Chapter 3: Denial

(Mako is 11 and Bolin is 9)

There was a period of time when he was nine during which Bolin would talk back to Mako. Bolin had recently become fast friends with a grubby little street urchin who had been on his own since he was a small child, and had the mouth to show for it. Even as a kid the earthbender had excellent people skills, and was adept at mimicking the boy's language and gestures. Consequently, he had picked up his friend's smart mouth and brash retorts, much to Mako's displeasure.

It was an early winter that year, prompting Mako to seek out a shelter in mid-October for him and his brother. He found an old, condemned warehouse that happened to be situated outside of any claimed gang territory, and one crisp afternoon Mako and Bolin moved their meager possessions—which largely consisted of a small cot, a few broken toys, and their father's red scarf—to a quiet corner of the building.

November and December of that year were brutally cold. Mako had to steal twice the amount of money in the winter in order for the brothers to survive, since they needed to purchase firewood in addition to food. Although he had excellent endurance for a child his age, Mako couldn't bend indefinitely—they needed something that would burn in order to keep warm, in addition to any ratty textiles that they could scavenge.

Mako was constantly on edge that winter. He didn't sleep well, plagued by nightmares about horrible things happening to Bolin, and his thievery suffered as a result. There were fewer opportunities to steal wallets in the winter; less events happening, scanty crowds, and thicker outerwear to have to circumvent. More than one night his little brother and himself went to bed hungry, Bolin pressed tightly against his side while he tended a small flame.

One evening Mako and Bolin were splitting a half loaf of bread stolen earlier that day. Bolin was scarfing down the meal as fast as possible, and Mako honestly thought that he was going to make himself sick.

"Bo, slow down. You don't want to choke," he said, carefully breaking his share into smaller pieces.

Bolin stuck his tongue out at him. "I'll eat how I want, Mako. You're not the boss of me."

Mako couldn't help but roll his eyes. Were all kids like this or was he just lucky? "Okay, fine—whatever. If you die it'll be your own fault."

Bolin spoke with his mouth open, littering crumbs onto the floor of the building. "Geez Mako, lighten up. You're such a pissy tight-ass sometimes. I'm eating, not going to the tossing opera."

Mako stopped eating and frowned at him. The street slang sounded out of character—indecent even—coming from the voice of his little brother.

"Don't talk like that." Mako spoke louder and sharper than he had meant to.

Bolin noticed his tone, stopped chewing, and looked up. A look of contriteness crossed the young earthbender's features. "Sorry, Mako," he said, quietly.

That night Mako refused to sleep next to the earthbender as a form of minor punishment. He insisted that Bolin rest on their small cot and instead of joining him leaned against a nearby wall, tending their flame well into the night. Bolin's cot was right next to their source of heat, and Mako sometimes worried that it could catch if he didn't constantly watch the flames, bending them away when they got too close. Despite this, Bolin—used to keeping warm from a combination of both the flames and his brother's body heat—shivered throughout most of the evening.

The next day the two brothers went out like usual, foraging, stealing, and (in the case of Mako) picking pockets. During midday Bolin started clearing his throat more often than usual, and by the mid-afternoon what was a minor irritancy had developed into a full-blown cough.

Mako put him to bed in their cot and used a portion of their firewood to feed a large flame, trying to quell Bolin's trembling form. He took some of the money he had stolen that day to purchase soup and fresh, clean water and managed to pilfer a bottle of cold medicine from a local apothecary before it closed.

The next two days were awful. Bolin ran a high fever and shivered constantly, despite an impressive fire and Mako's near-constant embrace. He barely ate anything and Mako had to force-feed him soup, water, and medicine regularly.

Mako was stricken by horrible guilt. He felt as though Bolin's sickness was completely his fault for making him to sleep alone a few nights prior. His feelings alternated between extreme self-loathing and terror, and as he held Bolin's small and trembling form he prayed to the spirits that he would recover with all his might.

On the third day Bolin's fever finally broke. Turning onto his back he smiled up at Mako. "I'm hungry," he said.

Letting out a choking sound, Mako grabbed him and pulled him into a tight hug. Bolin didn't protest, but instead wrapped his arms around his brother. Mako was so happy that a tear leaked out of the corner of his eye, though he brushed it away quickly.

Mako pulled back, smiling. "How about dumplings for lunch?" Bolin's grin could have lit up the entire city.