Disclaimer: The Legend of Korra belongs to Bryan Konietzko and Mike DiMartino. I'm just borrowing their characters and bending them to my will. (Heh, bending. Geddit?)

Hey guys! I'm back with another drabble collection, this time for Bromotions Week (a.k.a. the week celebrating everything that is amazing and feelsplosiontastic about the fantasic bending brothers). This first one here is for day 1's prompt, obviously. And as of right now, I can pretty much garuantee that this and day 2's fics will be the only ones that're actually on time. I haven't even finished day 3's yet, and with school starting in a few hours, I won't have much of a chance to write.

But anyway, as always, reviews would be lovely. Enjoy the bromotions, guys~

1. Alone

Bolin hated being by himself.

He wasn't really sure what it was, why he would suddenly get jittery and nervous when he was alone. Maybe it was because Bolin was just a people person. He thrived off his ability to be outgoing; he cherished seeing others smile, knowing he'd been the one to make their faces light up like that, to make their worlds a bit brighter.

Even when his parents had been alive, he'd always felt happier when there were other people around.

Safer.

Loved.

There was very little he could remember about them, but sometimes he would catch small flickers, tiny wisps of memory he wasn't even positive were real or not. But they always rang with the same air of contentment, of joy, because his parents had always just been there.

His mother used to let him follow her like a shadow as she busied herself in the kitchen. She would laugh with him when she tried to teach him her most basic earthbending moves, and she'd kiss his scratches and scrapes whenever he got hurt and make everything better again.

His father would hoist him up on his shoulders and parade around the yard with him, and he would cling to the tattered scarf that later became Mako's, feeling like he was on top of the world.

Those days were far behind him now. And something deep inside him told him they were the real reason why he couldn't stand to be alone.

Because now, three years after his life had been torn apart, after half of his family had been stolen from him, being on his own, even for just a moment, could mean the absolute worst.

The life he lived today was by no means an easy one. The streets were a cold and cruel place, and nobody was ever willing to lend a hand to just two more orphan kids sleeping in an alley. Mako was the only person he had left who actually cared for him. His big brother always made sure he got something to eat, that he was warm, that he was as happy as he could be given their circumstances.

And for the most part, he was. Mako was there for him whenever he had a nightmare and woke up crying, whenever he missed home, whenever he just really needed a hug from his brother, his protector.

But there were also times when Mako wasn't there. Bolin never knew where he went when he disappeared, and he was too afraid to ask. Mako always seemed upset when he came back from the places he'd gone, but usually he brought scraps of food with him, or maybe a ratty blanket he'd found somewhere that could last them a week or two.

So Bolin tried to forget about Mako leaving to wherever-it-was-Mako-left-to. The way he saw it, if it was something important, Mako probably would've told him about it already.

Still, that didn't make the minutes, the hours, sometimes the days when he was alone any more bearable. Because life on the streets was hard, and it was also unpredictable. He never knew if the next time Mako took off into the city and told him to stay behind in the alley or under the bridge would be the last time he ever saw his brother.

~x~

A violent shiver rolled down Bolin's spine, rattling him to the core. He scooted closer to the dying embers of the fire Mako had lit for him, hoping a spare wave of heat might reach him and bring some of the feeling back to his toes.

He glanced out from under the low awning that was serving as his shelter, bright green eyes tracing the paths of the rain pounding the streets. The makeshift roof did little to keep out the wind as it roared between buildings, and he flinched as another ripple of water splattered his drenched clothes.

Mako'd been worried about the weather earlier that day. He'd studied the overcast skies with pursed lips and that little crease between his eyebrows he got whenever he was thinking. "A storm's coming." That's what he'd said, in that level voice of his that Bolin knew meant something bad was going to happen.

And for two orphans out on their own, storms were very, very bad.

Even so, Mako'd had to leave again during the afternoon. Mako always had to leave these days, more often than he used to. Bolin didn't know why, and Mako never brought it up when he came back, just gave Bolin whatever spoils he'd gotten from his trip and settled quietly beside him. The only time he'd ever tried to question Mako about it, his brother completely shut down and didn't speak to him for hours afterwards.

Bolin had stopped trying after that.

This time had been different from all the other times, though. Just as he'd been saying goodbye, Mako had paused, indecision flitting across his features and darkening his amber eyes. After a long moment, he'd reached up and unwound his scarf from around his neck, draping it over Bolin's shoulders instead.

"To keep you safe," Mao had told the nine-year-old, and then he was gone, vanishing amidst a crowd of strangers milling about on the sidewalk.

Now Bolin let his fingers curl in the dark red fabric of his brother's most valued possession, soaked with rainwater and weighing heavily on his body. He pulled it up so that it covered his nose and mouth, protecting the lower half of his face from the cold as best he could.

He still wasn't sure why Mako had given him the scarf, but somehow he knew it hadn't been for a good reason. Mako never took his scarf off. Ever. Not even when he went out in the city to do whatever Mako did and Bolin stayed behind wherever they'd slept the previous night, waiting for him to return.

A chill that had nothing to do with the weather pierced Bolin straight to his bones, and he clutched the scarf more tightly in his hands, breath hitching.

What if Mako didn't want his scarf anymore… because this time he wasn't coming back?

Something akin to a whimper fell from Bolin's chapped lips, and he drew his knees closer to his chest. Mako had been gone for hours now, that much was true. It had to be well past midnight, probably at least two in the morning if he had to take a guess. Bolin had waited up all night so he could greet his brother when he saw him again — as if he could've slept while the rain battered him and the wind screeched in his ears anyway.

But Mako had never stayed away this late before. He was always back by Bolin's bedtime if he could be, and usually it was sooner than that because Bolin knew Mako hated leaving him alone for too long.

Had his brother abandoned him this time?

…No. Bolin didn't believe that. Mako wouldn't just drop him somewhere and take off without him. They loved each other too much. And Mako was his only family. They had to stick together because they had no one else to go to, no one else they could rely on.

If he hadn't ditched Bolin, though, then why hadn't Mako come back yet?

The corners of his eyes began to burn as another possibility flashed through Bolin's mind, even more unbearable than the first.

What if something had happened to him? What if he'd been trying to find more food for them, and he'd gotten hurt? What if — the earthbender choked out a ragged sob — bad people had caught up to him, and he was gone just like Mommy and Daddy?

Lightning cracked through the blackness of the night, illuminating the entire alley and nearly scaring Bolin out of his skin. Thunder shook the very foundation of the stone beneath his feet, and he screamed, pressing himself as close to the wall beneath the awning as he could. Tears mingled with the water dripping from his hair as fear crashed over him, his whole frame trembling viciously.

He couldn't stand being by himself. The emptiness where other people should've been was dark and lonely and much too cold. It shrank in on him now, threatening to suffocate him as another bolt of lightning tore across the sky and thunder rumbled deep in his chest. He clung to Mako's scarf like it was a lifeline, burying his whole face in the material and squeezing his eyes shut. A familiar scent clung to its scarlet folds, smoky and warm, wreathing around him as sobs wracked his body.

Spirits, he just wanted his brother back.

"Bo?"

The-nine-year-old's head whipped up so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. His vision swam with tears and rainwater, the dull earthen browns and murky grays of the half-drowned city bleeding together… but he could've sworn there was a figure heading his way through the shadows.

"Mako?" he called uncertainly, shrinking further into his nonexistent shelter as the stranger grew steadily closer.

"Bolin!"

Twin flecks of gold shimmered in the gloom, and relief as he'd never felt it cascaded over Bolin like a waterfall. The silhouette broke into a run, heavy footfalls splashing across the flooded street, and in an instant Mako was crouched beside him, arms encircling his baby brother. Bolin hid his face in the crook of Mako's neck, cries redoubling as the firebender cradled him to his chest and another stroke of lightning seared the clouds overhead.

"C'mon, Bo." Mako's voice was almost lost in the deafening roar that jolted them both right down to the bone. "Let's find somewhere else we can stay until the storm blows over."

Attempting to swallow another wave of tears, Bolin nodded meekly, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. Mako helped the earthbender rise shakily to his feet, and together they sprinted out into the deluge, heads down and hands clasped tightly between them.

Bolin could barely make sense of where they were going, could hardly even see his shoes through the sheet of rain plastering his hair to his forehead, but Mako seemed to know his way. It was all Bolin could do to cling to his sibling as he skidded over the wet ground in Mako's wake.

After what felt like hours of navigating winding back alleys and dashing under misted streetlamps, Mako abruptly veered to the right, ducking through a hole in the side of a nondescript building. Bolin stumbled as he followed the eleven-year-old inside, hiccupping a grateful sigh when the sounds of the storm dimmed to a muted drumbeat on the roof far above.

Mako released Bolin's hand, and the earthbender used it to brush drenched black strands out of his eyes, squinting as he tried to examine their new surroundings.

The interior of the building was dank and murky; it was hard to discern anything about it other than it looked like some sort of abandoned house. Large, mangled shapes that must've once been furniture littered the cracked and dusty floor. Gray patches — not even bright enough to be considered light sources — dotted the ceiling where it had caved in on itself, allowing rainwater to drip through and gather in puddles beneath the holes.

Quiet shuffling echoed throughout the vacant walls, and suddenly a burst of orange sparked to life, illuminating a small section of the room. Mako's face was outlined in glow of the fire as it danced in his palm, exhaustion dragging at his features.

"I saw this place while I was out today." Mako leaned against the nearest wall and slid to the ground, propping his head up on the stone behind him. "We should be safe here for a while."

Sniffling, Bolin crossed the short distance between them and settled beside his brother, pulling his knees up to his chest. Warmth flickered around the tiny flames Mako held, thawing Bolin's chilled body and soothing the fears that'd plagued his mind just minutes ago. The familiar heat of Mako's bending was a welcome comfort, and soon Bolin found himself being lulled into a doze.

"Mako?" the earthbender mumbled sleepily, scooting closer to the taller boy and resting his cheek on his shoulder.

"Yeah, Bo?"

"Don't ever leave me alone again, ok?"

Mako exhaled in a lengthy sigh, his whole frame sagging with the loss of breath, and when he spoke he sounded a thousand years old.

"I wish I didn't have to, Bolin."

His voice dropped to barely a whisper as lightning flashed through the tattered roof, thunder rattling the very foundation of their fragile shelter.

"Nobody can stick around forever."