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Neteyam sat on the shore of a small bay, the waves lapping at his outstretched legs ever so often. The sun was setting, leaving a pinkish glow on the sky. His ilu was swimming aimlessly in the shallows of the water, patiently waiting for its rider to wade back into the water so they could return to the village. It wasn’t far away. Neteyam could still see its outlines and the figures of people moving about, but it was still far away enough for Neteyam to feel like he was secluded, unseen.
He sighed as he hugged his knees to his chest. There was a feeling which had been tormenting him for quite a while now, like a clump of dark mass lodged at the bottom of his throat spreading its cold ache all across his shoulders down to his abdomen. Sometimes he would feel the ache so severely it would send shivers down his spine, leaving goosebumps on his arms.
Neteyam hadn’t realized the culprit for this feeling until recently. It wasn’t until Kiri, ever so wise and observant, had pointed something out to him. The two of them had been sitting on the dock, keeping an observant eye on Tuk and Lo'ak who were chasing each other on their respective ilus in the water.
“Are you cold?” Kiri had asked.
Neteyam gave her a questioning look, confused by why she would ask that under the hot shine of the sun. “No?”
“It’s just,” she started gently, “you’ve been running your hands up and down your arms ever since we sat down, like you’re trying to warm yourself up.”
Neteyam suddenly became aware of his own limbs, looking down and seeing that he had in fact been mindlessly embracing himself.
He had shrugged it off then, telling Kiri that he was fine, but after that incident he would sometimes catch himself doing it again. Oftentimes it was his arms circling around himself, or fingers absentmindedly running down his neck or shoulders, or palms soothing over his lower thighs. Even now as he sat in the warm sand, he had his arms around his knees, pressing them to his chest.
He was longing for touch, he realized, and all those absentminded gestures he would catch himself doing were a form of self-soothing, a way to simulate the sense of someone else’s caress. It took a while for Neteyam to accept this conclusion, but when reflecting over his family and day to day life, it seemed like an obvious one.
He loved his family and the physical touch between all of them, but it was never quite enough. His father’s hugs were sparse, coming mostly after a raid or a particularly exhausting hunt, after having made sure that Neteyam was unharmed. His mother’s touches were constant and comforting when he was younger, but they too became infrequent as he became older and his younger siblings came into the picture; the undivided attention he received suddenly had to be shared with three others. When it came to his siblings he would sometimes give Kiri a kiss on the forehead, fondly mess up Lo'ak’s hair, or pick up Tuk for a bone crushing hug.
The thing was though, he felt like it was always him who was the one reaching out to give a caring touch to someone he loved. For once, he wanted to be on the receiving end, to have someone tightly envelop him in their arms and let him stay there for a moment.
He thought of Lo'ak and Tsireya, and how enamored the pair was with one another. They were always orbiting around each other, never far apart. Their affection was often unspoken, shown instead by a hand wrapped around a waist, a palm pressed to a lower back, a gentle kiss on a cheek.
Neteyam was happy for his brother and Tsireya, but seeing them together made his chest tighten sometimes. He longed for what they have. He wanted someone to look at him the way Tsireya looked at Lo'ak, her eyes softening and crinkling slightly at the edges. The look which would so often reminded him of Aonung.
Aonung. That was another problem. A few months had passed since Neteyam and his family arrived at Awa’atlu and although he and Aonung had gotten off on the wrong foot, his opinion of the boy had greatly improved. He would even dare say that they’ve become good friends.
They've grown comfortable around each other which meant that Aonung often took the liberties of teasing Neteyam, whether it was about his baby tail or how slow he was in the water.
“Keep up, forest boy,” Aonung would say sometimes when they went swimming.
Neteyam would glare at him as he tried to catch his breath, his lungs not yet used to holding in air for so long. “I would like to see you try to jump between trees,” he muttered to himself.
“I heard that,” Aonung said, playfully splashing him with water before diving back under.
But Neteyam knew that all of Aonung’s teasing was lighthearted. He knew now that the Aonung he first met on their arrival to the village was nothing but a mere front, a hardened exterior that Aonung kept up. Behind that exterior there was a sweet, funny boy always there to extend a helpful hand to those he cared about. He was more like Tsireya in that way than he’d ever admit.
Aonung had been a great help when it came to getting Neteyam used to his new home and teaching him the way of water. Neteyam’s cheeks burned as he recalled the days spent alone together training with the ilus. Aonung wasn’t scared to get hands-on with his teaching.
Neteyam would begrudgingly ride laps in the water on his ilu as Aonung stood in the center of the imaginary circle, the water up to his waist, inspecting him. Neteyam was easily irritable those days, frustrated partly because it was taking him so long to master riding the ilu, partly from feeling like he was embarrassing himself in front of Aonung, whom (Neteyam could in hindsight admit) he had wanted to impress.
“Stop,” Aonung had said as he waded over to where Neteyam had come up for air, still on his ilu. “You are distressed. She can feel it and it is making her agitated,” he continued, giving the creature a comforting pat on its head.
He was about to defend himself when Aonung cut him off. “Neteyam,” he said, pressing a gentle hand to Neteyam’s chest, “you must breathe.”
Neteyam had nodded, trying to still his breathing, too distracted by the boy’s hand and the quickening of his heartbeat to argue. He saw Aonung’s hand move to his calf, redirecting it so it pressed lower on the ilu’s side. His other hand came to rest on Neteyam’s back, gently pushing him down so he was parallel to the ilu. “Your back is too straight when you dive back into the water.”
Neteyam was barely processing the other’s words. His ears felt warm and the only thing on his mind was the searing touch of Aonung’s palm still resting on his back.
He had dived back into the water without a word. The memory still made Neteyam twinge with embarrassment and another feeling deep in his stomach that he couldn’t quite name.
But the start of their friendship wasn’t all good. Before the days of the ilu training sessions,
they would sometimes hang out all of them in a group, him and his siblings, and Aonung and his friends and sister. They were still in the phase of sizing each other up, neither party quite trusting the other. It was also during those days the reef situation with Lo'ak took place.
Neteyam could still remember the cold chill that had run through him when he overheard Aonung’s friends giggling to each other about the newcomer and how they had left him outside the reef.
Neteyam had immediately sought out Aonung to confront him. They still weren’t on the best of terms during those days, but after Lo'ak had been safely returned, Neteyam could sense that Aonung was feeling remorseful.
It had taken a few days before Aonung came up to him to apologize for endangering his brother like that. Neteyam could sense that he was sincere and had forgiven him, only after making sure that he had gotten Lo'ak’s forgiveness first.
After that, things smoothed out between them and they even found themselves hanging out alone, away from his siblings and Aonung’s friends.
Neteyam sighed as turned his dwelling thoughts back to the shore he was sitting on. The sun hadn’t yet set and his ilu was still swimming languidly in the water. He laid back fully on the sand, stretching his arms above his head. Aonung was the one who showed him this bay in the first place. It wasn’t unknown by any means, some of the younger Metkayina would come here regularly, but Neteyam had the luck of it presently being deserted.
Or so he thought.
“Forest boy!”
Neteyam snapped his head up, startled at the sudden voice. “Aonung?”
“Who else would it be,” he said as he jogged to where Neteyam was now sitting upright in the sand. Aonung smiled as he sat down next to him, reaching around for his woven satchel to hand him a grilled fish wrapped in leaves.
Neteyam gratefully accepted it, not realizing how hungry he was. “How did you know I was here?”
“Well, it was either here or your marui. You weren’t at your marui, and you don’t go anywhere else, so.”
“That’s not true,” Neteyam scowled.
“You don’t go anywhere else without me.”
Neteyam turned his face away at that, both because he didn’t have an argument and to hide his smile. They were silent for a moment, the only sound being Neteyam’s chewing, before Aonung spoke.
“What were you doing here all by yourself anyway?”
Neteyam shrugged as he took another bite of the fish. He was reminded of the heavy feeling in his chest which had temporarily been forgotten with Aonung’s presence. He could feel the boy’s gaze boring into the side of his head, the heat radiating off of his warm skin just mere inches away from Neteyam’s. It made his fingers twitch with the need to reach out.
Neteyam knew that Aonung was waiting for him to say something. To explain why he had come here alone when he usually never does, but Neteyam didn’t know how to answer him without lying. How could he tell him the truth? How could he admit that he felt lonely, despite constantly being surrounded by other people? How could he say that he lay awake some nights, curled into himself, imagining leaning back into a certain someone’s solid chest, arms wrapped around his middle, pulling him closer? That all he wanted was to be held, just for a little while?
No, Neteyam could not say those things. Admitting that he was suffering from a lack of physical touch was embarrassing on its own, but admitting that it was Aonung’s touch he wanted specifically made Neteyam’s stomach curl with the anguish of possible rejection.
“I left Lo'ak outside the reef again.”
Neteyam’s eyes snapped to Aonung’s, ready to lunge himself at the boy before seeing the playful smirk on his lips. “Kidding.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Oh, come on,” Aonung said, lightly nudging Neteyam’s shoulder with his own, leaving a burning sensation on Neteyam’s skin where they had briefly connected. How he wished that Aonung hadn’t pulled back but pressed closer instead, stayed there just a few moments longer. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Neteyam took another bite of the fish to avoid answering as he stared in front of him at the sea, his and Aonung’s ilus now swimming together in the water. Neteyam’s throat constricted as he tried to swallow, the lump in his throat making it difficult. He put his food to the side, knowing that it would be impossible to finish it now. Shamefully, he could feel his eyes well up with tears. He wished Aonung would stop prodding just as much as he wished he wouldn't. He turned his face away.
But it was pointless trying to hide from Aonung. They had spent so much time together these past few months that they were starting to know each other like the backs of their hands.
“Neteyam,'' Aonung said quietly, grabbing Neteyam’s shoulder to gently turn him back towards him again. Neteyam turned, reluctantly, desperately trying to blink away the tears. “Oh, Neteyam.”
Aonung encircled one of his arms around Neteyam’s shoulders while pressing his other hand to the back of Neteyam’s head, lightly guiding him to press his face into the crevice of Aonung’s neck.
Neteyam tensed, his heart beating violently, unable to fully process what was happening. Aonung had never hugged him before. Their friendship had mostly consisted of a quick pat on the back, or an arm slung around the other’s neck, but always in a playful manner, never really meaning anything.
This time it felt different.
Aonung tightened his arms around Neteyam’s shoulders, bringing him closer, and Neteyam could slowly feel the muscles in his body relax, one by one. It felt nice, being submerged in the warmth of Aonung’s body. Tentatively, he brought his arms up to circle around the boy’s waist, afraid he was going to do something wrong to make him pull away, but Aonung only tightened his hold on him further.
Aonung rested his head atop of Neteyam’s, softly nuzzling his hair. This, coupled with the warm embrace, was what finally broke Neteyam. Sobs wracked his body before he could control it, tears now rolling freely down his cheeks, wetting Aonung’s shoulder.
This is what Neteyam had been starved for for so long and here Aonung was, giving it to him willingly and letting him cry into his shoulder.
The reality of the situation was quickly catching up to Neteyam though, as were the feelings of shame. He could only imagine how pathetic he must look in Aonung’s eyes right now, clinging to him and crying for no apparent reason. Did he find Neteyam odd? Could he feel the desperation rolling off of him, only indulging him out of sheer pity?
It was these thoughts that made Neteyam abruptly pull away. He was unable to look Aonung in the eyes as he stood up and mumbled an excuse about leaving, hastily wiping away his tears and running into the water. His ears were thudding with the sound of his blood rushing, barely able to make out Aonung’s exclaims to wait up. He connected to his ilu as he quickly dove beneath the surface.
Neteyam slept better that night than he had in a while, the comfort of the hug temporarily outweighing the shame of vulnerability.
—
As soon as Neteyam opened his eyes the next morning, he was hit with the memory of what had happened just hours before, and he groaned quietly as he ran a hand down his face. The mortified feeling from last night still lingered in his body.
He looked around the marui to find all of his siblings still sleeping, but his parents weren’t there. The opening of the pod showed the sun still low in the sky, signifying early morning. He sighed as he sat up, remembering that Tsireya had promised him to re-braid some of his braids that had loosened, first thing in the morning.
Seeking out Tsireya meant the possibility of bumping into Aonung, which he dreaded. Neteyam couldn’t stop the worrying thoughts that perhaps he had scared him off last night, or that things would now be awkward between them. He doesn’t know what he would do with himself if that were the case.
Too restless to stay in the pod, he decided that he would just bite the bullet and take the risk of facing Aonung. He would have to do it sooner or later anyway. And besides, his braids really were starting to annoy him.
He got up, making his way out of the marui. The village was in full motion despite it being so early, and he could see his parents sitting by the dock, gutting fish together, his mother smiling at something his father said.
He continued, passing by the woven structures and roots of the mangrove until he reached the olo’eyktan’s pod, but the sight a bit outside the entrance made him halt his steps. Aonung was sitting on the ledge with his back towards him, his feet dangling in the air, looking down at the water. He must’ve heard Neteyam’s steps because he turned his head, eyes widening slightly when he saw who it was.
Aonung jumped up from his seat before Neteyam could even consider turning back around.
“Neteyam,” he said in that soft way which always made Neteyam’s stomach curl. He sounded hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure how he should approach him after last night.
“Hey, uh,” Neteyam cleared his throat, “Is Tsireya here?”
Neteyam could see Aonung’s shoulders deflate slightly. “She’s still sleeping, why?”
“She said she would braid my hair this morning,” he said, finding it difficult to look Aonung in the eyes, still uncertain whether the boy was unhappy with him or not.
“I’ll do it.”
Neteyam’s eyes snapped to his. He shifted slightly, not knowing how to respond. “You know how to do it?”
Aonung scowled slightly as his ears twitched, turning a pinkish color. “Tsireya taught me. Now come,” he motioned for Neteyam to follow.
They ended up on the shore behind some trees, a bit away from the marui pods. Aonung told him to sit, which Neteyam did, facing the water, feeling Aonung take his seat directly behind him. His stomach fluttered the way it always did when Aonung was that close.
They sat in silence as Aonung set to work, untangling the braids that had loosened. The feeling of his fingers running through his hair made Neteyam’s scalp tingle pleasantly. He wanted to melt into the feeling, but he sat as still as possible lest Aonung would move away or stop.
He could hear Aonung behind him, opening and closing his mouth as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. Neteyam was scared that he would bring up what had happened last night, scared that he would tell him how Neteyam crying and taking off so suddenly had made him uncomfortable.
“Your hair is soft,” Aonung said instead.
Neteyam wasn’t expecting that, and the compliment made his cheeks heat up. “Thank you.”
“Even the whisps at the ends of your baby tail are soft,” Aonung teased, reaching out towards his tail to playful tug on the small hairs. “I can braid it too, if you’d like.”
“Hey!” Neteyam said, whipping his tail out of Aonung’s reach, his blush making its way up to his ears. Neteyam was half afraid they would fall off with the way they were burning up.
Aonung laughed as he resumed his braiding. Neteyam’s heart was slightly more at ease, taking Aonung’s familiar teasing as a good sign that maybe he wasn’t so upset with him after all.
Neteyam was just starting to relax when Aonung’s voice broke the silence again.
“By the way,” he started. “About last night, I just wanted to say…”
Neteyam tensed, anxiously anticipating his next words.
“I just wanted to apologize,” Aonung continued. His hands were busy tying the ends of the braid he’d just finished, but Neteyam could hear the change in his breathing, like it took a lot of nerves for him to say it.
Out of all the things Neteyam expected Aonung to say, an apology wasn’t one of them. Aonung continued before he could say anything: “I’m sorry, if I made you feel uneasy or uncomfortable last night, or if I upset you.”
Aonung’s hands were no longer in his hair, and Neteyam turned to look at the boy. He was wringing his hands in his lap now, his eyes dejected when they met Neteyam’s.
“Why do you think you upset me?”
“Well, I don’t– I don’t know but, you looked so sad when I found you last night and then I hugged you, and you were tense so I figured I’d hug you tighter to maybe make it better, but. But then you started crying even harder and practically ran away and I–, I never meant to make you uncomfortable– it wasn’t my intention to upset you further.”
Neteyam took a moment to process Aonung’s words, and when he did, he felt such a big wave of relief that he could start laughing at how stupid he had been. “Oh, Aonung,” he said instead, grabbing one of his hands in both his own. “You hugging me didn’t upset me.”
“Then why did you react like that?”
Neteyam paused. “Because, it was… it was overwhelming.” Aonung’s face dropped and Neteyam hastened to explain himself. “Not– not in a bad way! It’s just…”
Neteyam didn’t know how to say these next words without internally cringing at himself, but he didn’t want to lie to Aonung. “It was overwhelming because I liked it too much.”
Aonung looked at him for a moment without saying anything, which was enough to make Neteyam panic and regret having spoken at all. He was about to pull his hands away from Aonung’s when the boy stopped him, holding him there. His heart started beating rapidly again.
“If you liked it so much, why’d you run away?”
Neteyam shrugged as he looked down at their joined hands. “I’m not used to getting hugged like that and…” and you being the one hugging me made it that much better.
Aonung was hesitant before saying, “If I did it again, would you let me?”
Looking up from their hands to Aonung’s face, Neteyam suddenly felt shy. He gave a small nod, which earned him a smile from the other boy. Before he knew it, Aonung’s hands were on his shoulders, telling him to turn around so he was facing the water again.
The sudden movement took Neteyam by surprise, not giving him enough time to react when he was pulled back to lean on Aonung’s front. Aonung had leaned back on the tree behind him, pulling Neteyam with him, extending his legs on either side of the other. His arms wrapped around the top of Neteyam’s chest and shoulders.
Neteyam huffed at having been repositioned so easily, but he soon felt himself sagging into the warm chest behind him. He liked the feeling of being caged in by Aonung’s arms. He felt safe.
His stomach was twisting with all sorts of nerves, but he decided he would let himself indulge in it, this time. He would make the most of the moment, in case it never happened again.
Neteyam didn’t have to worry though, because after that day Aonung’s gentle touches became a frequent occurrence.
Whenever they hung out all of them in a group, Neteyam and Aonung had always gravitated towards one another, choosing to sit next to each other or have their own little conversation while everyone else was talking to each other. Now, though, when they sat down next to each other, the space between them would be non-existent. Their sides would be pressed together, or their thighs would be brushing, or Aonung would take Neteyam’s hand and play with it mindlessly while talking to the others in the group.
Neteyam wasn’t used to this amount of attention, and every time Aonung reached out to touch, his heart would go into overdrive. It did nothing to help the feelings he harbored for the boy, either. On the contrary, it made it worse. Sometimes Neteyam would worry that Aonung was like this with everyone. That he wasn’t special and that he shouldn’t misinterpret it as such.
Still, despite how liberal Aonung was with his touches, Neteyam couldn’t bring himself to be the same. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a feeling gnawed at him that he needed to be careful, that he shouldn’t take this – whatever this was – for granted, lest Aonung decided to stop.
Neteyam was always waiting for Aonung to make the first move. He didn’t want to reach out first and be an inconvenience, or ask for more than he was given. Sometimes he would lean into Aonung’s side, absentmindedly seeking his comfort, and then he would catch himself, promptly snapping upright. During those moments, Aonung would always wrap an arm around his shoulders to pull him back.
Aonung gave him so much, yet he still felt greedy for more. For every caress, Neteyam wanted the other to be closer. He wanted the arm around his waist to tighten, he wanted Aonung to nuzzle against the side of his face, he wanted him to kiss his forehead, jaw, cheek. His lips.
Neteyam didn’t dare think about that last one too often.
Recently, Aonung had taken a liking to Neteyam’s neck. After a long day they would sit together by the docks sometimes, both tired and pressed against each other. Aonung would turn to Neteyam, leaning down towards his neck to press his face there. Neteyam would feel his soft breaths against his skin while worrying that the other could feel his pulse beat erratically.
Other times Aonung would stop Neteyam in passing to wrap him in his arms, leaning down to nuzzle against his neck. Sometimes he would press his lips against his skin, so softly that Neteyam wondered whether he had imagined it, and before he could dwell on it Aonung would be off with a quick ‘see you later’ over his shoulder.
With every hug, every caress, every embrace, the dull ache he was so used to feeling before lessened, and after a while Neteyam became comfortable with seeking out touches of his own. The way Aonung’s face would brighten every time Neteyam reached for his hand first or leaned his head on his shoulder made the initial embarrassment worth it.
He recalls just the other day when he was the one to cross a line they hadn’t crossed yet. Aonung had come up to him, all smiley and eyes crinkly, reminding him so much of Tsireya.
“Look,” he said, “I finally finished the necklace I was working on.”
It was a beautiful necklace with pearls, beads, and seashells all in pinkish and yellowish tones.
“It’s really pretty,” Neteyam said as Aonung held it to his chest. The colors matched perfectly with the boy’s teal skin.
Aonung held it up to Neteyam’s chest next. “It looks even better on you.”
They were suddenly shy with each other and Neteyam smiled. He summoned all the courage he could muster and tilted his face slightly up, leaning over to press a soft kiss on Aonung’s cheek. When he had leaned back, both of their ears were tinted red, both unable to look at the other.
After that incident, they progressed to kisses on the cheek. These happened less frequently, though, and never in front of others. They both silently knew that it was something more private, for their eyes only.
Like now, where they lay together on the shore of the bay where Neteyam had sat alone those few weeks ago, feeling miserable, craving touch, craving intimacy. And now here he was, with Aonung’s face pressed against his neck, his arm around his waist, pulling him tighter against his side, talking about their day.
“I saw Lo'ak trip on the dock and fall into the water today,” Aonung said. “He splashed onto the surface right on his stomach, it must’ve hurt so bad. I can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard.”
Neteyam chuckled lightly, picturing the scene. “Did you at least help him out of the water?”
“Are you kidding? I called Tuk over so she could laugh with me.”
“Be nice to him,” Neteyam playfully reprimanded him.
“I will once he stops waking me up at night trying to help Tsireya sneak out.”
Neteyam hummed as he trailed his fingers over Aonung’s arm around his waist. “Let them, they’re cute together.”
Aonung huffed. “We’re cuter.”
Neteyam stilled at that, not knowing how to respond. His stomach twisted pleasantly at the words.
Aonung must’ve mistaken his silence for disagreement because he lifted his head from his place on Neteyam’s shoulder to look at him. “What, you don’t agree?”
He didn't wait for a response before leaning back down to press a kiss on Neteyam’s collarbone. Aonung’s lips made their way over his shoulder, towards his neck. “We are totally cuter,” he murmured between kisses.
Neteyam tightened his arms around the boy’s shoulders as he made his way further up his neck to his jaw, where he paused to give a gentle bite. Neteyam could feel his abdomen stirring with anticipation. He raised his leg slightly to rest it against the side of Aonung’s hip.
Aonung nuzzled his nose against Neteyam’s cheek before pressing his lips there. He moved closer to the corner of his mouth, where he pressed a kiss before pulling back slightly, enough to look Neteyam in the eyes. His pupils were blown wide and Neteyam was sure his looked just the same.
The coiling in his stomach was making Neteyam impatient, he needed Aonung to kiss him this exact second or he would implode. He brought his hand up to the back of Aonung’s head, tangling his hand in the boy’s hair, tugging slightly, inwardly begging that he would get the message to just lean down and kiss him already.
Aonung must’ve sensed his impatience, because he smiled slightly as he inched closer, finally pressing their lips together. Neteyam sighed into his mouth. Aonung’s lips were soft and warm against his, and he felt the boy’s hand come up to cradle his jaw, thumb sweeping over his cheek.
This is what he had wanted for so long.
He tugged at Aonung’s hair again making the other press himself against him harder, dragging his hand down to squeeze at his waist. It made Neteyam stutter in his movements and he pulled back before he did something stupid like roll his hips up into the boy’s.
They breathed heavily as they broke apart, taking a moment to look at each other. “Okay,” Neteyam said, “we’re cuter.”
Aonung leaned down to press his forehead against Neteyam’s chest, his shoulders wracking with laughter, Neteyam soon joining.
The two boys continued laying there on the sand for a long while, arms wrapped around each other and legs tangled. Their breathing eventually evened out and the only thing that could be heard was the sound of the waves swashing against the shore.