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Even after seeing so much blood spilled in its waters, Spider loved seeing the Cove of Ancestors at night.
Ever since he had been permitted to lay eyes upon that sacred place, Spider had been transfixed. Unbelievable, Spider thought to himself as he swam lazily further into the cove. Below him, a school of fish swam away in a flurry, bioluminescent scales flashing and sparkling as they twirled into the depths. Despite his melancholy mood, Spider found himself smiling at the sight. The beauty of the ocean was still remarkably new to him—he’d barely lived with the Metkayina for two weeks before Jake and Neytiri had tried to take him back to live with the scientists who’d raised him. It was only days after he was first shown the Spirit Tree and the Cove of Ancestors, and the thought of letting go of the ocean before he even knew it had been heartwrenching. They hadn’t made it, of course—all hell had broken loose and it was a miracle he was alive, let alone that he’d ended up back living on the Eastern Sea for the months that followed.
The Cove of Ancestors looked different from when Spider had first seen it, after all the damage that the battle with the Skypeople and the Mangkwan had dealt to it, but weeks of dedicated clean-up and care by the Metkayina had certainly helped. The Flux Devil had whisked away all the metal ships, weapons, and various other horrible instruments that the Skypeople had brought within the cove during the battle, but tides had pushed debris from the ships downed outside the cove into it. That debris had been one of the focuses of the Metkayina in the following weeks. Spider had spent many hours helping with that part of the clean-up. He wasn’t as strong as many of the other Metkayina, and was definitely the shortest person permitted to assist in clean-up, but he’d tried hard to care for the sacred place. Part of what pushed him to work hard to restore the cove to a peaceful, clean sanctuary was that he wanted the other Metkayina to see his effort and not doubt him any longer, but that wasn’t the only reason Spider swam human junk from the cove floor to the surface until his muscles strained and quavered. Spider had a much more personal reason to feel connected to the cove.
Spider had been accepted by the Metkayina. He was one of the People. The Cove of Ancestors, Awa’atlu, the Spirit Tree, the Sea itself… This was his home now.
Growing up, Spider had always dreamed of being Omaticaya, of living in Pandora’s rich rainforest amongst the trees. But he’d always felt like a complete outcast even as the Na’vi there grew to tolerate him and all his humanness. He’d tried hard to connect with the jungle, but had felt rejected at every turn. Maybe it was simply that he’d already lived in Awa’atlu as an air-breather with his own kuru for longer than he’d lived there while dependent on a mask, but Spider felt as though the Metkayina and the ocean itself had accepted him much more readily than he ever would’ve let himself dream of. The sea was his home. He felt a burning desire to protect it.
Near the end of official clean-up a few days earlier, when he’d uncovered a bent gun that must have been mounted on one of the Tulkun hunting ships, Spider had felt sick. Steel corrupts. He knew how to use a gun, of course—but he’d never used one in battle, never shot one at another living thing. At one point, he’d privately thought that the Na’vi were a bit foolish not to embrace guns and bombs, if only as means of defense. He knew that was Jake’s position, too, and Lo’ak had taken to guns just as enthusiastically as his father. Sometime during the horrible days during his pseudo-father’s first kidnapping of him, though, Spider’s mind had begun to change. Witnessing firsthand the amount of destruction that Quaritch was willing to use against the Na’vi was an experience that still gave Spider nightmares. After that, he only used simple bows and arrows for range, and his knife still never left his side. He’d helped Jake search for guns from ship wreckage, but that was it. Spider couldn’t help but see what he’d often heard: weapons of metal are not the way of the Na’vi. Ronal’s voice had echoed in his head more than once on the topic of Skypeople weapons—to touch them poisons the heart.
Spider continued to drift along, paddling slowly near the surface and intermittently coming up for air. In the months since he’d begun living there, Spider’s lung capacity had improved significantly, but he still needed to resurface more often than the other Na’vi, especially more often than the native Metkayina. His stupid, weak, human body. But no—Spider wanted to kick himself every time he forgot to be grateful for even getting to complain about something like this. Oh, he had to breathe too often? A year ago, Spider would’ve given anything to breathe Pandoran air at all! Sometimes, it still caught him off guard when he woke up: he’d scramble to find his mask, afraid he’d suffocate, and then it would all crash down over him. He was an air-breather. Through Kiri, Eywa had blessed him. Him! A human boy, touched by the hand of Eywa and able to breathe once poisonous air and form tsaheylu with a kuru of his own. It was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him. And Kiri had managed to do it alone.
Spider shoved the thought of Kiri out of his mind. At times, she could be difficult for him to think of. He could get lost just thinking about the curve of her lips when she smiled.
After a while of peaceful drifting and wandering thoughts, Spider hauled himself up on a small rock island midway through the cove. It had a good view of the Spirit Tree ahead of him, which would never stop taking his breath away, though Spider hadn’t decided if he would be paying the ancestors a visit that night. He wanted to see Neteyam, but he didn’t know if he had the energy to actually talk. He knew loud talking was expected of him from everyone, even the dead—that he’d be cheerful, that he’d dance around and crack stupid jokes. Spider didn’t mind that this was how his friends saw him, because it was him, but sometimes the idea of being himself was exhausting. He didn’t want to always be a laugh, but he’d always felt the need to be just that. He had nothing else to give.
During his childhood years of admiring the Na’vi and trying to emulate them, Spider had quickly learned that he could not develop all of the skills that would let him be accepted into their world by merit. Sure, he learned to be extremely strong and fast, and he was very tall, and he knew the jungle well, but those were all only true by human standards. To the Na’vi, he was a nuisance and a freak. And he understood that many would hate him for his species. He understood. He hated himself for his species, too.
So, Spider learned how to make others laugh. Maybe they’d keep him around longer if he could entertain them. And he liked it, too, seeing Neteyam and Lo’ak laugh hysterically at his ridiculous jokes and making a fool of himself. Kiri had laughed with him too, sometimes, but they hadn’t been close as kids. Friends, yes, but not like Spider was with the Sully boys. They hadn’t been close until much later.
Spider no longer felt the need to make everyone laugh now that he was a true clan member. He no longer feared being sent away any time someone commented on his pink skin or five-fingered hands. The inclination to make everything a joke had faded a bit, and he no longer felt the same satisfaction when he performed his routines and made other young Na’vi laugh.
With this in mind, Spider sighed and simply let his body rest as he stared at the Spirit Tree below him. The night air was warm, but felt cool against his wet skin. Spider glanced down at his legs and flinched immediately—already, the blue dyes he’d applied to his skin the day before were beginning to fade.
“You dumbass,” he mumbled to himself.
“What’s that?” asked a familiar voice from Spider.
Spider’s entire body went tense and his hand twitched towards his knife, but it was only the reflex of a traumatized boy. He would recognize that voice anywhere.
“Kiri?” Spider turned his head to see the young Na’vi hauling herself up onto the small rocky island right next to him.
“Hey, monkey-boy.” Kiri pushed Spider’s shoulder teasingly, her voice rich and tone playful. The familiar nickname made Spider unable to hold back a smile as he nudged her in return.
“Did you follow me?” asked Spider, raising an eyebrow accusationally.
“No!” Kiri laughed and shook her head. “I couldn’t sleep, and I wanted to hear Her heartbeat. Being near the Tree helps.”
“And you saw me sitting here peacefully, and decided to come bother me?” Spider quipped.
“Exactly,” replied Kiri, white teeth visible as she grinned at him. The spray of brilliant, glowing dots across her face and the light of the Spirit Tree reflecting off of her canines made Spider feel dizzy. It was blinding, to look at her all at once.
Spider looked away before he could get distracted, but it was too late—already, the memory of her kiss was back on his mind. That fucking kiss. It haunted him. He often wondered if he’d dreamt it up in the hazy days afterwards while he was prodded at by RDA doctors desperate to reverse-bioengineer his new lungs. He wondered if the memory was a desperate attempt at coping with the torture he endured at the gloved hands of white-coated technicians and nurses, because that kiss had been one of the things that had kept him fighting. As he’d choked on cameras forced down his throat, he’d thought of the sea, and Jake, and the Tulkuns, and Kiri. He had reminded himself a thousand times that he needed to survive so he could escape, so humanity wouldn’t learn how to breathe Pandora’s air, so he could be free, so he could see the ocean and the trees and Kiri, beautiful Kiri, sweet and brilliant and caring Kiri… Kiri, his childhood friend, who he’d grown to love much differently than he’d ever expected to. Reciprocation was always out of the question—it was barely even conceivable. Spider’s body barely felt like his own, and it certainly didn’t feel lovable, not like that. Kiri gifting him the ability to breathe and grow his own kuru had already been a gift from her that Spider never would’ve imagined. And then, on some ordinary evening when he’d been joking around self-deprecatingly, she’d told him that he was perfect. And then, without a hint of hesitation or nerves, she’d simply leaned down and kissed him.
With all the chaos and destruction that had followed, during most of which Spider thought death was inevitable for him, they just hadn’t talked about it. There had been so much grief that had to be dealt with. One of the other tasks that had followed the battle with the Skypeople was gathering the dead and mourning them. After far too many funerals had been held and the cleanup of debris had slowly begun was when Spider had been officially welcomed to the Metkayina and had become one of the People. After that, he’d spent all the time he could caring for the cove. And now… Spider would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t been avoiding Kiri.
And yet, there she was. Out of his peripheral, Spider’s gaze lingered on the patterned streaks of deep blue on her legs.
“So, monkey-boy, you didn’t explain,” Kiri interrupted Spider’s thoughts cheerfully, oblivious to his racing thoughts. “Why were you swearing at our Great Mother?”
“Not at,” Spider threw his hands up defensively. “I’d never call Eywa a dumbass! Just swearing in front of her, it’s different.”
Kiri giggled, and nudged him with her elbow. Spider tilted his head back as he grinned at her. “Okay, that’s good. What were you talking about, then?”
“Oh, um…” The searing feeling of pride at making Kiri laugh was brief, and Spider jerked his gaze back towards his legs. “Nothing important.”
Kiri noticed the shift in Spider’s tone immediately, and she leaned forward, tilting her head as she tried to meet his gaze. “What is it, Spider?”
Spider loved and hated how easily she could read him. No one else saw him quite like her. She would know if he was lying, so Spider had no choice but to tell the truth. “My, uh…” he gestured helplessly. “My legs. Um, Paint. It dyes the skin a bit, so—” Spider risked making eye contact with Kiri. Her bright, yellow eyes shone sympathetically back at him. The words poured out before he could stop them. “In the jungle it could last for a long time before I’d need to re-do it. Here, I’ve been spending so much time in the sea that it seems to wash away before it stains. Or, even when I think it has stained, I’m back to being pink in a day. It’s just… it’s frustrating.”
Kiri’s tail flicked back and forth behind them, and Spider could practically feel the emotions rippling off of her. He forced himself to hold completely still.
“You don’t have to keep dying your skin blue, Spider.” Her voice was soft, low. “You’re already Metkayina. You’re Na’vi.”
Spider exhaled heavily, feeling a genuine spike of frustration. “I know, I know, Kiri. I will never take that for granted, I promise. I can breathe, I have a kuru, I’ve been accepted by the ancestors. I’m reminded of the grace of Eywa with everything I do. I love living in Awa’atlu. I love riding ilu and learning to interpret the voices of the Tulkun.”
“And yet?”
“And yet. Doesn’t matter if I’ve been accepted by the ancestors, I’m still stuck in this human body. I’m a human.”
“Well, I mean… I kinda am too. I told you about me being a… You remember.”
Spider sighed, fighting the urge to jump off the rock or swear or something. “Kiri, I know, I’m sorry, but that’s not what I’m talking about. When I started painting myself with the dye, I told everyone it was so I could have stripes like the Na’vi. That’s true, but I think everyone also knew it was because I was always dreaming of looking like and living like you guys, not just imitating a cool pattern. And that dream has become real. I will always owe you my thanks for saving me, Kiri.” Spider paused, swallowing. He hadn’t spoken this candidly to anyone about this before, and each word felt strange and foreign on his tongue. He wanted to pivot dramatically, to turn his whole confession on its head. But Spider remembered what he’d been thinking of earlier that evening, that he didn’t want to just be the butt of his own joke. He wanted more than that. And Kiri was sitting there, watching him, listening. “But, I just—I don’t know if I’ll ever stop wanting more than this body. This boy’s body, rough and crude and strange. This body of the Skypeople, even though I have a kuru now and have always felt like a Na’vi on the inside.”
Kiri exhaled softly, and hesitantly rested her hand over where Spider’s own hand lay on the rock. “I’m sorry, Spider,” she murmured. “I meant it, though. What I said before, when we were water-collecting.”
Spider’s head jerked up and he turned to look at Kiri so fast he didn’t realize how close she’d leaned in while he was talking. Spider froze, so close he could feel Kiri’s breath on his mouth, their eyes locked together. He didn’t mean to look, but their faces were so close there was no way to miss Spider’s gaze flickering down to Kiri’s lips.
He’d barely looked back up at Kiri’s golden eyes before Spider jerked his head away, shuffling himself awkwardly away on the rocky surface and crossing his arms tightly. Spider stared blankly at the pulsing glow of that Spirit Tree that lay below the waters of the cove, willing his heartbeat to still.
“Spider?” Kiri’s voice was hushed, concerned. “Are you okay?”
Spider couldn’t speak. He couldn’t bring himself to kiss Kiri no badly how desperately he wanted to; not in this moment, not when his chest felt molten and his hands didn’t feel like his own.
He stared into the water, wondering how he could ever get anyone to understand. The scientists who had raised him wouldn’t get it—many of them had Avatar forms, real Na’vi bodies they could hop in and out of. The ones that didn’t were too busy nerding out over complicated science-y nonsense that Spider had never really understood, though they admittedly had done a poor job at trying to teach the wild orphan that had been abandoned in their midst. The Na’vi would never understand him, at least not any of the Na’vi outside of the Sully family. And within the Sully family, would any of them understand Spider’s desperate, painful desires to escape his own body, his own species? Jake might have, but he’d only recently accepted Spider as family and not just a human nuisance his kids befriended. No, it was too soon to tell what Jake would truly understand of Spider’s internal struggles. Kiri, also an orphan of complicated human origins, would have been the only person Spider could’ve hoped would understand his plight. But he was unknowable. He was unreachable. He was an island, floating away on the horizon, too high for even an ikran to fly to. He was beyond any of them.
“Spider,” Kiri hissed insistantly. “Talk to me. I want to know more.”
That made the swirling, racing thoughts in Spider’s head pause. “You want to?” He didn’t understand why his throat felt rough and prickly.
“Yes, you skxawng.”
Spider laughed in surprise, slightly shaky. “Yeah?” Some of the tension left his shoulders, and he shot a sidelong glance at the Na’vi girl. For the hundredth time, he was awed by the cascading specks of bioluminescence that adorned her rich indigo skin.
“You’re the biggest skxawng in the world and I want to know everything about you. Everything you love and everything that hurts you.”
“Fuck, Kiri,” exhaled Spider heavily. “You’re… Just, you’re—”
“Oh, shut up, I know. Talk to me.”
“Okay, um—I don’t know what I should say now. Just, body stuff, I guess. You know?”
Kiri laughed, a soft, sad sound. “I don’t. I thought I knew you better than anyone, but I guess I haven’t thought about all this.”
“You do know me better than anyone,” Spider said immediately, almost angry at the idea that somehow Kiri wasn’t the one who understood him best, who saw beyond his many masks. “It’s just been hard. For everyone. I didn’t want to make everything about me. I’ve already led to so much death, I just—”
“Don’t you dare say that.” Kiri’s voice was so sharp as she interrupted that Spider looked at her with his brows furrowed in surprise. She looked horrified and angry. “You are not them.”
“My father killed your grandfather.”
“You are not him!” Kiri grabbed Spider’s wrist and yanked him closer. “You’re Spider, not some awful Skyperson colonel. That is not you.”
Spider’s stomach felt warm, and he felt an unexpected wave of calm wash over him. Kiri’s immediate anger and defiance felt like an embrace. “Thank you, Kiri.”
“Skxawng.” The insult had no bite in it.
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
Kiri sighed and slipped her hand from Spider’s wrist into his hand. She shifted closer to him, and Spider slowly let himself lean his head against her shoulder. “You’re so difficult, monkey-boy.”
“Oh, I’m a pain in the ass,” he mumbled back.
“Mhmm, you got that right.”
For a long moment, the two simply stared into the vibrant waters of the cove, soaking in the beauty of the sea.
“I really like it here,” Kiri murmured. “Can you feel Her?”
“She’s everywhere,” Spider said softly. He wasn't sure what compelled him to say more, but the urge to do so was overwhelming. “I know no one feels Eywa like you do, and I don’t talk about it much, but Kiri—I feel Her everywhere. All the time.”
“You do?”
“I pray to Her every day. Even, um, before—” Spider sat up and reached back for his braided kuru with his free hand to bring it forward, “—even before I got this.”
“I didn’t… Spider, I didn’t know that.”
Spider shrugged, and leaned back against Kiri’s shoulder. He was too wrung out to overthink it. He couldn’t ever remember talking about his feelings this much before, even though he knew consciously that he hadn’t said that much, and certainly hadn't said everything on his mind. “I never talked about it.”
“Then you’re more devout than any other Sully but me and Mother. The boys, it’s so… And Tuk, she’s so young…” Kiri trailed off, obviously lost in thought. She often got distracted when thinking about the Great Mother and her faith, so Spider was unsurprised that the news of his frequent prayers had thoroughly distracted Kiri.
Spider didn’t bother to respond, knowing Kiri would need some time. He closed his eyes and let himself relax. He focused on breathing and feeling his body. He needed to ground himself, to remind himself who he was and where he was, that it was a gift to have this body; even if it was the wrong size and color and sex and strength and five-fingered, pink, pink, pink…
“Spider,” Kiri said suddenly. “What do you pray for?”
Shuddering himself out of his thoughts for what felt like the hundredth time that evening, Spider sat up properly again. “Lots of things. Everything. That I am grateful for Her. For Her to protect us in the great balance. For my… for Quaritch. For the Skypeople to leave. Or to die. For safety for Jake and Neytiri and Lo’ak and Tuk. And for you, too. For the Tulkun. For the Omaticaya and the Metkayina. I don’t know, Kiri, everything. And then, personal stuff too. Sometimes I make tsaheylu when I pray, sometimes I just whisper it to the world. Sometimes the prayers stay in my head, but they’re still to Her.”
Kiri stared at him, unspeaking. Nerves bubbled up within Spider.
“Did I say something shitty?”
“What? No, no. Nothing like that.”
Spider glanced down, and was immediately reminded of the fact that his hand was still interlaced with Kiri’s. He stared at the fading stripes of dye stained on his forearms, at how pathetic they looked next to Kiri’s vivid blue skin. His sad little hand, rough and calloused, interlaced with her long, gentle fingers.
“Spider, what personal stuff?”
“Hmm?”
“You said you prayed for personal stuff too. That already sounded personal, what’s more personal?”
Spider sighed. He felt strangely open and empty of energy to resist or divert the conversation. “There’s a lot of, I don’t know, stupid shit that I still want.”
“Tell me.”
If Kiri wanted him to lay his soul bare, he would do it. “It’s just really painful for me, being like this. I’m a pinkskin, I’m—I’m a boy, I’m strong and fast and tall, but only for a human, not a Na’vi.” Spider rushed his words, hoping Kiri wouldn’t interrogate all of his insecurities, even though they all felt true. He took a deep breath. “So I pray to the Great Mother to help me. Before, I prayed to change. You know, I always thought I wanted to be just like Jake.”
Kiri nodded immediately, eyebrows furrowed together. “You copy him,” she said in an affirming tone. “Your hair and behavior.”
Spider laughed in surprise. “Yeah, exactly. But I realized something lately. I love Jake, he really is the father I wish I had, but I don’t want to be him. I thought I did because he was stuck in a human body like me, and he became a Na’vi through his Avatar, right? So that’s really my only path to having a Na’vi body, if I’m really, really lucky. But I realized I don’t want an Avatar. I don’t want to become a Na’vi, I want to be a Na’vi. Does that make any sense?”
Kiri nodded. Her head was tilted, and her tail flicked. “I think so.”
“I want to be like Neytiri. I think that’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Spider forced himself to stop and breathe great painful breaths as he willed his watery eyes not to let tears fall. “Shit, Kiri. That’s what I want.”
Kiri exhaled. “Tell me more?”
Spider stared at the Spirit Tree. “Like… I know she’s never really liked me and only now accepts having me around, and I get it, I really do, but I just… She’s Omaticaya and Metkayina. She’s an ikran rider, she’s the greatest shot with a bow I’ve ever seen. She knows the jungle better than anyone. She sees Eywa. I know she hasn’t been tsahik, but she’s trained for it and I’m jealous, I wish—I mean, you know her. She’s your mother, you understand how insane and incredible she is.” Spider dug his nails in his palm. “And I know—I know it hasn’t been easy for her. That’s not what I mean, I just… Before, I prayed to Eywa to be different. To be more than just a Skyperson. Through Her, you saved me and gave me this new life.” Spider paused, breathing shakily. “I can’t ask for any more change than She has given. Now, I pray to Her for the ability to accept all I have and to not ask for more.” Spider exhaled and closed his eyes, waiting for Kiri to speak.
“I don’t think you’ve ever sounded so serious in your life,” Kiri finally joked after a short silence.
“Trying something new out, y’know?” Spider smiled halfheartedly, and Kiri managed a soft laugh before going quiet for a moment.
“You’re jealous of my mother being trained to be tsahik?”
“Is that bad?”
“No, I wish I knew that stuff too. It’s just that…”
“It’s for women.”
Kiri nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
Spider groaned and covered his face with his hands. “I don’t know, Kiri. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but it’s something.”
“Stop that, Spider.”
“I know, I know. I’m a skxawng.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You were thinking it. I could practically hear you thinking it.”
“Okay fine. Skxawng.”
Spider allowed himself a short laugh, but didn’t take his hands off his face.
“All this time, I’ve felt so alone worrying about my parentage and my weird body and wishing for a simpler situation. I guess I should’ve just been talking to you about it.”
Spider laughed shortly. “I don’t think they’re really the same. If I could just suck it up, my situation has turned out pretty damn good.”
“Oh, shut up. You can’t act like any of it has been easy or fair.”
“Neither can you.”
Kiri sighed softly. “I know, monkey-boy.”
Spider let himself lean back against Kiri’s shoulder again. It was comforting, being close to her. Her skin was tough, as all forest Na’vi skin was, but she still felt soft and warm against Spider. He closed his eyes and wondered if he was going to regret what he’d said. He wasn’t sure, and he didn’t have the energy to worry about it too much. Spider was tired. His body ached from the weeks of hard work and rigorous swimming, work that didn’t come naturally to his body. He was emotionally delicate from mourning so much loss and from battling with his own fierce desires and discomfort. Spider felt himself begin to nod off as he leaned against Kiri, the last bit of tension melting from his body.
“Spider?” Kiri’s whispered inquiry broke through the fog of sleepiness that had fallen on Spider.
“Hmm?” Spider didn’t even bother to open his eyes, staying slumped against Kiri’s shoulder.
“Why won’t you kiss me?”
That woke up Spider in a hurry. He jolted upright so fast he would’ve tipped off the rock and into the water, if Kiri hadn’t immediately grabbed his arm and pulled him back. He felt himself blushing fiercely—at the question, at her touch, and at the fact that he’d nearly thrown himself into the sea. “What?” he blurted out, a bit louder than he’d meant to.
Kiri looked like she didn’t know if she should laugh or roll her eyes. “You heard me.”
“Did I?” Spider fidgeted, looking away from the Na’vi girl beside him.
“Spider.”
“Kiri?”
Kiri sighed. “Spider. Why won’t you kiss me?”
Spider felt electric. His body was buzzing, but he still didn’t feel connected to it. It was disorienting. “Do you want me to?”
“What do you think, skxawng?” Kiri sounded exasperated, but when Spider turned to face her properly he could see she was smiling softly.
“Kiri, I—” Spider wanted to say something, but he couldn’t think of anything coherent. Kiri just raised an eyebrow, and her smile grew. Spider realized he was staring, his mouth parted hopelessly and no-doubt an awestruck look on his face.
“Yes?”
Spider gave up on words. Willing his hands not to tremble, Spider carefully raised his hand to cup Kiri’s jaw, his thumb resting on her cheek. Kiri’s bioluminescent patterns flashed brighter, and Spider noted how her eyes widened slightly. She didn’t pull away. Her bright yellow eyes reflected the light of the Spirit Tree beautifully, and Spider felt transfixed by them. But Kiri wasn’t content to simply stare at each other. Her gaze flicked down to Spider’s lips, slow and deliberate.
“Fuck, Kiri.” Spider couldn’t help but laugh softly. He leaned forward, and Kiri did the same. Spider could’ve counted every luminescent dot on her face.
“Shut up, skxawng.”
Spider shut up. Before he could doubt himself, he leaned in and kissed Kiri.
Just as it had been before, that distant night before chaos had broken, Kiri’s lips on his felt like home. Spider was careful, still in disbelief that this was real, that Kiri really did want to kiss him. His free hand rose to cup the other side of her face, and Spider leaned his body weight into Kiri, who didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around Spider’s frame to support him and keep him close.
Spider was sure to be gentle, to keep his kisses chaste and to not get ahead of himself. It was Kiri who nipped at his bottom lip, making Spider gasp in surprise and then laugh breathlessly. Kiri just grinned, pressing another quick kiss to Spider’s lips before pulling away again.
“Kiri,” whispered Spider, his heart thudding heavily in his chest. “I really like you.”
“Good,” Kiri giggled, pressing a series of quick kisses to Spider’s brow.
“Kiri,” Spider whined, feeling both mortified by her lack of reciprocating response and dazed by her affections. “I mean it.”
Kiri paused, and their eyes met. She looked so fond and pleased that Spider felt dizzy. “I know. Oel ngati kameie. I see you.”
“Oel ngati kameie,” whispered Spider in return. A thousand feelings swirled within his chest. “I see you.”
Strands of Kiri’s dark bangs fell in front of her eyes as she leaned down to kiss him again. Spider sighed against her lips in contentment. “I really like you too, Spider. I mean it.”
“Wow,” Spider mumbled as she pulled away and sat up properly again. “I wondered if I dreamed up the first time.”
“Why would you think that?” laughed Kiri, shaking her head. “Silly boy.”
Spider hesitated to respond, just smiled awkwardly at the beautiful Na’vi girl beside him as he cursed himself for mentioning that. He didn’t want to be depressing and accidentally bring up the fact that their first kiss had been immediately followed by him being kidnapped and experimented on; yet it was impossible for him to ignore.
“Just, y’know.” Spider shrugged, trying to seem casual. His heartrate still hadn’t settled, and he was failing on all fronts at seeming nonchalant. “A lot happened that night. Human brains can cope weirdly, so, I don’t know, I wondered if I made up you kissing me to deal with—with everything else.”
“Oh.” Kiri paused, concern etched into the scrunch of her nose. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop, don’t be. It’s okay. I just thought you were too good to be true.”
Kiri shook her head. “You flatter me too much.”
“I’m serious!” Spider smiled at Kiri as he turned his head to look at her. “Someone like you kissing someone like me? It’s a lot to take in!”
Kiri snorted. “Someone like me kissing someone like you? Local freak kisses local human—I guess that is a lot to take in.”
“You’re not a freak.”
“I’m the clone of my dead mother’s Avatar.”
“Seems perfectly normal to me. I’m a human with a kuru.”
Kiri leaned back on her elbows, staring up at the night sky with a slight curve to her lips. “Eywa is a generous mother.”
“She is.” Spider couldn’t tear his gaze from Kiri. She looked angelic.
“Spider, can I ask you something else?”
“Anything at all.” He meant it sincerely.
Kiri hesitated for a moment. “Do you not like being a boy, or is it just that you’re a human boy?”
“I don’t know,” Spider answered honestly. “I’ve thought that it’s just because I’m a human boy, not a Na’vi boy; I’ve thought that it’s because I’m still a boy and not a man. But I don’t know. If I could choose, I think—I’m sorry. This is weird.”
Kiri turned onto her side, now propped up on one elbow as she looked up at her companion. “I asked, Spider. I told you, I want to know everything about you. I’m learning a lot tonight.”
“I don’t want to scare you off or something.”
“You won’t; trust me. Tell me more?”
Spider sighed. He was tired and scared, but he couldn’t deny that it felt really good to have someone listen so earnestly to him as he shared things he’d never spoken aloud. It helped that he was still dazed from the shock of Kiri and him kissing again. The pleasant burn in his chest had yet to fully subside.
“It’s hard to separate everything out, but I just don’t feel like my body is mine. It hurts. It really, really hurts. I don’t know how to describe it, Kiri. It’s like I’m not really here, sometimes. Is it because I’m the wrong species? Because my body just isn’t what I want it to be? Or am I not supposed to be a boy, either? I hate being called son, even though I should want it. I only wish I was a true Na’vi. I want to connect with the Great Mother in the ways only tsahiks and other women can. I wish—” Spider paused, feeling himself blush not for the first time that night. “I feel so—so stocky and like I’m shaped all wrong. I wish I was pretty. Like you or Tsireya.”
“Spider?” interrupted Kiri softly. “I think you are pretty.”
“Stop,” whined Spider, half-embarrassed and half-gratified.
“You are. Believe me, okay?”
Spider found himself reflexively covering his face with his hands again. “Not like I wish I was. I don’t know what to do. I just try to ignore it.”
“That you want to be a girl?”
“No, I don’t—I mean, I do, but I can’t. It’s not possible.”
“Maybe not. But you’re already pretty.” Kiri took Spider’s hand in her own. “And I can braid flowers in your hair and weave you pretty tops and help you apply your dye more often. And you already know Eywa’s grace and great kindness. I’m sure with time you will connect with Her in different ways. And Tsireya is the Metkayina tsahik now, and you know she’d love to talk about what she learned from her mother more.” Kiri hesitated for a moment before continuing. “I’ll like you no matter what. Human or not, Na’vi or no, boy or girl or neither. You’re my Spider. I care about you.”
Tears trickled down Spider’s cheeks. He couldn’t bring himself to pretend they weren’t there, but he did wipe at them furiously with his free hand. “Thank you, Kiri. I just—I don’t know.”
Kiri’s thumb brushed soothingly over Spider’s hand, back and forth repetitively. It was a small comfort. “I’ll help you figure it out.”
“You don’t need to do that, Kiri. Just listening to me is… I know it’s a lot.”
“Shh, skxawng. I want to do more for you. And I’m glad you’re talking to me, y’know. And that you finally kissed me again.”
Spider laughed. “You don’t already regret that?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kiri chided him, rolling her eyes. “I’d thought about it every day since the first time.”
Spider’s heart skipped a beat at the tender confession. “Me too,” he whispered. “Every day.”
Below them, the Spirit Tree pulsed with gentle light. A small school of fish, silver scales flashing, danced in the water before them.
“Spider…” Kiri’s voice was low and quiet. “I’m really glad that I followed you out here tonight.”
“Oh, I see,” laughed Spider. “You did follow me out here.”
Kiri grinned. “You’d been avoiding me! I missed you!”
“I missed you too,” Spider said, and grimaced. “I was being an asshole, wasn’t I?”
“Yeah, you were.” Kiri squeezed Spider’s hand. “But you clearly have had a lot to think about. I don’t mind anymore. Besides, now you have to tell me about what’s on your mind.”
“I do?”
“Yes, skxawng, you have to,” Kiri declared. “Especially now that we’re courting.”
Spider’s world went fuzzy. “Courting?”
“Well, what would you call it?”
“No, no,” responded Spider quickly. “Courting is good.”
Kiri’s tail flicked as she grinned. The young Na’vi was obviously pleased with herself. “Good.”
“Good,” echoed Spider, wondering if this was some insane, elaborate dream to taunt his conscious self. But no, Spider knew no dream version of Kiri would feel and look this magical. Her presence was magnetic, and her beauty unreal.
“Are you tired, Spider?”
Spider sighed. “So tired. I want to keep talking and sitting with you all night, but… This stupid body needs a lot more sleep than the rest of you guys do.”
“I’m tired too, silly. We will talk and sit together many more nights, but rest is good.” Kiri leaned over to kiss Spider’s wrist before looking up at him. “Shall we swim back to Awa’atlu together?”
Spider looked down into Kiri’s beautiful yellow eyes, full of affection and kindness, and felt his heart ache within his chest. “I’d like that, Kiri.”
Kiri smiled, every one of her white teeth bared, and slipped off the rocky island into the water in the blink of an eye. “Come on, then, monkey-girl. We have some swimming ahead of us.”
In that moment, Spider was so grateful for Kiri that he could’ve wept. Instead, his heart swollen with love, Spider dove in after Kiri as the Cove of Ancestors glowed brilliantly around them.
Silently, Spider thanked Eywa for answering one of his many prayers.