“You have something in your hair, umm… Do you want me to get it out?”
Lin to Pema? 😁
Anon! You've been waiting and waiting, but finally, I have an answer for you. I hope you enjoy!
Answer brought to you by the @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt #320.
(892 words, Avatar: The Legend of Korra)
Pema was calmly kneading the dough for dumplings when the memory hit her.
She had been kneading dough in the kitchen with the window open. The birds in the gardens were signing, and the lemur troop was swarming off in the distance. The light breeze carried in the mingled scents of the ocean, the open garden, even the sky bison stables.
And with the bread in her hands, it smelled of home.
She could almost forget the awful days. The attacks, less than a year apart, that nearly killed them all. Lin’s astonishing defense of them, Kya’s battered body in the courtyard.
Followed so soon by the worst of days.
She wiped the tears from her eyes and pressed the heels of her hands against them. She didn’t have time to break down. Lin would return with the children soon.
An image of Lin and Jinora herding the assorted children back from the trip to the zoo brought a smile to Pema’s face. She could picture Lin’s harried expression, Jinora’s distraction between keeping track of the acolytes’ children and also being the big sister. Rohan sticking out in his water tribe blues that he insisted on “so Aunty Kya can always find me.”
She took a deep, measured breath, held it, and slowly breathed out, reducing the pressure on her eyes, letting her hands relax and fall back to the dough in front of her. The dumplings would be Lin’s favorite, full of the preserved seal and seaweed Kya had brought up for her last visit.
The delight on Lin’s face the last time Pema had served them had been the highlight of the tenday, even the month. Just over a year now since they had lost Tenzin, and she was always learning something new about what he had been doing with his time while she was taking care of the kids and her own duties.
This breath had to be sharp and bracing. Wallowing in her grief wasn’t going to get the dumplings ready for steaming.
She renewed her focus, changed her song, and bolstered herself with the rhythm of work.
. . .
“Mom! Mom! Mom! Lin took us to see the badgermoles! Did you know she can sing? She sings real pretty! She knows a bunch of old songs from Gaoling and she promised if I was good and ate all of my dinner and got ready for bed and didn’t complain or fight with Meelo and swept in the dining hall that she’d teach me!”
There were times that she was convinced that Rohan was actually an airbender. He had learned from Ikki just how many words he could fit into a single breath.
He crashed into her from behind, forcing her to catch herself on the edge of the counter, barely avoiding the hot stove.
“Rohan!” Lin shouted from the far end of the kitchen.
Pema turned, and caught her breath at the sight of her…
Friend. They were friends now.
She blinked and rubbed her eye with the back of her wrist, trying not to get flour on her face.
When she opened her eyes, Lin had sent Rohan away to give his mother some space.
They looked at each other, and smiled.
Pema glanced down, and said, “I’m sorry dinner isn’t quite ready.” She took a breath, looked out the window, closed her eyes, and released that breath. “It hit me that it really has been a year now.”
The touch on her elbow gave her a start, but it was just Lin.
Lin, who had packed Korra off to the South for her recovery, then thrown herself back in to work. But about three months later, she had turned up on the Island in the middle of the night, a disheveled and distraught Jinora ushering her to Pema’s room, just as the panic attack relinquished its hold on the widow.
Lin, who had held her the rest of the night.
Lin, who had retired a few weeks ago, and taken a room across the hall from where Pema had moved, leaving the family bedroom empty.
“You have something in your hair, umm… Do you want me to get it out?” Lin asked gently.
Pema blinked, not understanding the question.
But Lin’s attention was focused just over Pema’s left eye, so Pema leaned a little closer. Lin reached up and fiddled and tugged at her hair, inadvertently brushing against Pema’s cheek.
Pema’s breath hitched.
“Do it again,” she breathed.
It was Lin’s turn to be confused. “Do what?”
“Touch me.”
Their eyes met, and oh, so slowly, Lin reached out and brushed the backs of her fingers against Pema’s cheek.
Completely oblivious to the mess all over her hands, Pema reached forward and rested her hands on Lin’s hips. She felt it when Lin inhaled, then held that breath, not wanting to do the wrong thing. Lin slowly lifted her hand out of the way, but settled it on Pema’s shoulder at the base of her neck.
And then brushed her thumb against Pema’s skin.
Pema clenched Lin with her hands, and they pressed together at the waist. Lin’s other hand wrapped around to pull her closer.
In the cool breeze of the kitchen, the happy cries of children floating in from the garden, Pema kissed Lin for the first time.
Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial using the prompt #FFF320 - do it again and @fluffbruary August prompt ink | horizon | canvas. This is my version of the missing scenes after Naoki fainted on the first episode. My head canon is that while Akane visited the feverish Naoki and had their conversation, Sho was preparing some rice porridge for him behind the scene. Hence, this scenario. It may or may not happen. Inspired by “Cherry Magic” sequence where Kurosawa took care of a sick Adachi (played by Eiji Akaso), Keita Machida, who portrayed Kurosawa, also plays Sho Takaoka.
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Fandom: Glass Heart (Netflix)
Characters: Sho Takaoka, Naoki Fujitani, with a brief appearance of Akane Saijo
Word count: 723
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“He's got the fire and he walks with it // He's got the fire and he talks with it…” (Lana del Rey, “Sad Girl”)
“Today too / The city breathes out fresh sounds / Merging as one // Among the countless melodies I heard your voice cut through / Every time my heartbeat quickens / The end draws closer // But if my life is to be broken I hope it's by you…” (Tenblank, “Glass Heart,”)
NOTES permeated Naoki’s dreams interspersed with angry screams and splattered ink that prompted him to wake up with a start.
A temporary relief until he felt a dull ache in his head when he turned to look to his left. Facing the wall, cold and beige, the house was warmer than a couple of years ago when he was living there alone. There was a tinny clink of glass and dishes somewhere. He saw the towering yet familiar figure of his friend with his dishevelled hair busy stirring something liquid-ish into a bowl.
Naoki’s heart was full. At the moment the worries from his mind vanished.
“I cooked some rice porridge. Can you eat it?” Sho tied his black hair calling from the entrance door. He saw him added thinly sliced spring onions into the porridge.
“I can. Thank you, Sho.” He said with a tired voice waiting for Sho to come closer.
When Sho noticed that Naoki struggled a little to sit against the bare walls, he put down the tray on the floor, held the fluffy pillow, and guided his friend to lean on it.
Their eyes met and lingered for a while until Sho finally broke the spell.
“I’ll get now the rice porridge,” he said.
“Hmm.” Naoki held his forehead and closed his eyes.
“Headache?” Sho came back with the tray and on it was an enticing bowl of rice porridge.
“A little.” He said taking the bowl and spoon from Sho.
“Take care. It must still be piping hot. I thought you were still asleep, so I did not remove the lid.”
“I don’t mind.” Naoki gazed at his friend whose extra work included looking after him. “You always take care of me.” Naoki added with a lopsided smile.
The said tall figure replied with a chuckle.
“It worries me that one day you might get tired of me,” Naoki scooped the rice porridge relishing the taste after saying his thanks.
Compared to an hour earlier, colour came back to Naoki’s face. Akane momentarily watched over him changing the face towel on his forehead while he prepared the porridge, a simple dish for the bedridden.
“He is so pale, Takaoka-san.” It must be a shock for their newly hired drummer to witness the precarious state of their band leader fainting after an arduous practice.
“Naoki, you know very well that it will not happen,” Sho sat next to his friend, a serviette on his hand ready to wipe the dirt on his friend’s face.
“Would you do it again?” Naoki asked looking up at the second member of his band. “That is, to take care of me every time I swoon like a Victorian maiden?”
“What?” Sho shook his head trying hard not to chuckle. “A Victorian maiden? You?”
Before Sho could say anything further, he started laughing.
“I am sorry. I am sorry,” he said covering his mouth to stop giggling. Naoki, scandalised, slapped his friend’s arm.
“I am not joking. I am prone to lose my consciousness when I am in deep thought composing a new song.”
“I know that.” He smiled softly.
You forget yourself as if your body were only a vessel.
“Still… I might be a handful.” Naoki handed the empty bowl back to Sho.
“You need someone to look after you,” Sho faced him, moistened his lips, and leaned toward his friend.
“Damn right, I do.” Naoki put his head down on Sho’s shoulder. He began to hum a tune unfamiliar to the guitarist.
Sho, in turn, nestled himself closer to Naoki. When he moved his head, strands of hair tickled his nose. Naoki smelled a heady mix of his shampoo and sweat. Sho inhaled deeply, anchoring himself.
Moments passed and silence had settled in the room. Sho heard a gentle snore coming from the person next to him.
It would be hell to wake up with a neck pain, so the guitarist carefully arranged Naoki’s sleeping figure on the bed, easing his head down to the pillow.
Before he switched the sideboard lamp off, Sho once again glanced at his friend, savouring the scene.
“Good night, Naoki,” he whispered. Without making any noise, Sho left the room with the tray, and shut the door quietly behind him.
