Author's Note: I'm not terribly pleased with these, but I figured I'd post them anyway so I would have something to laugh about in the future when looking back on how terrible of a writer I was. All were written around midnight as I struggled to complete them the day of the prompt (and failed). If you see any mistakes in grammar, characterization, or anything else, feel free to let me know!
It was around two in the morning. Republic City, though always lit up, was quieter, pedestrians returned to their homes to sleep and wait for a new day. In that part of city-what some call the "weedy part"-it was dangerous to go outside at this time of the night. Shady people doing shady things lurked outside an innocent door, and shadows seemed ready to engulf the slightest movement.
It was thundering outside the apartment (and inside, a bit, for the ceiling had quite a big leak) and Mako lay awake, shivering in his bed despite the summer heat. Bright light crackled and flashed outside his window, fiery and cruel. Even years later, lightning reminded him of his parents, gone but not forgotten. Never forgotten by the children left behind. It had been thundering that night too.
A loud, sharp crack was heard outside. Mako ducked his head and cried out. He tried to muffle the sound in his pillow. He was the older brother, not allowed to show weakness, not allowed to show pain. He felt so lonely, sometimes. Mako longed to creep to his brother's room, to crawl into bed and be calmed by Bolin's breaths. Bolin could sleep through anything, and their mother used to joke that the only way to wake Bolin was to start cooking. Mako felt a pang in his chest, and he felt so, so alone in his wide, empty bed.
He heard a small creak, followed by a pattering of soft footsteps. Was it Pabu? Mako wondered. He would welcome Pabu, even though the fire ferret would somehow manage to take up three quarters of the bed. There seemed to be plenty of room to spare in Mako's bed tonight.
"Mako?" whispered a sleepy voice. Bolin, thought Mako. Bolin.
The sheet lifted, and Bolin squirmed onto the bed. He curled up to Mako, murmuring nonsense. Bolin sleepwalked sometimes. Mako smiled into the head of unruly hair pressing into his face.
Gradually, the storm quieted. Perhaps he wasn't quite so alone, Mako mused as he drifted into sleep.