Summary: There are three little words that need to be said, but he's having an awfully hard time saying them.

Rating: T+

Pairing: Makorra

Don't own Legend Of Korra.

1. Spit it into her voicemail, a little slurred and sounding like the shot whiskey you downed for courage.

The light of his cellphone rounds the edges of the harsh alley with a lazy glow, and despite the little comfort every fiber of his being is at war, his hands shaking and his brain screaming, don't do it, don't do it you idiot you'll regret it later I swear, I know after all, I'm you-

He fumbles with the buttons before finally entering and calling the number one. She is the first on his speed dial.

He turns his phone on speaker, the first ring echoing through the narrow little passage and bouncing off walls and trashcans. The homeless man huddled up near the stack of boxes near the mouth of the sidewalk shoots him a glare, his eyes bloodshot and dark. With something that sounds like a 'harrumph', he rearranges his large coating of blankets and turns over moodily.

Mako, who is warm despite the winter chill, takes this as permission to continue. Not that he needs it, anyway- his blood is searing, his mouth is numb, and he has this sort of lethargic stone settling in his stomach. Even if the man had told him to buzz off, he doesn't really have the mind to leave anyway. He is all heat and good feelings and dizzying nervousness and absolute nothingness.

And he wants someone to share it with.

There is a second ring.

He nearly drops his phone, because through the whiskey he feels a pang of sobriety, that little voice once again telling him that he's going to regret this a lot. Tomorrow morning, he'll have to face her, and wonder if she thinks he meant it.

He does mean it.

But she doesn't need to know that.

Yet, her stupid smile plagues him. He can already see her in his head- grinning that silly grin, teasing him over the phone call she's about to receive. He probably won't hear the end of it for months, because his idiot best friend has a habit of holding onto every embarrassing thing, poking fun at him, flustering him, driving him out of his mind-

There's a third ring. The noises of the bar he has just exited drift in and out as patrons come and go. He thinks that maybe he needs another drink- something to give him a little more confidence.

He doesn't want to admit it, but this was the plan from the very beginning. It's just a medium to make the confession he has always wanted to make, with a place to put the blame. "Oh, that?" He will say, "I was just a bit drunk, so I was saying a bunch of nonsense. Sorry."

The call goes to voicemail.

It makes sense, since it's somewhere between two and three in the morning and she's probably dead asleep. Part of him is very relieved, but a secret little part wishes the phone had woken her up.

"Hey, this is Korra- I'm not here right now, so just drop me a message!"

There's a beep. Snowflakes tickle his nose.

"Ya know, Korr'," He rumbles into the phone, the words nearly incoherent because of the alcohol. In front of him, he can see her smiling face. He wonders if she'll smile when she hears what he has to say. "I really lov'ya, ya know? I mean, y're a total pain sometimes, but y're strong an' nice an' got a really pretty face an' stuff. An'-"

A crash from the other side of the street splits the air, acting like electricity on his senses. He finally fully realizes what he's doing, and decides that this is a good place to end the message. Without even saying another word, he cuts off the call, stuffs the phone in his pocket, walks away robotically, and laments the complete annihilation of his social life.

The sleeping homeless man grumbles in his sleep, and a few miles away, a phone beeps with the tone of a voicemail.

2. Sigh it into her mouth, wedged in between teeth and tongues.

They are a tangle of limbs as they stumble into her apartment, eager hands clawing at clothes, palms smoothing over arms and legs, nerves tingling and aching for more. His fingertips are on fire, and hers are trailing electricity across his cheeks and neck, burning him, piercing him, setting him alight.

She presses fierce kisses on his jawline, teeth grazing skin. His tongue darts to her ear, and he is hit with the absolute urge to be closer.

She laughs against his neck as his hands fumble with the zipper of her pants. "Eager there, huh?" He says nothing in return, because, damn it, he is, he is, he is. He needs this, needs to feel her, needs to touch her without anything between them. And, he needs to now.

She makes a little noise as he lays her down on the bed, drawing him in like the tide, all confidence and strength and beauty. He can't believe this is happening.

He really can't believe this is happening.

But, he should have expected it- they are both short fuses, and put together they are an explosion waiting to happen. His fuzzy mind can't really recall what they had been doing before, but it lead to this so he supposes he doesn't really care.

He loves this, he loves this, he loves this.

He loves her.

And he doesn't realize he's said that aloud until her hands stop and she goes still under him. There is a second's pause, and he can feel her think, feel her heartbeat call out in question, but then he dips down and kisses her again and hopes that she'll just forget it.

3. Buy her flowers. Buy her chocolate. Buy her a teddy bear, because that's what every romantic comedy has taught you.

He starts out the night pacing in front of her door, wearing very uncomfortable clothes, carrying a multitude of cheesy gifts, and counting the minutes until she finally comes out.

He's invited her on a real, proper date, and according to his brother and all their friends, this is a very big deal and if he screws it up his romantic life will suffer for all eternity. He feels as if there's a weight on his shoulders, and he wonders if it's because of all the preparation and stress on the night, or if it's because he's got a date with Korra.

She walks down the steps, radiant, but with a certain plastic-like quality. He mechanically tells her she looks nice, and she says he looks nice, too, and then he gives her the flowers and the chocolates and the teddy bear and she takes them, and then he offers her his arm and she takes that, too. And then they walk.

They end up in a very nice restaurant with waiters in coattails and classy people talking about politics. They are led to a table for two, their seats adjacent from each other. She sets the presents on the ground next to her chair and sits.

They chat about the weather for a little bit, and then a woman comes with a menu of things neither of them can pronounce, and he stutters through his order as he tries to order the- Hors d'oeuvres? Is that it?- and he tugs at his collar and worries at the cuffs of his suit and pulls at his tie, because everything feels rather suffocating. He wonders if he's sweating.

She is glancing around, gnawing at her bottom lip like she usually does when she's upset. He worries that he's made her upset. Has he made her upset? Is he a total failure just like everyone warned him not to be?

Food comes and goes and it's all rather bland and he's growing more and more worried because she's annoyed or bored or something and she's still chewing on her lip and while that's usually hot it's more of a bother now. He's boring her, isn't he?

All he wants to do is tell her that he loves her. For real this time. That was the plan- an amazing, fantastic date, and then a perfect confession.

Right now, it rather feels like he's trying to propose to her.

His face burns at the thought, and she asks him if he's feeling okay, and he says "Honestly, no", and she stands and says, "Good- we're out of here, then."

And she leaves money on the table even though neither of them know how much the food costs, and she leads him out, leaving the gifts behind with the pretentious atmosphere.

4. Whisper it into her hair in the middle of the night, after you've counted the space between her breaths and are certain she's asleep.

She murmurs and tosses in tune with the dreams she has, and he realizes that he likes watching her sleep, however creepy that may sound.

She's tucked into a little area on his chest, her arms holding him a vice-like grip because, let's face it, she's Korra and even when she's asleep she's a powerhouse. But, she's calmer, her breaths drawn out, her eyelashes fluttering with every passing rise and fall of the chest. She's more beautiful than he's ever seen her, and he thinks it's because this is an expression only he's glimpsed, which makes it more precious.

Suddenly she snores loudly and the peaceful little space he was in is disrupted uproariously. He stares at her for just a moment before bursting out into muffled laughter.

Then, he whispers something, plain and simple against her hair, wedged between chuckles and soft breaths. She shifts a bit, but doesn't stir, and he smiles simply at that, letting his eyes close.

If she heard him, he'll claim it to be sleep whispering.

5. Blurt it out in the middle of an impromptu dance party in the kitchen, as clumsy as your two left feet.

They are having a party, and no one really knows what the party is about because Korra has a habit of throwing parties whenever she's in a good mood. Their friends don't care about the lack of reason, though- there is free food and music and that's enough for them.

Mako and Korra, the designated hosts, are making rounds and passing out snacks and refilling bowls and making sure Tahno isn't messing with the TV channels to order Playboy on Pay-Per-View again.

Bolin is on remote duty today, however, so they're clear in that aspect. Instead, Tahno has moved on to woo Asami, though, he's not having much luck since Iroh, Asami's boyfriend who also happens to work for the military and is well-versed in ways to kill bastards who hit on his girlfriend, is looming right over him. Ikki, noticing this, starts blathering on about how creepy guys with weird curls are, and Tahno eventually takes the hint and slinks away dejectedly.

Korra, who is pulling pastries out of the oven, giggles as she points out Skoochy in the corner of the room, staring Jinora, who is swaying to the music coming from their meager stereo. The 20-year old seems to be debating whether to walk up to his 'secret crush', and after a few seconds deliberation, finally does, doing this odd little jig with his feet which is probably supposed to be dancing. Mako snorts loudly, imitating the pitiful moves.

Korra laughs, calling him a flatfoot, and when Mako turns to her time seems to stop, because this moment suddenly hits him. Here they are in her apartment, surrounded by friends, absolutely happy, and he can't help but think it's all because of her.

She looks amazing.

"I love you-" And it slips out before he can stop it, and she blinks, and he blinks, and everything comes to a halt. She is staring at him, blue eyes wide with questions, but he's a coward and he doesn't have an answer. So, with the haste of someone who has something to hide, he tacks on, "-r amazing cupcakes."

She opens her mouth to speak, presumably to call him out on his bullshit, but then there's a crash from the living room that indicates that Skoochy's finally taken a spill.

Korra rushes out and Mako can't help but wonder who really stumbled here.

6. Write her a letter in which the amount of circumnavigating and angst could rival Mr. Darcy's.

Angry pen marks slash the paper, written with such emotion and passion that Mako has to double-check to make sure the letter is his.

Mostly because it's stupid.

Mako has never really identified himself as a stupid person, but rereading the words he knows that stupid is the only way to describe this. Scanning the paper, he can catch phrases like "burning passion", "my soul calls out to you", and "you are my light". It is absolutely dumb and cheesy, with enough existential angst to be called Mako's.

He spends the day wondering where to put it- she's at work so he has the place to herself. Maybe her pillow? No, too cliché. Coat pocket? Her coat isn't here. On the fridge-?

In his irritation, he crushes the paper in his fist. If she ever saw this, she'd make fun of him for it forever. Not to mention the trouble he'd be in if she ever saw the last line.

He tosses it in the garbage, 'accidentally' leaving it face up, the word 'love' the only thing seen through the leftovers.

7. Wait until something terrible has happened and you can't not tell her anymore.

He ran there, of course, the moment he got the phone call. He's sweaty and still in uniform.

The nurse and the receptionist try to stop him from going in just yet, and he ignores both of them and shoves his way to the door. But, right as he moves to push it open, his blood freezes and he's hit with this horrible, tangible fear.

What if she's not okay? What if he gets in there and she's gone?

His stomach drops as he remembers his parents and their twin tombstones in their hometown's cemetery. Will Korra become words on a grave, too?

The nurse comes up behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder, feeding him the necessary assurances. The receptionist states that it was mugging, and, "Trust me, boy, the other party got off much worse."

He doesn't doubt it.

There's a commotion on the other side of the door, and the three of them can make out bits of conversation.

"You need to-"

"Sit down, please, I have to-"

"My boyfriend-!"

"Miss, I need you to coopera-"

The nurse palms the door before Mako can, and they walk into Korra wrestling with the doctor, perfectly energetic and alive.

Mako nearly collapses on sight.

"Ah! Glad you're here, Mako! These idiots won't let me out, even though I keep telling them it's just a little scratch on my arm- Hey, Mako, are you okay? You're crying!"

He crosses the room in quick steps, and the doctor moves out of the way just as he reaches Korra and hugs her with all his might.

"You're okay, you're okay." He repeats it a few times, sighing it into her hair, her ear, her shoulder. His hands are shaking. "I'm glad- Damn it, Korra, don't do that. I love you, you can't go."

He says it because it needs to be said, and because in his fear the only thing that came to mind was how much he can't live with out her.

"I was scared- I was so scared."

She doesn't say anything, only nods, rubbing circles in his back. The door clicks shut and he can tell that the other occupants have left to give them privacy. They spend the next fifteen minutes like that, frozen in a state of nothing, until Korra finally says, "If it makes you feel any better, I broke the guy's nose."

And, he laughs.

8. Say it deliberately, your tongue a springboard for every syllable.

They are on their way to Asami and Iroh's wedding, and seeing the church strikes Mako with such a yearning that he needs to speak before they can move on to anything.

She's ahead of him, wearing the elegant gown of a bridesmaid, skipping up the steps with a total unhindered excitement. She's buoyant and bubbly and blisteringly beautiful- Ha! He should have written that in that damn letter!- and he knows that this is the perfect moment he's been waiting for, the perfect moment to say what needs to be said without any circumstance or excuse.

Because every moment is a perfect moment and he's been lying to himself otherwise.

"Hey, Korra?" She whirls to him with that radiant, silly grin of hers, the very same one he imagined when he was drunk that one night and changed everything. That silly grin he wonders if she'll still have when she hears what he has to say. "I love you."

If possible, the grin widens as she says, "I love you, too."

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This is probably the best fic I've ever written.

Anywho, I got the inspiration from here: thoughtcatalog com /2012/8-ways-to-say-i-love-you/