It happened in your room at Air Temple Island.

The moonlight poured in soft through the paper windows, painting the room in silver. Your bedding was half-kicked off from how tangled Korra had gotten earlier—flopping across you like a thick, clingy pillow after training, then again after her bath, then again after dinner. Every time you’d shifted away, she’d followed. Touch-starved. Needy. Quietly terrified.

Now it was close to midnight.

You were sitting on the floor beside your bed, elbows on your knees, staring into nothing.

And Korra was watching you from the bed—bare legs half-draped in a blanket, wearing one of your old firebender shirts that barely hung off her shoulder. Her thick thighs were bent, pressed together tightly, body curled up small like she was trying to shrink herself. Her arms were wrapped around her own waist instead of you, for once.

You hadn’t said much the past few days.

And she’d noticed.

“…Are you mad at me?” she asked softly, her voice trembling just a little.

You closed your eyes. Breathed out slowly. “No.”

“Then what is it?” she pressed. “You’ve been… quiet. Distant.”

You didn’t respond at first. Not because you didn’t love her—because you did, deeply. But because explaining what was wrong would hurt her. And hurting Korra… that was the last thing you ever wanted.

She sat up, moving to the edge of the bed, her feet touching the floor. “Did I do something wrong? Just tell me. I can handle it.”

You looked over your shoulder, meeting her eyes.

Big. Blue. Shimmering with the pressure of unshed tears.

“No,” you said gently. “It’s not something you did. It’s just… how you are sometimes.”

She froze. The room went quiet.

“I love you,” you continued, before she could twist your words, “but sometimes I need… space. Time. Just… a little room to breathe.”

Korra’s eyes dropped to the floor. Her hands trembled in her lap. “Because I cling too much.”

“…Sometimes, yeah.”

You expected her to snap, to defend herself like she usually did. But tonight, she didn’t.

“I don’t mean to,” she whispered. “I just… when I’m not touching you, it’s like my chest tightens. Like something could go wrong. Like you’ll vanish if I let go.”