses. “I think the red is cute on you.”
“After all, red is your color.”
Shades of vermillion draws to Asami’s cheeks. It colors her— except this time, she can’t find herself complaining one bit.