Mako already knows where this is headed.

He watches as Bolin smiles and his eyes shine, a laugh shaking his thick frame, and he already knows. It's obvious by the look on his face - and the awed, impressed look on the water tribe girl's - that Bolin has won another friend over. Another mooch, another fangirl, another hit and pass kind of person.

It happens all the time, and both look over as he slams his locker, putting his Pro-Bending helmet on.

She won't see the expression on his face when she slips up and says something hurtful. She won't ever get to see the tired and worn expression, the sigh and the ages-old glances they spare each other, and she certainly won't stick around to get to know how they ended up in the attic of the bending arena.

No one ever does.

"Don't mind 'em," he hears the other say, waving him off, that contagious smile on his face. Their voices are muffled past his helmet, until she exclaimed especially loud, and out of the corner of his eye he could see her jaw drop and a smile twitching her lips.

"Oh, really? That's so cool!"

He knew she didn't notice the callouses on his fingertips. She wouldn't hear his hoarse coughing from the musty air in their room, nor the sighs when he has to get up and open a window for the both of them, the stifling air getting to be too much, too thick.

"Yeah, well, y'know, it's nothing special."

She'd never know how hard they had it before they became Pro-Benders, and to her, they were something magical, something beautiful and new. She had no idea.

She'd never have an idea what they'd gone through, he realized, slamming the door as he left the locker room. The room hushed as he left.

She had no idea, but he already knew.