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Lo’ak got off the bus, walking fast to the front door. Lo’ak was ready to have the house alone. Tuk had a club event that she needed at least three people to come with, of course Jake and Neteyam insisted they go instead of him with Neytiri. Kiri was hanging out with Spider. For Lo’ak, he got grounded—well he thought.
His mom texted him while he was in school. He believed it was along the lines of, “Don’t go out until we come back.” Of course, his dad had to also text back in the group chat with the three with, “Listen to your mama. Study. I mean it. That C better turn into a B by next week.”
It was a C+. He already took a quiz, probably flunked it—but his teacher always helped him out if he needed it. He just hadn’t asked for a grade bump in a while.
Lo’ak immediately went to take a shower, surprisingly he had no homework. The grade period was about to end. All his grades were a B along with his A+ in PE and of course his C+, but he knew it would go up soon.
Lo’ak laid on his bed for a while. Closing his eyes—opening them when his arm would fall from holding his phone above him, hitting him in the face.
That was his sign to get up. Lo’ak pushed himself out of bed, knowing his Dad wasn’t fond of napping especially when it’s only a quarter before six. He forgot to eat and take out his lunch from his backpack.
He went down the stairs, grabbing his bag he hung on the supporting poles that stood on each side of the stairs as he walked to the kitchen, unzipping his bag.
He wanted to go see Tuk—or Tsireya. Tuk asked for him to come but of course, they could only bring up to three and Jake wouldn’t miss any opportunity to see his baby girls get an award. He hadn’t known what Tuk won, really. He remembered her talking about something to him when he would be forced to play with her. (She asked, he always did despite acting as he hated it)
Tsireya was out for some field trip in science. Then, his phone began to buzz. ‘SPIDER S’ it read. He had nothing else to do, he just picked up.
“Yo, Spider. Aren’t you with Kiri?”
“Nah, she went to go see something with Tuk. She went on her scooter—we literally walked to your house. You didn’t hear someone open your garage and grab a scooter?” Spider ridiculed.
He must’ve been sleeping. “I guess not.. What’s going on with you?” Wait, Kiri got to see Tuk? He was told there were only three people allowed to come, tops.
“I found my fake ID and I got money from my dad—I’m still waiting outside. We could go get a drink—for me.” Spider corrected his words. The boy shouldn’t have been drinking anyway and he would not want to get Lo’ak in trouble.
“I’m going. I can drink y’know..” That was a huge lie. Lo’ak ran outside, completely forgetting he was forbidden too. He didn’t drink much.. Maybe only ever when he hung out with Aonung. It was bitter but he took every opportunity he could. They let Neteyam drink at the house... Yeah, Neteyam was 17 but he was 14. Close enough!
Lo’ak went out with pajama pants and some old tee that Neytiri had begged him to stop wearing to school. The shirt was so cool and got reduced to “only-in-the-house” wear.
They went to Spider's parked car he had really close. Kiri and him liked to walk so he would park his car far from where they should be. Lo’ak didn't find anything weird with how close his older sister was to Spider. They were both older than him.
Before parking and stopping his engine, Spider warned Lo’ak. “Dude, are you sure Jake won’t mind? I know my dad doesn’t care unless I’m drinking outside.”
Lo’ak got embarrassed, “Pfft, like dad would even care.”
“Yes, he would! Your dad freaked the fuck out knowing you came to my house and took a sip of my wine. Your mom almost killed me. She wouldn't even know if you didn't go and say you liked wine—but are you sure you can?”
“Navi kids younger than me drink ... .and I was eleven. Can you really blame me?”
Spider opened his door, “Alright, man. I’ll get something, you can drink a little. I’m not buying you a whole thing.”
They walked straight into the aisle. Lo’ak was irritated. Navi kids would be allowed to drink by the time they were 12. Spider wasn’t even Navi but his dad lets him do everything!
Spider picked up a big pack of bottles. Their hang outs were always unusual. Lo’ak was thinking and then remembered the words his dad had said. “Oh shit” he muttered.
Spider glanced at his phone, reading a message from his father about coming back home to eat dinner.
“Dammit, Lo’ak. My old man wants me to come back home. ‘You want anything before we go?”
“Uhhh..” The slender boy thought as he walked to the candy aisle, before he could find what he was looking for, Spider already picked it up.
“Got it. You want two or you wanna just go?” Spider asked. Holding up a Snickers bar.
Lo’ak smiled. “How’d you know?”
“How’d I know?” Spider mocked. Pfft this boy was basically his younger brother.
Spider grabbed two—turning his head, walking towards the self-register. He always made Lo’ak scan everything. Of course, Spider knew the pin to confirm if he were of age to drink, he didn’t need the fake ID in the first place.
The ride back was significantly quieter. To prove a point, Lo’ak had taken three long, burning gulps of the already-opened-bottle Spider had bought before they left the parking lot. It tasted like battery acid and old fruit, but he didn't flinch. He just chased it with the Snickers bar, thinking the chocolate would mask the smell."Calm down, you’re too young right now," Spider joked, steering the car back toward the Sully neighborhood.
"It’s okay," Lo’ak mumbled through a mouthful of chocolate and nougat. A bit irritated that he didn’t receive the reaction he wanted from Spider. "Well my daddy—dad.” Loak quickly corrected. Swatting his leg for letting himself sound so childish. Lo’ak continued, “He lets ‘Teyam drink when he’s with Aonung or with him."
Spider dropped him off a block away. Lo’ak felt a strange, warm buzz humming in his ears—a mix of the sugar rush and the alcohol. He felt untouchable.
Lo’ak hopped out, clutching the second Snickers bar like a trophy. "See ya, Spider. Don't let your old man get on your case too hard."
"Later, Skxawng!" Spider joked.
Lo’ak jogged toward his house, his pajama pants fluttering in the evening breeze. He felt a bit pathetic—fourteen, sneaking around for a candy bar and the idea of a drink he barely took sips of. (He in-fact almost finished the bottle) As he approached the side door, he noticed the driveway was still empty. Relief washed over him. He was safe.
He went flying to his room. He only went in Spider’s car and to the grocery. It's not that unhygienic, right? He laid on his bed. The chocolate bar melting as it pressed against Lo’ak’s pajamas and bed.
Neteyam was a good brother. He’d walked into the room, seen Lo’ak passed out face-down with a Snickers bar peeking out of his pocket. He figured the kid had just crashed from a sugar high. He didn’t get close enough to catch the scent of the cheap booze.
"Hey, sleeping beauty," Neteyam had joked, shaking Lo’ak’s shoulder. "Mom made dinner. You better get down there before Dad decides your 'studying' was actually a nap and adds another week to your sentence."
Lo’ak groaned, his head throbbing slightly. “I didn’t have homework,” Lo’ak growled. He felt sluggish, his mouth dry and tasting like copper and old peanuts. He stumbled out of bed, barely noticing the deformed candy bar stuck to his pajama leg for a second before he grabbed it, placing it in front of his desk fan. He didn't change. He didn't wash his face. He just followed the smell of food.
Dinner was a blur. Lo’ak kept his head down, picking at his plate, while Tuk bragged about her club award and Neytiri praised her. He was lucky—the smell of spicy fish and incense masked him while they were all eating.
Eventually, the table cleared.
"I'm going to wash myself up now," Neytiri said. After cleaning up all the dishes, pressing a kiss to the top of Lo’ak’s head—missing the scent by an inch as she turned away.
“Clean up your mess, Lo’ak!” Neytiri called out before walking up the stairs, leaving Lo’ak alone in the kitchen with the one person he was trying to avoid. Jake hadn't moved. He was sitting at the head of the table, scrolling through his phone, a half-empty glass of water in front of him.
Lo’ak stood up, grabbing his plate to put it in the sink. He tried to keep his distance, moving with a stiff, unnatural posture.
"Lo'ak," Jake said, not looking up from his phone.
Lo’ak froze. "Yes, daddy?" Lo’ak tried hard to stop calling Jake such a kiddish-term, but he couldn’t erase the habit. Especially with Tuk also saying it, making it harder to escape the habit and ounce of shame every time he said it.
"Come here."
Lo’ak obeyed. It wasn't a request, it was a demand.
"You finished that history work?" Jake asked, his voice deceptively casual.
"I told Neteyam, I didn’t have any," Lo’ak muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. He felt the alcohol buzzing behind his eyes, making him feel bolder—and more irritated—than he usually was. "The grading period is over. I'm caught up."
Jake finally set the phone down on the table with a sharp clack. He stood up slowly, crossing his arms. "Really? Because you’ve barely touched your food, you’re swaying like you’re on a boat, and you won’t look me in the eye." Jake took a step closer, his marine-grade observation skills locking onto the way Lo’ak flinched. "What's the matter with you? You look like you're hiding something."
"I’m not hiding anything!" Lo’ak snapped, his voice cracking. The unfairness of the whole day suddenly boiled over the boy, fueled by cheap booze in his system. "Maybe I’m just tired of being treated like I’m a nobody while everyone else gets to go out!"
Jake’s eyebrows shot up. "A nobody? I told you to stay home to work on your grades, Lo'ak. It’s called discipline."
"No, you just have a fucking double-standard!" Lo’ak stepped back, sinking his fingers into the island of their kitchen. The smell of the alcohol rolled off him with the movement, but he was too worked up to notice. "You and Mom told me only three people could go to Tuk’s event. Three! That’s why I had to stay here like a loser. But then Kiri just gets to pop up on her scooter? Spider told me she was there! Why does she get to go and I don't?"
Jake’s expression shifted. He wasn't even listening to the complaint anymore. As Lo'ak yelled, the sharp, fermented scent of the booze hit Jake full-force.
Jake’s eyes went cold. He didn't yell. He stepped directly into Lo’ak’s space, his shadow towering over the boy. "Watch your mouth, boy. You want to talk about what's unfair?" Jake whispered, a dangerous edge to his voice. "What’s unfair is me sitting here thinking my son is upstairs in his room, doing somethin’ productive—but he’s actually out somewhere getting drunk."
Lo’ak’s heart stopped. The bravado vanished instantly. "I—"
"Shut up," Jake growled, leaning down so they were eye-to-eye. "I can smell it on your breath from a foot away, Lo'ak. You're fourteen years old and you're standing in my kitchen, lying to my face, drunk—complaining about your older sister. You think I’m being unfair?" Jake yelled—but not too loud to scare Tuk and attract attention—yet.
Jake didn’t explode. Instead, a terrifyingly calm mask settled over his face—the look he got right before things went south. He didn’t snatch Lo’ak’s phone yet. Instead, he just tilted his head toward the stairs.
"Upstairs. Now," Jake commanded.
"Dad, listen—"
“—I said go."
Lo’ak stumbled slightly as he turned, his head spinning as he led the way up the stairs. He felt small, the adrenaline that had fueled his outburst about Kiri going out and no one even telling him he could’ve gone.
They reached Lo’ak’s room. Jake stepped inside and closed the door with a click that sounded like a rock hitting a desk.
"Dad, I barely even had any, I was just—" Lo’ak started, his voice high and frantic. He was trying to find a way to make it sound less like he’d been drinking and more like he’d just been "tasting" something. "Please, sir I barely took sips—"
"Quiet," Jake said. It wasn't a shout. It was a low, steady vibration that cut through Lo’ak’s heart, rambling like a knife.
"But Kiri got to go! If I hadn't been stuck here alone, I wouldn't have—"
"Lo’ak. Quiet." Jake took a step toward the center of the room. His eyes swept over the mess, landing on the deformed, half-melted Snickers bar sitting in front of the desk fan. The fan was blowing the scent of chocolate and stale alcohol right toward them. “Maybe, you’re right. I shouldn’t leave you alone.” Jake sighed in defeat.
"I just wanted to see Tuk, too," Lo’ak tried again, his eyes welling up with frustrated tears. "You always pick Neteyam or Kiri to go to the fun stuff and you leave me—"
"I told you to be quiet," Jake said, his voice dropping an octave. He slumped onto the edge of the mattress, the springs squeaking under him. He looked up, trying to think of anything to say to Lo’ak. Trying to find a reason why his boy would even think to drink a bottle—so young! Without even askin’ permission!
Jake looked up at him, hands on his lap. "You think this is about Kiri? You think I’m upset because you are jealous of your sister?" Jake shook his head slowly. "You are going to kill me, boy. You drank. You’re fourteen, Lo’ak. You have no idea what you’re playing with."
"I was fine! I walked back!"
“And what if you didn't?" Jake lectured. Sounding more fatherly this time. He sighed… “Lo’ak, how do you want to handle this?”
Lo’ak froze. That was the most dangerous question Jake could ask. It wasn't a barked order or a lecture; it was a trap that forced Lo’ak to realize exactly how much he had messed up.
"I—I don't know," Lo’ak whispered, his voice cracking. He stayed standing, feeling the cold air from the desk fan hitting the back of his neck, carrying the scent of that stupid Snickers bar and the sharp tang of the drink right back to him.
"You don't know?" Jake repeated, his voice low and steady. He looked around the room—at the unwashed laundry, the "only-in-the-house" shirt Lo'ak was wearing, and the boy who reflected Jake’s wildness, and unfortunately—stupidity. "You were bold enough to sneak out, bold enough to drink, and bold enough to curse at your old man in the kitchen about Kiri. But now you don't know?"
Jake continued, "You think I left you home to punish you? I left you home because I thought you were mature enough to handle being alone and getting your work done. Clearly, I was wrong."
The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Lo’ak’s breath hitched, his chest pounding with a mixture of the alcohol in his system and the rising tide of panic. He didn't have an answer. How did he want to handle this? He wanted to rewind the day. He wanted to be hugged. He didn’t deserve it—but he just wanted his father’s comfort.
Jake didn't wait any longer. He let out a heavy, weary sigh, the sound grating in the quiet room. "Since you don't know, I'll decide for you."
Before Lo’ak could react, Jake reached out, gripping his son’s arm firmly. The contact wasn't violent, but it was strong. Jake sat back on the edge of the mattress and, with a sharp tug, pulled Lo’ak forward. Lo’ak stumbled, his balance compromised by the sudden move, and found himself stuck between his fathers knees.
"No! Daddy, stop!" Lo’ak yelled, humiliation crashing over him hotter than any anger. He was fourteen—he was way too old for this. He struggled, trying to push himself up, but Jake’s large hand pressed firmly against his back, anchoring him in place.
"You want to act like a reckless child, you get treated like one," Jake said, his voice tight. "This ends now."
The first sharp swat landed, and Lo’ak’s protested with a loud incomprehensible scream. It stung, a sharp burst of pain that cut through his fatigue. Jake knew what he was doing, just enough to sting, but not bruise the kid.
"Dad, stop!" Lo’ak screamed/sobbed, kicking his legs out as a second swat landed on the seat of his pajama pants. "Please! This is childish!"
"I can, and I will continue this every night until you learn how to behave," Jake said, delivering another firm swat. "You drank alcohol. You lied to me. You snuck out of this house while grounded. You then cursed at me in my house. Do you know how foolish you are?"
"It was just a sip!" Lo’ak sobbed, his voice cracking into a high-pitched yell. Tears pricked at his eyes, spilling over and running down his cheeks. He wasn't just crying from the pain; he was crying because he was scared, he was tipsy, and he was humiliated. "You're hurting me! Neteyam doesn't get this! Kiri doesn't get this! It's not fair!" He wailed, barely pronouncing anything but his siblings name’s correctly.
"Neteyam and Kiri don’t misbehave every time I turn my back," Jake corrected, his voice steady despite Lo’ak’s thrashing. He gave three more sharp swats in quick succession, the sound echoing painfully in the room. "Stop with the nonsense, Lo’ak."
Lo’ak devolved into incoherent yelling, burying his face in the quilt to muffle the sound of his own cry-baby noises. He felt pathetic. He was a warrior's son, crying over a spanking in his pajamas while reeking of cheap booze. This memory will stay with him forever now.
After a final, firm smack, Jake stopped. He didn't let go immediately, holding Lo’ak in place for a moment to ensure he wasn't going to bolt. Lo’ak was gasping for air, his shoulders shaking with heavy, gulping sobs.
Jake released him and stood up, hauling Lo’ak to sit in front of him. Lo’ak flinched at the sting when his backside touched the cover. He wiped his runny nose on the back of his hand, refusing to look his father in the eye.
"Look at me," Jake ordered.
Lo’ak kept his head down, his face burning hot. He was ashamed.
Jake reached out, tilting Lo’ak’s chin up. His expression was stern, but the rage had cooled into a deep, exhausted concern. "You are going to go into the bathroom, wash your face, and brush your teeth until that smell is gone. Then you are going to get into bed. If your head hurts tomorrow, you aren’t going to school. We are not finished discussing this."
Lo’ak nodded jerkily, too choked up to speak. He just wanted Jake to leave.
"Go," Jake said, pointing toward the door.
Lo’ak scrambled toward the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He pushed himself to even pick up the toothbrush. He could hear Jake moving around the room, probably picking up the melted Snickers or turning off the fan.
Then, he heard footsteps.
"Ma Jake?" Neytiri’s voice cut through the air, soft but laced with confusion. She must have heard the commotion from their bedroom. "Why is my son screaming—on a school night?!"
"He’s fine," Jake said, his voice low and gravelly. "He’s just being a nuisance, as always!"
"As always? What did he do?" Neytiri’s tone sharpened. She knew Lo’ak was a trouble-maker, but that is her baby.
Then, another voice—Neteyam. "Is Lo’ak okay? I heard him screaming."
Lo’ak covered his mouth with his hand to stifle a hiccup. The humiliation was absolute. They knew. They all knew. Kiri would never get off his ass for this.
"Is he... crying?" Neteyam asked, sounding horrified.
"He’s grounded," Jake said simply. "And he’s going to sleep it off or make it worse for himself. Don't go in there."
"I want to see my child," Neytiri said. Speaking Navi, her voice firm. "Lo’ak? Open this door."
Lo’ak just cried harder, pressing his back against the wood as if he could physically keep them out. He was fourteen, and he had never felt more like a little kid in his entire life.
Lo’ak stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, his eyes red and puffy. He splashed cold water on his face again, trying to wash away the heat of shame, but it felt like it was burned into his skin. He could hear the low murmur of voices outside—Jake’s deep rumble, Neytiri’s sharper inquiries, and Neteyam’s confused tone.
He couldn’t hide in here forever. Taking a shaky breath, he opened the door.
The room went quiet the moment he stepped out. He felt pathetic, standing there in his pajamas with a wet face, while his entire family looked at him. Jake stood by the desk, arms crossed, looking imposing. Neteyam was near the door, looking concerned, and Neytiri was standing in the middle of the floor, her eyes sweeping over Lo’ak’s vulnerable state.
Something in Lo’ak broke. He didn't care about looking tough anymore. He bypassed Jake entirely, rushing past his father and burying his face in his mother’s shoulder.
"Mom," he choked out, his voice muffled against her shirt. "It’s not fair. He hurt me." Lo’ak pointed at his father, looking at him slightly.
Neytiri’s arms immediately wrapped around him, her hand stroking his hair, but her body was stiff. She looked over his head at Jake. "Ma Jake? What is going on? Why is he crying like this?"
"He’s being a fool, once again" Jake said, his voice clipped. "He wasn't here at home like he was told too. Our little boy was out sipping some-cheap-ass-alcohol!"
Lo’ak’s face burned, burying his head into Neytiri’s shoulder. "It wasn't a lot! I just wanted to try it! Daddy hit me, Mom! I'm fourteen, he shouldn't be hitting me!" He complained, the words tumbling out in a wet, messy rush. "Neteyam doesn't get hit. It’s just me!"
"It is because you, you're in this situation," Neytiri said, her voice hardening slightly, though she didn't push him away. She pointed up a finger at her second son, her expression a mix of love and stern disappointment. "You are fourteen! You’re young! Do I not teach you enough!"
"I was lonely!" Lo’ak yelled, looking up at her, tears tracking down his cheeks. "Everyone was gone! Everyone saw Tuk’s award-thingy! And you guys left me to do nothing!"
"You drank, Lo’ak," Neteyam piped up from the doorway, his eyes wide as he realized the gravity of the situation. "You’re drunk. Do you even know what’s going on right now?"
"I’m not drunk!" Lo’ak screamed, turning his glare on his older brother. "Shut up, Neteyam! You always take his side!"
"Enough," Jake said, stepping forward. The authority in his voice made Lo’ak flinch and shrink back against Neytiri. "You are in no position to yell at anyone. You broke the rules. I gave you strict orders."
"I know, I’m sorry!" Lo’ak sobbed, turning back into his mother’s embrace. "I just want to go to sleep. Please, Mom." Lo’ak tugged at her arm, standing behind her.
Neytiri turned and kissed the top of his head, but her gaze locked with Jake’s. They had a silent conversation—a lifetime of understanding passing between them. She pulled back slightly, moving the boy in front of her. Gripping Lo’ak’s shoulders to hold him at arm's length.
"You are lucky it was your father who found you and not someone else," she said softly, wiping a tear from his cheek with her thumb. "You know better, Lo’ak."
"I know," Lo’ak whispered, hanging his head.
Jake sighed, the anger draining out of him, leaving only the weight of responsibility. "Just sleep, Lo’ak. Don’t worry about school. Your grandma is coming tomorrow anyway."
Neytiri held out his hand. "Hand it over."
Lo’ak froze. He looked at Neytiris open palm, then down at his own pocket where his phone was. “No." He muttered.
“Lo‘ak, boy. Don’t make this worse," Jake said, his voice brooking no argument. "You won’t even go to school. No point. Give it now, Lo’ak" Neytiri added.
"No! I need it!" Lo’ak yelled, panic rising. He backed away, clutching his pocket. "You can't take it! Everyone else has theirs!"
"Lo’ak," Neytiri warned, her tone sharp.
"Give it to me," Jake said, stepping closer.
Lo’ak let out a frustrated, guttural scream. He didn't want to give it up—he felt like he was losing his lifeline. But he also knew his butt was already stinging. With a shaking hand, he pulled the phone from his pocket and slapped it into Jake’s palm.
"I hate you!" Lo’ak screamed, the tears starting fresh. "You’d never do this to anyone else!"
Jake pocketed the phone without a word. He nodded toward the bed. "Go to sleep. We will discuss the rest of your punishment in the morning when you are sober."
Lo’ak looked at his mom, hoping for a reprieve, but Neytiri simply pointed to the bed, her face grave.
Defeated, Lo’ak crawled onto the mattress, burying his face in his pillow as he continued to sob into the fabric, his family standing like sentinels around him. Hissing at the touch of the fabric to his ass.
The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the muffled sounds of Lo’ak’s sniffling into his pillow. Jake pocketed the phone with a decisive click, the sound making Lo’ak flinch under the covers.
Jake let out a long, ragged exhale, rubbing a hand over his face. He looked at Neytiri, his expression a mixture of anger and lingering worry.
"He is scared," Neytiri replied, her voice low but firm. She glanced at the bed, her brow furrowed. "And he is humiliated. You were hard on him, Ma Jake. He is crying like a baby because he feels small."
"He is small," Jake snapped, though his voice lacked its previous bite. "That's why I have to be hard. If I don't show him the line, he’ll walk right off the cliff."
Neteyam, who had been lingering by the doorframe, shifted his weight. He looked at his younger brother, a lump under the blanket shaking with sobs, and then at his parents. He couldn't just stand there.
He took a step into the room. "Dad, let me just—"
"Neteyam, stay there," Jake ordered, holding up a hand without turning around. "Leave him be. He needs to sit with what he did. If you go over there, you’re just feeding his spoiled ass."
"He’s not just sitting with it, he’s not even fully here!" Neteyam argued, his voice rising in defense of his brother. He took another step.
"Neteyam, I said no." Jake turned fully, blocking his path. "This is between Lo’ak and us. You go over there, and you undermine everything I just taught him. Let him cry."
"He's my younger brother," Neteyam said, his jaw set. He didn't back down. With a quick duck of his shoulder—borrowing a move from Lo’ak’s own playbook—he slipped past Jake’s outstretched arm before his father could grab him.
"Neteyam!" Jake barked, reaching out to snag his son's shirt, but he missed.
Neteyam ignored him, crossing the room to the bed. He didn't say anything to Lo’ak at first; he just sat down on the edge of the mattress, the springs dipping under his weight.
Jake took a step forward to intervene, but Neytiri placed a hand on his chest, stopping him. She looked up at her husband with a weary look. "Let him be, Jake. Look at them."
Jake stopped, his chest heaving with frustration. He looked from his wife to his two sons. "You're making a mistake," he said, lowering his voice. "You’re interfering with discipline. If you keep stepping in every time Lo’ak cries, he’s never going to learn to stand on his own two feet."
"I am not interfering," Neytiri countered, her tone sharpening. "I am ensuring he knows he is not alone in his shame. You were the punisher tonight. Let Neteyam be his brother. Do not be so stubborn that you push them all away."
Jake let out a frustrated grunt, running a hand over his braids. "I’m not stubborn. I’m a parent. I’m trying to keep him alive."
"And so am I," Neytiri said softly. "But sometimes, they need each other more than they need a lecture."
Meanwhile, on the bed, Lo’ak felt the dip of the mattress. He turned his head slightly, his eyes swollen and red.
"Skxawng ," Neteyam whispered, reaching out to pull the blanket up higher over Lo’ak’s shoulder.
"Shut up," Lo’ak croaked, his voice hoarse from crying.
"Yeah, you definitely are," Neteyam agreed, but there was no malice in it. He looked back at their parents, who were locked in a quiet, intense argument by the door. Then he looked back down at Lo’ak, his voice dropping to a command. "Turn over and go to sleep, Lo’ak."
"I can't," Lo’ak whined, wiping his nose on the sheet. "My head hurts."
"Then close your eyes and sleep," Neteyam said, nudging him with his elbow. "Dad’s not coming back here tonight. I’m not leaving until you pass out. So just sleep."
Lo’ak hesitated, but the exhaustion from the alcohol and the emotional crash was weighing him down. He closed his eyes, his breathing still balancing, but the presence of his brother beside him gave him a slight relief.
Jake watched them for a moment—Neteyam sitting guard, Lo’ak finally settling down. He saw the way Neteyam adjusted the blanket, laid a hand out for the younger to reach. Jake’s shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of him. He realized Neytiri was right. He had done the hard part; the comfort wasn't his to give right now.
Jake let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked at Neytiri. "Fine. You win. But he’s still grounded until he’s thirty."
"We will discuss that in the morning," Neytiri said gently, taking his arm and guiding him toward the hallway.
Jake paused at the threshold, looking back one last time. Neteyam looked up, catching his father's eye. For a second, there was a silent communication—a reassurance that he would handle it.
"Neteyam, five minutes," Jake said, his voice gruff but quieter. "Then you get out."
Neteyam just nodded, not arguing.
Jake shook his head, murmuring something under his breath about skxawngs, and reached for the doorknob. He pulled the door shut, closing the boys inside, leaving the muffled sounds of the house to return to the hallway.
The heavy white door clicked shut, sealing the boys inside, but the house didn't feel quiet. In the hallway, the air was still thick with tension.
Jake leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, staring at the floor as if trying to find answers in the pattern of the rug. "I hate that I had to do that," he muttered, his voice low and rough. "I hate seeing him look at me like... like I'm the enemy."
Neytiri stepped closer, placing a hand gently on his forearm. "You are not the enemy, Ma Jake. You are his father. He looks at you that way because you are the one setting the boundary he keeps trying to crash through."
Jake let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "He called me a liar. Said I have a double standard." He rubbed his temples, the headache he’d been fighting all day throbbing behind his eyes. "The worst part is, he wasn't entirely wrong about Kiri going to the event. But the alcohol? That erased any argument he had. I can't have him thinking he can just run for attention every time he’s bored."
"Then give him that attention," Neytiri said softly, her golden eyes searching his face. "He feels he is always the one left behind, the one in trouble. He acts out because he wants to be seen."
"Well, he’s seen now," Jake grumbled, though the anger had faded into a deep, weary exhaustion. "Do you think I was too hard on him? The... punishment?"
"He will have a sore reminder for a day, and he will lose his freedom for a week," Neytiri assessed calmly. "But he is safe. He is in his bed. If he had been caught by the police instead of you, he would not be crying in a warm bed right now. You did what you had to do."
Jake nodded, accepting her wisdom as he always did. "Yeah. You're right. Just... I don't want to break his spirit, baby. I just want to keep him alive."
"His spirit is strong," she said, squeezing his arm before turning toward the stairs. "Come. Let us leave them be. Neteyam will handle him."
Jake watched her go for a moment before pushing off the wall, glancing one last time at the closed door. "Make sure he actually sleeps, Neteyam!" he called out through the wood, loud enough to be heard.
Jake hesitated for a moment longer, his hand hovering over the doorknob as if he wanted to go back in and fix everything with a hug. But he knew his presence would only restart the tension. He nodded slowly and followed Neytiri toward the master bedroom, leaving the boys in the dim light of the bedroom.
Inside the room, the atmosphere was thick with the scent of saltwater and sadness.
Lo’ak was curled on his side, his knees tucked up to his chest. He wasn't quiet about it; he was letting out choked, ragged sobs into his pillow, his body shaking with the force of it. He felt pathetic—hot, dizzy, and throbbing with a dull ache where his father had disciplined him.
He felt the mattress dip again as Neteyam shifted closer. Instead of just sitting there like a statue, Neteyam laid a hand gently on Lo’ak’s heaving shoulder.
"Lo’ak, hey," Neteyam murmured, his voice low and steady. "Come here, buddy."
Lo’ak didn’t move at first. He kept his face buried, the fabric of the pillowcase getting damp and hot. He wanted to push Neteyam away, to tell him he didn’t need his pity or his "perfect son" comfort, but the truth was that the silence of the room felt too heavy to bear alone.
When Neteyam gave his shoulder a small, encouraging tug, Lo’ak finally gave in. He rolled over, his face blotchy and eyes swollen, and practically collapsed against his brother’s chest.
Neteyam didn't hesitate; he wrapped his arms around Lo’ak, letting the younger boy hide his face in his shoulder. He didn't mind the tears or the faint, lingering smell. He just held him, his chin resting on top of Lo’ak’s head, grounding him.
"I—I hate it here," Lo’ak choked out, his voice cracking painfully. "He hates me. He just... he thinks I’m a screw-up. He doesn't even talk to me, 'Teyam. He just barks orders or... or that."
"He doesn't hate you, skxawng," Neteyam whispered, rubbing slow circles into Lo’ak’s back to help him catch his breath. "He just is worried. You are young.”
"You drank with dad when you were 16!?" Lo’ak’s voice rose in a shaky, humiliated pitch. "I’m fourteen! And I’m not Tuk!"
"I know," Neteyam said softly. "And he knows. But he’s worried, Lo'ak. Drinking that stuff... it probably wasn’t even that good. You know how Dad is about the family staying together. Stop feeling so embarrassed. I’m your brother, Kiri or Tuk won’t say anything. "
Lo’ak let out a long, shuddering breath, his fingers clutching the back of Neteyam’s shirt. The dizziness from the drink was fading, replaced by a deep, hollow exhaustion. "Is Mom mad too?"
"She’s disappointed," Neteyam admitted honestly. "But she’s the one who told Dad to leave the room. She’s worried about you."
They stayed like that for a long time—the "perfect" brother and the "rebel" brother—in a rare moment where the labels didn't matter. The house was quiet now, the storm of the confrontation having passed, leaving only the wreckage behind.
"My head hurts," Lo’ak muttered, his eyes fluttering shut as the crying finally passed.
"That's the alcohol, bro. And the crying. It’ll be worse in the morning," Neteyam warned, but his grip tightened slightly, protective and firm. "Go to sleep. I'll stay here until you're out. If Dad comes back, I’ll tell him you’re already gone."
Lo’ak didn't argue. He felt the weight of the day—the boredom, the reckless ride with Spider, the sting of the punishment, and the crushing shame—all of it pulling him down into a heavy, dreamless sleep.