Yes, the strong gets more
While the weak ones fade
Empty pockets don't ever make the grade
Mama may have, Papa may have
But God bless the child that's got his own
That's got his own
Money, you've got lots of friends
Crowding round the door
When you're gone, spending ends
They don't come no more
Rich relations give
Crust of bread and such
You can help yourself
But don't take too much
Mama may have, Papa may have
But God bless the child that's got his own
That's got his own
-Billie Holiday "God Bless this Child"
Mako, sixteen; Bolin, fourteen.
Sweat beaded Bolin's temple; his long curls weighed down from sweat and fifth, hung over his eyes as he dared a peek around a corner, and he was acutely aware of the tangles of black hairs that he had to push back behind his straining ears. He had learned to keep track of the months by the centimeters of his hairs that grew to persistently always dangle in his eyes and tickle his nose.
He could never get that one curl to stay put, and all the spit in the world was used in vain to tame the wayward lock.
He used to love having Mako cut his hair when they were little. The ritual being every few months that weren't winter, the two of them jumping in the creak with its water ebbing around their dirt covered bodies, washing it all away. The fish nibbling at their toes, and the feel of Mako's fingertips flaming with orange, meticulously burning away excess curls from the nape of his neck, along the crown of his head, and watching as the crunching, frayed bits of black fluff, were guided by the water's flow and floated away.
Now, as he ranked his hands through the greasy mop of cobwebs, the hairs were not taken for granted, for he needed to conceal his face as best as he could.
As he fingered the curl once more, chewing on his bottom lip in anxiety and praying that no one would come while he was on lookout for Shin's little "security work", he realized that having long hair might not be a bad idea.
Showing how far he'd come was something to be proud of.
As Mako reared another corner, socks heavy and sloshing with water, he wove his way through the sea of people on the sidewalk. He made room for himself, slipping in between the skirts and pulled-up collars, breathing in the familiar bitter scent of smog that wafted from the factories. The air was think with ash and the humidity made his scarf morph to the back of neck.
The annoying news people shouting by stands about prices of sales, new styles of robes, the best bending schools to send your kids, and other things that didn't apply to him, were drowned out by his stomach growling.
It was the same thing everyday.
He would look for food in heat, or cold, ran, or shine, running dangerous jobs for the Triads and hoping not to get beaten up or thrown in jail.
He clutched his abdomen and continued walking, fingering the smooth stone in his pocket that Bolin had sculpted for him. A man coming in the opposite direction, bumped shoulders with him, jerking him back with enough force to cause him to stumble a bit.
"Hey! Watch it, kid!" A horrible glare was shot his way.
Mako just huffed a curse under his breath, patting his pockets to make sure his five yuans were still there, and proceeded his way down the street. A grumble of Fire Nation, met his ears, and if he weren't in a huge crowd, he was pretty sure he would show the man just how 'Fire Nation' he really was.
He sighed, when he counted out the five bills. The thought of eating nothing but a dumpling or two a day until he could get some more money, made his throat constrict.
He finally made it to the dumpling stand, setting his jaw as the vendor eyed him with up and down.
"What can I get for ya, sonny boy?"
Mako reluctantly handed the vendor one yuan, feeling the heat linger on his fingers. "Two dumplings, please." he said stiffly.
The man nodded curtly, stuffing the bill in his money box. "Steamed, or uncooked?
Mako thought for a moment. Bolin liked it best when he heated the dumplings himself, making the dough nice and crispy, watching the white goo change to golden brown in his fingers, with the sent of sesame oil dissipating the filth that occupied the alley.
Nearly of them ever stated it, but they knew it was the closest smell to their mother's cooking they would ever achieve.
"Uncooked."
The man hummed as he delicately wrapped the dough around the green onions and beef, molding the shape so fine as the grease stained the bottom of the paper bag they were placed into.
Mako tried not to salivate; his fingers twitching in his pockets, begging to reach for another bill and pay for two more...
The man rose an eyebrow, "You sure look hungry, kid. Sure you don't want anymore?"
His growling stomach contradicted his head shake, "No thank you, sir."
The man's smile was a rare sight, as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "Well...how about this? Since today is a special day, I'll through in two more for ya for free, what do you say?"
Mako blinked, mouth hanging open and closing like a Koi-fish.
"I-I'm sorry? No, sir, I couldn't possibly-"
"Ya heard me, kid." the man grunted, waving floury hands in the air, "Don't look so surprised when someone does something nice f'ya!"
"I-I...you...you're just gonna give me....free dumplings?" The words felt....wrong somehow in his mouth.
Was this some kind of trick?
He felt his bones stiffen; the doubts picking at his ears...
"Yep, kid. It's called 'being nice.' Don't your parents teach ya these kinda things?"
Mako turned his gaze to the ground and fingered his scarf.
The man sighed as he sculpted two more dumplings; the onion's color turning the dough green where they were placed, the beef juice dripping out of the folds.
The smell alone was enough to make his knees buckle.
"What's your name, kid?"
"Huan."
"Well, Huan, I hope you have a very nice time celebrating this special day."
Mako, shame flushing his cheeks, forced himself to meet the man's gray eyes, "Sir? I...thank you."
The man's white smile was followed by the crinkle of the grease-stained paper bag that his fingers closed around.
He gripped the bag tighter, forcing his arm to bring it to his side before it was taken away.
Because this was too damn good to be true; people didn't just give away free food, especially to street rats. Mako couldn't understand what this was, he-
"You okay there, Huan? You look a little pale."
Mako swallowed. "Sir?" his voice came out more nervous than he would have liked, shifting from foot to foot. He glanced around, eyes darting left and right to make sure no one was listening. "Um...what makes today so 'special', exactly...?"
Grey eyes widened, disbelief crossing the vendors' features. Mako was sure he had said the wrong thing. He knew he didn't deserve these dumplings now; fear telling him that this man might want them back, and Mako had a sudden urge to bolt, to run, run, run all the way back to the familiar shadows of the alleys.
But the man's gentle eyes held him firmly in place.
The gentleness, nonjudgmental gaze in his eyes reminded him of Bolin, of a man in a red scarf with the same eyes as his younger brother...
"Why, it's the Avatar's fifteenth birthday of course! The whole world practically knows that!" the man exclaimed with wonder, too loudly, flour-caked hands flying in the air.
He could feel people staring at him now; what's that street rat doing? Something twisted his gut, but he pushed it down
"Oh, right! How could I forget that? I knew I was forgetting something!" Mako smacked his forehead as if to say 'duhhhh', and made himself laugh despite himself.
The Avatar's fifteenth birthday... he ran this through his head, not sure what to make of it, yet he couldn't help the small flame of jealousy and resentment growing inside him. She has everything she could ever want, probably a stuck up snob.
Mako griped the bag tighter and bowed slightly to the vendor.
"Thank you so much, sir."
"No, thank you, Huan." the man took a sip of water from the cooler, and wiped his forehead with a rag, "Have a nice day."
Bolin could never stay asleep for long.
Paranoia always setting in; the fear he would wake up with Mako gone, endless possibilities that lurked in the shadows relentlessly plaguing him. Everything and anything that could go wrong when he let himself become victim to his sleeping mind, threatened to keep his drooping eyes open until he sensed that familiar patter of footsteps coming to the alley.
But somehow, his mind gets fuzzy under the bright moon, and warm air, finding his mind wandering to the subconscious of dreams.
He saw someone...
He knew he had seen him somewhere...in a happier time...
Someone...
Someone with strong, smooth hands that had worked and cooked and hoisted him up, high on broad shoulders, and ran around the yard so he would feel he was flying, with the same hands that had tucked him in at night. Someone with vibrant green eyes- not amber like his fading memories had caused him to start to painstakingly believe- but green eyes that seemingly looked like his own, twinkled like sugar when he laughed loud and amiable, and fuzzy hairs on his chin that tickled his cheeks when he would get kissed...
He sighed and rolled over, reaching his hand out through his mind, hoping that that Someone would take his fingers in his own, and hoist him on his shoulders like he used to...
But he can't, because the scarf is in the way, wrapped around tight, contrasting sharply to the emerald designs on his clothes and, Daddy, why is your scarf red if you're from the Earth Kingdom? Don't you think it's silly?
He never could remember the answer.
That Someone had told him that the greatest love you can give another, is to sacrifice your own happiness for their's, so that they are happy, even if it hurts you. That wise person had told his little self -that Someone, shining with love so bright that he had felt as if his hero were the Sun Spirit shining upon him- had said that that kind of sacrifice, shows just how much you are willing to give up for the people you love, and that that kind of sacrificial love, is the greatest honor your soul can hold.
So he smiles for Mako.
He doesn't complain when he is hungry or hurt.
He smiles and laughs and is optimistic, because who else would be if he isn't?
Because all he ever wants from the world is for Mako to be happy.
That Someone is calling out his name, laughing, and he can almost remember how that Someone always smelt like shaving cream and spices, and that Someone is holding out his hand again, smiling, C'mon, Bolin...Bolin...Bo...
D-dad...?
Bo...Bo...
Bo...Wake up!
"Bolin, wake up!"
With a gasp, he starts, nearly banging his head on Mako's as he tries to calm his thumping heart.
"Ahhhh! W-what? Who's there?!"
"Hey, take it easy! It's just me, bro. It's okay..." Mako's gentle eyes and warm hands come into focus through his sleep-drowned vision.
"M-mako...?" He squinted, his eyes agusting to the glowing fire in the elder boy's hand.
"Yep, the one and only. Sorry I was back so late."
"Oh." was his replay, "Okay."
Mako frowned, "You okay?"
"Fine."
Mako looked at his brother for a moment, studying his grimy face, and sighed wearily. He reached out and tried to smooth back the tangles of hairs that hung in his green eyes.
"Geez, Bo...Your hair's growing so long I can barely see your eyes..." Guilt hit Mako as he wondered why he hadn't noticed this before.
"So?"
Mako continued to rub the younger boy's head, dusting away the dirt.
"So, we gotta get your hair cut soon again. You look like a-"
"-No! There's nothing wrong with how I look!" Bolin stated, and slapped Mako's hand away, causing Mako to blink. "I won't let you cut my hair!"
Mako recoiled his hand and gazed at his brother up and down, noticing the younger boy's hardened jaw and grim face.
He didn't know what to do with his hand now, so he let it fall to his side. "Okay, Bo, I won't cut your hair if you don't want...I just thought you'd like it shorter and neater."
Bolin said nothing, turning his gaze to the wall.
Mako sighed once more and mentally prepared himself.
It was just one of those days again.
He hated these days.
He put his hand on Bolin's shoulder and asked gently, "Do you wanna tell me what's wrong? Because I'm sorry, but I'm not a Mindbender here..."
Bolin didn't even smile at his attempt of a joke.
"Was it Jin, again? The Triads?"
Nothing.
Those far away green eyes kept boring wholes into the wall, bits of pebbles shaking.
Mako tried to ignore the tightening in his throat, his doubts as a good big brother once again started to whisper in his ears with each long-lost smile.
You're a horrible brother.
You let him down.
He hates you.
He doesn't need you anymore.
He knows all the things you do.
Horrible, horrible, horrible...
Mako, baby, I love you...please, protect your brother...
Protect
him
please
The Firebender tried all he knew. "Are sure you don't wanna talk about it?"
"Positive." dirt-crusted fists tightened in thier lap.
"Really? 'Cause you seem-"
"-I said I'm fine, okay?" The yell came out of the Earthbender's mouth before he had time to stop it.
Mako blinked, eyes wide, "...Okay, Bo..."
A few silent seconds passed.
He decided a subject change might help.
Mako elbowed him with his arm, "Hey, look what I got! Dumplings."
Mako tore the bag open, damp paper ripping, hands warming up to start to crisp them to a delicious golden brown-
"How come?"
The sad, hardened face softened slightly at the sight of food.
"...Huh?" Mako's brows furrowed.
"I mean... how did you get four?"
For a moment, Mako wanted to yell, to defend himself and say that he was most definitely able to get four dumplings in order to feed them both, all by himself.
But he wasn't, so he swallowed what near non-existent pride he had left, and crumbled the wad of paper in his hands, watching the ends crinkle into sparks.
"Bro?"
"Today is 'special', apparently." He muttered, the words feeling wrong in his mouth, soiled by resentment and envy. "People are being nice for once 'cause it's the Avatar's birthday or whatever, and decided to grace us with the gift of two extra dumplings."
"Oh." Bolin breathed, "Cool."
Mako knew he should be grateful, but for some reason, the the concept of eating this food given to them made him feel like a charity case, and he could see it in his brother's eyes. The lack of excitement, the lack of happiness, when the sight of food used to make Bolin, even on thier most horrible days smile and jump for joy...
Just the lack.
Where did his smile go?
When did those eyes get so sad?
"Yeah, so eat up. Two for each of us. Just let me heat em' and get 'em all-"
The plumpest dumpling was snatched from Mako heated hand, but was not stuffed desperately in the younger boy's mouth.
Instead, Bolin's grimy thumb jabbed right in the middle of the dough, the hole a perfect circle.
Bolin licked the juice off his fingers and smiled.
Mako was a bit dumbfounded. Well, fine, at least he had finally gotten him to smile. Mako just didn't know how or why.
"Hey, what're you going to it?"
Bolin stared intently at the hole in his dumpling, eyes flickering. Mako didn't dare turn his gaze from his brother, for fear of his smile going away forever.
"I'm pretending it's a candle."
Something broke inside him, then. Mako swallowed back nine years happy-less birthdays before tasting bitterly burnt dough on his tongue; the dumpling's skin blacker than asphalt in his hand.
He stared as Bolin blew out the imaginary flame on a cold, dirty dumpling, and felt tears drip down his face like the wax from a trembling whisk of candle.
"Happy Birthday, Avatar."
They won't be on the streets for Bolin's next birthday.
Mako swears it. He swears it to Bolin, to himself, to his dead parents, to anything that'll listen.
Yes, the strong gets more
While the weak ones fade
Empty pockets don't ever make the grade
Mama may have, Papa may have
But God bless the child that's got his own
That's got his own
Yet, Destiny is cruel, and not ready for them yet for another two birthdays.
So they will fight, and survive still until the fateful day arrives that will lead them to Toza.
Mako never believed in wishes, anyway.
But he did believe in hope.
Protect
Bolin
please
Spirits bless the child that got his own.