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“And this one isn’t poisonous?” Your voice cuts through the thick, humid air. A glance at the hunter before you, a mere three paces away causes your tail to curl toward the bright sky. Damned thing, even after being in your avatar for weeks now, it was still difficult to master the art of controlling it. And to the older, more experienced Na’vi that’s now observing you with a tenderness that has your ears folding back, you knew. He can read your body language like one of those picture books created for children. You were making it much, much too easy for the Olo’eyktan’s son to read you like a novel.
“No, you are free to eat that–” he pauses, head tilting to the side. His focus is entirely on the fruit in your hand, and you nearly drop it from the perplexity that melts over his features. Have you done something wrong? “Where–” he breathes out, “Where did you get that?”
You swallow, wanting to drop the offending object that weighs in your palm. May Eywa save you if you have broken some unknown rule. The ways of the Omatikaya are beautiful and incredibly new to you. More often than not, it was like traversing through thick fog compared to your dear friends, the Sully’s, who had years–cycles of practice in this environment... In this culture and way of life.
“Uhm, I just found it on the ground… right there,” you point to the little patch of grass where the fruit was resting moments ago, “Why, is something wrong?” On instinct, you hold the fruit out for Neteyam to inspect.
“Utumauti.” The word is spoken reverently, disbelief coloring his expression now that he has walked closer. Just a breath away, your heels dig into the cold dirt beneath you as a reminder to act normal. Normal, normal, normal, normal. “Canopy fruit,” he clarifies. A hand reaches to pick up the dark purple fruit flecked with yellow from your palm, but it stops. Hovering just above it and he shakes his head, a one braid escaping from behind his ear and hovering in front of his eye. He looks at you, hand falling back to his side. “They are very rare to find on the ground.” You break eye contact if only to escape how intense and… open his stare is. He is unguarded and free of shame. Confident in a way you’ve yet to understand.
“Is it a good thing?” A thumb runs over the texture, prickly and hairy in some places while smooth in others. Odd. So, so different from human fruit. A deep, rich chuckle shakes the densely muscled chest next to you.
“It is a very good thing.” This time you cannot help but return his stare, wondering what thoughts churned beyond the surface. He is softer than you’d seen him in a long time. The youthfulness had returned during your trek into the forest. And with every step of your feet on the dirt, with every scrape of your hands along a tree, and every heave of the fresh air flavored with the dew of last night's rain, Neteyam’s stress regressed. It melted into nothingness and evaporated into the air like it never existed.
The deeper you both went into the heart of the Great Mother, the more his mask peeled off to reveal the boy that existed within the man. Still there, still alive. You had never felt more blessed than to witness Neteyam without any pretense or responsibility. He didn’t have to be the protective older brother, the heir to his father’s legacy, or the well-loved young warrior always ready to lend a helping hand. Here, he was simply… Neteyam. A boy that wanted to taste the wind and feel the dirt on his skin. With you, of all people. “It is said the one who finds utumauti uneaten on the ground is favored by Eywa.”
“Favored?” That seemed hard to believe. Even with your avatar, everything was so new. You were like a baby in the forest. Untested, untried. Always asking for help and somewhat lacking the confidence to operate differently from what you’d always known. Being a human. How Jake managed to adapt so quickly was a mystery. “It must be a mistake, here, you take it.” You all but shove the fruit into his hand and step away, unable to hide how your tail lowers, the end of it tickling the top of the ground.
“What–no!” He tries to say something, but you’re already walking away. “Tanhì, where are you going?” It takes him a horribly small amount of time to catch up to you. The nickname only worsens your mood, remembering the first night you had spent in your avatar.
It was a small celebration that the Sully’s held for you, and you’d guzzled too much fermented drink unknowingly. It tasted normal and nothing like the alcohol that humans drank, so how were you to know? It was a prank that Lo’ak and Spider found hilarious. To your utter revulsion, you’d blabbed most of the night about how pretty you found Neteyam’s bioluminescent freckle pattern. Needless to say, Lo’ak was found with half his face caked in the mud the next morning due to a tussle with his older brother. And ever since, the eldest Sully child has called you ‘his little tanhì’.
It was mortifying. Even more so because you liked when he called you… his. If only in a teasing, platonic way.
“I don’t know.” You throw a hand up, visibly frustrated but unable and unwilling to ponder why. You duck under a leaf three times your size, barely noticing how the light shines through the cracks of it to speckle onto your face.
“Would you just–” he matches your frustration with a little bit of his, and the appearance of any emotion other than patience from him is fierce. “Stop stomping like a child and talk with me.” He deserved so much more than your petulance, so you indulge his request. The forest chitters energetically with the distant yowls of creatures and the close buzzing of insects. Neteyam’s breathing is steadier now. Stable. Just like him. Unable to meet his stare, you look over the weaving of his necklace.
“You cannot give this to me.” Warm, slightly rough hands wrap around your forearm to bring it between the both of you. “Look at me.” Your canines, much sharper than your human ones, dug slightly into the flesh of your tongue. A prickle of pain in your mouth to awaken bravery, confidence, anything other than the palpable vulnerability that chokes you more than the heat of Pandora. But you obey, raising your gaze to his and…
Gentle. Kind. Forthright. The words hummed past your ears like the strong wings of an ikran in mid-air. All words belonged to Neteyam. They were Neteyam. His fingers spread your hand open. Then, the weight is back in your hand. Slightly prickly on your skin, but you cannot look away from him. You were once again captive to all that he is.
“This is yours. Eywa has willed it so.” He is so sure, so incomprehensibly convinced of… what? That you belong here? That you aren’t an imposter on a planet that you’d grown up on. What is it that had him so sure of the Great Mother’s favor over you?
You’d never been more confused in your life than now. Because… because… could it be true? Could you carve out a place amongst the People? A place to belong? To call home.
He was your home.
“I don’t–” you swallow, but it does nothing to quell the dryness in your throat. “Can’t–”
“You can’t…?” His head tilts, mouth slinking up on one side. A ruthless, teasing expression that causes your ears to twitch and sink to your shoulders.
“Bastard!” you spit, but the expletive lacks all venom. It is a pathetic attempt to hide the effect he has on you and both of you know it.
So you do the only thing you can think of to gain the upper hand.
You snatch the fruit from his hand. With a twist of your shoulders and arm, it flies into the forest.
Neteyam just… stares at the direction it went. His mouth parted slightly, eyes wide and perplexed. The shock on him has you feeling triumphant–until he looks back at you with genuine concern.
“Why would you do that?” He’s not upset if the creasing of his forehead was anything to go by. But he was… looking at you like you were one of those vintage Rubix cubes and he was attempting to solve you. To organize your colors into cohesion.
“I…” trying to answer the question makes you pause, and you look in the direction you had thrown the fruit.
To reject your adamance at my worthiness because it felt too uncomfortable to accept that I might be able to excel beyond my own beliefs of invisibility, and to prove to you that I feel nothing for you. To live a lie, to put on the mask and pretend, because pretending is so much easier than facing the truth. That I’m in love with you, Neteyam. That I don’t feel like your equal.
That certainly wasn’t something you were going to confess.
“Because I’m stubborn.” It's not a lie. Neteyam’s previous concern washed away with a small smile, his head tilting back like he somehow had to lean away to observe you better. A flick of his eyes down your body, then back up to your eyes.
“Hmm,” he pretends to contemplate, his arm lifting to adjust the string of the longbow that lay over his chest diagonally, “That is true.” The peek of an accent thickens with those words. He sounds more Na’vi, more handsome. You want to throttle him where he stands for that remark.
“Oh shove it.” You push at his chest, and he barely moves. All muscle, all firm and taut and strong. Annoyingly so. But the impact was enough for him to shift his weight. At least you have that going for you. “Now come help me find the fruit.”
The request is ridiculous, and you know that. So you rush away, not needing to hide the smile on your face since he’s behind you now. A deep, hearty laugh has you biting into your cheek.
“Oh, you want me to help you look for the fruit that you just threw?” A few steps and he has caught up with you, now walking at your side. “Do I look like your personal servant?” Your mouth opens to respond, delight seeping into your veins. “Don’t answer that.”
And you laugh. Genuinely. Authentically. So much so that you had forgotten why you threw the utumauti in the first place. Neteyam never failed to do that. Make you laugh. Make you forget the heaviness of your fear and insecurity. He always found a way to help you remember that doubt is a choice... one you don't have to make. You pray to Eywa that the smile you send him as you find the fruit after an hour is enough to convey, for now, how much gratitude you have for him. And how much you love him.
It wasn’t the right time, not now. You had a great many things to sort through emotionally. Had to pass your iknimaya and become… not a different version of yourself. But a better one. A growing one. So you heeded Neteyam’s advice to bring it back to the village and show it to the Sully’s. He claimed that it was what other Omatikaya do when–if they find a canopy fruit uneaten on the forest floor.
And then you ate it. Neteyam merely watched you do so with a quiet, secret expression. One you could not decipher but didn’t need to. It was an ancient language. One of the heart and not the mind. Perhaps, it was at that moment that you knew. Knew he loved you back, even if it wasn’t the right time yet.
That look was a promise. One you held onto and coveted for the rest of your days.