Work Text:
Neteyam leaned against a tree just outside one of the buildings, his eyes casually scanning the bustling campus as students passed by. He wasn’t really paying attention to anything in particular until his gaze landed on a familiar figure across the courtyard.
Ao’nung.
Neteyam watched as Ao’nung stood with a group of his classmates, talking and laughing. But what caught Neteyam’s attention wasn’t the conversation—it was the way one of the guys leaned a little too close to Ao’nung, offering him something from his bag. Ao’nung smiled in response, nodding gratefully as he accepted the item, their hands brushing briefly.
A sharp, unexpected twist of jealousy shot through Neteyam’s chest.
He stood there, frozen, unable to tear his eyes away. Why did that bother him so much? It was just a friendly gesture. A classmate helping another classmate—nothing more. But as he watched Ao’nung thank the guy with that warm smile, the same one Neteyam had only caught glimpses of in passing, something inside him tightened.
Ao’nung didn’t smile at him like that. Not anymore.
Neteyam’s thoughts spiraled, the memory of their high school days rushing back. The way Ao’nung had tried to make amends after that fight with Lo’ak, how he’d extended olive branches that Neteyam had ruthlessly brushed aside. Back then, Neteyam had convinced himself it was better to keep his distance—to punish Ao’nung for what had happened, to make sure that bridge stayed burnt.
But now…
Now, watching Ao’nung laugh and accept help from someone else, Neteyam couldn’t deny the ugly feeling twisting in his gut. It wasn’t just annoyance. It was possessiveness.
He wanted to be the one Ao’nung smiled at like that. The one Ao’nung turned to for help.
The realization hit him like a freight train, knocking the breath from his lungs. He wasn’t just irritated. He was jealous. Jealous that someone else had slid into the space where he could’ve been. Should’ve been.
Suddenly, all those moments of lingering around Ao’nung after class, watching him tutor Tuk—everything made sense. It wasn’t just guilt pushing him to make amends. It was something much deeper.
He was in love with Ao’nung.
Neteyam clenched his fists, his heart pounding in his chest. It was ridiculous. After everything that had happened, after all the times he’d pushed Ao’nung away, what chance did he have? Ao’nung had moved on, clearly. He’d probably forgotten about the bridge Neteyam had burned long ago.
And maybe that was the worst part—Neteyam was the one who had destroyed their connection. He had been the one to hold the grudge, to dismiss every attempt Ao’nung had made to fix things.
What right did he have now to want Ao’nung’s attention? To want his heart?
Neteyam bit his lip, torn between the jealousy simmering inside him and the harsh reality of their past. He had no right to feel this way, no right to be jealous. But that didn’t stop the yearning from creeping up his spine, the desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t ruined everything.
But even as he stood there, watching Ao’nung laugh with someone else, doubt gnawed at him. Would Ao’nung ever look at him the same way again?
Or had he pushed him away for good?
Neteyam turned on his heel, walking away before the bitterness in his chest swallowed him whole.
—
It started with fists.
The memory plays vividly in Neteyam’s mind—Ao’nung and Lo'ak, locked in a brutal brawl near the bleachers. It had been a fight over something stupid—an insult thrown carelessly, and Lo'ak, never one to back down, had responded with his fists. Neteyam had watched from the sidelines at first, his chest tightening, until Ao’nung landed a punch that sent Lo'ak sprawling.
Rage surged through Neteyam. He rushed in, grabbing Lo'ak's arm before he could retaliate further. His eyes locked on Ao'nung, dark and furious.
“Stay away from my brother,” Neteyam had warned, his voice low and seething.
Ao’nung had stared back, panting and bloodied, but said nothing.
—
Ao’nung had tried—tried to make things right.
It started with small gestures, a mumbled apology in the hall, offering to help Lo'ak in gym class, even sharing his notes after Lo'ak fell behind. Slowly, awkwardly, the two of them became friends. It was strange at first, seeing Ao’nung and Lo'ak laughing, training together, talking like the fight had never happened. And Lo'ak, always quick to forgive, accepted Ao’nung’s friendship without a second thought.
But Neteyam couldn't let go.
Every time Ao’nung tried to approach him, Neteyam would turn away, give a cold nod, or simply ignore him altogether. Even Lo'ak, usually easygoing, had started to get irritated.
“You know, Ao’nung isn’t that bad, bro,” Lo'ak said one day after practice. “He’s trying to make it up to you. Maybe stop being such an ass?”
Neteyam’s jaw clenched. “I’m not being an ass. I just don’t trust him.”
“Right,” Lo'ak scoffed. “He’s literally done everything to make things right, and you treat him like he doesn’t exist. It’s not fair.”
But to Neteyam, it had never been about fairness. It was about protecting his family.
—
Neteyam leaned against the wall of the library, watching from afar as Ao’nung helped Tuk with her studies. He could hear their laughter from where he stood, and something twisted inside him. It wasn’t anger anymore—no, that had long since faded.
It was longing.
He had tried so hard to avoid Ao’nung, to push him away, but now... all he could see was the kindness in the way Ao’nung smiled at Tuk, the patience in his voice as he explained a difficult concept.
Neteyam felt his heart beat faster, an unfamiliar ache spreading through his chest. He wasn’t angry anymore. He was in love.
It had been building for months—ever since he saw Ao’nung with Lo'ak, their friendship solidifying over shared interests and late-night study sessions, seeing Ao’nung put some efforts on helping Tuk on her lessons. Every time Ao’nung laughed, every time he helped someone without expecting anything in return, Neteyam felt himself falling deeper.
He cursed himself for pushing Ao’nung away for so long. The more he watched, the more he realized how wrong he had been. And now, now that his feelings had become overwhelming, all he wanted was a chance to fix things.
But how could he? After everything, after all the cold shoulders and harsh words... would Ao’nung even give him a chance?
Neteyam didn’t care. He had to try.
—
Neteyam found his feet moving before he could stop himself. Ao’nung was packing up his books, oblivious to Neteyam’s approach.
“Ao’nung,” Neteyam called, his voice tight with nerves.
Ao’nung looked up, his face neutral. “Neteyam.”
“I...” Neteyam faltered, suddenly feeling stupid. What was he even going to say? That he was sorry for being a jerk? That he was in love with him? That all those years of pushing him away were just Neteyam being scared?
“I want to fix things between us, I want to mend the bridge that I’ve burnt.” Neteyam finally blurted out. He winced at how desperate he sounded, but he pushed on. “I was wrong. About everything.”
Ao’nung stared at him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a casual shrug, he said, “There’s nothing to fix.”
Neteyam’s heart jumped. For a second, he thought maybe, just maybe, Ao’nung was giving him a way in. A chance.
But then Ao’nung continued, his voice cool and detached, “Because there’s no bridge in the first place.”
Neteyam froze. It was like a slap to the face. His mind screamed at him to back off, to take the hint, but his heart refused to listen. Instead, he smiled—a small, sad smile, knowing he had just made a fool of himself.
“Right,” Neteyam muttered, trying to keep his voice steady. “Of course.”
But inside, he was crumbling. He’d been wrong to think it would be easy. That just because he was ready, Ao’nung would be too. He had burned the bridge, and now there was nothing left. No foundation, no path to follow.
But Neteyam wasn’t giving up. Not this time.
—
Neteyam lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the conversation in his head. Every part of him burned with regret. He hated himself for waiting so long, for letting his pride get in the way.
He loved Ao’nung. And he had to show it.
—
Neteyam didn’t waste any time. The next morning, he was at Ao’nung’s door, waiting for him to leave for class. When Ao’nung stepped out, looking slightly surprised to see him, Neteyam shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to calm his racing heart.
“I’m not giving up,” Neteyam said firmly. “I know I messed up. But I’m not letting you walk away.”
Ao’nung sighed, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. “Neteyam, there’s nothing to—”
“There is,” Neteyam interrupted, taking a step closer. “You may not see it, but I do. And I’ll spend as long as it takes to show you that I mean it. That I care.”
Ao’nung stared at him, the indifference still there, but for the first time, Neteyam thought he saw a flicker of something else—something softer. But before he could say anything, Ao’nung turned and walked away.
Neteyam stood there, watching him leave, his chest aching with hope and fear. It wasn’t a yes. But it wasn’t a no either.
And that was enough for him—for now.
He would grovel, he would beg, he would do whatever it took to make Ao’nung see that he wasn’t the same person he used to be. He was in love, and nothing—not even Ao’nung’s indifference—would stop him from trying.
—
Neteyam lingered outside the classroom, leaning casually against the wall as students filed out. His eyes scanned the crowd, heart picking up speed when he spotted Ao’nung among the others. He adjusted his backpack and straightened up, waiting for Ao’nung to notice him.
Ao’nung did, and as usual, his expression was unreadable.
“What are you doing here, Neteyam?” Ao’nung asked, voice clipped. He didn’t stop walking, forcing Neteyam to fall in step beside him.
“I’m here to pick you up,” Neteyam said, trying to sound casual despite the nerves buzzing under his skin. “Thought I’d save you the walk.”
Ao’nung frowned. “I’m perfectly capable of getting home by myself.”
“I know,” Neteyam said quickly, “but I was on campus anyway. Figured it wouldn’t hurt.”
Ao’nung didn’t answer, just kept walking, but Neteyam noticed how his lips twitched slightly in frustration. He wasn’t giving up, though. Not today.
—
Neteyam stood in the kitchen, stirring a pot of soup while glancing into the living room where Ao’nung sat with Tuk. They were bent over her math book, Ao’nung patiently explaining the problems. Tuk was laughing, completely at ease with Ao’nung.
It wasn’t fair how good he was with her, how naturally he fit into their home. The more Neteyam watched, the deeper he fell. Every small moment between Ao’nung and Tuk was another nail in the coffin of his heart, another reason why he couldn’t let Ao’nung go.
Carrying a tray of snacks into the living room, Neteyam set it down gently on the table.
“I made some food,” he said, hoping Ao’nung would at least acknowledge him.
Tuk smiled brightly. “Thanks, Neteyam!” She grabbed a sandwich before returning to her homework.
Ao’nung, however, barely looked up. “You didn’t have to,” he muttered, his focus still on Tuk’s work.
“I wanted to,” Neteyam replied, trying to sound nonchalant.
They spent the next hour like that, Neteyam pretending to be busy in the kitchen but constantly sneaking glances at Ao’nung. When the session was over, Neteyam offered to drive Ao’nung home, knowing full well he would refuse.
As expected, Ao’nung shook his head. “I’m fine. I’ll walk.”
Before Neteyam could respond, Tuk chimed in, “Come on, Ao’nung! Let Neteyam drive you. That way, we can hang out longer!”
Ao’nung hesitated, clearly torn between his desire to leave and Tuk’s pleading gaze. Neteyam’s heart skipped a beat when Ao’nung finally sighed and relented.
—
The drive was quiet, the only sound being the soft hum of the engine and Tuk’s chatter in the backseat. Neteyam kept stealing glances at Ao’nung, his fingers gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly.
When they arrived at Ao’nung’s house, Tuk ran ahead to say hi to Ao’nung’s parents, leaving Neteyam and Ao’nung alone by the car.
“Thanks for the ride,” Ao’nung said flatly, clearly ready to escape.
Neteyam nodded, desperate for an excuse to keep the conversation going. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Ao’nung gave him a strange look. “Do you always have to be this persistent?”
Neteyam smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You haven’t given me much of a choice.”
Ao’nung sighed again and walked toward his house, leaving Neteyam standing there, his heart heavy but determined.
—
The large auditorium buzzed with activity as students filed in, taking their seats for the general assembly. Neteyam sat a few rows behind Ao’nung, eyes glued to the back of his head. He could barely focus on the speeches or presentations; all he could think about was the brief moments when Ao’nung’s hand rested on the armrest.
The urge to reach out, to touch him, was overwhelming.
Neteyam shifted in his seat, inching closer. Every time Ao’nung’s hand relaxed on the armrest, Neteyam’s fingers twitched, yearning to close the distance. His heart pounded in his chest, every nerve in his body hyperaware of Ao’nung’s proximity. It wasn’t until their hands almost brushed that Ao’nung shifted, pulling his hand away.
Neteyam’s heart sank, but the desire didn’t lessen.
—
As students shuffled out, Lo'ak caught up to Neteyam, his brows furrowed in confusion. “What the hell are you doing?”
“What do you mean?” Neteyam asked, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.
“I mean, you’ve been acting weird around Ao’nung for weeks. Hanging around after your classes, giving him rides, showing up where he is... What’s going on?”
Neteyam opened his mouth to deny it, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he sighed. “I... I don’t know, Lo'ak. I just—”
“You like him,” Lo'ak said bluntly, cutting Neteyam off. “Don’t you?”
Neteyam swallowed hard, the truth pressing down on him. He didn’t want to admit it, but there was no point in lying. Not to Lo'ak.
“Yeah,” Neteyam muttered. “I do.”
Lo'ak blinked, clearly not expecting that answer. “Wow. Okay. So... why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because,” Neteyam sighed, running a hand through his braids, “I’ve been a total jerk to him. I don’t know how to fix it.”
Lo'ak looked conflicted, glancing between Neteyam and the direction where Ao’nung had disappeared. “Well... maybe stop being a jerk first?”
Neteyam gave him a weak smile. “Yeah, I’m working on that.”
Lo'ak shook his head, but there was a glint of something almost like sympathy in his eyes. “Just... don’t mess it up, okay? He’s my best friend now, too.”
Neteyam nodded, a strange mix of relief and dread settling in his chest. He wasn’t sure how to fix things, but one thing was clear—he wasn’t giving up.
—
Neteyam stood outside Ao’nung’s door, holding a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates. His heart raced in his chest as he knocked, wondering if this was too much, too soon.
When Ao’nung answered the door, his expression immediately darkened. “What is this?”
Neteyam shifted awkwardly, holding out the flowers. “I thought you might like these.”
Ao’nung crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “You realize I’m not a girl, right? I’m not interested in flowers or chocolates.”
Neteyam felt his face flush with embarrassment. “I... I know that. I just thought it’d be a nice gesture.”
Ao’nung shook his head, clearly unimpressed. “Don’t waste your time, Neteyam.”
With that, he shut the door, leaving Neteyam standing there, holding the flowers and chocolates like an idiot.
But even that rejection couldn’t break his determination. Neteyam smiled to himself, shaking his head. He’d been stupid to think that would work. He needed to try harder, be more thoughtful.
—
Days turned into weeks, and Neteyam continued to show up at Ao’nung’s classes, always finding an excuse to be near him. He drove Ao’nung home more often, even when Ao’nung insisted on walking. Sometimes, Tuk was his saving grace, begging Ao’nung to come with them just to spend more time together.
And every time, Ao’nung’s indifference only made Neteyam want him more. He wasn’t chasing just for the sake of it—he was chasing because he wanted Ao’nung to see him, to acknowledge him.
But Ao’nung never made it easy.
And that was exactly what kept Neteyam coming back.
—
Ao’nung sat in the library, frustration etched on his face as he stared at the list of materials he still hadn’t been able to get. He drummed his fingers on the table, mentally calculating how much time he had left to gather everything before his demo teaching in a few days.
Neteyam approached, his sharp eyes catching the stressed expression on Ao’nung's face. "You alright?" he asked, sliding into the seat across from him.
Ao’nung shook his head, sighing. "No, I’m not. I need materials for my demo teaching, but my classmates have already bought out most of the stuff I need. I’m going to have to go to another city to get everything, and I don’t have the time."
Neteyam didn’t hesitate. "I’ll drive you."
Ao’nung glanced up, a little startled. "You don’t have to, Neteyam. It’s not your problem."
"Maybe not," Neteyam said, leaning in slightly, "but I want to help."
Ao’nung looked at him for a long moment, clearly debating with himself before sighing in defeat. "Fine," he muttered, "but don’t expect me to owe you anything."
Neteyam grinned. "I wouldn’t dream of it."
—
The car ride was quiet but not uncomfortable. Ao’nung directed Neteyam through the busy streets of the neighboring city, grateful for the extra hands to carry all the materials he needed. They managed to buy everything on the list, packing it carefully into the trunk of Neteyam’s car before heading back to the dorms.
As they unloaded the boxes and bags of supplies, Ao’nung paused, glancing over at Neteyam. "Aren’t you tired yet?"
Neteyam chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You didn’t get tired of me before, did you? So now it’s my turn."
Ao’nung blinked, his usual guarded expression slipping just a little. "Is this... real?" he asked, the vulnerability in his voice catching Neteyam off guard. "This isn’t just a game, right?"
Neteyam stilled for a moment, his heart pounding. "It’s real, Ao’nung. I’m really in love with you."
The silence between them stretched, and for a second, Neteyam wondered if he’d said too much. But then, Ao’nung stepped closer, gently squeezing Neteyam’s hand before leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.
"Thanks," Ao’nung murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
Neteyam’s breath caught, the touch lingering even after Ao’nung pulled away. He smiled to himself, watching as Ao’nung resumed packing with a bit more ease.
—
It was the day of submission for his criminology assignment, and Neteyam had completely forgotten that he needed a partner from a different course for the demo. His stomach sank as he looked at the board, realizing that everyone else had already submitted their pairings. How could he have let this slip?
Just as panic started to rise, he saw his name. His heart skipped a beat when he noticed that right next to his name... was Ao’nung’s.
He blinked, leaning closer to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. It was definitely there—Ao’nung was listed as his partner.
Fumbling for his phone, Neteyam quickly texted Ao’nung.
Neteyam: Did you sign us up for the demo?
A moment later, Ao’nung’s reply came.
Ao’nung: Consider it my thanks for all the help.
Neteyam stared at the message, a wide grin spreading across his face. He hadn’t expected this, but it warmed his heart in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe, just maybe, Ao’nung’s walls were starting to come down.
And Neteyam would be there for every moment of it.
—
Neteyam leaned against the railing, watching the door to Ao’nung’s classroom like a hawk. His own classes had ended an hour ago, but instead of going home, he waited. Every day, without fail, he would wait for Ao’nung to finish tutoring Tuk or wrapping up his education projects. It had become routine for him—staying after school just for the chance to be near Ao’nung.
Finally, the door swung open, and Ao’nung stepped out, talking with Tuk, who was excitedly showing him a book. Neteyam smiled at the sight. He couldn’t help it. Seeing Ao’nung with Tuk, so gentle and patient, made something tighten in his chest. He wanted to be the one Ao’nung smiled at like that.
“Hey, Ao’nung,” Neteyam called out as the pair approached.
Ao’nung gave him a nod, barely glancing his way, and Neteyam tried not to let it sting. Tuk, on the other hand, beamed and waved at her brother.
“You’re still here?” Ao’nung asked, raising an eyebrow. “I told you, you don’t have to wait for me.”
Neteyam shrugged. “I wanted to.”
Before Ao’nung could argue, Tuk piped up. “I’m glad you’re here, Neteyam! We can all have dinner together again!”
Neteyam shot her a grateful look. Tuk was always his ally in these situations. She insisted on the drives, the family dinners, anything that kept Ao’nung from getting out of it.
Ao’nung sighed, shaking his head. “You’re impossible,” he muttered.
Neteyam’s smile widened. Just one small victory. He helped Ao’nung pack up his materials, then walked them both to the car. The drive was quiet, filled mostly with Tuk’s chatter in the backseat. Neteyam kept sneaking glances at Ao’nung, watching for any crack in his defenses.
After dropping Tuk off, Neteyam lingered at Ao’nung’s door.
“Seriously,” Ao’nung said, crossing his arms. “You can stop hovering.”
“I’m not hovering,” Neteyam insisted, leaning casually against the doorframe. “I just thought... maybe I could help you with something. You know, for your class.”
Ao’nung narrowed his eyes, skeptical. “Help with what exactly?”
“Anything,” Neteyam offered quickly. “You need something packed for tomorrow, right? I can help.”
Ao’nung stared at him for a moment, clearly trying to figure out what angle Neteyam was playing. “You’re going to help me pack materials for students?”
“Why not?” Neteyam grinned. “I’ve been watching you teach Tuk; I’m practically an expert now.”
Ao’nung snorted, shaking his head. But there was a small flicker of amusement behind the guarded expression. “Fine, but don’t screw anything up.”
—
Neteyam had no reason to be at the university’s general assembly. His attendance wasn’t required, but he showed up anyway, keeping an eye on Ao’nung across the crowded room. He couldn’t help himself—it had become second nature to watch him, to search for any sign that Ao’nung was softening, that there was a chance for them.
At one point, as the speakers droned on, Neteyam found himself standing closer and closer to Ao’nung, inching over until their hands brushed.
Ao’nung glanced down, then up at him with a frown. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” Neteyam said quickly, though his fingers itched to hold Ao’nung’s hand. “Just... standing here.”
“Right.” Ao’nung didn’t seem to buy it but didn’t move away either.
Neteyam’s heart soared at the small victory. Baby steps, he reminded himself. He’d take anything at this point, even if it was just a fleeting touch.
—
Neteyam stood by the kitchen counter, staring at his notes, trying to focus. His exams was only a few days away, and he had to nail this if he wanted to stay on top. But his mind kept wandering, drifting back to Ao’nung. The way Ao’nung had been... softer lately, the tension between them finally seeming to ease.
A knock interrupted his thoughts, followed by the sound of the door creaking open. Ao’nung stepped into the kitchen with a small smile.
"Thought you could use some help," Ao’nung said casually, holding up a stack of neatly typed flashcards. "I noticed you’ve been working nonstop, so... I made these for your review."
Neteyam blinked, caught off guard. "You... made these?"
"Yeah." Ao’nung shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. "You’ve been running around helping me with my projects. Least I can do is help you study for your exam."
Neteyam’s heart swelled at the gesture. He took the flashcards, his fingers brushing Ao’nung’s, and smiled. "Thanks... This is more than I expected."
Ao’nung gave him a small smile and sat down across from him, casually picking up one of the cards. "Let's get started. You’re not going to fail on my watch."
As Ao’nung began quizzing him, Neteyam felt a warmth spread through his chest that had nothing to do with the flashcards. Ao’nung might pretend that things hadn’t changed between them, but these little gestures, the moments of kindness, were breaking down his walls too. Slowly, but surely.
—
It had been a long week for both of them. Neteyam had just come out of a grueling presentation, his mind a blur of exhaustion and relief. As he stepped out into the quad, he spotted Ao’nung waiting near a bench, holding a small bag in his hands.
Neteyam raised an eyebrow, walking over. "What’s that?"
Ao’nung shrugged, trying to look nonchalant but failing as a bit of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I thought you’d like a little something after your presentation. You seemed stressed all week, so... here."
Neteyam’s eyes widened in surprise as Ao’nung handed him the bag. Inside was his favorite snack, along with a handwritten note wishing him luck. He felt a warmth spread through his chest, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak.
But just as Neteyam was about to thank him, he remembered what he had stashed in his own bag. "Wait a second," he said, pulling out a small wrapped box and handing it to Ao’nung. "I was actually going to give you this too."
Ao’nung blinked in surprise, glancing between the gift and Neteyam. "You got me something?"
Neteyam scratched the back of his neck, suddenly feeling awkward. "Yeah, I... noticed you’ve been using the same old paintbrushes for your teaching demos, and I thought you might need some new ones. So... here."
Ao’nung carefully unwrapped the box, revealing a set of high-quality paintbrushes, each one meticulously chosen. His lips parted slightly in surprise, and for a moment, he just stared at them.
Neteyam chuckled nervously. "I guess we had the same idea, huh?"
Ao’nung shook his head, a small laugh escaping him. "You really didn’t have to do this, but... thanks. This means a lot."
They exchanged glances, a quiet understanding passing between them. The distance that had once stretched between them was shrinking—slowly but surely. Neteyam could feel it in the way Ao’nung’s walls seemed to soften, in the way their gifts had collided in this unexpected moment of mutual care.
Neteyam held Ao’nung’s gaze, his smile growing. "Guess we’re both terrible at pretending we don’t care, huh?"
Ao’nung smirked, shaking his head. "Guess so."
There was a pause—a shared breath—and Neteyam felt something shift between them. This wasn’t just one-sided anymore. Ao’nung was letting him in, bit by bit. And Neteyam would do anything to keep that momentum going.
—
They sat in Neteyam’s car, the city lights flickering through the windows. They hadn’t spoken much since exchanging gifts, both of them caught in their own thoughts, but the silence was comfortable.
Ao’nung, hands gripping the wheel, glanced at Neteyam from the corner of his eye. "Hey, Neteyam?"
"Yeah?"
"About earlier..." Ao’nung began, his voice quieter than usual. "You really didn’t need to go through all that trouble for me."
Neteyam leaned back in his seat, feeling the weight of the moment. "I wanted to. You deserve it."
Ao’nung stayed quiet for a second before he sighed, shaking his head. "I don’t get you. You’ve been chasing me all this time, but... why? I mean, after everything, you don’t have to try this hard."
Neteyam’s gaze softened. He reached over and rested his hand on Ao’nung’s arm, feeling the tension there. "I do. Because it’s you, Ao’nung. I don’t just want to fix what was broken... I want more than that."
Ao’nung swallowed, his grip on the steering wheel tightening for a moment before he finally relaxed, leaning his head back. "You’re persistent, you know that?"
Neteyam smiled. "I know."
—
The next morning, as Ao’nung prepared to head to his demo teaching session, he found himself staring at the new set of paintbrushes Neteyam had given him. He traced the edges of the box, remembering the way Neteyam had looked at him when he handed it over.
He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Persistent bastard," he muttered under his breath, but the warmth in his chest told him that Neteyam’s persistence was starting to break through.
For the first time in a long while, Ao’nung wondered if he should stop pushing Neteyam away. Maybe, just maybe, this was real after all.