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After Neteyam died, everything changed. And why wouldn’t it? He played such a huge role in their lives. He was a son, a friend, a brother. His death left their entire family in a daze. Who was going to watch Lo’ak fall on his face and laugh to edge off the embarrassment? Who was going to follow Kiri and Tuk around the forest to collect rocks and shells and thoroughly examine the best ones? Who was going to take babysitting seriously on date night? Who was going to be Lo’ak’s best friend?
It wasn’t as if Lo’ak didn’t have any friends, but ever since they moved in with the Metikayina he’s felt isolated. Lo’ak always felt alone because of his fingers. It’s all anyone could point out, even when they first arrived. It felt like no one but his family liked him, and even then he felt as though his own blood was beginning to hate him. It was his fault, after all, that Neteyam died in the first place. Maybe if he hadn’t gone to warn Payakan, maybe if he hadn’t insisted they save Spider, maybe if Lo’ak had pushed Neteyam to move faster he wouldn’t have been shot. Maybe then everything wouldn’t feel so off kilter. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Tsireya’s company helps, but even she’s taken a turn in her emotions. Sometimes they spend the entire day riding on ilus, riding with Payakan and laughing until their lungs burn. Some days Lo’ak is holding her in his arms as she cries and cries. She lost so much. Not just tulkuns, but her innocence as well. She’d been put in danger from attempting to save Kiri with Tuk and they left her there on that rock with Neteyam’s lifeless body. Lo’ak knows she’s got a strong heart, but she has even stronger emotions.
The first night after Neteyam’s funeral ceremony Lo’ak didn’t sleep. He sat at the entrance of their hut and stared out at the ocean. He wanted to swim, he wanted to feel the the water split between his hands as he glided through it. He longed for the companionship of Payakan to take him as far from civilization as possible.
A rustling sound from inside made Lo’ak snap to attention. A small mass was wiggling itself from under the warmth of their sleeping pile and stumbling over to him. He held out his arms and picked Tuk up before she could cause any more disturbance.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep,” Lo’ak whispered as his little sister climbed into his lap and made herself comfortable. Her arms and legs wrapped around his middle protectively.
“I had a dream about Teyam,” she responds. She sounds tired and sad. He knows it’s Neteyam she’d rather be hugging. Lo’ak put a hand on top of her head. He takes in a shuddering breath. His eyes sting.
“Was it a good dream?” He doesn’t want to know. He’ll cry if he knows.
Tuk nods and sniffles. Lo’ak presses his mouth together and tilts his head back. And then Tuk is squeezing onto him tighter, tight like she wants to crush him, tight like Lo’ak is going to fly away any minute now.
“I miss him,” she says. Her voice is wet and soft with grief. Lo’ak gasps at the emotion rising up in him. “Please don’t die, Lo’ak. I need you.”
He wraps himself around her as best he can, his head on top of hers, their bodies intertwined so much their parents may not know which one of them ends and which one begins. He closes his eyes and rocks them both gently.
They both pretend they aren’t crying.
-
His parents love each other more than anything in this world. They lean on each other for strength and comfort. There was a day where his father couldn’t even get himself to leave the hut. He just laid there all day staring at the spot where Neteyam slept last. Nothing could get him up. At some point, his mother kicked them out the hut to go find something to do. Kiri and Tuk went exploring on their ilus while Lo’ak decided to spend time with people his age. Ao’nung and Rotxo are great friends when they aren’t tormenting them. Tsireya is there as well, but Lo’ak felt as though they were a package deal now. If you saw one, you saw the other.
Ao’nung made the suggestion for them to hunt, but Lo’ak left his spear at home. He could see it, just to the side of the entrance, but when he walked up he heard an odd sound. It was wet and gasping, like someone was drowning on land or like they were choking on water. Lo’ak looked inside to see his father wrapped in the embrace of his mother as if he were a freshly born child trying to take its first breath of air. He was crying, no sobbing , in a way Lo’ak had never seen. His hands covered his face as they rocked. His mother’s face showed pain and suffering and concern for her mate. And although she was crying as well, it was more resigned. Neytiri wore her heart on her sleeve, she never lied about how she was feeling. When she was happy she smiled, when she was angry she hissed. And when she was sad she cried. Simple as that.
She closed her eyes and tightened her hold, but his father sounded as if he was getting worse. It had been two weeks now since Neteyam and all Lo’ak had seen from his father was this lost look on his face. He’d never seen anything like this or this intense. It was as if something had possessed him, had taken over his mind and body.
And then Lo’ak heard it, the muffled words tumbling from his grieving father’s mouth.
“My boy. They took my boy.”
And he just kept repeating it over and over. Like he’d gone insane, like the death of his child was causing him to lose his mind. Maybe it was. Maybe Jake Sully finally broke after all this time.
Lo’ak felt his chest stutter and jump. His heart raced as if he’d been running. Was he afraid? Ashamed? All he knew was that he’d caused this. If he hadn’t— if he had just— fuck , if they were—
He left the spear and stumbled away. He no longer felt like he was worthy of friendly company.