When Korra left, Bolin had already planned on writing to her. Mako watched as he spent an hour or two every other day crafting a letter to send to her, inky characters flowing down page after page. It didn’t matter to Bolin what he wrote, and it didn’t matter if she responded, just so long as he was writing, writing, writing. To her.
“I want Korra to feel good again,” Bolin had said, scrawling out the post-post-post script. “That’s all.”
Asami had radioed her a few times to check up. She had expressed to Mako how anxious she was that none of them had gone with her. “She has her parents, and Kya’s there too, but still… I just want to help in whatever way I can.”
Mako wished he had done something. He wished he had said something. But he hadn’t.
He hadn’t done a single thing.
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