"Why? He got paid. You didn't see any pro-benders crying for us when Mom and Dad died and we got dumped on the streets! Life is hard. You either hustle, or get hustled."

-Mako- 'Republic City Hustle' part 1

Hey, guys! I'm back! Warning: will be short and depressing. Bring tissues. Probably two or three more chapters to go after this one. The last one will bring us up to the point where Toza saves them.

Warning: this one's gonna be a bit dark, guys. And yes, Mako and Bolin grew up with gang members, so I believe they have heard their fair share of colorful language and use it from time to time, so don't be surprised and say that Bolin wouldn't talk like this when in a dark, brooding mood.

-Bolin-

It would be your fifteenth birthday in one week.

Mako promised that you wouldn't be on the streets by then.

But winter is coming soon, and the Triads either aren't hiring, or being extra brutal.

You don't know how you've both lived this long. You never though either of you would have made it to teenagers, but you won't dare tell Mako that.

Mako won't let you go near any of the Triads anymore, not after he got arrested for the second time this month, and had to stay over night after being interrogated.

Mako forbids you from working with them. But they have other ideas.

After a argument with him this morning over letting you help out more that contributed of fire-tiped yelling, rock-stomping anger, and ended up in silent, fixed stares set on opposite ends of the alley for maybe two full hours, ignoring each other in pout-faced frustration... you decide to go for a walk.

At first it's all, "Where are you going? It's going to start raining soon!"

Dark clouds are rolling in, and the distant lights dancing and cracks of power hitting the ground makes your earth feel alive.

You're all eye-rolls and fed-up shrugs, and Mako, I'm gonna be fifteen soon! If a killer raindrop hits my head, and makes me melt, at least I won't be near the ally for you to clean up the mess!

Mako's a conglomeration of hurt, anger, guilt, shock, and you know you are being hurtful and mean, and that Mako is just trying to protect you-but you are high off independence at the moment. The dirt from the wall is starting to become part of the back of your neck, and if you must have one more day sitting in an ally, or with a Triad full of cigarette, opium smelling gangsters, you are going to probably forget what smiles from outside look like.

"Bolin, stop! Please, I'm sorry!"

You keep walking. Pabu wining behind you, but too scared to go out in the upcoming storm.

"You'll get sick! You could get struck by lightning! You could get mugged!"

You walk faster, looking for danger, daring for it to find you.

Is this what being Fire Nation feels like?

To have heat in your soul?

The light illuminates the sky once more, the earth vibrating all the way through your feet, up through your chi, and out of your spine.

Crash!

The earth was alive.

The Fire Nation in you crackled in the sparking air surrounding you, your nerves like wires.

Let danger come and find you, you think. Maybe you'll live to see fifteen, maybe even sixteen. You didn't really care at that moment.

You know just because Mako tries to sing you that Spirit-awful song every year, that it will never make your birthday any "happier." That just because you are supposed to make a wish, it doesn't mean it is going to magically make your parents alive again. You tried that when you were seven; some older kid tauntingly convincing you that having a birthday gave you some magic wishing powers that guaranteed any wish to come true.

It had been your first birthday without your parents. Seven years old was a lucky number; it was obvious what you wanted- needed.

So you had made his wish…and you remember how you had waited.

And waited.

The seven-year old you had gone back to the house that you'd both sworn never to go back to.

That day you had waited.

And waited.

You had called out, peaking inside every window, and searching the yard. Denying every part of you that told yourself to remember what you had witnessed exactly a year before; how they had both stayed so still on the ground, what Mako had told you. But you had made your wish, because it was your seventh birthday, and birthdays were supposed to be happy, so that meant your wishing powers had to work just like the kid had said.

They just had to.

You remember thinking that if you had known about wishing powers last year, you could've made Mommy and Daddy better and Mako wouldn't be so unhappy. So you were going to fix everything; bring Mommy and Daddy back and make Mako happy again and then you would be a family once more!

So you had searched.

And had called.

You had tried to go inside, but it was locked for some reason, and knocking on it for five minutes didn't make it open. You went around back, but the broken window from the time Mako had had smashed a ball through it- that he yet to be replaced at the time- was too high up for you to get through.

They weren't home.

You waited around that house.

Rang, rang, raaaaannnngggg the doorbell.

Maybe you just hadn't wished hard enough…

You had still waited.

You remember like it was yesterday.

Until Mako had somehow, in some way, tracked you down to that spot hours later, finding you in a shuddering, crying, mess on the front steps, murmuring how your birthday powers didn't work and how your wish didn't come true. Mako had to explain how wishes really didn't work that way, that there was no such thing as luck or magic…or hope; and that the cruel world didn't care about you. You could only care for each other. That being dead meant they stayed dead, and that a year ago from that day when they were killed could not bring them back, no matter how hard you wished.

"Happy seventh birthday, Bolin." You had remembered Mako saying quietly, because this day was not happy in the slightest if you had no one to share it with.

"They're with the Spirits now, aren't they, Mako? That's what Mommy and Daddy said happened to people to who are gone. Like what happened to Grandpa when I was five? That's why Daddy was so sad, right?"

The way Mako had looked at you at that moment, had stuck with you all these years, and you could tell he was going to cry when he said, "I'm not so sure I believe in the Spirits anymore, Bo. I don't know. But I know Momma and Poppa can still see us, they're still here, so we both have to keep being good boys for them, okay?"

"Okay, Mako. I love you."

"I love you more."

You never asked Mako how he found you there, out of all the places you know he must have looked that day. You don't even know how you remembered how to get there. You don't know how Mako ever thought you'd ever go back there again; but you're sure as hell's grateful Mako is as smart as he is. You would've never thought to look for Mako there because you'd never think Mako would ever want anything to do with that place ever again- and you sure barely had the strength to go back on your own. You know that if Mako hadn't found you, that you would have been huddled there all night, totally lost as how to get back to the shelter.

Now, in the present, you pass by the same alleyway, years later. You're running down the same street, passing the same barber shop with the same yellow-tinted windows to get back to the House.

Somewhere above, the dark skies start to weep tears that crash to the earth in drops. The thunder and lightning shake the earth, just like that day, as if in warning for something.

You walk, cautiously around the back, climbing through the cracked window that you are now tall enough to reach, and get inside.

It was like nothing had changed. Everything was in its place- albeit covered in a think coating of dust and cobwebs- but if you tried hard enough, you could imagine them upstairs in their bedroom, or she at the kitchen stove, making her ever delicious spicy foods that Mako tells you about during sleepless nights.

You walk- or more like force your shaking body to move- to the center of the living room, and slowly, slowly, approach the big reading chair that you and Mako always used to fight over because it was so comfy and squishy, that you could almost disappear into its cushions.

You sit on it now, curling your legs up, and bury yourself into the pillows until you are invisible.

Daddy used to sit on this chair all the time; sipping his tea, reading you stories. It was Daddy's Chair.

It still smells like dirt and shaving cream, tea leaves, and mommy's lipstick.

You breathe in, and find you have no tears.

After all these years, your tear ducks are dry, or you find yourself crying at the times that you want to be strong.

But now, you can't cry.

You can barely even breath.

"I don't really know what I'm doing here." you breath out, talking to no one in general.

"Some days, I want to be with you both so much, because I really just don't care anymore..." you stuff your face into the fuzz of the arm, letting the smell waft into your nostrils, "But Mako is the only reason that keeps me going...I know that- that you'd want me to be strong for the both of us, and always smile..." a self-deprecating laugh leaves your lips, "Isn't that right, Dad? Mako always tells me that I look like you, that I act like you; how you always used to laugh and smile, making jokes, even when you were down, never showing when you were upset. Always making sure everyone else was happy...Well, I guess I got that from you too, huh?" You wrap your arms around yourself, "But I can barely remember either of you anyway, for the life of me. Your faces, your voices...nothing."

The silence echoes back at you, and you dig your fingernails into your thighs.

"You like that, huh?" your voice grows bitter, "I come here to try to preserve your memory, or whatever the hell I was thinking in a rain storm, and I can't even remember which one of you was Fire or Earth. It's like I never even had parents, like I was born as a six-year old in some back ally, and that's where my life started. I remember nothing. Just Spirit-damned, friggin' nothing."

Silence, still.

A little laugh starts to tickle your throat, until it grows inside you to a full out bitter cackle, as loud as the thunder booming outside.

"Well, I'll laugh! If that's what you want me to do, I"ll laugh my ass off!"

Quiet. The most eerie silence ever.

Then, you explode.

"Well," you yell to the empty house, "aren't you gonna say anything?! Ground me for breaking the vase?!" You pick the glass vase up from the table and fling it across the room, it shattering to pieces against the wall, "Scold me for being too loud and yelling in the house!? Well, guess what!?" You stand up, the ground shaking slightly, "I"M STILL YELLING, AND YOU'RE STILL NOT HOME!"

You're panting, hands fisting at your sides, "BECAUSE YOU'RE DEAD! YOU LEFT US ALL ALONE!"

Just then, your knees give out, and you crumple to the floor, "Why?" you whisper, "Why did you have to leave us all alone? I tried to be a good boy. I really did..."

You don't know how long you stay there, curled up in that position. All you know is that when you open your eyes to look at the window, it's dark out, and your eyes are wet with salt.

"I'm not going to be useless anymore," you tell them,"I promise, I'll make Mako, and you both proud of me, somehow. I'll get us off the streets. I don't know how, but I will. It's time I start making some sacrifices for him." You stand up now, straightening your back, "Mako's next birthday will be happy. He'll have a bed, and presents, and cake. He will. I'm going to do whatever it takes."

You let your fingers trail up and down the chair for a moment, closing you eyes and taking the feeling in.

"We're going to make something of ourselves, for you." You whisper, "Goodbye."

And your legs take you back to the window which you crawl through. You make your way though the dark, back to Mako, all the while determination and a promise, ringing true in your heart.

"Someday. I promise."