Chapter Text
[1.]
The conversation Lo'ak just had with Aonung almost two hours ago still sticks in his brain. It rolls around in his head out of control, sticking and smearing on all corners like warm taffy. He just can't stop thinking about Aonung's reaction to his words, the strange vulnerability Lo'ak admitted when he told him about feeling like a disappointment. Which, he still wasn't entirely sure why he told him so in the first place anyways. Lo'ak didn't trust him as far as he could throw him, and it wasn't like he particularly wanted to seem pathetic in front of Tsireya's brother.
Well, he would be lying if he said he didn't want to be somewhat amicable with Tsireya's brother. She was beautiful and cool, knowledgeable but humble. The female reef na'vi was also his only friend on the beach considering his brash yet quiet nature, so. Ultimately, if she had to choose between staying his friend or backing her brother, Lo'ak had no doubt she would choose her brother. He couldn't blame her, he would always choose Neteyam first too. Still, it pained him to admit he really needed to befriend Aonung, or at the very least have a non-antagonistic relationship with him.
If only he wasn't a raging asshole.
It still stung a little, knowing Aonung had left him past the reef, leaving him to fend for himself or die. Die, most likely, knowing the older boy thinks of him much like a freak, the nickname demon knocking around in his head.
His hands shook at the thought, remembering what it felt like to be chased down and almost bitten at. Lungs burning when he remembered the feeling of water forcing it's way past his esophogus, the feeling like no other as it poured down his throat. The prey instinct was still strong, making him want to turn tail and run at the slightest movement. He was frustrated, frustrated that he couldn't shake off the still simmering fear, frustrated that he fell for their tricks, frustrated that his dad made him apologize, frustrated he cared about Tsireya enough that he'd probably be tricked into another humiliating near-death situation just for her shitty older brother's approval.
He missed Spider. He missed his easy friendship with him, even though the human and his sister clearly had a stronger bond. It never mattered to him that much, knowing at least Spider could be friends with him without any strings attached, without any other precursory reasons.
Of course, Lo'ak liked being friends with Tsireya. It was awesome, she was awesome! It was like having a best friend back, someone who didn't judge him for his odd physical anatomy, someone who didn't place any expectations or judgements on his shoulders simply for who he was, who he was related to. It was nice. Relieving, even, being around her.
It was a pain in the ass working for it.
Lo'ak's pretty sure everything worth anything is worth working over, worth shedding blood, sweat, and tears. At least, that's what his grandmother used to say to him when he would run around in circles around her knees as a child, curious at her meticulous work. Asking her constantly why she worked so hard, to the point where her knees would shake from the long hours moving around, tending to other forest na'vi. She'd drape a thick, warm hand around his nape and tell him carefully, in slow words, that nothing comes without a price, and that joy would come from the most unexpected places. He'd laugh in her face if he could right now, several thousand kilometers away from her warm touch and tall, soothing figure.
Joy was not coming from his efforts.
The echoing sound of the shark's jaws clicking together and the feeling of rushing water in his own lungs seizes him, forces his knees to buckle from where he stands, overlooking the moon by the shore. He scratched at his own chest, sharp gasping wheezes that scratch at his windpipe. When he was with Payakan, he at least had the distraction of an incredible large aquatic creature protecting him. Being with the tulkun was so unbelievable and shocking that it had removed any panic still in his system, brain distracted from the traumatizing events he had gone through.
He didn't have that distraction. Payakan wasn't here anymore. It was just Lo'ak and his own lonely thoughts, his own over active brain picking apart the memories piece by piece. Over-analyzing every way it could've went wrong, filling away every second he was close to losing an arm or a leg, or worse—death. Lo'ak tried clearing his head with tightly shut eyes and large gulping breaths.
What crossed the line of being considered worth it, and being too much of a risk? At what point is fighting the good fight turned into fighting for your own life? Does it matter, Lo'ak thinks miserably, hands still tightly clutched at his own chest, face pressed into his knees. His father would make him befriend the other teenager eventually, no matter how many times Lo'ak would beg him not to.
Maybe the line was already crossed when they arrived at the reef. Maybe the line was crossed back at home, when Lo'ak got Neteyam almost killed, blood dripping off his skin and onto Lo'ak's own hands. Maybe the line was crossed the moment the stars fell, sky people invading their lives, ruining it for everyone on Pandora.
Maybe there was no line, maybe he was just over thinking again, as usual. Absentmindedly, Lo'ak uncurled and stuck a thin finger into the sunset warm sand, tracing lines into the thousands of small pebbles. The sound of soft waves lapping at the shore fills his mind, making him disconnect from reality.
Lo'ak isn't sure how long he's been sitting outside, staring at nothing, staring as far as he can see past the ocean. There is nothing past it, he distantly thinks, mind numb and filled with buzzing, like cotton candy. The forest feels so far, like a lifetime away, unattainable. The sand suddenly feels sharp, searing instead of comfortable.
He tries focusing, removing the cotton candy from his brain, retracting his finger from the pebbles when he hears it; the soft padding sounds of footsteps, of someone approaching him. Probably Neteyam, if he was forced to make an educated guess, but the evident lack of the sounds of beads clinking together throws him off. Kiri, then?
Lo'ak sighed, pressing his eyes into his kneecaps again, hard enough to hurt. The pressure is tough, but it grounded him from any stray depressive feelings—his siblings are hard to fool. He tried to ignore how his stomach rumbled, knowing he's probably missed dinner already. Not so surprising that no one had come to fetch him yet, probably sensing his annoyingly brooding personality making an appearance. "Kiri, I'm not in the mood for a pep-talk."
The figure shuffled awkwardly a bit, before taking a tentative seat next to him. The voice was soft, almost apologetic. "Sorry, not Kiri." There's a stilt in his voice, like he's not sure what he's saying, or even doing there.
Lo'ak groans quietly, trying not to broadcast his annoyance bodily. Who knows what his dad would say to him this time if he got into a fight with the Olo'eyktan's son right after his last one? Nothing good, that's for sure. He cracked an eye open, glancing at the older boy from his peripheral vision. Surprisingly, he's slouched over, brows scrunched together and own gaze determinedly staring at his hands bunched on his lap. There's something on the other side of Aonung, but Lo'ak can't see that well from only the corner's of his eyes, so he leaves it be.
The forest na'vi sighed, knowing there was no chance the other would leave any time soon. "It's fine. What's up?"
The hesitation in Aonung's body language was clear, fidgeting hands stilling and broad shoulders tensing. "Did you mean it?"
Huh? "Mean what? Really, it's fine dude. I survived, right? I mean, not really fine, but we can move past it. My dad would—"
"Not that, dumbass." The almost snarky tone made Lo'ak relax, despite the fact he should've been tensing. It felt more right, more in character for Aonung. He doesn't mind being cut off abruptly if it means he'll stop looking like such a kicked puppy.
"Okay? Then what were you asking?"
Aonung took a deep breath, large hand coming down to smooth the sand near Lo'ak's own thigh. The close contact—close, but not touching—sends small shivers down his spine. He was never that good with strangers, and physical touch was one of his weak points. "You really," his voice cracked, a little emotional. "You really feel like a disappointment sometimes?"
The question confused Lo'ak, unsure how to respond to the emotional inquiry. Wasn't this something he should be taking up with Neteyam? The forest na'vi slowly turned his gaze back to the stars, biting the bottom of his lip, fangs grazing against the skin creating fine raised lines. This was probably a delicate question, which required a just as delicate response. "I mean, yeah. My dad is... kind of really strict, and I'm the second son, so. Don't really live up to the expectations, can't really get the same attention as the ex-future Olo'eyktan. Worst of both worlds, honestly."
Soft laughter rings out, and Lo'ak feels himself flush from pride. Aonung is almost fully turned to him at this point, soft moonlight casting a shadow over his features. When Lo'ak turns to look at him back, it makes him realize how different the taller na'vi looks. Soft, almost, despite the shadows making his face look more angular. Most likely because of the mellow look in his eyes, the way his brows are pinched and there's a twisted, complicated expression on his lips. He not only sounds vulnerable, but now he looks the part, too.
It made Lo'ak's heart beat quicken when he realizes he also looks trusting, searching the shorter boy's face for something. Aonung is sharing a vulnerable moment with him, despite their prior dynamic. He tucks that piece of information away for later, to examine and dissect on his own. Finally, after a long look, the taller boy glances away and speaks. Lo'ak follows his gaze, trying hard not to stare at him too awkwardly. There's just something about the way he looks right now, sharp angles and serious look that makes the warm feeling in his gut twist, tail lashing.
"How do you deal with it?"
Well, fuck.
It takes him a few seconds, but he ends up spitting the first thing that comes to mind. "Remind yourself of whose standards you're living up to. Why live your life the way others want you to do so? Why can't you live for yourself? You're your own person. Is it because you're the chief's son? You can't live up to all expectations immediately. My grandmother used to say that it was supposed to be a slow build up of development to your character, not an overnight change. Nothing comes without pain."
Lo'ak turns back to him, looking up at him through his eyelashes with an inquisitive gaze. His ears flicker, raising at one second before lowering after another. The indecision to continue shows on his face, but the imminent feeling to comfort the other boy wins out. "You aren't your successes, and you definitely aren't your failures. What makes you, well, you, is the collection of experiences and memories that you let influence and shape you."
He reaches out to press a few thin fingers against Aonung's collarbones. His palm doesn't connect to skin, fingers awkwardly bent back a bit, but it feels important, like the touch was the only right choice. "You're a good person, Aonung. Okay, maybe you're an ass at times," the reef na'vi snorts, leaning forward and into the soft touch, "but I think you just want to protect your sister, your people. Stop focusing on everything bad you've done, every failure you've forced into the spotlight. You're good at teaching, you're amazing at controlling and bonding with your ilu. You have fast reflexes and are extremely protective towards your sister. You're also pretty good at rallying your peers to do what you say, even if that's to be a bully." Lo'ak finishes dryly, sarcastically referencing their first few nights at the beach.
He takes another breath before he continues, words coming out like a fountain now, non-stop. They make his own heart hurt, feeling it overflow with his own horrible feelings, telling someone who he thought hated him sweet words that Lo'ak wishes someone said to him. It was a different type of pain to comfort someone else with words he wished were said to him originally.
"Stop focusing on what your dad points out about you. It's his job to shape you to be a better person as the chief's son, which regretfully means pointing out your flaws, no matter how subtle they are. Start focusing on you," Lo'ak enunciates the words by pressing his fingers in more, forcing himself to make eye-contact. It's searing, intense heat between both of their eyes, but he can't seem to pull away. "Would you like it if Tsireya beat herself up every time she did something mildly bad?"
Aonung finally looks away, blinking rapidly. Lo'ak let's his hand fall, bringing it back to his own lap. It's quiet for a good minute before the other na'vi chooses to respond. "No. I'd—," his voice cracks, and he swears quietly under his breath. "I'd hate if she blamed herself all the time for simple mistakes. She deserves a normal childhood."
Lo'ak nods, satisfied. "Yeah. Sucks, doesn't it?"
"Yeah," Aonung whispers back. He clears his throat again, and looks away, back up to the sky. "Thanks. You're... surprisingly thoughtful."
Okay, well, kind of rude. But Aonung hasn't been anything but rude this entire trip, so moot point. "Oh, uhm. No problem. Hey, can I ask you something?"
Aonung glances at him with a raised brow, confused. It's clearly a go-ahead signal, so Lo'ak takes the opportunity to let the burning question tumble from his lips like a waterfall. "Why did you seek me out? Was it just for this? Why didn't you ask my brother? He's probably better at this than I am, you know."
The taller boy's expression twists, no longer sad and downtrodden. He instead looks contemplative, almost pitying. It's a look Lo'ak is starting to hate as the seconds go by, even if the pitter patter of his heart speeds up. Having so much attention and eye-contact focused on him in so little time is doing bad things to his heart, really, that's all it was.
"For someone so good at giving advice, you're kind of shit at taking it yourself," is all he says, hand finally coming up to reach out and make contact with Lo'ak's thigh. "You must be hungry, you left before dinner time."
The quick topic change confuses Lo'ak, brain spinning from the combination of warm skin-to-skin contact and the slight insult (that was an insult, right?). "Yeah, you're right. Uhm, it's all good though man. My parents are probably asleep by now, and I don't want to bother them. Kind of my fault I missed it, really."
Aonung shoots a disapproving look his way, hands reaching behind him to the unfamiliar object Lo'ak saw earlier. Huh, he almost forgot about that.
"Here. It's... not really that much, kind of just a snack compared to a meal. I didn't actually think I'd stay out here this long with you, so I didn't bring more. Sorry."
Lo'ak makes a questioning noise, but dissents when he sees what the other boy is doing. Behind him, Aonung pulls out a wooden bowl with what seems to be a concoction of leafy greens and white fish innards.
The reef na'vi clears his throat, ears burning blue. It makes Lo'ak's own cheeks flush, confused at the turn of events. "What is this? Why did you bring me... food?"
"It's a light salad with lime-cilantro tilapia. One of the more uncommon fish types swimming around the reef, but they're my favourite, and I wanted to talk to you about what you said."
Well, if Lo'ak twists his words around in his head a few times, it kind of makes sense. "You wanted to bribe me?"
Aonung growls lowly from the back of his throat, exasperated. "No, idiot. If I wanted to bribe you, I'd have given that to you first."
"...Okay? Then why would you give me this? I thought you'd prefer if I starved," Lo'ak joked, taking a more lighter tone to diffuse the tension. Look, the growl was kind of attractive, but also he wasn't trying to start a fight. Again, his dad would kill him.
It worked though, somehow, it works. The next time Aonung speaks, it's with a deeper timber, almost embarrassed. "Just eat the damn food. You're so unbelievable skinny, if I didn't know forest na'vi were meant to look like that, I'd think you'd keel over and die in seconds."
With that, he drops the bowl in Lo'ak's lap, forcing him to scramble to pick it up or have it drop fish sauce all over his legs. His mad-dash scrambling for the bowl makes Aonung snort as he uncrosses his legs to stand up.
"Wha—hey!" He doesn't get a chance to retort back though, because the the other boy has already left, figure shrinking the more distance he crosses. Well, kind of sweet, mostly just rude. What was that about? Lo'ak sighs, feeling like they've taken one step forward and two steps backwards. The older boy was really just too complicated. What even was his purpose for coming here? He didn't even apologize, the jerk.
Lo'ak's stomach grumbles, hunger making itself known now that there's a free bowl of food in front of him. The fish still looks warm, steam emanating off the meat. The fruit and vegetables incorporated in the salad look fresh too, baby tomatoes still having tiny water droplets from where he most likely rinsed them from. It looks delicious, and his mouth waters, abdomen clenching from his empty stomach.
Well, at least there's that.
(It's really good, Lo'ak hates to admit. The salad is cool and crunchy, fruit still taut, satisfying to bite on, fish warm. Eywa, was Aonung seriously that good at everything? Ugh. At least he'd made up his mind, Tsireya was definitely worth putting up with her older brother's moody ass.)