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It was storms that took Bolin back to the streets of Republic City. He laid awake, listening to the rain striking the window and thunder cracking across the sky, even as Opal curled into his side and Ryu dozed in the adjacent room. Lightning forked across the night, accompanied by a blast of wind that rattled the house to its foundation. Bolin pressed himself into the mattress and tried to focus on the beating of his heart, but to no avail. Thunder rolled through the darkness and once again he was huddled in a half-rotted crate with Mako, deep within the maze of alleys and winding streets that make up the city’s poorest district.
“It’s just thunder, Bolin,” Mako said. Flames danced at his fingertips, and fear ebbed at the edge of his voice. “Nothing to worry about, we’re okay.”
Bolin buried his face into Mako’s scarf. He took a deep breath, hoping to push beyond the mildew and grime and find the musty scent of his father that always seemed to hide in the fabric’s folds.
The wind picked up and Bolin squeezed his eyes shut. “Mako, what if we live like this forever?” he asked.
A great boom ripped across the night sky. Mako’s flame faltered, and he pulled Bolin further into the corner of the box. “It won’t be like that, I promise.”
“How do you know?” Bolin said. Tears were welling in his eyes.
Mako hesitated. The wind continued to scream and the rain beat against the outside of the crate. “I just know,” Mako finally replied.
He started to cry now. Bolin could hardly remember his parents. They existed only as disembodied voices, a pair of hands reaching for him or a face just out of his memory’s reach, but he wanted them.
“Bolin?” Opal’s voice jolted him back to reality. She was awake.
“Opal,” Bolin said, caressing her cheek. Her hair was mussed and her eyes bleary with sleep, but the sight of her still made his heart leap in his chest.
“It’s late, is everything okay?” she asked.
He shifted, “Um, yeah, just couldn’t sleep.”
“You’re using that weird tone again,” Opal said, focusing her gaze on Bolin. “What’s going on?”
Bolin sighed and sat up. “I’m thinking about when Mako and I were homeless again.”
“Oh, Bolin,” Opal said. She moved to his side and put a hand on top of his, moving her fingers in slow circles over his skin. “You want to tell me about it?”
“It was just so lonely,” he said. “Mako took care of me, but he was a kid, too, and there was only so much he could do. When storms rolled in, we were just stranded in the cold and rain. I just wanted warmth, shelter, safety, something we could hold on to.”
Opal hummed and brushed her fingers up his arm and over his shoulder, bringing them to rest at the nape of his neck. She played with the hair there as Bolin exhaled and leaned into her touch.
“We’ve made other memories on stormy nights since then,” she said.
“Hm?” Bolin replied, closing his eyes as Opal’s fingers brushed his cheek and jaw.
She smiled, “Remember when Ryu was born?”
Bolin’s heart lifted. He could still smell the sea as he steered Juicy over the churning waters of Yue Bay in the dead of night. Opal was behind him, groaning from her contractions, and rain was pouring over them. Air Temple Island was just ahead, and despite every bone in his body screaming to go back, to give up on the midwife Pema recommended and thousands of years of Air Nomad tradition, he plowed ahead. He spent the night at Opal’s side as she cried out and crushed his hand in hers and the storm roared on. It finally broke at dawn, just as the first rays of sun were peeking over the horizon and his son was born.
Bolin took Ryu in his arms, squeezing himself into the narrow space beside Opal at the edge of her bed. Their friends and family were too numerous to fit in the room, and instead took turns fawning over the baby and loitering in the hall.
When it was Mako’s chance, he knelt beside the bed and Bolin passed him his nephew. As he cradled Ryu, the stoic mask he’d worn for years finally slipped, and Mako cried.
“That might’ve been the best day of my life,” Bolin said as the memory faded.
Opal laughed, “Might’ve been? What are the other contenders?”
“The day I married you,” Bolin answered, grinning.
A cry sounded from the next room.
Opal slipped out of bed and moved towards the door, “Ryu’s awake.” A moment later she returned with the baby and settled beside Bolin. He had stopped crying, and instead gazed at them with wide, moss-colored eyes.
“Not scared of storms too, I hope,” Bolin says as he took Ryu in his arms.
Opal smiled and leaned against his shoulder, “I think he just missed his daddy.”
Bolin pulled Ryu to his chest as he cooed softly. “You mind if we keep him in here tonight? With us?” he asked.
“I think that would be great,” Opal replied. She leaned over to brush a strand of inky hair from Ryu’s face and placed a kiss on Bolin’s cheek.
“It’s late and you have to be at the air temple in the morning,” he reminded her. “We should get to bed.”
“I know,” Opal sighed. “I just love watching you two together, you’re a great dad.”
Bolin’s heart swelled at the compliment. He shifted Ryu to the crook of his arm and with his free hand brought Opal towards him to press his lips to hers.
They pulled apart and Opal took Ryu from him, tucking him in the space between them. Bolin laid down, watching as Opal settled into place and the rise and fall of her chest evened into the steady rhythm of sleep.
The storm had died down, and all that could be heard was raindrops pattering outside. He felt something stir beside him, and looked down to see Ryu against his chest. His days of hiding on the streets with no one but Mako at his side were long over, he realized. He’d built the family he’d longed for during those nights, and with them he no longer had to weather the storm alone.