Meditation was meant to calm the mind and open one up to potential enlightenment and a sense of bliss. But as Tenzin felt the floorboards next to him creek from the weight of an uninvited guest, all he felt was annoyance creep into his conscious mind.
The culprit flashed him a crooked smile, his chamois skin glowing like copper from the sunset. Not that Tenzin noticed. He kept his eyes closed, more from spite than concentration, as his older brother let out a deliberately loud yawn and reclined back on his arms, grinningly sneakily at the airbender.
"You plan on sulkin' all day in here or are you ready to come out?"
The younger man's jaw tightened slightly, which didn't go unnoticed by the other. Had it been anyone else he would've ignored the question, opting to block out the person. But there was no blocking out Bumi. No matter how hard you tried, Bumi was simply ignore-proof…and oh, did Tenzin try.
"I am not sulking, Bumi, I am meditating."
Tenzin's eyes snapped open in surprise as a howl of laughter erupted from the sixteen year old, vibrating off of the pillars and echoing through the once peaceful space.
The older boy inhaled deeply, catching his lost breath, and pushed his wild umber hair from out of his eyes. "Just because you're sitting in a meditative stance doesn't mean you're really meditating, 'Zin." Bumi lectured, his words forming with uncharacteristically precise pronunciation and smoothness. "Besides, throwin' a cat into the sea don't make it a fish."
And there it went.
Tenzin shut his eyes and sighed; a sigh that, to Bumi, seemed way too 'old' for a fourteen year old to make. In reality, it was very rare for Bumi to invade in on a meditation session. Though somewhat brash in nature, the middle child was still taught to have respect for such things. But Bumi could tell from a mile away that his younger brother was the farthest thing from relaxed, even without him interfering. His posture was tense and rigid, and his fists, which were supposed to firmly graze each other, were tightly curled and shifting between the knuckles.
Though Bumi disguised it well enough, there was concern at the core of his jabs. Especially after earlier today.
"This isn't about the Gates is it?"
That did it.
Tenzin sat eerily still, breath catching in his throat. Bumi wouldn't be surprised if the entire room momentarily halted from the tension, dust frozen mid float from the thickness in the air.
"You saw that?" was the barely audible reply, which almost went unnoticed by the older. It was hushed, as if it was a secret whispered between the two in a room full of people.
"Yeah." Bumi said, shifting his eyes to the floor. He wasn't well equipped at handling emotional things. He would much prefer a hard slap on the back and a quick "You'll get it eventually!", to…well, this. But Tenzin didn't work like that. And it was either adapt to fit his brother's needs or leave the problem floating in the air along with the dust.
Before Bumi could even decide which option to take, a light current of wind blew his hair back and briefly blocked his vision. When he recovered, he witnessed his brother leap from his seat at the floor to an upright position, before beginning to walk out of the room.
"Tenzin, wait!"
The younger boy stopped in place, but didn't turn around. Eyes focused so intensely on the blooming cherry blossom tree in the backyard that he wouldn't be surprised if it burst into flames.
"You don't have to, uh…feel bad, ya know?"
Where the hell were his parents when he needed them? Clearly, Bumi missed the hereditary 'pep-talk' gene…among others.
"I mean, ya got farther this time in the Gates than I've ever seen! So what if ya didn't make it all the way through? Why the hell are you so hard on yourself any damn way?"
Tenzin resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his brother's spontaneous rage. Unlike Tenzin's outbursts, which took a long period of time to build up until it appeared, Bumi was known for having a short-temper. His anger came out in quick bursts, but died down just as fast as they erupted. It tended to come out as a cover for other emotions: fear, embarrassment, or in this case, utter confusion.
"No one expects you to suddenly become a master like dad in a day," Bumi spoke, willing himself to speak calmer and less intense for his brother's sake, "and if they do they're idiots and don't know how this kind'a thing works. We believe in ya, Tenzin. Take it one day at a time."
Tenzin dropped his glare and turned around to face his brother. It was a process, he knew. The pressure didn't stem from his family, especially not from his father, but within himself.
He knew his feelings of inadequacy wouldn't go away with a single speech. Hell, even Bumi knew that. But for the moment, neither of them cared. Bumi could see right through Tenzin, and for someone who was infamously known for being an emotional enigma, that meant a great deal to both of them.
A new problem arose though: the brothers found that just as it had been difficult to start the discussion, they had no idea how to end it.
Well, they had no idea how to end it in an orthodox way, at least.
"Catfish."
Bumi's eyebrow quirked up, certain he'd misheard his brother. That, or the youngest had officially gone off the deep end and nose-dived clean into insanity.
"What?"
"There was a flaw in your principle. Throwing a cat into the sea would make it a fish…a catfish."
Tenzin's soft chuckles were drowned out by Bumi's cries of laughter, sending birds from the cherry blossom tree flying out into the sky from shock.
The two walked back to their home, the older's arm around the young bender's shoulders, thoughts of 'meditation' and 'skill' put aside for jokes about 'catfish'.