Work Text:
I'd tear heaven apart for you
I'd demolish hell for you
free from promises, free from threats
"I think — I think I am unfit for all of this."
"What?"
Kyoshi takes a good look at her companion. She knows that Rangi is most definitely furious — she can't stand this kind of conversation, but there is an ocean of doubt that's filling Kyoshi's chest and she finally feels brave enough to voice it.
Self-doubt shouldn't be this disruptive. It should coexist in one's chest, making its nest somewhere between one's ribs and heart, and it should make itself known when the pressure of the world makes it a bit too hard to breathe; when one is weak and consumed by the illusion of impending doom. Self-doubt shouldn't be this disruptive, but it can be, especially when the mind is weak and the spirit is vexed by shadows.
"I said that I am unfit for all of this." I would give up on myself if I could, are the words Kyoshi doesn't say out loud.
Rangi stands proud in front of her, and the few meters separating their bodies suddenly feel impossible to cross. Kyoshi focuses on her shoulders, her topknot, her closed fists — anything but the unforgiving expression she knows Rangi is wearing, an emotion fluctuating between pure rage and frustration.
"So? What should we do now?"
"We?"
"Yeah." Rangi's perfectly straight shoulders tense up again, feigning nonchalance. She balls up her fists — open, close, open, close — until she decides to get closer, crossing the invisible rift between them with two long strides. "We. You tend to forget that my job is to protect you."
Kyoshi cannot hold her companion's gaze — she never really could, especially when Rangi falls victim to her own impossible temper. She tells herself that it's because the lieutenant can be quite intense, but the truth she never spoke into existence is that she cannot bear to see the bare essence of what the other is feeling being reflected in her eyes.
"My misery is not part of your job."
"You're right. Your misery isn't part of my job."
She turns and walks away. Kyoshi still won't look at her and she's determined not to — she keeps her gaze to the ground, stubborn in her own sorrow, cursing herself for both her rambling and the topic at hand, until the distinct sound of metal clanking wakes her up from her trance. Kyoshi finally looks up: Rangi has moved to the side of her bed and is now busy removing every piece of her armor, carefully laying them on the ground.
The muscles on her back flex and move with calculated ease, unintentionally drawing Kyoshi's attention and distracting her from her own misery thoughts. She feels unable to move, to speak, to mend the rift she widened with her own hands before Rangi could stitch it together. And this proves that I'm right, I'm unfit for this, I cannot —
"Stop it."
"What?"
"I can hear you thinking from here." Rangi rests her final piece of armor to the ground. "Stop it. Everything's fine."
"But —"
"We cannot tinker with fate, Kyoshi. You've been given an opportunity." Rangi finally looks at her again, now lacking her usual layer of armor. She looks tiny, almost vulnerable, and the compassion painted all over her face isn't something Kyoshi expected. "And now it's up to you to give this opportunity meaning."
"I never asked for all of this." All this sorrow, all these responsibilities, all these expectations —
A soft hand rests on Kyoshi's shoulder. "I know. I know, but you're strong enough to shoulder it."
"How can you be so sure about all of this? About me?"
"Because I trust you."
It really is as simple as that. Rangi's hand burns against Kyoshi's shoulder — it's warm, solid and grounding, and Kyoshi's thoughts are no longer spiraling towards the abyss. Rangi's reverent, circular movement against her skin are slowly bringing her back to reality, anchoring her mind to the little microcosmos that is their shared room.
"How — I mean —"
"I will always believe in you. I could be blind, deaf and unable to move, and I would still follow you to the end of the world. You said that your misery isn't part of my job, and you're right." Rangi is now holding both of her shoulders, gently, grasping at Kyoshi's robe as if it was her lifeline. "But we're here, I am here, so your misery will always be my problem."
Strong, naked arms find their way around her waist, while Rangi rests her head against Kyoshi's collarbone and prevents the other girl from potentially running away. "You're okay. As long as I'm here, you're okay. You're not shouldering the weight of the world alone."
"I never wanted to get you involved into this mess, you know," Kyoshi whispers against Rangi's ear, careful not to touch the lieutenant's hair. She takes a deep, shaky breath before wrapping her own arms around her figure, holding her impossibly close. "I would shelter you from everything, if I could."
"But you can't, and it's my job to protect you, stupid."
"I rely on you way more than I should."
"Good, you are able to discern a wise advice from a bad one." Rangi leaves the comfort of their embrace to take a good look at her companion, eyeing her up with little to no subtlety.
"What is it now?"
"I wish you could see yourself the way I see you." Rangi pokes her chest with two fingers, now lost in thought. Her voice is commanding, but it lacks any bite. "You would never, never doubt yourself like this — you would be so proud that the world would bow down to you."
"I am no good, Rangi. The things I've done — they're… questionable. Wrong."
Rangi groans, defeated. She barely suppresses the urge to slam her own head against the wall. "Stop it. You did what you had to do."
"I am not able to trace the border between necessity and atrocity, Rangi." Kyoshi's voice comes out small, feeble. She's so scared that it's difficult for her to articulate her own thoughts. "What if I lose the plot?"
"I'll guide you back to me. I'll scold you, I'll take care of your mess, and the sun will rise again. It always does."
The amount of faith Rangi put in her feels undeserved, and Kyoshi almost feels unworthy. She wants to voice the thought, confronting Rangi and convincing her of her own uselessness, when —
"If you don't believe in yourself, believe in me." Rangi's eyes shimmer with something that borders on divine. "Do you trust me?"
Kyoshi's answer is immediate. "Yes. More than anything."
"Then believe in me. If you can't trust your own judgment, then trust mine. If you don't feel like you're enough, then know that you mean the world to me." Rangi rests both hands against Kyoshi's chest, then pushes. She guides them both towards the bed, headstrong and firm, and Kyoshi lets her. "If you don't love yourself, then I will love you for the both of us. I have plenty of love for you to share."
Rangi pushes her companion one last time, forcing her to fall back onto the mattress — Kyoshi barely has time to process what is happening that Rangi is already climbing on top of her, quick and lethal, and the wind gets knocked out of her lungs. She can't help the blush spreading on her cheeks, ears and neck, and she prays that Rangi won't tease her too badly about it.
She doesn't. Rangi is flushed from head to toe, hiding her own face from sight and clearly conflicted about who-knows-what is making her mind race so fast. She takes a deep breath, steading herself, and finally lifts her head.
The sight is breathtaking.
"I'll show you," Rangi sputters, breaking the silence. Kyoshi is still stunned and Rangi is still trying not to stumble upon her own words. "how — how much I trust you. If you let me."
A nod. Kyoshi doesn't trust herself enough to speak.
Rangi rests her forehead on the sacred ground that's Kyoshi's chest, bowed, reverent; her hands are balled in fists on both sides of the girl's neck and her eyes are shut tightly. There's a hammer thrumming in her chest as she tries to find the words stuck between her tongue and teeth, a beat guiding her until her body unconsciously eases against Kyoshi's and slots itself in place, shaping their joint figures into something akin to comfort, familiarity, essence. There's a galaxy of things she needs to say, to show, to understand — the birth of a star, a collision, the final straw in a chaos flux that is finally taking shape.
This is a show of devotion that bares Rangi's soul in full, going far beyond the nakedness of the body — it's a feeling that tinkers with her own sense of self, honor and spirit, and she's prostrated to offer what could be considered as the core of who she has chosen to be. Rangi takes a deep breath, exhaling against the soft fabric of Kyoshi's tunic, thus her voice comes out as raspy and a little jagged on the edges when she speaks.
"Undo it for me, please."
I trust you, I love you, it has always, always been you. Behind the swaying of my flame and the rage of my fists; behind the harsh words I guard my heart with and the consuming fear of losing what I hold dear — it has always, always, always been you. It will always be you. I am unsure how to be me without you, for I cannot grasp the meaning of an existence in which you are not beside me.
Rangi's hairpiece shines under the feeble light of the lamp, and she waits and waits and feels her throat burning after the plea she has mouthed; as if fire itself carved its way out of her stomach and left nothing but scorching embers and ashes in its trail.
Silence.
It doesn't stretch, it does not gnaw at Rangi's weaknesses nor her insecurities. It settles, like an owl at dawn, flapping its wings one more time to finally reach its resting place. Kyoshi exhales, quiet and unsure, a sound so weak that almost makes Rangi jump on her feet and flee as fast as she can: she doesn't; if anything, she maintains her stance and waits, for Rangi has always been a soldier first and foremost.
(She would never, never flee from where she's expected to be — it's always at Kyoshi's side, in every possible reality our logic allows to ponder. She's a soldier in the strictest sense of the term, because she has always had something to fight for and to protect with her own life.)
Kyoshi grabs the long, golden needle that's piercing Rangi's topknot with shaking hands and clumsy fingers, while her companion is put in the privileged position of listening to her furious heartbeat. Thump, thump, thump, Rangi hears, while Kyoshi demolishes every wall she has ever put around her soul with the simple, featherlight touch of her fingertips. Thump, thump, thump, Rangi hears, a mirrored sound of her own bleeding heart, and the golden ornament is finally removed from her hair.
A figurative piece of armor clinks to the ground. Kyoshi holds Rangi's little flame in the palms of her big, gentle hands, contemplating its weight with honored curiosity and devoted care. Their posture shifts: Kyoshi's long arm extends, causing the muscles of her chest to flex and widen under Rangi's forehead.
She doesn't move.
The golden ornament is carefully, oh so carefully placed on the bedside table, while Kyoshi's other hand rests on the space between Rangi's shoulder-blades. Her fingers slide across her skin, soft, grounding; a touch that speaks louder than any volume ever could — are you alright? Should I keep going? Are you sure about this? — and strikes both of them as more intimate than an open-mouthed kiss. Rangi stays bowed in her prayer, not daring to open her eyes, not daring to move; yielding to the gentle fingers that are now fiddling with the bow on top of her head.
It is undone. The red thread tying her topknot together finally falls apart, and Rangi inhales sharply. The token of her honor, what Rangi once held dearest to her heart, has been handled by the woman she has devoted herself to: honor morphs into something clearer, lighter; a concept that sounds a little too close to love. Rangi has always stood at the edge of the abyss, gazing at the flames resting down there, refusing to name the emotions they were born to — but she knows which part of her birthed them and who is the cause of their never-ending life stream.
The answer is so obvious that it's laying underneath her, frozen, with her arms slightly raised and a breath or two stuck in her throat. Kyoshi still dares not touch Rangi's hair: she's not from the Fire Nation, but she knows how much this all means to the girl nestled against her. It's a show of love, of faith and trust, feelings Kyoshi thinks are far greater than she deserves. (But that's what brought them here and Rangi would straight up yell at her, should she voice her inner turmoil).
Please, Spirits, do not let me fuck this up.
Scarred hands find their place on Rangi's shoulder. Her muscles are still tense, still flexed; a spring ready to snap — until Kyoshi's fingers crawl their way up her neck, behind her ears, just a breath away to tangle themselves in those jet black locks Rangi values so much.
"May I?"
I'll be careful. I won't betray your trust. I would never, never, never hurt yo—
"Please."
Rangi never begs. Her voice is naturally commanding, a sound that makes people stand to attention and obey her — and it is discordant, hearing it break in multiple points as she prays to her. An indomitable spirit reduced to a frail, shaking creature nestled against her beloved's chest, amber eyes tightly shut, hair and soul free of any restraint.
Kyoshi slides both her hands in Rangi's hair, seizing the moment to nullify any sliver of distance keeping them apart.
Rangi breaks her stance. It's messy, there are tears involved and the gargantuan realization of what this implies (love, surely; maybe honor, but most of all it's devotion, raw and unfiltered) flashes through her racing mind — maybe it was all about being able to hold and to be held, while Kyoshi threads her fingers into her hair and gently plays with it, touching each strand with utmost care; to hold and to be held, damn everything else that has ever kept Rangi far from this little pocket of heaven.
(Her stupid self-discipline is the main reason why she never let her guard down. She has loved Kyoshi since the very beginning of their story, and her heart never doubted that one day her topknot would have been undone by her — once, twice, forever.)
The sound that comes out of Rangi's mouth isn't pretty, it's desperate. Kyoshi freezes.
"Are you sure that this is alright?"
Another plea. "Keep going."
"We should talk about this," Kyoshi says, honey coating her voice. It's a peculiar tone that is reserved to Rangi and Rangi alone, a sound woven with an impossible ache and fondness that always makes the other girl's knees go weak. "I know what this means to you. I feel… honored. Privileged. I am immensely glad to be cherished by you."
"Then act like it." Rangi's voice comes out muffled and a bit too teary to be menacing, but the intention is there. "Stop acting like I'm doing you a favor — I've been in love with you since I can remember, and it has nothing to do with your heritage and power. We were kids, Kyoshi." She stills; Kyoshi does too. The weight of her own words settles on Rangi's shoulders, and so does a generous amount of self-awareness and embarrassment. "Damn it."
A giggle. Swift fingers pick up where they left off, rubbing slow circles on Rangi's temples and losing themselves in her pitch black hair. "What?"
"I've been in love with you since forever," Rangi sighs, resting her cheek against Kyoshi's chest. "and I can't believe I just said that."
"Do you regret it?" Kyoshi's voice is a whisper now, and she can't help but curse at her own insecurity. Do you regret falling for me? Have you ever thought that this is not worth it? You deserve bet—
"Never."
Rangi cuts right through Kyoshi's stream of consciousness, neat and bright as a comet, speaking before she could lose the other girl to the deepest corners of her mind. Emotions are running high — Kyoshi has the question sitting on the tip of her tongue, and Rangi is waiting for her around the corner.
Kyoshi lowers her hands until they're resting on the mattress. She balls them into fists — she's going to get mad and she's right but I can't help it — I did nothing right, I —
"Do you regret falling for me?"
"You just undid my topknot. You threaded your hands in my hair and now you're here asking me if I ever regretted falling in love with you." A sigh. Rangi does not lift her head — instead, she nuzzles into Kyoshi's tunic, seeking comfort. "You're insane. Does that answer your question?"
"Not really."
Another long, dramatic sigh. Rangi props herself up on her elbows and tries her best not to lose her temper again — a cloud of doubt darkens Kyoshi's pretty features and it stings, because it's raw and real and Rangi does not know how to face this enemy.
"I decided to stand by you, Kyoshi. It's not something I'm ashamed of, nor something I regret."
"But —"
"No buts. This," and Rangi gestures to their position, their shared space and shared breath, "isn't tied to my job or your role. This is about us. Do you —" A pause. Rangi's face twists into something terribly akin to uncertainty. "Do you regret it?"
Kyoshi looks almost offended. "How could I?"
"Then what are we even talking about?"
"I just wish — I wish it was easier for you."
Rangi barks out a laugh that's fierce and earnest, and she has never looked more dashing — her flushed cheeks clash with the snowy shade of her skin and the jet black hair falling for once in front of her eyes. It's a sight to behold and it's not about looks — it's about vulnerability and trust and all those pretty emotions that come with the familiarity of love, of being inexplicably tied to one another and unable to loosen the knot.
"Easier? I think we went through hell and back. I almost died, you almost died — our friends —" Fear flashes through Rangi's eyes, a raw, unmanageable feeling Kyoshi came to know so well. She raises her hand, brushing a thumb over Rangi's cheekbone and gently urging her to continue.
I'm here. Nothing happened. It's still us.
"But we always come back to each other, don't we? I'm tired of you acting as if I was the victim here. I chose this life and I chose to serve you." Silence. Rangi is visibly trying her best to select her next words, carefully, threading them so they do not expose the bleeding heart she has always tried to hide behind the soldier's mask. "I wish I could say that I also chose to fall in love with you, but it just… happened. It's a constant, my polar star, something that is here and that has always been here. I couldn't help but be drawn by the force that ties me to you — and it didn't take long before I knew it by name."
"I would have never thought of you as a romantic."
The playful slap hitting Kyoshi's shoulder is definitely earned, but so is the half giggle that follows. Rangi lowers herself again, still laughing, still smiling; and what was meant to be an incoherent hug becomes something far more desperate — Kyoshi's hands are quick to hold Rangi's face, redirecting her descent towards her own lips.
Everything falls into place. The intimacy of shared breath pairs with the tender touch of unsteady fingers and trembling hands, both following the sacred path of knowing each other anew — unsaid words, unshed tears and the sheer need of being understood are all threaded together in the desperate, synchronized movement of their lips, until it all flows into a dizzying kiss and the whispered promise that follows.
It is all coming back to the urge to be close, to feel and to be felt, and the sole possibility of being able to lose themselves in each other makes them both forget about duties, wounds and sorrow. Kyoshi's hands wind up in Rangi's hair again, tugging and holding and trying so hard to memorize the shape of her trust and the sound of the pleas still lodged in her throat — it's sacred, the way she pulls the strings of Rangi's very soul. It's sacred and it's now granted, matching the way the other girl curls on top of her, holding her face and kissing her lips as if she was whispering a confession. Rangi runs hot to the touch: her skin is set ablaze, brimming with an intensity that either sets her apart or threatens to consume her — and despite it all, both her lips and her touch are unbearably gentle, tender, woven with a kind of reverence that doesn't match with her fiery, unshakable heart.
Rangi lifts her head. Warmth seeps through her skin, the tangible form of her own want, and her eyes are struggling to stay focused.
"I —"
She finds herself at a loss for words. A hand slowly flies to her own lips, tracing the same pattern Kyoshi has followed mere seconds ago. The gesture is slow and languid and there is a single strand of hair that's sticking to the corner of her mouth, stubborn, tempting. Kyoshi feels dazed. She reaches for it without thinking, using her new privileges to fix it behind Rangi's ear — it is a poor excuse to run a hand through her hair again.
This is not their first kiss. They know the outlines of each other's mouths, lips and face; they know how their hands feel against each other's skin and they know what it means to share their own breath with each other — this is far from their first kiss, yet it feels charged with something completely new. The feeling is almost nerve-wracking.
Rangi's reaction is immediate and it's physical. She lunges forward, grabbing Kyoshi's collar with both hands and clashing their lips together — she's warm, almost too warm, and she's trying her best to press their bodies so close together that their skin melts into each other's. The intention isn't conscious, but it's coated with such a blatant veil of desperation that something in Kyoshi's stomach flips and turns.
Her fingers are all tangled up in Rangi's hair now, drawing her in and holding her close, and Kyoshi feels almost selfish — but she can't help it, especially when her companion reacts in such a primal way to every little push and pull she does. It's addicting, the way she curls and strives on top of her, losing her stoic composure and lucid mind to the bliss of whatever this is. It's addicting because it speaks of the unyielding faith Rangi has put in her, and she has given her the invaluable token of her honor to prove her point.
The truest, darkest truth is that it is addicting because it's hers.
A shudder suddenly breaks both her trail of thought and their kiss, and Rangi lifts her head, unable to open her eyes and stabilize her own temperature. Her hair is a mess and so is her composure — her skin is flushed to the point that it seems painted, her breath is erratic and her muscles are so tensed up that she looks like she's ready to snap. Strong fingers fiddle with the fabric of Kyoshi's tunic, curling around the hem of her collar with shaking uncertainty and the explicit need to feel grounded.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Rangi's voice comes out cracked, ghastly. She hasn't opened her eyes yet, but her hands are still traveling along the length of Kyoshi's neck. "yeah. Are you?"
Kyoshi mirrors Rangi's movements without thinking, tracing the outline of her jawline and nape. A gentle scratch of her fingernails against Rangi's scalp almost makes her jolt — a ragged, shaky breath finds its way out of her mouth. Kyoshi's head spins.
"Mm."
"Don't you ever doubt me, yourself or this again." Rangi almost headbutts her, when she rests their foreheads together. She's still a bit too warm and a bit too intense, but the flames burning behind her gaze are closer to a heartwarming hearth than her usual, disarming depth. Like a moth to a nightlight, Kyoshi is drawn to her — long, timid fingers trace the outline of Rangi's cheekbones, learning the curves of her face as if she's never to see them again. "My flames, my fists and my heart are all pledged to you. Don't throw them away. I believe in you. I believe in you, I've always had and I always will."
Rangi is all teeth and contrast, with her fists balled up in Kyoshi's tunic and her forehead firmly pressed against hers, but the silent plea hidden behind her words isn't too implicit. Kyoshi hears it loud and clear, and it pierces right through her own doubts. Please, please, please, believe in me, is the prayer Rangi does not mutter — but the soft note in her voice spells it out for her, and so does the way she relaxes against the body underneath hers.
A feather-light kiss seals Kyoshi's next words as a vow. "I won't."
"It's a promise."
No, it's a vow, but Kyoshi decides to wrap her arms around Rangi's shoulders and hold her close. "It is."
Rangi eases against her, nuzzling her face into Kyoshi and letting out another long, dramatic sigh. The puff of breath against her skin makes Kyoshi's nerves jump, but the flame goes out with the ghost of a kiss in the same spot.
"You should take off your armor. It's late." Rangi's voice sounds already compromised by slumber, or maybe it got smudged and lost in the fabric. A hand slowly trails up and down her waist, gentle, soothing, and Kyoshi finally realizes how tired she is. Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her — maybe the wild bird rattling against her chest wasn't just self-doubt, but it was a wounded thing which needed to be seen and cared for.
"You're right, I should. Thank you," Kyoshi kisses her companion's temple and squeezes her a little bit, hoping that the gesture could help her convey her feelings a little bit better. "for being here for me. Goodnight."
"You're not going anywhere. Go take that stupid armor off and come back here." Rangi is already half-asleep when she lifts her head — her nose is all scrunched up and her eyes are struggling to adjust to the new light, but what strikes Kyoshi as breathtaking is the way Rangi's hair is ruffled and disheveled, wild, especially where her own hands roamed until now. She suppresses a giggle (and earns a frown) before taking the hint and sliding off the bed.
"I'll wait for you." Rangi promises, before falling right back onto the mattress.
The wounded animal screaming and thrashing in Kyoshi's chest goes quiet in front of Rangi's most vulnerable form — she looks younger when she's asleep, her face finally free of her eternal scowl and furrowed brows. A rebellious strand of hair covers her left eye, and Kyoshi reaches out to fix it behind her ear.
She undresses quietly, careful not to make too much noise. There's a garden of thoughts her mind should tend to, but the only thing Kyoshi can actually focus on is the feeling of Rangi's lips pressed against her and the sweet, foreign scent of her hair — how intoxicating it can be to be known so well that love ripens, turning itself into something way more visceral and rooted than the need to be wanted. It's love but it's also care, comfort and presence.
Kyoshi fastens the belt of her sleepwear and finally goes back to bed, where Rangi has already fallen prey to the depths of slumber. Careful, she lays down next to her, basking in the gentle warmth radiating from her companion's body and the blessed proximity they share. Kyoshi raises a hand, wondering if she still could, and smooths out the unkempt strands of hair that adorn Rangi's head.
Rangi does not open her eyes. She moves, readjusting their positions — she rests her head in the crook of Kyoshi's neck, while her hand finds her rightful place on the girl's waist. She picks up right where she was interrupted, caressing the gentle curve of Kyoshi's side with the lightest of touches.
"You were asleep mere seconds ago."
A smile tickles the skin of Kyoshi's neck. "I told you I would have waited for you, didn't I?"
"That you did."
A warm, comfortable silence falls between the two. Kyoshi rests her cheek against Rangi's head, taking advantage of their position to bury her nose in the lieutenant's hair. Her new privilege feels amazing, Kyoshi thinks, especially when Rangi lifts her neck and slightly presses into her.
They've been this close before, and they've slept in the same bed multiple times already. Rangi is warm, solid and grounding, and compensates for Kyoshi's tendency of running cold during the night — a flame that doesn't burn, but speaks of home and peace.
A sudden kiss interrupts her trail of thought. Rangi scoots even closer — was that possible? — and kisses Kyoshi again, somewhere between her jaw and neck.
"Do you feel better?"
The easy answer would be yes, thanks to you; but it's not that easy to quell the void Kyoshi feels behind the left side of her chest. The easy answer would be yes, thanks to you; but she knows that Rangi would see right through her, and it's the beauty of being known — a truth Kyoshi ignored until it was too bright for her to avert her eyes. The privilege of being loved through it all, through every doubt and every mistake, is a reality she cannot take for granted.
For now, though, it sleeps soundly in her arms.
"I feel a bit better," Kyoshi returns the kiss, planting soft ones on the crown of Rangi's head. "it's okay. Thank you."
"We'll be okay, rocks-for-brain. Trust me."
And when Rangi speaks so earnestly, almost naively, whispering directly to her heart, Kyoshi finds herself clutching to her words like a lifeline. She trusts her.