Yet another short, short story.
According to the Republic City newspapers, Tarrlok was well on his way to becoming the city's newest, most beloved councilman. He was young, yes, but he was charismatic. And had a large heart. A heart so full of love that he'd taken it upon himself to adopt two children.
The front page of the Republic City Now featured an exclusive photo of the Council member standing in front of the Agency for Orphaned and Abandoned Children with his newly adopted sons, Mako and Bolin. They were skinny and big-eyed, with clothes too big for them and faces that were too old. The cameras flashed in their faces. "The City's Ragtag Sweethearts" the papers would call them.
Bolin, the younger boy, held Tarrlok's hand and grinned while the older boy stood just away from the others, shoulders tense and jaw set.
He'll come around," Tarrlok told the papers, putting a steady hand on the top of Mako, the oldest boy's head. "We'll be a family." He urged his new sons to smile for the cameras.
"You're not our dad," Mako said sharply, plainly as they rode in the back of the brand new Satomobile. He'd never ridden in something so nice, not even when his parents had been alive, not even when the case worker picked him up off the street. He sunk into the seat, finding it too soft and smooth.
"Obviously," Tarrlok said and Mako watched as he tapped the chauffeur on the shoulder. "Take us to Mei Lin's, these boys need new clothes." The Water Tribe man met Mako's intense gaze. "You're a mistrustful boy, aren't you?"
Mako buried his face in the tattered red scarf around his neck. "Mistrustful. Aloof." The people at the orphanage had called him that and shook their heads.
"Mako thinks you're gonna leave us," Bolin chirped. Mako resisted the urge to reach over and pinch him. "You're not gonna leave us, are you? Miss Su-Zi said you were gonna take care of us from now on."
Tarrlok shook his head. "At this point, Bolin, leaving you two would be illegal and I have no intention of going to jail." He ruffled Bolin's hair and the car pulled to a stop in front of a high-class boutique. "Now, lets get you two some new clothes."
When the chauffeur opened his door, Mako hopped out. There were women walking on the sidewalk who were prettier than his mother, with done-up hair and faces. They paused as Tarrlok appeared, making cooing noises that made Mako wrinkle his nose. Tarrlok took Bolin's hand and pushed Mako forward by the small of his back with the other, herding them into the boutique.
Mei Lin was a graying woman who was beautiful and fat. As they entered the store, she seemed to manifest from thin air, crying out as she hurled herself at them. "Are these the boys?" She asked and Mako decided that she sounded like a police siren. He stiffened as she dipped to his height, putting her fleshy arms around him and drawing him into an embrace. "Oh, you poor, poor babies."
"I'm not a baby!" Bolin piped up. "I'm six!"
Tarrlok let out a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a snort. "I was hoping that you could get them a wardrobe started. Perhaps some fine shirts and breeches. And play clothes."
All clothes were play clothes, Mako thought. Their parents had never minded if their clothes got dirty. Mako narrowed his eyes as Mei Lin produced a length of measuring tape and recorded the length of Mako's legs and his waist. She did the same thing to Bolin, and in a mock-whisper she promised to give them candy.
"No candy." Tarrlok said and when Bolin pouted, he acquiesced. "No candy before dinner."
They left Mei Lin's with two massive bags filled to the brim with clothes and their pockets bulging with candy. Tarrlok paid for their clothes and then they were headed home.
Home, Mako thought, as in Tarrlok's house, which would never be his home. His home was their townhouse, where Mom and Dad would be waiting for them with open arms.
Bolin smoothed his hair back and puckered his lips, blowing a kiss at himself in the mirror. He caught sight of a tall, dark haired figure standing in the doorway. Bolin spun around. "You saw nothing!"
Mako's features remained solemn. He held Bolin's gaze for a moment, unblinking and unrelenting. "What are you even doing?"
The younger boy shrugged nonchalantly. "Well Father said we're going to the opening of the new Hundred Year's War Memorial Center, and I wanted to look my best." He glanced down at his outfit, which consisted of gray pants and an emerald green dress-shirt.
His brother's expression soured. "Don't call him that," he hissed. "He's not our dad."
Bolin scratched the back of his head. They had had this conversation before, plenty of times. Tarrlok had adopted them ten years ago and Bolin thought that their life had ended up pretty sweetly. Tarrlok always gave them the best of everything, from bending lessons to a new car when Mako turned sixteen (which Bolin had accidentally crashed when he tried to drive it, but they blamed it on the mailman). In return, he asked them to keep up appearances. They called him Father and they met all the right people at all the right times and said alk the right things. There were times when Bolin thought that Tarrlok truly loved them.
"I know," Bolin said, "but..." He found that he couldn't pick out the words that would accurately convey his feelings, and Mako's intense gaze did nothing to alleviate that. "Well anyway, I just want to look my best, okay?"
Mako, on the other hand, hadn't put so much effort into his appearance. The front of his hair was swooped upward, and his jacket undone. His brother could clean up nicely when he wanted to, which wasn't often, and the girls always seemed to flock to him. Bolin figured it was the dark, sauve, air his brother put on. "Don't you ever get tired? Of all this?"
Bolin thought about it. Before he could reply, however, he could hear heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. The housekeeper appeared behind Mako, breathing heavily. She was a well-endowed woman who was well-paid by Tarrlok, and Bolin doubted she had never had to run in about ten years. She looked at them both and bowed respectfully, causing the brothers to share uneasy glances. "Your father is waiting for you downstairs," she said. "He is growing impatient."
"No one told us," Mako said, buttoning his jacket. He tucked the red scarf in and followed the housekeeper downstairs. Bolin took one last look in the mirror and fell into step with his brother.
Tarrlok stood at the base of the stairs, swinging a pocketwatch. He was dressed neatly in blue, his Water Tribe locs held back by a dark hair ribbon. As his sons appeared, he looked up. Bolin saw no traces of irritation on the man's face, but Tarrlok was a man of appearances. "Come on."
He offered no explanation and they sought none. They followed the Water Tribe man through the large, tiled foyer, and then outside to the yard. Bolin saw that Tarrlok's Satomobile was pulled up to the front, the engine running. The driver scrambled out and opened doors for them, apologizing profusely.
Tarrlok climbed in and the brothers followed. As Mako and Bolin settled in their seats, the Councilman cleared his throat. "It's of short notice," he said, "but the Avatar has recently come to Republic City."
Bolin had heard the news. The Avatar, a fiery Water Tribe girl, had crashed into the city's public eye, having recently arrived to finish her Avatar training. He had seen pictures of her, and she seemed to be pretty and wild. "Are we going to meet her?"
"Yes," Tarrlok said, crossing his legs at the ankles. "The Avatar is a powerful ally to have, especially in these turbulent times." He looked at Mako, and then Bolin, "I'm sure you boys are very charming."
Appearances.
It was always about appearances.
Tarrlok tapped the chauffeur on the shoulder and the car pulled out of the drive, away from the estate. Bolin watched it grow smaller behind them, it's blue exterior and green lawn fading and fading.