Archive of Our Own ^beta

***

It's been years since anyone had last seen the sky people.

Aonung was 25.

He was confirmed to be the next oloeyktan for the metkayina clan, though he had insisted that he was in no rush to become one, so long as his father was still capable of leading the clan.

While Tonowari had dismissed his son and said that he was still in tip-top shape to lead, and that his son need not worry about taking on such a huge responsibility so soon, there were other things that the 25-year-old father had been more concerned about.

"Your tsmuke is already eating for two, Aonung," Tonowari, as softly and for the nth time ever since they had started walking through the forest and among tall trees, opened a conversation about the very thing that Aonung wasn't too keen to be talking about - especially for the nth time.

'Keen' was a terribly huge understatement, but the metkayina was a tad too fatigued from their long journey from Awa'atlu to the Hallelujah Mountains to be as tensed as he was the last time his sempul brought up this topic of conversation.

He knew his father wasn't as keen to talk about it, too, but he was worried, and Aonung couldn't fault his father for that.

"I don't mean to rush, son, but perhaps this year would be the year where you start looking for a mate. Someone to share your life with," Tonowari continued, catching his son's drifting attention once again.

Loak had asked for Tonowari's permission for Tsireya's hand when the omatikayan was 21. Aonung remembered that day vividly; mostly because of how happy his little sister was and partly because it was not a part of Navi's culture to ask for permission to court someone the way the omatikayan had done.

Aonung was told, later that night, as Loak confided in him about how nervous he was, that it was something that some of the sky people would do. The omatikayan emphasized that he was doing it not because he was intrigued by the sky people in any way, but more so because he thought it was only right that he made sure he had Tonowari's blessings before proceeding with his intentions.

"I could always just do what my dad did," Loak had joked that night, subtly drunk because of the drinks that were passed around during one of the metkayinas' monthly celebrations and gatherings, "But I want to do this right. I want to treat her right - the way she has always deserved after putting up with me these past years."

Aonung remembered Loak asking him if he had his blessing. In return, Aonung gave the omatikayan a rough pat in the back and drawled teasingly: "Of course you have my blessings, baby bro."

Loak had grinned in response.

But Aonung also saw the subtle glint of sadness in the younger navi's eyes at the nickname Aonung used.

So the metkayina bit the bullet and uttered, "Neteyam would have been so proud of you."

Tsireya found the two of them and was immediately concerned about why their eyes were so swollen and red. The only reason that she didn't jump to the conclusion that the two men were fighting was probably because of the absence of scratches and hostile ambiance between them.

Shortly after Loak asked for permission, he started properly courting Tsireya.

When Loak turned 22, the Sullys all headed back to their clan - along with them was Tsireya.

They wanted to make their bond official in the forest. It was what Loak wished for, and Tsireya was all too happy to make her then-future mate's wish come true.

Ever since Tsireya moved to the forest, Aonung and his family of three had made it a tradition to visit the forest every few months. With the sky people gone, the metkayinas had returned to their ways before the war, and there was no need for alarm or extra security. Tonowari would appoint one of his trusted warriors to lead, and the family would embark on a quite long journey to the forest.

At 25, this made it Aonung's fifth visit to the forest - or maybe sixth or seventh. He wasn't sure; he visited his little sister - and by extension the Sullys - quite often compared to his father and youngest sister who only visit annually.

A gentle nudge to his forearm later, Aonung snapped out of his wandering thoughts, turning to look to his right to find his youngest sister, 10-year-old Pril, sending him a brief and reassuring look before she skipped to their father.

"Big brother will be fine, I'm sure!" she exclaimed, nudging her father by the hip and grinning brightly - in the way that she knew would soften and soothe their concerned father.

Pril was far too young to be a tsakarem, at least that's what the family had agreed on, but she had shown a growing interest in it, even before Tsireya moved away. Even going as far as to join Tsireya and their then-newest official tsakarem whenever Tsireya would teach and guide the new tsakarem on the duties of a tsahik.

Aw'ik was a gentle and kind soul. Aonung held nothing against the 24-year-old. After Tsireya had left for the forest, Aw'ik was made tsahik, and, since then, she had done a spectacular job in maintaining the clan.

It was simply that he found it hard to properly befriend her when everyone around him kept telling him that she would make the perfect mate.

"That, he will be, Pril," Tonowari softly told his daughter, lovingly ruffling her curly hair with a soft smile on his lips, fond and affectionate. "However, if he keeps on insisting on remaining unmated, he might die alone without a mate. It is of that that does not sit well with me, daughter."

Before Pril could reply, though, Tonowari's ears perked up as he looked upwards, through the thick leaves and the streams of sunlight that managed to pass through the gaps. The pinched expression he had on his face when he was discussing his concerns about his son's 'love life' was replaced with a grateful expression.

"Everyone," Tonowari murmured to his family, a smile slowly stretching itself on his lips as the sound of flapping wings could be heard, approaching and growing louder as the seconds passed by. "Our ride has arrived."

Surely enough, three ikrans soared into their vision, and swiftly landed in front of the family of metkayinas.

Neytiri's growingly familiar and jovial shout could be heard, the omatikayan woman being the first to land with an all too brilliant smile on her face, glowing far brighter than she ever had while she was living in Awa'atlu.

Aonung did not feel offended that the omatikayan so obviously preferred the forest’s ways. After all, the omatikayan did grow up in the forest.

He had learnt himself the beauty of the forest - even though he wished he could have experienced it all with the one who had captured his attention first.

Not a second later came Toruk Makto himself, Jakesully, landing on the ground almost as gracefully as his mate. Then again, when it came to flying an ikran, Aonung was told that the only one who could fly one as skillfully as the omatikayan woman was her firstborn.

It was something Aonung wished he had experienced more often and seen for himself when he had the chance. (Yet another one of his regrets among milions others.)

Another ikran landed after that, her rider being none other than Aonung's dearly missed 24-year-old sister.

Tears pricked at Aonung's eyes to see his little sister's belly bump, but he did not comment on it. Just in case if mentioning it would make his sister feel embarrassed or shy. He got the chance to hug her only after she had leaped off her ikran and hugged their father.

"It's good to see you well-fed and happy, sister," Aonung said as a lieu of a greeting to Tsireya - who giggled and gently squeezed his bicep.

"I'm happy to see you, too, brother," she replied, smiling sweetly. As kind as Aonung remembered.

On cue, Pril wrapped her arms around Tsireya, too, unashamedly squishing her cheek on the metkayina woman's belly while Tsireya gasped, quietly laughing and fondly ruffling her little sister's curly and unruly hair as she murmured a quiet greeting to the little girl, too.

While his sisters were catching up, Aonung looked around for his usual ride, Loak, but frowned once he realised that the omatikayan man was nowhere in sight.

Instead, Neytiri came walking towards him, and the metkayina couldn't help but grow a little stiff under her scrutinising gaze. (She had always intimidated him - even now, when he's taller and larger than she was.)

Once standing in front of him, Neytiri gave the metkayina a once-over before stating, "You are riding with me, today. My son is occupied with being taught about parenthood by my husband." She turned around, not waiting for a reply from Aonung, but paused momentarily to look over her shoulder and met the metkayina's gaze again, "Will that be a problem?"

She may have phrased her words as a question, but Aonung was fully aware that there were no options for an answer.

"No, ma'am," Aonung rushed to say, following after her after she nodded and walked towards her ikran.

Just when Aonung managed to get on Neytiri's ikran, Jake called for all of their attention, saying something about how they should get moving.

Aonung looked at his sisters, and couldn't help but feel his heart soften as the two of them mounted Tsireya's ikran.

By then, Jake and Tonowari had soared to the sky, and Tsireya and Pril were quick to follow closely behind.

Leaving Neytiri and Aonung by themselves.

Once the two ikrans were out of sight, Neytiri suddenly turned to look at the metkayina with her, and Aonung instantly grew a little stiff when she directed that awfully familiar look of seriousness to him. (It reminded him too much of a loss whose ache never dulled in the passing years.)

"I heard that you still have not found yourself a mate," she started to say, not exactly being subtle. (When she acted like this, serious and focused, Aonung's heart squeezed a little achingly when it reminded him too much of a past memory.) "Your father is worried for you, Aonung.

He may not have confided in my mate and me, but we can hear in his words that he is concerned." She paused, looking thoughtful as her expression softened a touch. "Your mother and I, we did not get along well.

But she asked me to take care of Pril, and that, I have done my part. I remained in Awa'atlu until your youngest sister was able to walk and speak a little.

Your mother had not told me to look after you, but now, your sister has become a part of my family. In welcoming her into my family, it is my duty to look after you, too, Aonung.

I, as any mother, know that not one of them ever wished for their children to remain unmated for the rest of their lives."

The softened yet serious expression on her face took on a more subtly pitying yet determined look as she continued, "…which is why, for your stay here, I would like you to meet some of our best women." A pause. "…and men."

(Aonung refrained from flinching at the mere thought of mating with someone who wasn't him.)

Silence descended after Neytiri's words, and the metkayina was grateful that the omatikayan woman didn't pressure him to give an immediate answer. Even though he knew that, regardless of what he had to say, there was no stopping the woman from introducing him to these strangers.

Resigned, Aonung nodded. Stiff and rigid.

"…do they at least know that I'm not exactly emotionally available?" Aonung blurted, couldn't help but immediately regretted for asking such a foolish question out loud.

It didn't matter, at the end of the day.

He was sure in his very soul that he would never fall for anyone.

Not after he had done so with the one who had left forever.

Alive only in memories of the past.

Surprisingly understanding, Neytiri clasped a hand over the metkayina's shoulder, a plethora of emotions swirling in her golden eyes, yet another reminder of the eyes that haunted Aonung, awake or asleep. "Aonung," she murmured, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly. "I do not expect you to fall for any of them."

"Then why do I have to be introduced to them?"

"To see, ma itan," she softly answered, uncharacteristically quiet and patient. "To see what Eywa has given us."

Aonung couldn't help the bitter tang in his throat.

He wanted to retort how he had seen what Eywa could give him - only for her to take him away.

He wanted to retort that no matter what or who Eywa sent his way, it would never be able to fill in the hole left in his chest after losing his mother, his best friend, and his heart.

He did not want to see.

Seeing meant risking losing.

He had made peace with Eywa. Eywa kept all things in balance. Eywa gives just as Eywa takes.

Although, when he was reminded of his losses, he couldn't help the sliver of resentment for the Great Mother.

He knew he shouldn't.

But his heart was a fickle thing.

He could only hope that Eywa understood.

Seeing that Aonung had no words to say in reply, Neytiri gave the metkayina one last squeeze on the shoulder, before she instructed him to hold on.

The two of them soared into the sky not a moment later.

(He imagined riding the ikran with the boy who was keeping him together - even if only in his head and memories.)

When they landed, Neytiri didn't waste time.

She told him of names that flew right over his head. She told him the reasons for her choices, and Aonung couldn't help but find it both amusing and a little embarrassing once he realised each of them resembled the firstborn of the omatikayan woman in some way.

(She knew of his feelings, too.)

With a clasp on Aonung's shoulder, she excused herself and told him that these strangers would be the ones to approach him.

All he had to do was 'see'.

Aonung bit back his tongue and stiffly nodded.

(He'd rather be blinded than see and feel the absence in his heart, only further emphasised once he looked to find nothing but reminders of what was no longer in his grasp.)

***1***

Ewtsyey was a skilled archer.

During dinner, where everyone was expected to gather at the centre of the camp, she could see the many prodding, curious, and, most of all, interested eyes and gazes on the metkayina she was supposed to talk to for the night.

Neytiri had asked her for help; something the omatikayan warrior rarely did.

"Soothe him," she had said. "He has been hurting for so long. It does not matter to me whether he likes you or not. Remind him to see."

Ewtsyey was told that she was mentioned to Aonung as a 'potential mate'.

She wasn't too keen on being introduced as such - especially when her heart was already taken by someone else.

Still, as she observed the metkayina from afar, his long curls taken care of, long eyelashes fluttering for every blink he made, captivating teal eyes hidden under those lashes, with a form so hulking she wondered if he could render someone breathless with simply an armlock, she made one most obvious conclusion:

Aonung was not interested in any of them.

He looked bored, and he looked like he didn't even want to be here.

"Brother, haven't you clung to me long enough?" Ewtsyey heard the metkayina's little sister, Pril, complain for the nth time ever since the two of them had gotten to dinner together.

Aonung said something that Ewtsyey couldn't hear. At least not when she was standing so far away.

The two siblings had acted like so ever since they joined the dinner. It almost seemed like the older of the two was using his sister as a reason to not talk to anyone else.

It was a little endearing just as it was a little… sad.

Such good looks - yet he's, apparently, 'not emotionally available'?

What were the metkayinas doing, leaving someone so handsome single and unmated for so long?

Not even one of them could soothe the man's heart?

The sound of Pril's voice exclaiming how 'she wanted to play with her friends' could be heard, abruptly cutting Ewtsyey's train of thought. The omatikayan woman saw the little girl ran away, and immediately knew she had to talk to the metkayina before anyone else decided to approach the sulking-looking man.

Without his sister with him, Aonung looked… intimidating. Like his father, Tonowari, who had become close friends with Toruk Makto, Jakesully.

Deciding she'd better get this over with, she strutted to where the metkayina was sitting - fixing the bow and arrows strung on her in the process.

She was regarded with a look from the metkayina once they were in talking distance.

She sat herself beside him, leaving some distance between them, and internally noted how the tension in his shoulders became less prominent at her presence. Not because he was comforted by her presence, but it probably had more to do with how her presence kept the prying gazes of the others away.

For now.

Silence stretched.

…

She turned to the metkayina, studying the man's mesmerising eyes and the slope of his nose before she broke the silence.

"I'm Ewtsyey," she introduced herself. "Neytiri asked me to 'soothe' you."

She hadn't expected the abrupt reply from the man.

"I don't need anyone soothing me."

His voice was cold and surprisingly sharp. The omatikayan woman hadn't expected him to sound so… distant.

She sat properly on the log they're sitting on, couldn't help the way her ears perked up, and her tail flicked in interest at the suddenly interesting metkayina. "Would you rather I tell you that I'm supposed to try winning your heart?"

Aonung scrunched his nose in distaste.

Ewtsyey found the sight to be pretty cute.

Not as cute as the man she had her interest in, though.

After a few beats of silence, Aonung sighed, rubbed a palm down his face, before finally meeting Ewtsyey's gaze.

His eyes immediately lingered on the bow slung over her shoulder.

"Sorry," he said, eyes still lingering on the bow before they met Ewtsyey's again. "I didn't mean to be rude, I just- I just have a lot on my mind."

The omatikayan woman thought of the man's interest in her bow.

Standing up, she adjusted her bow and arrows, before turning to the metkayina, dismissing his apology with a wave of her hand. "It's fine. No need to apologise. We all have a lot on our minds sometimes." Then, gesturing over a path that would lead them away from the camping grounds, she took a wild guess, "For me, when I have a lot on my mind, I'll shoot stuff."

She let a moment pass.

"You're feeling like shooting anything? Or are you no good with a bow?"

Thankfully, she was right - about the metkayina not being one to back down from a challenge or a taunt.

She wondered if the soft smile she saw on his lips for a split second was truly because of her or if it was because of a memory of his.

Without much preamble, Ewtsyey led the two of them away from prying eyes.

It wasn't a long track.

Before she knew it, the two of them got to the shooting range.

She entered the range, turning around with her arms spread open as if to gesture to the open space as she started walking backwards, couldn't help but smiling wide as they were in a place dear to her. "This, is my turf," she declared, grinning a little wider when her words made Aonung roll his eyes and scoff in amusement.

Simply because she missed the feeling of stringing a bow, she held her bow, got into position, and swiftly took one of her arrows before shooting at a target - right through the centre. She wasn't sure if archery was something metkayinas did, but she was sure that the shot she made should have impressed her guest.

Turning to her guest again, she tried not to let her eyes wander too much over how nice the metkayina looked, bathed in the moonlight. "You know how to shoot, or do I have to teach you from the beginning?"

As much as she had seen it coming, it still surprised her when the metkayina scoffed, borderline arrogant and smug when he grabbed the arrow and bow she was loosely holding.

"I know enough about archery," he snarked, good-natured and looking the most relaxed Ewtsyey had ever seen him.

Then, impressively, he held the bow, adjusted his arrow, and took aim.

Ewtsyey couldn't help the impressed whistle slipping past her lips at his form.

Out of excitement and from feeling impressed, she blurted just as Aonung was about to release the string of the bow:

"If I hadn't known any better, I would've thought Neteyam was the one who taught you how to shoot."

The arrow sliced through the wind.

It missed the centre - just by an inch or less.

But that wasn't the point.

The point, was that Ewtsyey was suddenly realising why Neytiri cared so much for the metkayina in front of her. Why the Sullys family cared so much.

It's hard to miss when she noticed the man's reaction at the mere mention of a name she hadn't spoken of for a long time.

Lowering the bow he's holding, Aonung's relaxed expression turned both a touch melancholic and fond, a small smile stretching itself on his lips as he spoke barely audibly, "He did."

Ewtsyey had never been very good at comforting others.

So she ran her mouth and hoped for the best.

"I recognised it because he used to teach some of us how to shoot. He… was very good with the bow. One of the best. Like his mother, but, don't tell Neytiri I said this, more friendly and less scary. Definitely more patient, too.

We were all sad to see him leave, but it was Jakesully's decision, so who are we to argue?"

There's a faraway look in Aonung's eyes that Ewtsyey wanted to wipe away.

"I didn't know him very well aside from how he's good with a bow," she pushed through, wrecking her brain for anything to say. "He's not one to talk about himself. He likes to talk about his siblings, about his sempul, about his sa'nok - but never about himself. When we asked, he'd grow awkward pretty quickly; so we learnt not to ask him questions about himself. Plus, he always looked more relaxed when we didn't talk about him anyway."

None of her words seemed to be getting through the metkayina.

Growing increasingly nervous, she was just about to apologise for bringing up the omatikayan when Aonung spoke up.

The metkayina was staring at her bow, his fingers tracing the wood. Still with that faraway look in his eyes.

"Archery doesn't come easy to him."

There's a reverence in the metkayina's voice, lacing his words. A reverence that forced Ewtsyey to do nothing but listen.

"He said he's not as much of a 'genius' as he's always made out to be," Aonung continued, his gaze hardened and his eyes furrowed. "He said it took a lot of time and effort to be good at anything. He said that, the first time Jake taught him how to use the bow, he was so terrible at it, Jake looked genuinely frustrated.

He said he hated to disappoint his dad."

(Ewtsyey noted how the metkayina addressed Toruk Makto.)

"He said he didn't know how Loak managed to pick himself back up whenever Jake was angry at him. He said, 'that's why my baby brother is stronger and braver than me'; because Loak can always stand right back up, but he couldn't.

He said he'd always feel like he's 'no good' if he couldn't exceed his father's expectations, but he never dared to say any of these out loud.

He told me that, ever since Jake got frustrated at him, he started training his ass off.

In the morning, he would join his mother on her ikran, learning from her words on how he should ride an ikran.

In the evening, he would look after his siblings when his mother and father would be out hunting or scavenging.

In the night, he would practice archery.

He said he would sneak out, a bow and an arrow in hand, and shoot. As many times as he could."

Aonung looked like he was looking far into the distance, a small smile playing on his lips as he finally took his eyes off the omatikayan woman's bow, looking around the space they were in instead before commenting, "I guess it's safe to assume he practiced here."

His gaze lingered on his arrow that had pierced through a target. "He told me he trained to the point of crying," a scoff, fond and so thick with affections, Ewtsyey wondered how it was even possible, "and to the point of huffing and hissing at nothing in particular. I like to imagine him frustrated: his ears twitching and his tail lashing out.

But, despite his frustrations, he would be quiet about it.

He told me he didn't want anyone to see that childish side of him, lest he wouldn't be taken seriously.

Before he knew it, people were calling him a 'genius'. Then, eventually, it drove a wedge between him and his brother."

Aonung was no longer smiling.

He looked solemn.

Perhaps the two of them were more than just an omatikayan teaching a metkayina how to shoot with a bow and an arrow.

Just when Ewtsyey was about to blurt whatever she could come up with on the spot, Aonung beat her to it by handing her the bow.

"I'm sorry," he suddenly said, not meeting Ewtsyey's eyes. "I don't think I can do this."

Shortly after that, he left.

When morning came, Ewtsyey went to the Tree of Souls. To see if the rumours were true.

The rumours of how the metkayina was always spotted at the Tree of Souls, came dawn.

She spotted him at the Tree of Souls, indeed. Asleep.

But before she could do anything, someone else, Tsireya, mate of Loak te Suli Tsyeyk'itan and Aonung's little sister, had gotten to him. Breakfast in hand, she gently shook her brother awake and offered her the drinks and fruits she brought.

It wouldn't take a genius to figure out whose memories Aonung had been visiting, now that she had heard for herself how deep the metkayina's feelings for the firstborn of Toruk Makto ran.

***2***

Nakxa had always been one of the most agile omatikayan there was among the clan.

He thought, perhaps, that was the reason why Neytiri approached him and asked him if he could give the handsome metkayina - the son, not the father - a tour around the forest.

Not that he believed that the metkayina needed a tour.

He had noticed how frequently the metkayina visited them. When the metkayina arrived at the forest, he would either be seen with any one of the Sullys, loitering around camp, or connecting with the Tree of Souls for, in Nakxa's opinions, a long and unhealthy period of time. Nakxa had seen him spend more of his time at the Tree of Souls than at the camp, really.

But he was not about to challenge the words of someone as fierce as Neytiri, so he obliged and waited for any glimpse of the metkayina.

It was noon when he spotted Aonung stepping out of his camp for his week-long stay at the Hallelujah Mountains.

Not wasting any time, Nakxa approached the metkayina, and grew a little nervous under the said metkayina's stare when his presence was noticed.

"I hope you had a good night's sleep, Aonung," he greeted, scrambling a second later to gesture 'I see you' before clearing his throat and continuing, "I'm Nakxa, and Neytiri told me I should-"

"That you should try to get me to like you?"

Nakxa instantly stood upright, face flushing as his ears drooped, his tail flicking behind him rather frantically.

"What?! No!" he exclaimed - or more like squeaked, but was it really his fault for not expecting the metkayina to be in such a sour mood?

If looks could kill, Nakxa was sure he'd be dead by now.

Yes, Neytiri did tell him that he could try to 'woo' the man, but Nakxa wasn't really looking for a mate at the moment. Especially with someone who was from a different clan, and had a history with the Sullys. (No offense to the Sullys, but, from his observations alone, the family really had a track record of attracting 'troubles'.)

"She said that I should give you a tour, and that 'wooing' you is completely optional," Nakxa clarified, clearing his throat again and wondering if Aonung wouldn't mind stopping by somewhere so he could get a drink for his dried throat. He was just about to add some more clarification, when Aonung snorted.

Nakxa paused.

It wasn't mean, but Nakxa was pretty sure it was the first time he was face-to-face with a sound and smile so fond coming from the mysterious metkayina.

"Sorry," Aonung apologised. "I just think she's funny."

Nakxa blinked.

"Who's funny?"

"Neytiri," Aonung stated. Matter-of-factly.

Perhaps there was another Neytiri that Nakxa hadn't had the pleasure of meeting.

In the next second, Aonung suddenly started walking away, and Nakxa stared at the man - are all metkayinas as big as the man was? - and snapped out of it only when the metkayina turned to him with an expectant look.

"You're gonna give me a tour or what?"

The two of them didn't waste any time after that.

Dutifully, Nakxa brought Aonung to all the places he knew were the charms of living in the forest. They climbed trees, fell off large leaves to safely land on the ground, balanced themselves on thin branches that extended as far as the eyes could see, and ducked and jumped whenever vines as large as their arms or obstacles as large as themselves blocked their paths. Of course, proving Nakxa's observations, the metkayina really did look familiar with the terrain.

If Nakxa hadn't known any better, he would've thought that Aonung had someone to teach him how to navigate terrains like the forest. It wouldn't be so hard to imagine, considering how the metkayina was close to the Sullys.

It was when they were at a stream, momentarily stopping to wash their face and feel the coolness of the water on their faces rather than the heat from the Sun, did Aonung, for the first time since the tour started, speak:

"Were you close with Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan?"

It was a name Nakxa hadn't heard of in a very long time.

"No," the omatikayan admitted. "I've never been brave enough to start conversations with him. He's-" he sucked in a breath, "He was very admired, back then. But he seemed clueless about it."

"Clueless?"

Nakxa was a little surprised by how intrigued Aonung was.

"Yes. Everyone liked him, and some had tried to tell him that they were interested in him, but he would always miss the cues and hints," Nakxa elaborated, relaxed that Aonung looked comfortable. "Sometimes, accidentally or not, he ended up using his siblings as excuses - at least from what I've heard. Someone would ask him if he 'cares for a night stroll?', and he would matter-of-factly say that they weren't supposed to be wandering around at night, or he would claim that he had to 'keep an eye on his brother'."

Unexpectedly, Aonung snickered, all too amused, and Nakxa couldn't help the way he, too, mirrored the smile on the metkayina's lips, pleased to see his quiet company finally expressing himself. It was why he kept on talking, "The closest thing his admirers could get to 'going on a date with him' was if they asked for private lessons from him. Archery, flying an ikran, navigating the forest, and hunting. Most of the time, when someone managed to 'rope' him into a private lesson, his other admirers would feel envious and crash these 'lessons'."

Aonung laughed, heartily and entertained.

"He had that many admirers?" the metkayina asked, shaking his head from side to side, wet curls shaking and looking almost shining because of the sun glinting on them.

"He did," Nakxa affirmed. "Most of the time, when these private lessons just turned into normal lessons, he wouldn't even be bothered by the new company. He'd praised them because they were 'eager to learn', and then everyone would just swoon over him again."

Aonung chuckled as he pushed his bangs away from his face.

"He's generous with his compliments?"

"He's generous with a lot of things," Nakxa agreed, recalling a time when Neteyam was really sought after as he blurted, "He's generous with his time, too. Time away from warrior duties and oldest brother duties.

It's usually when he's not busy with those duties that his admirers try their luck. Their favourite 'go-to lesson' was definitely a walk in the forest. The forest is breathtaking at night - especially when bioluminesences became the source of light, lighting up the path in various shades and colours.

Oh, but Neteyam didn-"

"He didn't like walking through the forest, did he?"

Nakxa focused his attention on Aonung.

Aonung, who looked… odd.

He looked… smug. Triumphant.

And he was right.

"How did you know that?" Nakxa inquired, curious as his tail flicked and his ears perked up.

Still with that smug and triumphant look, Aonung talked.

"Because he liked taking me on night strolls just as much as I liked taking him to night dives.

He liked giving me private lessons. He liked teaching me how to shoot with a bow and making fun of me as much as he liked it when I managed to shoot the target right through the middle. He liked teaching me how to climb and balance myself just as I liked teaching him how to swim. He liked taking me to ride on his ikran, something that my past self didn't properly appreciate, just as I liked teaching him how to ride an ilu.

He liked spending time with me. Enough that he didn't let his 'warrior duties' get in the way of us sneaking out to have some time for ourselves. Enough that he didn't let his 'oldest brother duties' get in the way of us swimming further than deemed safe just to see how bright the depth can be when it's night. Enough that it was obvious that there was something between us, but I-"

Aonung abruptly stopped talking.

When Nakxa looked at the metkayina, he was a little stunned to find the frustrated expression on the man's face.

His fist clenched, the metkayina abruptly stood up, and Nakxa scrambled to stand up, too, as Aonung spoke.

"Tell Neytiri that there's no point."

Nakxa watched as the metkayina tightly closed his eyes, tightly clenched his fists, before he slowly opened both his eyes and directed a hardened and serious gaze in the omatikayan's direction.

"Tell Neytiri that no one could ever replace him.

He's it for me. I'm not settling for less."

With those words, Aonung left.

Nakxa wasn't worried about Aonung getting lost.

What he was worried about, however, was perhaps that he shouldn't have prattled on about Neteyam for so long. He shouldn't have further reminded the metkayina of his loss.

He shouldn't have dug his nails into the metkayina's still-opened wounds and cuts, even if years had passed.

Especially when those wounds and cuts were never properly treated.

***3***

Teifi was an omatikayan man of routine.

He was 24, and he was meant to be the next oloeyktan after Tarsem. Although, he was pretty sure that with the Sullys' arrival, Loak would naturally be the next oloeyktan.

Teifi wasn't such a big fan of Loak. In truth, he's a part of the minority where he wasn't too 'fond' of the Sullys in general.

It wasn't because he was still skeptical of the Toruk Makto. He had seen the man in a fight, and had seen for himself that the man truly was loyal to the Na'vi - even though his main choice of weaponry seemed to still be that of steel and metal, despite the teachings he had received from Neytiri.

It was more so because, when they left, they were six.

They were seven when they returned, yet one of them was missing.

They left without Spider, the human boy who always played with the Sully's children. They came back with Spider, but Neteyam was nowhere in sight. They came back with a woman from the metkayina clan, Loak's mate, but Neteyam was nowhere in sight.

Teifi was a man of routine, and his routine used to be to 'make sure to keep up with Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan'.

From the first time he met Toruk Makto's firstborn and his other siblings, Teifi knew Neteyam was different from his other siblings.

Different from Loak, as Neteyam was more mature and skilled. Different from Kiri, as Neteyam was more focused and level-headed. Even more different from Tuk who was still growing up, after all.

Teifi looked up to Neteyam, and, at some point, he did fall for the boy.

How could he not?

Neteyam was dependable and hardworking. He gave it his all in everything that he did, and he was never one to easily back down. He's fierce and beautiful like his mother and charismatic and brave like his father.

His father, who also treated him like he was a soldier rather than a child.

The thing about Neteyam was that he rarely ever paid attention to himself. He focused on pleasing and helping those around him, yet he would rather jump off a cliff headfirst than talk about himself and his feelings.

Teifi considered himself to be Neteyam's closest friend. At a point in their friendship, he liked to believe that Neteyam saw him as such, too.

It would be the only reason why, some nights, Neteyam would shed the walls and acts he put up for the people around him, and cried.

Every time, Teifi would hold the boy close, whisper comforting and consoling words, and tell his friend that 'everything was going to be okay'. Every time, too, Neteyam would end up asleep in his arms, tired from crying, tired from disappointing and failing his father by not exceeding his father's expectations.

In other words, he wasn't the 'biggest fan' of 'Toruk Makto'. Especially not a big fan of how he raised a select few of his children - specifically his sons. Especially his oldest son.

Loak always caused trouble for Neteyam. It's why Teifi 'disliked' the younger omatikayan boy to a degree, too.

Aside from Neteyam and Tuk, Teifi also respected Neytiri. How could he not when she had been a better parent than Jakesully was?

Neteyam always tried to live up to his father's expectations, but when it came to his mother, the omatikayan boy never really felt the need to prove himself - because Neytiri taught him that he was enough just the way he was.

It was also why, when Neytiri asked him to 'have a chat with Aonung', he couldn't help but oblige.

Aonung te Tsika'u Tonowari'itan.

The metkayina was going to be the next oloeyktan of the metkayina clan.

Teifi had also heard from the bits and pieces of conversations the Sullys like to have so loudly that the metkayina was pretty close with them when they were at Awa'atlu.

That the metkayina was close with Neteyam.

Teifi wasn't jealous. Rather, if they were indeed as close as they had sounded in the Sullys' conversations, then how come Neteyam died alone?

He had a lot of questions for the metkayina, but, most of all, he was lurking behind a tree and watching the metkayina in his thoughts as the said metkayina stretched, seeming to be getting ready for an exercise or something similarly exerting.

He was acting like a creep, yes, but he was simply in the process of collecting his thoughts.

Eventually, though, he stepped out of his hiding, and couldn't find it in him to be impressed when Aonung immediately looked at him; as if he knew Teifi had been standing there the entire time.

Aonung gave him a brief, disinterested once-over before standing upright, a long spear in his hand being stabbed into the ground before he tied his hair into a manbun, not even bothering to properly look at Teifi when he deadpanned:

"I thought I told Neytiri that I don't want any other 'company'."

He added a second later, meeting the omatikayan man's gaze, "Especially a company that thinks staring at me with a murderous look on his face for a solid 10 minutes is acceptable."

Teifi couldn't imagine someone with such a temper getting along with Neteyam.

"As much as I also don't want to be here," Teifi snarked, adjusting the bow slung on him, "Neytiri asked me to 'have a chat' with you, and I respect her too much to not go along with what is asked of me."

Something glinted in Aonung's eyes, but it passed by too quickly for Teifi to put a name on it.

It was easily forgotten when Aonung put on a smirk, drawling tauntingly: "So you're a 'mama's boy', too?"

Teifi's lips formed a thin line.

"My mom died during one of the sky people's raids."

The smirk on Aonung's lips didn't falter.

"Guess we have one thing in common."

Then, unexpectedly, Aonung picked up his spear, gestured over a stream nearby, and asked, "You wanna try and catch some fish with me, forest boy?"

Teifi was never one to back down from a challenge.

While Aonung used his spear to catch fish, skillfully and accurately stabbing so that he had his woven basket full in no time, Teifi used his bow and arrow, piling up his catch a bit further away from the metkayina's catch. He was aware of the unspoken competition that they were going to compete over who caught the most fish, after all.

Before he knew it, evening got to them, and the sky was already in a mixture of orange, pink, and purple.

He looked at his pile of catch, around the same amount as Aonung's, and wondered to himself how their catches would surely be enough to feed the entire camp for at least two days.

The sound of feet wading through water caught the omatikayan's attention, and Teifi turned around only to stumble and fall on his bum once he realised how close the metkayina was standing.

Aonung didn't bother to offer a hand to help the omatikayan up. Instead, he snorted, as if amused, and shook his head from side to side, making water drip all over from his hair and wetting Teifi himself, to the omatikayan's annoyance.

Just when Teifi was about to stand up and rather childishly push the metkayina into the water, Aonung spoke up with an unreadable tone:

"You must be Teifi."

The omatikayan paused. (He really forgot to tell the metkayina his name.)

He stared as the metkayina casually sat at the bank of the stream, beside their catches, before Aonung looked up at the sky; pondering and amused.

"It must be a mother's instinct, I think," Aonung said, his eyes still on the sky.

Teifi seated himself beside the metkayina, leaving some distance between them.

The omatikayan let the silence stretch for a beat or two before he broke it. "Did Neytiri tell you that I'm going to have a chat with you?"

"I think she did list a couple of names," Aonung answered, moving his gaze onto the streaming water his legs were dipped in instead. "But even if she didn't mention your name, I would've known you're Teifi."

"Why?"

It took the metkayina a beat or two, a kick or two in the water, and a pursed pair of lips later before he answered, glancing at hair beads that Teifi had braided into his hair just this morning.

"Because Neteyam told me about you and your neon hair beads."

Teifi went rigid.

Neteyam had always been a private person. He'd dare say that no one in the Sullys, with the exception of Neytiri, knew about him and Neteyam because of how rarely they saw him and Neteyam hanging out.

What Neteyam and he had was strictly platonic, but when they weren't alone, and when Neteyam was busy with his 'duties', they rarely had time to even glance at each other. (Perhaps that was one of the things where Neteyam was better at than him: not sneaking glances.)

So to hear that Neteyam had opened up to someone…

"You and Neteyam were close," Teifi stated matter-of-factly.

He sort of wanted to punch the smug and triumphant look on the metkayina's face.

"We were," he affirmed, probably just to get on the omatikayan's nerves. "And you are close enough with him to quickly realise that."

Teifi remembered the questions he had pondered about before approaching the metkayina.

"If you were so close to Neteyam,

where were you when he died?"

The smirk was gone. As if it wasn't even there in the first place.

The omatikayan held eye contact the entire time silence stretched after he uttered his question.

Teifi wasn't afraid of being dragged into a fight. He had been in his fair share of fights. One more fight with a metkayina a size larger than him would only just add to his 'collection'.

Tarsem had told him that he shouldn't make 'fighting' a habit, but he'd argue that, sometimes, there were things that could only be explained through exchanging punches and bruises.

Just when the omatikayan thought Aonung would punch him, seeing how hard the metkayina's fists were clenched, he was surprised when the spirit in the other man looked almost as if it had suddenly lost its vigor as the metkayina sighed, defeated:

"I was too busy being a coward."

Teifi hadn't expected the honest admission - so he kept quiet.

Aonung took that as his sign to talk.

"My clan wasn't trained for war.

So when the sky people came, I was too busy saving myself to even think about saving anyone else."

The metkayina's expression hardened, "But Neteyam was different.

He came up with ideas on the spot quickly; he had to think faster and react to new dangers and threats even faster, and he was realistic. He planned before he attacked, and, on that day, he had really proven himself as a warrior.

The thing about warriors, though, is that they always have something they'll value and protect at all cost - even if it was at the cost of endangering themselves.

So he paid the cost."

Teifi didn't need to shout and yell for the metkayina to feel guilty.

The omatikayan knew full well that there were no such things as 'confirmed survival' in wars. Feeling guilty over the losses gained from wars would only stop someone from moving forward.

In the metkayina, he saw someone who regrets.

It was disorienting to see someone so strong and large look so fragile at the same time.

He was reminded of Neteyam. Younger, smaller, and desperately keeping himself together for others' sake.

Reminded of such a pitiful sight, he instinctively - and awkwardly - wrapped his arms around the subtly trembling metkayina.

The trembling instantly stopped, though.

Huh.

Perhaps hugs were effective in providing comfort, after-

"Dude."

Teifi leaned away to get a good look at Aonung.

At Aonung's genuinely puzzled face.

"What the fuck was that?" The metkayina questioned.

The omatikayan looked at the metkayina incredulously.

"It was a hug," he deadpanned, before adding with a half-mocking and half-concerned question, "Were you not hugged as a child?"

Aonung scoffed, no longer looked like he would break at the slightest nudge just a few seconds ago, and smacked Teifi's back hard enough that the omatikayan started to profusely cough before the metkayina casually stood up.

That was, by far, one of the weirdest chats he ever had with anyone.

Leave it to Neytiri to surprise him…

"You're going to just keep on coughing like you're dying, or are you going to come and help me bring these catches back to the camp?" Aonung questioned aloud, effectively snapping Teifi out of his thoughts and getting him to move.

A pair of arms full of fish and a woven basket filled to the brim with fish later, the two of them started their track back to the village when there was barely any sunlight left to illuminate their way.

Thank Eywa for the abundance of bioluminescent plants and nature in the forest.

"I also figured that you are Teifi because he told me that he taught you how to hunt fish with bows. The way you did it looked similar to how he had done it in the past."

"What else did he tell you?"

Aonung pretended to think for a moment - before he grinned cheekily. (A little immature for a 25-year-old, but Teifi didn't mind it too much.

No one to put an act around for.)

"He told me that he liked me better than you."

Teifi scoffed, disbelieving as he tried to trip the metkayina - who frustratingly managed to slip away as he obnoxiously cackled.

The omatikayan had never thought that the metkayina he always saw brooding could be this irritating when he's smiling.

(Perhaps, in that way, Neteyam and Aonung were similar.

Maybe that's why the two of them got along so well.)

"He probably only said that to you in your dreams."

"At least it happened."

"In your dreams, skxawng."

Childishly, they kept on trying to trip each other the entire way to the camp. (Teifi didn't want to admit it, but Aonung's ability to stay balanced in a terrain that wasn't meant for reef people like him was really impressive.)

Once they were close to the camp, they gave up on trying to trip each other.

Teifi was just about to suggest they should go straight to where the omatikayans usually prepare their food when Aonung asked out of nowhere:

"Have you found yourself a mate yet, Teifi?"

Teifi pursed his lips.

"…no."

In response, Aonung chuckled, and nudged the omatikayan with his shoulder, looking down at the shorter navi and looking the most relaxed Teifi had ever seen the metkayina.

"Then I guess I won't have to worry about dying alone too much. You'll be right there beside me: miserable."

Teifi rolled his eyes, and cackled loud and so uncharacteristic of him when he finally managed to make the metkayina stumble.

The omatikayans nearby curiously looked at them, but both navis were too busy trying to trip each other again to notice.

Distantly, Teifi thought that perhaps Neytiri had made one of the very few wrong decisions in her life by sending him to talk with Aonung. After all, judging from the words he had exchanged with the metkayina, he probably wasn't able to convince Aonung to find someone to share his life with.

At least not someone who wasn't her firstborn.

***+1***

The night after 'spending some quality time with Teifi', Aonung approached Neytiri and asked her to follow him.

"You wanted me to see," Aonung had told her, the two of them standing in front of the Tree of Souls as the metkayina took his kuru in his hand, ready to connect himself to the root. "But the world can burn for all I care, and I'll still refuse to let go of what I have seen - even if they are only in my memories.

I need you to see what I see, Neytiri.

And then you can decide if making me look away is good for me or not."

It took the omatikayan woman a few beats before she solemnly nodded, and raised her own kuru.

To see what Aonung sees.

Aonung connected his kuru to the root first, and then.

A memory. With him.

It wasn't the first time Aonung had visited this particular memory.

Like he usually would, the first thing he felt was releasing the string of a bow, and with it launching an arrow right past a tree and missing the target completely, a little disoriented over the loss of muscle mass as he 'woke up' in the body of his 15-year-old self.

Lately, at least in the memory he was currently 'living' in, the Sullys' children, along with Tsireya, Aonung, and Rotxo, had made it a competition to find where Neteyam could be whenever the omatikayan disappeared. It was mainly because it seemed that the oldest child of the Sully had set his eyes on something, and ended up being much too focused and determined to achieve whatever it was that had caught his attention, rather than 'babysitting' his little sibling.

Whoever managed to find Neteyam the fastest as soon as the omatikayan boy's absence was noticed, will be able to get any one of the losers to do anything - like chores or silly shenanigans. If they managed to also guess what it was that Neteyam was so dead set on, then the winner will be allowed to ask anything of every loser.

Aonung had always managed to find the omatikayan, but he never told the others - at least at the time of the events happening.

He wanted to figure out what the other was so dead set on doing first before telling the others. (And perhaps he wanted to spend more time alone with the 15-year-old omatikayan boy.)

Despite how there was an immediate click of a tongue in disapproval, Aonung couldn't help but feel all too fond of the sound. Even if the owner of the sound was reprimanding him.

"You've barged into me practicing six times already, 'Nung," Neteyam chided, approaching the metkayina who all too happily turned to see the other navi.

Neteyam's tail was flicking in a show of dissatisfaction, ears torn between folding back disappointedly or twitching from an odd mixture of mild irritation and amusement, eyes furrowed in growing and genuine befuddlement, the amusement of seeing his friend floundering having passed after seeing it numerous times. "And yet, despite claiming how you are learning from watching me, it's almost as if you are becoming worse," the omatikayan huffed, a hand on his hip while his other hand scratched the back of his head in confusion.

Aonung swallowed down the urge to pull the other into a hug.

He knew Neytiri was watching them from somewhere. He had to maintain his composure.

He had a point to prove, after all.

"Maybe you just have to demonstrate again," Aonung countered, handing the bow to the omatikayan and innocently batting his lashes. "I promise I'll pay attention this time."

Begrudgingly, Neteyam rolled his eyes, yet accepted the bow handed to him as he half-heartedly snarked, "That's what you said last time." He moved away and started making his way towards Aonung's stray arrow before adding with an equally snarky tone, "And the times before that."

"It's not my fault that you're so distracting," Aonung quipped, following after the omatikayan boy and couldn't help but be endeared by the other's expressive tail - flicking around here and there and sometimes at the metkayina himself when he was 'asking for it' by 'being an annoying hassle'.

At the metkayina's words, Neteyam threw a glance over his shoulder at his friend before he looked back at where he was going. "And I'm asking, for the eleventh time, what is it about me that is so distracting to you?"

They got to the arrow, which pierced through the ground.

Aonung bent down and grabbed the arrow before Neteyam could, and the metkayina took his time just looking at how expressive the other was when they were alone by themselves, no one to act mature for, before he handed it to the attempted-not-to-look-flustered friend.

"And my answer's going to remain the same, too," Aonung quipped, standing up and not bothering to hide the grin on his lips when his friend hastily took the handed bow, eager to look away and hoping Aonung didn't notice him feeling awkward.

It's hard not to notice when he has always been looking this entire time.

He had brought up the omatikayan's incapability of being showered with attention when it came to things that weren't about 'being a warrior' or 'a good older brother' before to his friend. It was something they talked about to pass the time and fill in the silence.

Neteyam had denied the observation rather profusely. With purple blotching his cheeks.

"Ha. Ha." The omatikayan deadpanned, turning on his heels and making his way back to where they were shooting from. "Fine. Stay mysterious if you want," he added gruffly, lips pursed in a pout and his tail flicking in irritation.

Aonung didn't reply to his friend's words. Too busy as he was staring at his friend's rare show of emotions like 'upset' and such.

Only when they got to their self-made shooting range once again did Aonung relent, already suppressing the too-eager smile on his lips as he clasped a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Fine, fine, baby tail," he coaxed, smiling innocently in the face of Neteyam's skeptical yet curious look. "I'll tell you if you demonstrate again."

Neteyam huffed, but complied.

When the omatikayan raised his bow to aim at the target Aonung had missed, the metkayina tutted him. He stood behind the omatikayan, and suppressed the grin on his lips as he 'took his next step'.

His touch was as light as a brush of a feather, the tips of his fingers brushing Neteyam's side, and he leaned close so that he could murmur and make sure his breath brushed over the omatikayan's twitching ear.

"Not there," he murmured, all too fond when Neteyam's tail panickedly and instinctively flicked, brushing against Aonung momentarily before it flicked away. Still, the metkayina didn't point out the endearing instinctive action.

Instead, he used his other hand to brush along his friend's arm, before, slowly, he adjusted Neteyam's arm, so that the omatikayan was aiming at a tree further from them.

It took past him two more visits to notice the tree further away from them. With a target carved into it.

The distance was far enough that, at first, past Aonung had thought he was seeing things - because there was no way someone would aim that far.

Neteyam had always been ambitious. Especially when it came to exceeding expectations.

Considering how the omatikayan in the memory he's living in had no idea of how or when Aonung figured it out, it was understandable that he was so surprised.

"Aim there," Aonung encouraged, soft and almost quiet as he let his fingers remain on the omatikayan's waist.

Like previously, Neteyam's tail flicked, brushing against Aonung again, as he tilted his head to meet Aonung's gaze, "Since when did you notice?"

There's a noticeable anxiousness in Neteyam's voice. Unsure and nervous.

Aonung would know. From the many times he had lived through this memory and had a million more variations of conversations with the omatikayan, he knew Neteyam managed to shoot the target right in the centre only after the metkayina's seventh visit.

The nerves his friend was feeling were because he was afraid of missing and 'failing' in front of his metkayina friend.

"Not important," Aonung easily dismissed, using his hand that was holding Neteyam's arm to gently tilt the omatikayan's face so the slightly shorter navi was back to looking at his target. "What's important right now, is for you to demonstrate."

"But that's a pretty tough target," Neteyam argued, more because he wanted to get out of shooting his current challenge for himself and less because he thought it was a hassle.

The metkayina took a step away.

Then he took a few more steps away so he could properly see his friend's form.

"A pretty tough target for a pretty impressive warrior such as yourself," Aonung quipped, softly smiling at the incredulous yet flustered look his friend had on his face.

"I think you're putting emphasis on the wrong words."

"I know what I said."

Neteyam stared.

With a sigh, the omatikayan heaved a deep breath, exhaled, and took on a serious look.

"I never managed to make a shot that far before."

Aonung didn't hesitate to reply.

"I know."

It looked like the omatikayan wanted to ask, but he stopped himself and focused on drawing his bow's string and holding onto his arrow.

Aonung suggested: "Keep your feet wider apart."

Neteyam stared again.

The two of them had a sort of staring contest before the omatikayan obliged, and set his eyes on the target again.

Like this, focused and determined, Aonung could almost imagine his friend beside him. Older and more mature. Still as endearing as he always was in the metkayina's eyes.

(Alive.)

The only warning Aonung got before his arms were full of his friend was the sharp and distant sound of an arrow piercing wood and Neteyam's ecstatic and loud triumphant holler.

Not having expected the reaction, Aonung didn't prepare himself to catch the omatikayan - so the two of them ended up toppling right onto the grass under them instead.

Aonung noticed the discarded bow a distance away from him, and his heart squeezed and ached as he wondered what he meant to the omatikayan if the warrior would rather celebrate with him and put aside his bow carelessly than prioritize putting the bow down more neatly.

The omatikayan had told him once of how important the bow was to him. Made of the wood of Hometree that the sky people had so viciously and heartlessly burnt.

(He should've confessed his feelings, then.)

Two hands on both of the metkayina's cheeks snapped Aonung out of his drifting thoughts, and those thoughts all parted to make way to the sight of a brightly smiling Neteyam - who probably had not noticed that he was straddling the metkayina's midriff because of how enthusiastic he was.

"I did it! Did you see that?!" The omatikayan exclaimed, his tail excitedly swishing around behind him. "I have no idea how you knew what I should fix, but I finally did it!"

There were almost childlike twinkles in the omatikayan's eyes. A rare sight.

Aonung wished he could live in the moment forever.

Neteyam's braids were falling off his shoulders, creating shade for the metkayina under him from the burning sun. The beads in his hair clicked, and the corners of his eyes were crinkling, and Aonung knew there were a million ways this memory could end.

He had tucked the omatikayan's braid behind his ear and was rewarded with the sight of his friend flustered and scrambling away, endearingly clearing his throat and covering the lower half of his face like that helped not making the purple shading his face obvious.

He had told the omatikayan that he knew the said omatikayan could do it, and Neteyam had smiled so brightly yet softly, that Aonung had to cut the memory short because it was disorienting to feel so alive in a memory that had happened so many years ago.

He had tackled and toussled with the omatikayan, complaining how 'he shouldn't be the one at the bottom', and Neteyam had looked so scandalised that the two of them kept on toussling until their breathing grew ragged from the effort and laughter slipped past their mouths unbidden.

Out of so many of those alternatives, never once had Aonung dared to breach the invisible line between them.

He's afraid that it'd be too painful. To finally get a taste of something that will never be his forever.

But in the moment, with the thought of being forced to mate with someone who wasn't him…

The thought of needing to care for someone the way he wished he could care for him…

It pained him.

He didn't want anyone else.

The expression on his face must have changed, because the joyous look on his friend's face morphed into one of concern. Though the omatikayan was barely able to finish asking what was wrong, when Aonung swiftly switched their positions.

Him caging his friend on the ground while the said friend's eyes widened and breath hitched, the sound of the omatikayan's heartbeat stuttering almost too loud in Aonung's ears. (He wished he could listen to Neteyam's heartbeat while he was 'awake'.)

With his braids splayed on the ground and the steadily growing purple in the omatikayan's face, all Aonung could feel was need.

It's been so long since he felt it as strongly as the moment.

He thought he had put it behind him. He thought he had everything under control.

"'Nung?"

Aonung focused on what's in front of him.

(On what's not in front of him.)

The metkayina gently cupped a side of his friend's stupefied face, feeling the warmth in his friend's cheek while he leaned closer, staring at the swirls of emotions in golden eyes in favour of ignoring the brewing storm in his heart.

His thumb traced his friend's features: the cheekbone, the nose, the lips.

He should've said something, then.

He shouldn't have 'chickened out' and walked away, leaving Neteyam so confused at his friend's sudden leave because the said friend was shy just because the omatikayan threw himself at him and smiled so brightly. Aonung felt blinded and shot - with how tightly his heart had squeezed at the sight.

He should've thrown caution to the wind. He should've grabbed his friend's face and pressed their lips together; convey everything that he was so anxious about saying out loud with something as simple as that.

Neteyam wouldn't have pushed him away, Aonung knew. At least after having so many conversations with the omatikayan's memories.

Memories that he would never get to live in.

The other boy would be taken aback, but Aonung knew he would clumsily return the gesture. He would raise his hands to cup Aonung's face, and then promptly gave up with a chuckle and a small smile when he would hold onto the metkayina's nape instead - because Aonung would insist on leading the way, and the omatikayan was happy to not be the one expected to lead for once.

The other boy's heartbeat would be as loud as the blood rushing in Aonung's ears, and the metkayina would tilt his friend's face here and there, gently yet clumsily.

He never kissed anyone.

He never wanted to kiss anyone - until Neteyam was in his life.

He'd kiss the omatikayan boy breathless, relish in the gasps and the tugs at the root of his curly hair where the omatikayan's hands would bury and intertwine themselves in, and tried not be too obviously whipped when the other boy would sigh his name.

He would-

He wished so much that he still could-

He wished he could experience the awkwardness that came after suddenly kissing - or making out - with his friend. He wished he could experience the two of them stumbling over words and blurting out feelings they've kept locked inside their hearts when they tried to explain that they 'really liked it'.

'Really liked the other'.

He wished he could experience the sudden bashfulness that he'd feel at the other's admission and at his own. He wished he could stare at his friend's swollen lips and the pretty way his friend's face would flush after being left breathless far too many times. He wished he could experience returning to the village from the shooting range, their hands brushing against each other for far too many times before the other boy would uncharacteristically mutter 'fuck it' under his breath and intertwine their hands together.

He wished he could experience the sudden panic and shyness when one of their siblings spotted them holding hands. He wished he could experience watching Neteyam's tongue giving up on him as he tried to make excuses to the question 'why he was holding hands with Aonung?'. He wished he could see for himself the steady splashes of purple colouring his friend's face.

He wished-

"Ma 'Nung."

Aonung realised his vision was blurry at the same time Neteyam had cupped his face in concern with both of his hands.

Gently nudging, Neteyam got Aonung to sit in his lap so he could sit upright, his eyes never leaving Aonung's face.

The 15-year-old omatikayan boy worriedly looked all over Aonung's face, his hands a warm and steadying comfort.

One that Aonung wished he could still have once he 'woke up'.

A tear spilled, and a gentle thumb brushed the stray tear away, accompanied by a voice soft enough that Aonung would have missed it if he wasn't paying so much attention to the boy in front of him.

"Why are you crying, Aonung?"

Neytiri was still there - somewhere in the memory.

All Aonung wanted to show her was that he could never 'see' past her firstborn.

The metkayina thought of how Neteyam would simply forget this recreation of his memory, this conversation, too.

Just like the previous times.

"It's nothing," Aonung settled to say, placing one of his hands over Neteyam's own. "Was just so happy for you."

His words didn't convince the omatikayan boy, of course.

But Neteyam's concerned expression had morphed into an expression that was soft, and Aonung felt like that was enough.

(It was never 'enough'.)

Enough for him to leave.

(He never wanted to leave.)

Neteyam snickered, fond and affectionate, as he commented on how Aonung was a 'dramatic skxawng'.

Aonung soaked up the attention his friend was showering him as much as he could.

When Aonung disconnected his kuru from the roots of the Tree of Souls, Neytiri was still with him.

She had tear marks on her cheeks, and she immediately pulled him into a hug. A hug that was emphatic, comforting, and pitying all at once.

"Thank you for listening to him, ma itan," were the first words she told him; her voice a bit croaky as if she had been crying.

The metkayina didn't comment on it.

"Thank you for looking out for me."

He ignored his own wet cheeks as Neytiri left after that, the metkayina opting to linger by the Tree of Souls by himself despite how the omatikayan woman had gently told him to rest.

…

Another visit to his friend wouldn't hurt.

***END***