Chapter 1: Curious
Men don't cry. Or at least, that's what I had always assumed. But here one was, a seemingly regular man, standing out on the corner near my house, blubbering his eyes out like a small child. "It must be serious," I thought, with all that snot running limpidly down the base of his nose and precariously close to his lips. My nose started to tingle from being pressed so hard against the clamminess of the window that I had to move away, still perturbed why what in all of this city could have caused a man like him so much anguish.
Pulling my cloak from the rack near the main door, I couldn't help but let my wandering curiosity get the best of my senses. Part of me told me to stop, go upstairs and get all my chores done before I could barely stay awake, but I pushed it away as quickly as it fought attention. This kind of situation never happened in any of the books I could recall ever reading. The women in them seemed to have that role encompassed with flair. Would he one to break that norm? What hit a man's heart so? After stepping silently down the stairs, I walked in the shadow of the building until I was just behind him. Take it slow. Best not to scare him off like a spooked animal. I moved closer to him, gingerly taking step by careful step until I was no more than two steps from his side. Fishing in the hidden pocket of my mint-colored dress, I found a cleanly pressed handkerchief and extended it slowly until it was in his line of sight.
"There, there." I said calmly, waiting to catch his attention.
He turned around quite sharply, and the familiarity of his face almost made me flatten against the wall like an unwanted vine, although I really didn't know who he was. Anxiety galloped through my veins, making a voice jump nervously in my mind: Dear God, what have I done? This guy could be a lunatic! Just look at the way he's crying. Would he find it amusing to kill me for offering him a handkerchief?
The voice shut off as quickly as it returned when he took it to wipe his face, holding the now filthy hankie in the gap between us. When his eyes met mine, I looked away, already knowing what he was thinking. I was so plain that even a plate had more beauty than me. With honey colored skin that stretched over a unseemly body larger than most girls and brown chest length hair that couldn't ever decide what hue it wanted to stay, I had nothing that stood out from the next girl. The only thing that could stand out were my eyes; a soft green flecked with gold and even blue. But when placed above blotchy cheeks with extremely high cheek bones, they were most often washed out and worthless.
No wonder the man seemed unperturbed when he started to ramble. "Whoa! You scared the snot right out of me! Well, whatever was still in my nose at least. Geez, that was a nasty image wasn't it? Yeah? I guess it couldn't have been as bad as seeing me wailing like a polar bear dog."
He grinned sheepishly and I bit down on my lip to keep myself from laughing. No, this man really was something else. I took the hankie back by a tiny unused edge and dropped it back into the pocket, making myself a mental note to clean this dress and hankie especially vigorous in tomorrow's round of cleaning.
"Is everything alright?" I asked as politely as I could, but nonetheless his smile vanished off of his face.
"No. Life isn't always a bowl of cherries, or even a decent bowl of noodles. Why would a noodle like me be surrounded by this murky water?"
He started to tear up again, much to my confusion about why he was a noodle. I reached a hand out of my cloak, only momentarily, to touch his arm before slipping it back into the shielding darkness of its material. I couldn't just leave him here to cry on the street corner all night. He was a stranger, but with him being so heartbroken I had to at least give him some small ounce of comfort, if at all possible.
"Is there anywhere I could take you? Somewhere you could stay for the night?"
The sadness in his eyes only seemed to multiply. "Yeah. I know just the place."
Before long, the two of us were situated at a table in a small water tribe noodle shop in one of the busier districts of Republic City. The man at the door greeted him by name while just nodding politely at me. Bolin- that was his name. Bolin, the mysterious blubbering man. Even his name sounded familiar, but I still couldn't piece together why it seemed like I knew him.
"Thanks for coming." Bolin said quickly through a small gap he had between gulping down bowl after bowl of steamy noodles. "You're quite the stranger, miss. I mean, not that you're strange or anything. It's just- you just materialized out of nowhere. Woosh! I didn't even catch your name."
I fingered the lace trimming on my cloak. "My name's Liling, but I prefer Lily."
"Ooh, like the flower! I get it. So, Lily, aren't you hot in that thing? This place is like a water bath with all the steam trapped in here. Nobody here would think twice of taking your pretty coat, I promise."
All the blood drained from my face. Nobody needed to see what was beneath my cloak. I.. I couldn't. But I knew I had to. I wouldn't be rude to Bolin. It hadn't been his fault. Undoing the brooch that held its clasp, I hung the cloak on the back of my chair and watched as he slowed his noodle conquest to stare blankly at my arms. From the end of my dress sleeves all the way down to my fingers, my delicate skin was marred with a multitude of scars. The scars were gray with age, twisting and defiling my arms like angry snakes. I felt so ashamed, knowing that this was my curiosity coming back to nip me in the behind. Sooner or later, I always became the ugly duckling.
It took all the pride I had left within me to break the uncomfortable silence myself. "It's unusual, I know, Bolin. Well, if you're alright now, I should be on my way."
"Uh..yeah. Thanks, Lily." I could tell how hard he was trying to keep a casual tone.
Nodding, I picked up my cloak with a tiny smile. I walked a few steps, clasping my brooch before the one question I had wanted to ask all night sprung to my lips. "What made you cry, Bolin?"
His face froze above his last bowl full of noodles. "I think my heart's broken. My brother just stole the love of my life away."
As I walked unnoticed through the dark streets, Bolin's words circled ceaselessly in my mind. He was betrayed and let down by his own family. Even men could cry about those things? I almost hit myself for being so impudent. That's impossible, Lily. Now is not the time. There are things for you to get done. For Ammon.
AN: Here's my disclaimer: I do not own Legend of Korra in any way, shape, or form. I hope you all enjoyed it! Please review if you'd like me to continue. ~ E.F.