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You try to ignore it the first time. Pretend you didn’t really hear it and simply doze back off.
" Psst. "
Refusing to move from the comfort of your cot, you keep your eyes screwed shut and your body stiff so as to still appear asleep. After all, it is bad enough you have been stirred from your slumber, you aren't positive your family will take too lightly to being stirred from theirs.
" Pssst! "
It's louder, this time, but yet you do not so much as twitch your toes. Hopefully even if your family hears they will merely think it to be the wind brushing something against your shared marui pod. And, surely, your perpetrator would not keep this up if you did not give in to his pestering.
But you are very foolish to think that. and very, very wrong.
Because he does not hiss out an alarm the third time, no. Instead, a hand is wrapping around your ankle and tugging you across the woven floor, mat and all. Your eyes dart open instantly, your body shooting up and hand flying to stop your late night intruder from his tugging on you. The scraping sound of his dragging halts immediately, and you flash a quick glance around your marui to clock the sleeping states of your family. Thankfully, they still all seem settled into deep rest. A miracle, honestly.
"Are you crazy?" you hiss, low and airy so as not to be heard.
"I knew you were awake," Ao'nung simpers back, lets go of your ankle only to circle his grip around your wrist. "Come on."
"It is the middle of the night, Ao'nung." You do not hesitate to berate him, but you make no move to free yourself from his grip either. You wonder why you even play through this argumentative repetition anymore. Maybe, it's to convince yourself that you do not hold these late night rendezvous at the same level he does.
(An incredibly false sentiment, regardless of how much mindless convincing you attempt to do).
"That's the point," he grins; wide and boyish and hopelessly endearing, as much as you hate to admit it.
But you must admit it—because it would be pointless not to—and you fault that disposition alone for not resisting one bit when ao'nung begins to pull you along by the wrist. All you're given is a split, shuffling second to glance back at your family before you're being whisked away down the netted pathways.
Loosening up is easier with each footfall, and soon you don't even need Ao'nung's persuasive vice to guide you along with him. You follow willingly, enticingly. Your soles hit sand just as muted giggles begin to leave your mouth. Ao'nung tugs at your tail, pinches at your waist as the two of you run across shore. breathy chuckles and dropped guards; you watch your volumes but not your hands.
Night brings freedom—from analytical gazes, responsibilities, pressure. Ao'nung likes the night, you have learned; thrives in it. Perhaps another reason you find it so easy to give into him.
He sends a daring look over his shoulder as he begins to wade into the water. A taunt, a question. Are you going to join me? You will join me, won't you? You will swim the seas with me until the sun burns out and night reigns forever and we are all that is left and—you will join me?
You will—you do. As soon as Ao'nung turns back around to dive into the water you are rushing immediately after him. It's cold, chilling, against your skin as you break through it. But that does not mean it is unwelcome.
Below the tide Ao'nung greets you. He is still smiling, still keen, but it is softer. Bubbles trickle from his lips to the surface like glitter chasing the heavens. He glistens and gleams and he is beautiful, here. You would not dare ever utter such a thing to his face for fear of it being held above your head for the rest of your adjoined lives. But it is truth and you stand by it, tuck it away into the crevices of your heart. Within a file tagged: Ma Ao'nung alone, for only my eyes.
Because this here, right now, is only for you, is it not?
Ao'nung swims a circle around you, causes the ocean to spin you at its whim and you do not protest. You give way to see him like this; playful in the most innocent, pure sense. No animosity, no spite. You wonder if he even realizes how much of himself he gives away at times like these. If he's even aware he's baring bits and pieces of his soul to you.
You do not wish to complain and you will take all that you're given with outstretched hands and an ever-open heart. Ao'nung is like the ocean: ruthless and unruly but strong and blanketing of all those held within him.
You have always been so very fond of the ocean.
His circling stops and he tips his head back up to the surface. More air, a need to breathe, he conveys. You've been so caught up in it all you hadn't even realized your chest had started to burn. Funny, how such vital things can be pushed to the side.
You follow him, breach the sea and inhale until your lungs are satisfied. As you blink the water out of your eyes, you catch Ao'nung's gaze. One beat, two beats—by the third you're laughing. At what, for why, you have no clue. But you aren't entirely sure there needs to be a comprehensible reason behind it.
It is warm and it is light, and that is enough.
"How about we play a game," Ao'nung proposes. "Whoever gets a shell from the ocean floor and makes it back to the surface first wins."
"Oh, you're so on," you snort, letting a playful smirk tilt the edges of your lips. "Do not cry too hard when I beat you."
"As if you could beat me," he snarks back, mirroring your grin, as he lines himself up with you. "Go in three."
You narrow your eyes at him, splash a smidgen of water at his face just to vaguely throw him off his game. He splashes back, you do not fight it. you seem so drained of fight tonight.
"Two."
Ao’nung’s feet knock against yours underwater. An accident while keeping himself afloat, you know, but you still nudge him back with your own. His grin widens, you tip your head in a taunting manner.
"One."
Now, in any other circumstance, one might expect Ao'nung to be the cheating type. And, to be completely forthcoming, they'd be right. Ao'nung is not a textbook cheater, you would say, but he knows his way about bending rules without causing the brittle decrees to break in order to turn the table in his favor. He likes to win, and he likes doing so by any means necessary.
But, that does not ring true in the case of you. Ao'nung becomes a fair man within your presence. You like to joke that it's because he's scared of you, too afraid of what you might do in retaliation to his swaying. But you know that that is not the reason behind it at all. Rather, he holds enough respect for you within his heart, that he would not try to pull your plug early. And you can't help but admire that.
Especially now, as he even waits half a second after you take your dive to take his.
You know it will not make much difference and—despite your own competitive hunger to win—you know Ao'nung could give you a five second head start and still beat you easily. He is one of (if not the ) strongest swimmers in your entire clan. You never had a fighting chance of winning, but you put on an act like you're trying to anyway, just to appease him.
You retrieve the first shell your hand grazes as you reach the bottom and instantly push off the sandy floor to race back to the top. And, just like you predicted, Ao’nung is already a whole body’s length closer to air than you. His smile has turned triumphant, proud. You hate that you think it suits him.
You meet him above the waves only a few moments after he rises through them himself. He's already opening his mouth for a tease before you even have the chance to move the sopping hair out of your eyes.
“What did you say, about beating me?” he goads, waving the shell he’s picked in front of your face. “I should have put some odds on the deal. What an easy win.”
Of course it was , you want to say, but, “Oh, shut it,” is what leaves your mouth.
You roll your eyes as you reach over to shove at his head. And he wastes no time in grabbing your arm, tugging you closer in the chilly water so that his chest brushes yours with every other flutter of your feet to keep you from sinking. His smirk is still there, still cocky and prideful and haughty, but his eyes twinkle with something more genuine in nature.
“Why do you bring me out here, Ao’nung?”
Perhaps it is not something you should be so easily inclined to ask. Not now, not when you are having such a good time with him. Not while he’s got you so close. And yet, maybe that makes it the perfect time to ask such a thing. Maybe, the heart finds it harder to lie when its pair is only separated by two inches of water and slanted ribs.
Ao’nung’s snide expression falters; fizzles out like a star who’s died years ago and now its light has finally decided to dim. But it is not regretful, not bad.
It is more so contemplating, thinking of how to define its own existence.
“It is just… nice.” He juts out his bottom lip, drops his gaze from yours then back up. It's so real, raw. He's beautiful. “When everyone else is around, I get annoyed. They are all so nosy. And they— agh .”
He tries to throw his head to the side in a groan but you stop him. Your hand molds to his cheek, brings him back to you. It’s almost comical, the pout on his lips.
“They what?” you ask, because you’d like to know. Whatever it is.
And Ao’nung takes a moment to chew it over. Like he’s really having to think about if he actually wants to tell you or not. (You think if he settles on not, you’ll just have to twist his ear until he agrees, but you don’t voice that just yet).
Finally, he puffs out a breath. “Everyone is just always looking. At you. At us. What we’re doing. And that’s just so…!”
“Wait, you,” your eyes widen, the corners of your lips twitch up, “You’re shy!”
“I am not —“
“Oh my Eywa,” you laugh, wholly and totally uncaring of the volume of such now, “This is why you like to meet at night? When no one is around? That’s so—you’re so cute , Ao’nung!”
“Oh, I'll show you cute,” he grumbles.
And suddenly you’re gasping as you’re being thrown back. A split second into the air before you’re splashing into the water. You’re all sorts of twisted around, but with a few passes of erratic thrashing, you make your way back up to the surface. You’re sucking in a breath as you hear Ao’nung’s busting of a gut. You’re glad he finds nearly drowning you funny.
“Oh now that,” he chuckles, reaching forward to sweep the mess of hair out of your eyes so that you can get the chance to glare at him properly. “ That's cute.”
“How do you somehow always end up spinning these things onto me?” you question, allowing him to pull you close once again, despite the chattering of your teeth.
“You just make it too easy,” he levels, pinching at your waist and laughing once more at how you jerk from it. And yet, you let him place your arms around his neck, don’t object to how he settles his own hands onto your hips submerged in the sea. How uncouth of you, your father might just be ashamed. But as Ao’nung’s gaze softens, you can’t find it within yourself to care about his approval right now. “You make everything too easy.”
“Why, Prince Ao’nung, are you flirting with me?” you ask through a faux gasp. And now it’s his turn to roll his eyes at you. But it is done lovingly, with a squeeze to your hips and another inch closer.
“I'm about to do a whole lot more than flirt ,” he murmurs, darting his eyes to your lips, closing the gap that suddenly seems eons too far. Light reflects off the droplets clinging to his lashes like a linear constellation, and you wonder if they’ll transfer across your cheeks as you let your eyes flutter shut with the first brush of his salty lips against your own.
Moonlight tends to paint the prettiest pictures when it is veiling over rolling tides and two young lovers, you think. Beauty is forged among the whispers and waves.