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Lo’ak sprawled across Payakans fin, letting his bones sink into every scar, scratch, and divot along the surface. The waves lapped at his abdomen, soothing every ache and tense muscle.
He slowly sits up, facing his spirit brother.
“Payakan,” he signs, feeling tiredness settle in his bones again. “Do you feel it, too?”
Payakan lets out a low groan, vibrating the waves around them in the open sea. Feel what? He seems to ask back, tilting his last groan up an octave in form of a question.
“The isolation. I know you’re outcast, so you have no home with the other Talkun, but do you feel alone? Even with me here?”
Payakan seems to think for a moment, then he responds. Yes, I feel alone. You are here, brother, but you are not my kind. You leave to sleep with your family and I am left with no pack, no one like me. It’s a big sea for lone Talkun.
Lo’ak shifts this in his mind for a while as he sits on Payakans fin. The sea seems to get colder, Lo’ak thinks, because he shivers with each ripple of the ocean against his abdomen.
I got used to it. The Talkun groans, startling Lo’aks heart rhythm. I fend for myself now.
“Payakan, I… I’m so sorry.” he lets his words drift off into the hum of the night. He doesn’t know what to say, not that anything he could say would even help, but he must try.
“It wasn’t your fault, I don’t know how to make them see that. You shouldn’t be outcast! The sky people are the killers, not you. You fought back to protect your clan. They would’ve done the same for you.”
Payakan goes silent for a moment, taking it in or shutting it out. Either way, the night stills with each breath Lo’ak takes. The silence becomes deafening.
Soon enough, though, Payakan speaks.
You should return to your family. Thank you, brother.
And with that, Lo’ak feels the drift of the tulkuns fin fighting the waves. He grabs on tight and allows himself to be brought back home.
————————
“Lo’ak.” Jake speaks, running up to him and grabbing his arm to lift him out of the water. “Where have you been??”
“I was out, dad.” He says, dejected, trying his best to play it cool as he hoists himself up onto the intricately woven rope, forming a sturdy floor.
“Out…where?” Jake says, making it clear he was not willing to wait too long for an explanation. Lo’ak tenses as Jake’s grip tightens.
“…with Payakan. I’m sorry, dad.”
The tension grows. Lo’ak feels claustrophobic, as if they were in a room by themselves. The chilled wind does nothing to calm the heartbeat of Lo’ak when it needs to. He can’t meet Jake’s eyes, which are undoubtedly staring into his soul. Oh sweet mother Eywa.
“The Outcast??” Jake says, with just about all the venom he can muster. “Lo’ak, I try so hard to see you, son. It’s just hard when I just can’t even look at you sometimes. You bring shame to this family. Out past curfew with the Talkun I’ve told you numerous times to stay away from. He is a killer. You will not see him again.” Jake says, not afraid of the heads turning their way.
“He’s my brother! You can’t do this dad, please!” He begs, knowing his cries fall on deaf ears.
“Go sit with your family and keep your mouth shut, I have heard enough.” Jake says with a tone that would make every creature in the forest bow.
Lo’ak waits until he is free from Jake’s grasp and sits next to his family, listening to the clan leader speak.
“-So, it is settled, Payakan was born with killer instincts. He should never return here. Outcast.” He continues, strong and confident in his words. The Talkun council rest in their places behind Tonowari and watch the interpreter intently.
Lo’aks eyes drift to his father, who was now returning to stand next to the chief and his family, nodding along to the words coming from his mouth.
“He will never show his face here again,” he continues, “Not in a million years.”
It was almost as if they were taunting him, daring Lo’ak to get up and say something. To challenge the chief.
I got used to it. Payakans words rang in his head, I fend for myself now.
“No!” Lo’ak yells, immediately turning heads and demanding silence.
“Oh- forest boy, you dare to speak?” The chief declares, turning to glare at Taruk Makto who was undoubtedly staring daggers at Lo’ak.
“It’s not right! Payakan didn’t kill anyone! It was the sky people. They are the reason for all of this!” He begins, earning some nods of approval. None of which matter.
“He showed me himself, I saw into his mind. It’s not right to blame him for a crime he didn’t commit!” He finishes, breathing hard.
Tsireya shoots him an ernest look of pity, hoping Lo’ak will back down. He sees this, and chooses to ignore it. Payakan is innocent, and they will all see it.
“Lo’. Ak.” His dad speaks through gritted teeth, attempting to put out the fire that has found its home in his son.
“Sit. Now.” He warns again.
“No dad! Payakan can’t stand up for himself so I must!” Lo’ak continues, his tail flicking with nerves. His stance is wide and unsteady, as if expecting an attack from the man 7 feet away. 6 feet away. 5 feet away.
As if expecting an attack from his father, who efficiently covered ground and was now directly in front of him.
Jake grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the council meeting, apologizing to the chief and his family. Once they are reasonably distanced from the meeting, Jake begins to speak.
“Lo’ak, can I just go one day? One day where I don’t have to worry about you getting us kicked out of here? We’re trying to keep a low profile because of Spyder, and you just can’t seem to keep your mouth shut!” Jake nearly yells, finding it difficult to keep a steady volume.
“Dad, what they’re doing is wrong. You know that! Why didn’t you back me up? You never back me up!” Lo’ak exclaims, feeling his heart stutter.
“Because you don’t follow orders! I tell you to go right, you sprint left. I tell you keep your mouth shut, you cuss out the chief!”
“Well the chief was wrong! Payakan is innocent! The only reason you didn’t speak up is because you wanted him gone. That’s why you didn’t say anything.”
From the bushes, ruffling could be heard. Lo’ak and Jake both snap their heads to the source of the sound. Spider stands unceremoniously.
“I heard what you guys were saying, and I just wanted to say Lo’ak is right. Payakan didn’t do anything wrong, he deserves a second chance.” He says, shaking leaves and branches out of his hair.
“Thank you, brother-“ Lo’ak says, looking at Jake for approval, but he finds none. Only anger.
“Spider. It is not your place to speak. This conversation does not involve you. Leave.” Jake says, and with that, Spyder begrudgingly walks away.
“Why are you so mean to him, dad? Do you just hate when people take my side?”
“He’s a loose cannon, he’s just like you.” Jake spits, nearly cutting his son off and allowing all his emotions to boil over. “In fact, if you hadn’t gone to him in the first place- if you hadn’t disobeyed orders then your brother would still be-“
Lo’aks heart stuttered at the mention of his brother. And the reminder of his death. Memories flooded his brain in an instant, but they were quickly wiped away. Every doubt in Lo’aks mind solidified. Not only was it his fault, but everyone else seemed to think so, too.
His father stopped himself mid-sentence, realizing that he had taken it too far. His ears folded back and he pursed his lips, wishing he could take back what should’ve never been said.
His heart dropped until it felt like Neteyams did that day. Still. Unmoving. As if time itself had stopped in this moment.
Lo’ak stared up at his dad, feeling tears well up in his eyes. No breath he took was deep enough.
“That wasn’t my fault…dad- that…” he begins trying to explain himself as tears spill down his cheeks. Sadness, quickly replaced by anger. How dare he be blamed for this. As if it wasn’t the sky people with the guns. As if he was expected to just leave Spyder to die at the hands of his own kind. As if Neteyam didn’t agree to go back, knowing the risks.
“That’s not my fault!” He screams, letting all the hurt and sadness of the past eleven days boil over. His body, a vessel for pain. He lunges forward and shoves his dad back, and Jake just lets it happen.
He wastes no time turning away from his father and fleeing to solidarity. His gait is uneven, it’s hard to see the ground with the amount of tears flowing from his eyes.
He walks until he finds the armor hut, where he grabs a gun with a shaky hand and wills his legs to trek on. He finds a purchase of sand and rocks, distanced from the village.
With each step, he hears his fathers voice
“If you haden’t disobeyed orders-“
Step, step, step,
“-then your brother would still be-“
His knees give out near the top of the rocks. He sits with the gun held loosely in his arms, allowing his mind to wander.
Payakan would be left alone, truly alone. Without the one soul who actually understood him. His spirit brother.
His sisters would be completely brotherless, with no one to protect while mom and dad were away.
Tsireya, having yet to fully understand Lo’ak, would mourn a loss she wishes she could’ve prevented. If only she knew how.
His mother would cry for days, more than she already has been.
His father… his father would feel guilt. All the guilt Eywa has to offer. He would sit in his sorrows until they consumed him completely.
But Neteyam.
He would finally join Neteyam in the spirit world, and that’s worth it in Lo’aks eyes.
—————————
The people say that when you touch steel, its poison seeps into your heart.
He remembers, adjusting his grip on the gun as it slips from his fingers.
The sand is rough on his knees, but that’s the least of his worries right now. His hands move before his mind does, as he swings the barrel to his chin, sitting straight up.
Memories of Neteyam flood his mind, always taking the blame for Lo’aks impertinence, for his immaturity. When he made a reckless decision and Neteyam was the one to take the fall every time. Up until his last breath. He remembers the way he felt his brothers heartbeat slow, then stop. The blood on his hands. His father’s words ring in his head.
“You’ve done enough.”
His breathing intensifies quickly as he builds up the courage to pull the trigger. He thinks of all the wrong he’s ever done in his life. He’s a disappointment to his family. Nothing will change that.
Moments pass, and his breathing only gets harder to control as tears flow down his chin, landing on the sand below. His nose scrunches and his eyes squint in pain. So much pain that can be stoped right now. In an instant.
No longer a disappointment, but a memory.
His finger twitches on the trigger.
For Neteyam.
———————
He can’t do it.
He absolutely cannot do it.
There is too much he needs to do here first. Tuk must grow up with a brother. Kiri must have someone to protect her, and someone to hang out with. Mom cannot lose another son. Dad cannot live with that guilt. Tsireya doesn’t deserve a suicidal boyfriend.
In a flare of rage, he throws the gun aside. He cries out in a heartbroken sob. Not even this, can he do right.
He lets his emotions take control, expecting anger, regret, resentment, jealousy, and fear to take over his mind and allow him to grab the gun and try again, succeeding this time. All that happens, though, is tears. Sobs that rack his body as sadness overtakes him.
He’s an embarrassment to his people, to his family.
To his dad.
Just then, his ears pick up on distant shouts. Shouts that sound too familiar.
“Lo’ak!”
Tsireya.
Another one comes from the distance and he recognizes Kiri’s voice. They found him, for better or for worse.
They join him near the top of the rocks and quickly examine his body for obvious wounds. Worry etches their expressions when they see his tear stained face.
Soon enough, Kiri is the one to notice the gun discarded mere feet away. She slowly glances back at Lo’ak, not wanting to believe it to be true. As she grabs his face to look at her though, his eyes tell her exactly what she was dreading.
“Stay in this life brother,” she starts, pleading for his ears to listen. “We need you.”
Tsireya speaks next, her voice almost inaudible.
“We love you.” She says, trying to keep the tears that well in her eyes from spilling over.
“Your heart is strong and your words are true. Please don’t leave us. Not yet. We can’t go on without you. You are unique and unlike anyone I know. That’s why we love you.” Kiri says, trying to reach her brother through the noise he’s hearing in his own head.
“Tell us, what is wrong, brother?” Kiri asks, to no avail.
Lo’ak doesn’t meet any of their glances, wishing he had the courage to do what needed to be done. His eyes linger on the gun that sits in the cold sand. How quickly he could grab it and put a bullet through his skull, like how he put one through Neteyam’s heart.
Tsireya is quick to notice, and she speaks up.
“Kiri we must take him to your parents, now. Or at least away from here.”
“N-no…” he says, voice scratchy. “They must never know.”
“Lo’ak…” Tsireya attempts.
“Never.” He solidifies.
She looks up at him, hoping to break through to him. She looks at Kiri who looks just as lost.
“I know you don’t want to tell them, but Lo’ak… we don’t know what to do. I don’t want you to die, especially not at your own hands. We need to tell someone.”
Lo’ak goes slightly limp, giving up. His spirit brother is outcast, his blood brother is dead, his dad will forever be disappointed in him. There’s nothing good for him here.
“…Dad will not understand.” He finally says, completely dejected.
“We’ll make him understand. This is too important to be looked past.” Kiri says, sure of her words.
“Fine.” He says. And with that, they lift him up on his two legs, helping him regain his balance as they make their way back to the village.
—————
“Girls, what’s going on? Is he hurt?” Jake says, immediately stepping into action when he sees Lo’ak barely relying on his own two legs.
“No, dad,” Kiri begins. “He’s fine.”
They enter the hut to find it mostly empty, just some fish and hunting bows. They lower Lo’ak onto the ground and Tsireya sits with him, opting not to speak with his father.
“Is someone going to tell me what’s going on?” Jake asks, trying to make his tone sound rough and authoritative, but they all hear the worry buried within.
“Dad… we found Lo’ak up at the rocks. He had a… a gun, dad. He was crying when we got there, and he wouldn’t tell us what was wrong.”
Jakes expression became one of utmost fear and regret, as if the realization hit that he nearly lost another son.
“Lo’ak I…” he starts, unsure of what to say. How to apologize for all the times he’s been too hard on him. For tonight. Thrusting the blame of his son’s untimely death into his 14 year old brother.
Lo’ak sits still, uncharacteristically still.
“Lo’ak, my boy. I’m so sorry.” He finally says, kneeling down in front of him and engulfing his son in a hug.
Tears fall from both of them at this point, no telling who’s are who’s.
“Dad…I’m sick of feeling like a disappointment to you guys. To you.”
“Son, you’re not a disappointment. I’m disappointed in myself for ever saying that to you. For saying you bring shame to this family. When I looked at you, I saw myself, but I should’ve been seeing you. You bring hope. You bring light.”
Lo’ak is sobbing by this point, the shock of hearing all these good things coming from his father. He never thought this day would come. Eywa has finally heard his prayers.
“Please don’t leave me, Lo’ak. Please.” Jake begs, desperation flowing through his veins as he holds his son tighter. “I can’t lose another son.”
Tsireya and Kiri have given them their space by this point, leaning on each other for support as the emotional toll of the night weighs on them.
“I won’t leave you dad, I won’t. I’m sorry-“ he chokes out.
“No. Don’t you apologize to me, boy. I owe you more apologies than I can ever give. What happened to Neteyam was never your fault. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s not true. Do you hear me? It’s not true.”
Lo’ak’s chest burns with the new flood of emotions that takes over again.
“We shouldn’t have gone back. I knew we shouldn’t have, I just-“
“Lo’ak.” Jake cuts him off. “It was not your fault, what happened to him. The sky people got trigger happy like always, and it costed us a life. I’m sorry for ever blaming you for that.”
With this explanation, Lo’ak takes a deep breath in his father’s arms. They sit like that for a while, enjoying each other’s embrace.
“Lo’ak.” Jake says, pulling away slightly to look into his son’s eyes.
“Yes, sir?” Lo’ak replies, looking up at his dad, finding kind eyes for the first time in years.
“I see you.”