Chapter Text
Ao’nung first met Neteyam in first grade, when the boys still had cooties and the girls would run away from them.
Ao’nung thought Neteyam was a girl.
Neteyam thought Ao’nung was a girl.
Neteyam had the most interesting braids. They were dark brown, and he probably had a hundred. Sometimes, he would have colorful beads woven in them. Girls liked accessories, Ao’nung thought to himself. He liked accessories, too. They made him feel pretty.
His younger sister, Tsireya, was pretty. Her hair was already the same length as his. Everyone said she looked like their dad.
Ao’nung was told he looked like their mom. Mama’s boy. He didn’t mind. They both had freckles and a tiny mole above the same heart-shaped lips. Ao’nung’s favorite shape was a heart. And a circle. And a star, but those were too hard to draw. Maybe a half-circle was best, because that’s how he drew seashells.
Ao’nung loved the sea. He loved surfing with the blue-green tides—
Blue-green? Ao’nung suddenly felt sick.
Neteyam held Ao’nung’s long, curly black hair away from his face as he vomited his stomach’s oddly colorful contents. He had eaten two crayons—light blue and green, his favorites—out of curiosity and paid the price.
“Thanks,” Ao’nung said, wiping his mouth and sparing a glance. Neteyam was a pretty girl and kind.
His cheeks flushed, and even though his throat burned from the bile, he smiled a little.
“You are nice. For a girl,” Ao’nung sputtered. He bounced on his heels, ready to make a beeline to the nurse’s office. The teacher was already approaching.
“I am not a girl,” Neteyam laughed, showing his little tooth gap. “And you are silly for one.”
“I am not a girl either,” Ao’nung retorted.
“You aren’t?”
“No!”
Neteyam blinked at him, once, then twice.
The teacher fussed over Ao’nung and led him away to the office. He looked back. Neteyam became smaller and smaller the further away he went.
He almost ran back to him, but the teacher’s grasp on his arm was firm.
The school nurse told him to sit down on the cot and pushed a plastic bin beside his foot. The thin paper crinkled under him.
Ao’nung could faintly hear the teacher calling his mother and informing her of his accident. He nibbled on his paper cup of water, thinking of Neteyam, who was suddenly not a girl. That meant that he didn’t have cooties.
Ao’nung wanted to touch his hair and maybe play on the handball court. Nobody would make fun of him for playing with a girl, because Neteyam wasn’t.
He saw Neteyam the next day with blue and green hair beads.
“Like your crayons,” Neteyam said and hugged him. “Just don’t eat them.”
He handed Ao’nung a plastic baggie with cookies inside, made by his mother, who baked them because Neteyam insisted on it. To make him feel better.
Nobody liked being sick, but Ao’nung would gladly eat thousands of crayons again to get another batch of cookies.
Another hug wouldn’t hurt, either.
⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
It was the first week of semester two—Ao’nung’s last semester ever in university, and he couldn’t wait for the end any longer. Only three more months, and he’d graduate and be free. He almost had enough savings to move, though he wasn’t quite sure where yet.
Anywhere but here.
It was Friday night. Ao’nung worked the closing shift at the aquarium on Friday nights. He was always paid a little extra for doing so. That, and because the shopkeeper was Rotxo's grandmother, who loved him like a second grandchild.
Ao’nung looked at the whale’s bone structure hanging above. He and Rotxo used to call it the haunted tulkun. Rotxo had said that one day, it was gonna fall on Ao’nung’s head and joked, death from a dead whale.
Ao’nung chuckled under his breath, though it wasn’t really funny. Now, years later, he was still living under the whale, and Rotxo was six feet under. He had died from a hit-and-run two years ago. Wrong place, wrong time.
Ao’nung hadn’t been there to see it, but Tsireya had. Some part wished he had been there, and the other part was relieved. His mind filled in the blanks nonetheless—an abstraction of red with hints of yellow-ish white.
The color of blood and old bones.
The little bell’s chime pulled Ao’nung out of his thoughts. Someone had arrived. Who comes to the aquarium at 10 p.m.?
“We’re closing in five,” Ao’nung called out without looking up from the register. “Check in tomorrow, yeah?”
“Five minutes is enough for me, if that’s okay.”
Ao’nung recognized that voice so fucking fast. He jerked his head up, eyes widening as he stared at the man.
God be damned, it was Neteyam Sully, as if placed in front of him by Eywa herself. He still had his memorable braids, though now they were wooden beads instead of glass ones like he used to.
His chest tightened, and for a moment, he was speechless. And also horribly self-aware. He wore the stupidest jean-blue overalls and a name tag with a little seal saying “My name is Ao’nung!”
“Hello?” Neteyam tried again, a little louder this time. He waved his hand.
Fuck. His insufferable little tooth gap that Ao'nung adored.
“Hi,” Ao’nung said curtly. “It’s a surprise to see you.”
Neteyam smiled softly at his reply. “How’ve you been?”
Ao’nung’s breath hitched. The question echoed in his head over and over and over. He pressed his nails into the flesh of his wrist and managed to choke out,
“Same old, same old.”
Neteyam didn’t miss a beat. “Mhm. I get that.”
“I don’t think you do,” Ao’nung said as he grabbed a towel and started wiping the counter. “I’m sure you’re doing real big things lately.”
Neteyam winced. “Eh, not really. Life’s been slow.”
“Is it winter break for Pandora University?” Is that why you’re here?
“Probably,” Neteyam nodded his head, “but it doesn’t matter. I never applied there anyway.”
Ao’nung paused. Going to that university had been Neteyam’s dream in high school. The boy would never shut up about it and would drown himself in extra work just for a chance to get in. It had driven Ao'nung batshit crazy.
“I went to a community college for a little while, but…” Neteyam trailed off. “I thought a change of scenery would be best. I moved back here, and I’ll be joining Awa’altu’s college.”
“Don’t you think it’s a bit late to join? First semester’s already over,” Ao’nung huffed finally, turning away so Neteyam couldn’t see the rising blush of red on his cheeks.
“They made an exception,” Neteyam hummed. His gaze flicked from Ao'nung to the floor, then lingered on the whale. Ao'nung wished the whale would finally fall and crush them both. He imagined the blood on the walls would be easier to clean than his messy emotions.
“You were always special.”
“I guess.”
Ao’nung’s hands shook so much that he dropped his keys in the cash register. He cursed and picked it up quickly. He needed to get out of this place and far, far away.
Neteyam drifted off to the keychains still on display. Overpriced, but cute. He rummaged through each and every one until he finally picked out a light teal seal.
“Just this, please,” Neteyam said as he placed it on the counter with his money.
“Why are you here?” Ao'nung spat. His nails managed to puncture the soft skin of his wrist.
Neteyam paused. His breath wavered.
“I told you already. To stud—”
“No. Why are you here?” Ao’nung shoved the keychain in a paper bag just a bit too hard. The lights flickered.
Neteyam blinked. “I…just wanted to visit this place again. I didn’t know you’d still be here.”
Ao’nung didn’t reply. He slid the bag to Neteyam with his change.
“Keep it,” Neteyam insisted as he took the bag.
“Take your money, Neteyam.”
Neteyam grabbed the money and placed it in the tip jar.
“It was nice seeing you again, Ao’nung,” he said, quieter.
Ao’nung exhaled, and right before Neteyam left, whispered, “You, too.”
He didn’t look long enough to see Neteyam’s small, sad smile.