( as much as he wants to roll his eyes at his clueless baby brother, that. softens his annoyance a little. it transmutes to something tender, ages old. he's still a little mad at himself for not filling in those gaps for bo while his memory was clearer, but. he can still try, can't he?

made for each other. mako's not romantic in that way, he's too practical by far to come at love and affection from anything approaching idealism, but. they're dead. they can't exactly contradict whatever they decide. and if they want to think of their parents as being soulmates, what does it hurt?

soft, )

They were. And they doted on you. Dad was always happiest when he was holding you. He used to... when he cooked, he had you on his hip a lot. And you used to play with mom's hair, she'd put it in a braid before bed.

( her hair was so long, although mako's not sure if that's just his childish perception or the actual reality of it all. but he definitely remembers bolin giggling to himself while grabbing fistfuls of it, and his mother... she never got mad at it, even when it must've hurt, she'd just coo at him playfully and tickle him until he let go. )