Chapter Text
A pale winter sun lingered behind the heavy clouds, its light spilling weakly across the wheat fields and filtering faintly through the narrow gaps in the windows. Outside, rain tapped gently against the glass, the soft breeze carrying the damp chill through the quiet room.
Neteyam was kneeling beside his bed, folding the last of the clothes from his closet with slow, reluctant movements, an expression of quiet frustration lingering on his face. Every shirt, every pair of pants he placed into the suitcase felt like he was packing away pieces of his childhood along with them, pieces of the only life he had ever known.
He wasn’t ready for any of it, and deep down, he doubted he ever would be. Still, there was no stopping what was coming. From now on, his life would have to become something entirely different, even if that meant rebuilding himself from the ground up and walking away from everything he had ever called home.
“Neteyam…”
His little sister’s voice broke through the haze of his thoughts. Tuk stood beneath the doorway, holding a dragon plush close to her chest, her face carrying the kind of sadness she couldn’t quite hide.
Neteyam barely had the chance to answer before she spoke again.
“Why do we have to leave? I don’t want to leave my chickens alone… Who’s going to feed them now?”
A quiet sigh slipped past his lips as he immediately stopped what he was doing, the tension in his expression easing just a little. He sat down on the edge of the bed and patted the mattress beside him, silently inviting her closer. Tuk hurried over and climbed up next to him.
“Because the land is sick, Tuk.” Even though the subject struck a nerve every time, he did his best to keep his voice soft and calm. “The rain barely comes anymore, the crops won’t grow like they used to, and the animals can’t find enough food, neither can we. We need somewhere we can actually live.”
Tuk frowned faintly, but she didn’t argue again. Instead, she rested her head against her older brother’s shoulder and closed her eyes for a moment.
Jake appeared in the doorway a moment later, stepping quietly into the room. His face carried that familiar calm the family had learned to rely on over the years: the steady, reassuring look he always wore whenever things started falling apart around them.
“Your brother is right, baby girl,” he said softly as he walked over and crouched down beside her. He ruffled her braids, earning an innocent little smile from Tuk. “Uncle Tommy found me a really good job, we’ll have a lot more opportunities there. Things are gonna get better for us, you’ll see.”
On the other side of the room, Neytiri kept helping pack up the last of Neteyam’s things in complete silence. She didn’t react to her husband’s comforting words, but the way her fingers curled tightly into the curtains, the same ones she had sewn by hand years ago; betrayed far more than her expression did.
Neteyam watched her from the corner of his eye, a dull ache settling heavily in his chest. For his mother, for both of them, this place had always meant far more than just a quiet life in the countryside.
Neytiri had always longed for a peaceful life, tucked away in nature and far from the constant noise of the cities. Jake, even though the future he once imagined for himself looked nothing like that, never once tried to take it from her. He loved her too much for that. So instead, he gave things up quietly, piece by piece, just to build this life alongside her.
And in her own quiet way, Neytiri had always been grateful for it, because no one had ever chosen her so completely before… enough to stay, enough to build a dream beside her.
That was what made all of this hurt so deeply.
They had spent years building a life there, sinking roots so deep it had begun to feel permanent. And now they were expected to leave it all behind as though it were nothing. As though the fields they had cultivated with their own hands, the animals they had raised, and the memories of their children running freely through the trees and fertile earth were things that could simply be abandoned and forgotten.
Everything had fallen apart in a matter of seconds.
And she really was trying to hold herself together for the sake of her family, she was. But the grief still revealed itself in small, impossible-to-hide ways. In the faint quiver of her bottom lip, in how tightly her hands clung to each belonging before tucking it away into a box.
Neteyam carried that same sorrow inside him. Perhaps not with the same intensity as his mother, but it lingered all the same, quiet and heavy beneath his ribs.
That land had been more than just home to him. It was the forests he grew up wandering through, the animals he had learned to care for, the endless golden evenings spent running beside his siblings and disappearing between the crops during childish games of hide-and-seek. That peaceful life had shaped so much of who he was. Walking away from it now felt almost like leaving part of himself behind with it.
By the time the sun began disappearing behind the mountains, staining the sky in deep orange hues, the whole family had gathered outside. A few of their nearest neighbors stopped by to say goodbye, and soon the quiet evening was filled with long embraces, uncertain promises to stay in touch no matter how far apart they ended up, and tears that some made no effort to hide while others swallowed down in silence.
While carrying the final box out to the moving truck, Neteyam slowed to a stop for a brief moment, his gaze drifting over the fields that stretched endlessly beyond the house.
It was a silent farewell, one he kept entirely to himself.
He climbed into the back seat of the car, Jake started the engine, and they finally drove away, the moving truck trailing behind them.
As they drove down the rough dirt road, tires crunching over scattered stones, Neteyam leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the window. He watched his home fade farther and farther into the distance, swallowed little by little by the vast green fields they were leaving behind, and felt a sharp knot twist painfully in his stomach.
He knew his father had made the hardest decision for all of them, he knew the weight of it had probably fallen on Jake’s shoulders more heavily than anyone else’s. But understanding that didn’t stop the resentment curling quietly inside him, because part of him couldn’t help feeling as though none of what they had built together as a family had mattered enough to stay.
From the corner of his eye, he glanced toward his mother in the passenger seat. Jake kept one hand resting close to hers, a quiet invitation to hold it without forcing her to respond. But Neytiri didn’t move. She only stared out the window with distant, glassy eyes, fighting to keep the tears from spilling over.
Neteyam leaned forward from the back seat and reached out his hand toward her. Neytiri took it without a word, holding on tightly enough for him to feel the tremble in her grip.
That new city, Awa’atlu, was waiting for them. A place surrounded by endless ocean, so painfully different from everything they had ever known. Quietly, he found himself wondering if any of them would ever truly feel at home again.
But before he could search for an answer, exhaustion slowly pulled him under with the rest of the night.
Neteyam stirred awake when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. The long drive had left his body sore, his mouth dry, his neck stiff, and a dull ache settling across his back from sleeping in such an uncomfortable position for hours.
“We’re here, son.”
Jake’s voice echoed through the haze of sleep still clouding his mind. Neteyam blinked slowly, struggling to fully wake as his eyes wandered around the car. Outside, the night had not yet faded, and the unfamiliar street beyond the window was bathed in the dim glow of streetlights.
Across from him, Kiri was waking up too, stretching stiffly before letting out a small groan of discomfort from the soreness in her body.
“Can’t you sleep without kicking me for once?” Kiri muttered, shoving Lo’ak lightly in the shoulder. He answered with a groggy grunt and an exaggerated roll of his eyes.
“I would if you didn’t take up the whole damn—”
“Watch your language.” Jake cut him off with a firm tone and a pointed look, making Lo’ak cross his arms in annoyance while Kiri snickered under her breath.
Now awake enough to properly notice his surroundings, Neteyam realized there was still a weight resting against him. Tuk had fallen asleep curled up on his lap, tucked against his chest with a far more peaceful expression than before. Carefully, he shifted her onto the seat beside him. The movement made her blink awake sleepily.
“C’mon, Tuk. We’re here.”
She nodded slowly, rubbing at her eyes before letting out a huge yawn. A faint smile tugged at Neteyam’s lips as he stepped out of the car alongside the others.
The moment he stepped out of the car, the scent of saltwater flooded his senses.
The air felt heavy with moisture, tinged with that sharp ocean smell that clung to everything around them. It was nothing like the fresh, earthy breeze of the forests they had grown up in. Neteyam’s face twisted almost instantly, his nose scrunching in obvious displeasure as he frowned. The scent of the sea was strange to him… too strong, too unfamiliar.
“This is disgusting,” he muttered.
Beside him, his mother let out a weary sigh, her expression filled with the same quiet disdain as she looked around at their surroundings.
Kiri, meanwhile, reacted completely differently. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, letting the cool ocean breeze sweep through her red hair.
“This feels weird,” she said quietly, though there was a small spark of curiosity hidden beneath her words. The corners of her mouth lifted into a faint smile. “But… I don’t hate it.”
Lo’ak had already wandered several steps away from the family. With the street still completely empty, he moved into the middle of the road and looked out toward the horizon. In the distance, towering buildings stretched so high he practically had to crane his neck to take them all in.
Then he turned the other way and froze.
The ocean spread endlessly before him.
His eyes lit up instantly, wonder washing over his face at the sight of it. He had heard stories before, listened to friends talk about the sea and what it looked like in person, but none of it compared to standing there and seeing it with his own eyes for the very first time. Dawn was beginning to break across the horizon, and the rising sun scattered golden light over the crystal-clear turquoise water.
It was beautiful.
“This is insane! Look at this, bro.”
Lo’ak grabbed Neteyam by the arm before he could even protest, pulling him along despite his constant complaints. But the moment he finally reached his brother’s side and took in the view for himself, all resistance slipped away.
It was even more breathtaking than any picture could capture.
“Boys, you’ll have plenty of time to see the ocean later. Right now we need to unpack.”
Jake’s voice pulled them both back to reality, the brothers exchanged a brief look before turning and making their way quickly back toward the moving truck.
Ahead of them stood the neighborhood: a row of simple homes lined up neatly beside one another, each with weathered wooden doors and a generous patch of land in front, likely meant for gardens.
Each house looked identical, lifeless and stripped of personality. It was nothing like the spacious home they had left behind, the one wrapped in trees, statues, shrubs, and flowers that filled every corner with life. Neteyam clicked his tongue softly in distaste, realizing with mild annoyance that he was already starting to do it more often here.
Jake pulled out the keys and opened the front door with a tired smile.
“Welcome to the new home, family. Isn’t it nice?”
Once inside, they realized the space was far smaller than they had expected, only a pale imitation of the house they used to live in. Neytiri took one look around, and with a clear flash of frustration, dropped her bags onto the floor without much care.
Neteyam stood in the middle of the living room, letting his gaze travel over the plain white walls and the cold, minimalist design of their new home. A familiar wave of rejection settled in his chest, the same one he had noticed in his mother. There was no trace of the countryside here: no worn wood, no scent of damp morning grass, nothing that felt alive or familiar. Everything felt polished, new, and strangely empty, as if the space didn’t belong to anyone yet.
Jake, always the one trying to keep spirits up, stepped behind Neytiri and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin lightly on her shoulder.
“I know… I know it doesn’t feel anything like our old place,” he murmured near her ear. “But it does have its advantages. Look… through the windows on the left, you can see the ocean. And we don’t need a car to get around like we used to, everything’s close enough to walk to.”
Neytiri let out a long, tired sigh, still far from convinced, but she didn’t move away from his arms either.
“It feels so… cold,” she said quietly. “It doesn’t have the same colors as our forest.”
“I know,” he repeated once more, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “Just give me some time to get us settled, and I promise I’ll take you walking on the beach every morning until you start to like it.”
Neteyam let out a short, dry laugh, folding his arms as he looked at him.
“You? Waking up early and walking every morning?”
Jake shot him a mock-offended look before roughly ruffling his braids.
“Hey, Mr. Doom and Gloom. You’re not exactly helping your mother with that funeral face of yours.”
His father had a point, and Neteyam had no real way to argue against it. He fell silent, shrugging lightly, and Jake quickly pulled him in, drawing him into the same hug that held Neytiri as well.
Little by little, Jake’s humor and optimism began to ease the tension in the room. Even Neytiri and Neteyam ended up giving reluctant smiles when he dramatically struck exaggerated “beach poses” by the window. Lo’ak kept telling him to stop out of sheer secondhand embarrassment, while Kiri and Tuk could only laugh uncontrollably from the corner.
The next few hours turned into organized chaos. Boxes being opened, luggage scattered everywhere, and mattresses laid out on the floors of each room. By the time night finally settled in, exhaustion from the journey caught up with them, and one by one they began to give in. Goodnights were exchanged, and each of them drifted off to their rooms to sleep.
Neteyam lay down on his bed, nothing more than a mattress and a couple of thick blankets for now. Even with exhaustion and the strain of the move weighing on him, his mind refused to settle. It kept drifting back to one thought: tomorrow, he would have to start school. A completely unfamiliar place, in the middle of the semester, where everyone already knew each other.
He had always been the strong one, the older brother who stayed composed, who took responsibility without being asked, the one everyone looked to for answers.
But now… he felt completely lost.
The door to his room opened with a soft creak, his mother stepped inside. Instinctively, he reached out and turned off the lamp sitting on the floor, half expecting a scolding for still being awake so late. Instead, Neytiri said nothing. She simply sat down on the edge of the mattress.
“Are you nervous?”
Neteyam turned slightly toward her. Neytiri gently ran a hand along his forearm, offering a quiet, grounding touch.
Neteyam nodded.
“Yeah… a little.” he admitted, taking his mother’s hand and lacing his fingers with hers. “It just… feels strange, like we don’t belong here. I don’t know if I’ll fit in.”
“It’s normal to feel that way, my son.” she said gently. “But you’ve always been strong, I know you’ll find where you belong.”
He nodded again, though the knot in his stomach didn’t fully loosen.
Neytiri leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead before standing.
“Try to rest, Neteyam. Tomorrow will be a long day.”
When the door closed behind her, he let out a long sigh and turned toward the window. In the distance, the faint sound of waves crashing against the coral drifted through the night.
Awa’atlu.
A completely different world from the one he knew, and he had no idea how he was supposed to survive it.
The next morning, while his children were getting ready for their first day at the new school, Jake was already stepping into an office building in the center of Awa’atlu. He wore a shirt Neytiri had ironed for him the night before, along with a tie that still felt unfamiliar around his neck.
It had been years since he’d last dressed formally, ever since he met Neytiri. And it definitely felt like stepping into a version of himself he no longer recognized.
The building was modern, filled with wide glass windows that let in the morning sun, and air conditioning that sharply contrasted with the humid heat outside. Jake sat in the waiting area, adjusting his tie over and over in an awkward, restless motion, until a familiar voice broke through.
“Jake?”
He turned around, his eyes widening in surprise.
Standing in front of him was his twin brother, Tom. Even though they were twins, time had shaped them in completely different ways. The last time Jake had seen him had been sixteen years ago. Now, he looked… happier. His face no longer carried that tired, worn-out expression Jake remembered; instead, it seemed lighter, framed by neatly styled hair and a few strands of gray that years had quietly left behind. He wore a perfectly fitted suit, carrying the easy confidence of someone who belonged exactly where he was.
“Tommy…” Jake murmured, still taken aback.
Without thinking, he stepped forward and pulled him into a tight hug, holding him a little too strongly. Tom laughed against his shoulder and returned the embrace just as firmly.
“God, it’s been so long,” Tom said, patting his back. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
Jake pulled back slightly to get a better look at him, still wearing a disbelieving smile.
“You look completely different… like a real executive now.”
“Because I am,” Tom replied with a laugh. “Last time you saw me, I’d just barely landed a job.” he gestured down the hallway. “Come on, I’ll show you your office. Nothing fancy, but it’s got a nice view.”
As they walked through the bright corridors, Tom pointed out different areas: the meeting rooms, the kitchen, the open workspaces. Jake listened closely, though his mind kept drifting back over everything that had happened in the past few months.
When they reached a spacious cubicle near a large window, Tom stopped and leaned back against the desk.
“Hey…” he started, lowering his voice. “I know things weren’t easy back there. Neytiri and the kids… how are they taking it?”
Jake let out a sigh, running a hand over the back of his neck.
“As you’d expect. Neytiri’s quieter than ever, and Neteyam’s not exactly happy either. The others seem more excited, though Tuk keeps asking about her chickens.”
He let out a small, quiet laugh at that. Tom nodded, looking at him with understanding.
“You know you can count on me for anything, right? Not just work” he said, placing a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “If you need help with the move, with the house payments, whatever it is… I’m here.”
Jake shook his head almost immediately.
“Tommy, no. You’ve already done too much getting me this job and the house. I don’t even know how I’d ever pay you back for all of that.”
“Jake…”
“No,” he insisted. “I don’t want more charity. We’re going to get through this on our own.”
Tom looked at him with that patient expression Jake had known since they were kids.
“It’s not charity, Jake. I’m doing this because you’re the only family I’ve got left. And if it weren’t for you…” Tom paused, glancing toward the window for a moment. “If it weren’t for everything you did for me back then, I wouldn’t be the manl I am today. If you can pay me back someday, great. And if you can’t, that’s fine too. So please… let me help you.”
Jake fell silent, his gaze dropping to the floor. Pride told him to keep refusing, but reality weighed heavier. If he accepted that help, maybe his family could settle in more easily. Maybe they could start feeling like themselves again.
Finally, he let out a long, resigned breath.
“…Alright.”
Tom smiled, slipping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into a half hug. Jake stiffened at first, clearly uncomfortable, but didn’t pull away.
“Welcome to Awa’atlu, Jake Sully.”
They stayed in the office a few more minutes, talking through everything they had missed in each other’s lives. Jake still wasn’t entirely convinced about accepting his help, but maybe it was only a matter of time before he got used to the idea.
The next morning, the car came to a stop in front of the tall gates of the Awa’atlu school. Neytiri turned off the engine and sat in silence for a few seconds, watching her three eldest children from the driver’s seat.
Neteyam held his backpack tightly against his lap, while Lo’ak and Kiri remained still in the backseat. The only thing that could be heard was their uneven, nervous breathing.
“Come on,” Neytiri finally said, closing her eyes briefly as she let out a quiet sigh. She was anxious too, like she was sending her children straight into a den of lions. She knew this would be terrifying for them, but as a mother, all she could do was support them. “I know you’re scared, but you can’t stay in the car all day.”
Neteyam exhaled slowly, nodding at his mother’s words. He opened the door first, and his siblings followed right after him, stepping out almost in unison.
Once they stepped onto the sidewalk, the noise hit them immediately… voices, laughter, and the constant hum of what was clearly a school. Having grown up being taught at home by their parents, with only the occasional traveling teacher coming out to the countryside, the atmosphere felt overwhelming and strangely foreign to them.
Did they really have to spend the rest of their school years here?
Kiri stared at the entrance with a tight, uneasy expression, while Lo’ak tried to hide his nerves by keeping his hands in his pockets, though his restless eyes gave him away. Neteyam did his best to stay composed, but his heart was already pounding hard against his chest.
Neytiri stepped closer and adjusted the straps of their backpacks one by one, despite the curious looks and faint laughter from nearby students.
“Do your best, try to fit in. If anything or anyone makes you uncomfortable, you can call me, alright?”
All three of them nodded.
Neteyam was the first to speak.
“See you later, Mom.”
She gave them one last look before getting back into the car. As the vehicle drove away, the siblings turned to each other.
“Good luck… I guess.” Kiri muttered.
“Yeah.” the other two agreed.
They split up at the main entrance, each taking a different path. Their classes were in separate areas of the school.
Neteyam checked the time and cursed under his breath. He was late, more than he had realized. He broke into a run down the hallway, bumping into a few people along the way and quickly muttering apologies, while scanning each door for the correct room number.
After a few wrong turns and directions from other students, he finally found the classroom. He paused in front of the door, took a steady breath, and carefully pushed it open.
The room was almost completely dark, with only the projector casting a pale glow over the board, filled with diagrams of waves. The teacher, an older woman; spoke in a flat, steady voice about frequencies and amplitudes.
Neteyam lowered his head and slipped between the rows, making his way to the back of the room. He sat in the first empty seat he could find, right by the window. He placed his notebook on the desk and tried to follow along, but after arriving late, most of what was being said barely made sense.
He considered asking for help, but when he glanced to the side, he immediately noticed the boy sitting next to him already looking his way. Neteyam tensed, expecting annoyance or a mocking glance.
Instead, the boy beside him only offered a small, curious smile. More intrigued than anything else, with no trace of mockery in his expression.
The light from the next slide briefly swept across the room, catching his face for just a second.
Neteyam got a better look at him then.
He was tall with dark skin and sharp, defined features. His naturally serious expression contrasted with the small smile he had given earlier. His green eyes were subtly lined with a soft, smudged eyeliner at the corners. The shadows of the classroom only made his features more striking: high cheekbones, a strong jaw, a straight nose, and full lips. His braids were pulled back into a ponytail that fell just past his shoulders.
A couple of minutes passed before the boy finally leaned slightly toward him.
“Hey… are you okay?” he asked quietly, keeping an eye on the teacher to make sure she wasn’t looking their way. “I’ve never seen you here before.”
Neteyam let out a small, nervous laugh.
“It’s actually my first day. I don’t even know where the rest of my classes are yet.”
The boy raised his eyebrows, pressing his lips together in clear amusement.
“First day… in the middle of the semester? Man, that’s rough.” he chuckled lightly, making Neteyam shrug helplessly in response. He honestly didn’t know what to say. “Where are you from?”
“A small town up north of the city. It’s mostly forests, fields… quiet places. Nothing like this.”
The boy nodded.
“Yeah, you’re gonna have a hard time getting used to it.” he said, folding his arms on his desk and lifting his shoulders slightly as if to apologize in advance. “I’m Tarsem, by the way.”
“Neteyam,” he replied, shaking his hand discreetly beneath the desk.
Tarsem seemed easygoing. Friendly, even; completely different from what Neteyam had expected at first glance. There was something calm in the way he looked at him, like he had no intention of judging him for being late or coming from somewhere else.
Throughout the rest of the class, they exchanged quiet whispers whenever the teacher turned her back or switched slides.
“Wait… you’re really from a village?” Tarsem asked under his breath. “Like… cows and all that?”
Neteyam smiled faintly, a little embarrassed.
“Horses and chickens, mostly. They used to roam around the fields.”
“Sounds amazing.”
When the bell finally rang and the lights flicked back on, Neteyam blinked a few times, slightly disoriented. He closed his notebook, still mostly empty; slung his backpack over his shoulder, and pushed himself up from his seat.
Tarsem stood and stretched his arms.
“Come on, I’ll walk with you for a bit. What class do you have next?”
Neteyam glanced down at his crumpled schedule.
“History… I think.”
Before he could say anything else, two boys approached them at the doorway. One was tall and lean, with long hair tied into a bun. The other was slightly shorter, more solidly built, with loose curly hair that fell just to his shoulders.
“Tar, are you coming?” the taller one asked.
“Wait,” Tarsem said, grabbing Neteyam by the forearm and pulling him along before he could resist. “This is Neteyam, he just moved here yesterday. Neteyam, this is Tsu’vayi and Zor’kash.”
The boys greeted him with a quick nod and an easy smile, which Neteyam returned almost immediately. They started walking down the hallway together, and for the first time since arriving, he felt slightly less alone, though his eyes still scanned everything cautiously.
“So what are you planning to do with your free time here?” Tsu’vayi asked casually as they walked. “Because if it’s just classes all the time, you’re gonna get depressed real quick.”
Neteyam shrugged, suddenly nervous again.
“I don’t know… I barely even know the place yet.”
The three of them exchanged a quick, mischievous look. Tarsem suddenly slung an arm around his shoulders.
“Then come with us, Neteyam. We’ll show you something way better than History.”
“Wait, what?” Neteyam tensed. “No, no, I can’t skip class. It’s my first day, I could get in tr—”
Zor’kash cut him off with a light tap on the shoulder.
“Relax, man. Missing one class won’t kill you, you’ll regret it if you don’t come.”
Neteyam looked back anxiously, his heart pounding hard against his chest.
“What if we get caught?”
“No one’s going to catch us,” Tarsem insisted, gently pushing him along the side hallway. “Trust me, we’ve been doing this for two years and we’re still alive.”
Before Neteyam could protest any further, they led him up a set of stairs and down into the school’s main auditorium. The place was empty at this hour. On the wide stage sat a full set of instruments: a drum kit, a bass guitar, two electric guitars, acoustic guitars, and a central microphone.
Neteyam stopped at the foot of the stage, eyes wide.
“This is yours?”
“Sort of. It belongs to the school, but they let us use it whenever we want,” Tarsem replied, jumping up onto the stage. “We’ve been trying to form a band for a while, but we’re missing someone who can actually sing.”
Zor’kash picked up the drumsticks and spun them between his fingers.
Neteyam stood there, caught between nerves, curiosity, and a kind of excitement he didn’t know how to handle. It was already more than he had expected from his first day. He remained at the edge of the stage, his pulse still quick from skipping class. The empty auditorium felt huge, almost forbidden, yet he couldn’t take his eyes off the instruments, a mix of fascination and unease settling in his chest.
Tarsem was tuning his electric guitar, sitting on the edge of the stage with his legs hanging off. Tsu’vayi had taken a seat on the bass amp, while Zor’kash was already settling in behind the drums.
“So… this is what you do instead of going to class?” Neteyam asked, slipping his hands into his pockets so they wouldn’t betray how nervous he was.
Tarsem let out a low chuckle.
“Not every day, but yeah, when we can. It’s the only thing that keeps this place from feeling like a total hell.”
Tsu’vayi nodded, lightly running his fingers over the bass strings without plugging it in.
“We’re good, though,” he said with a grin. They all laughed between themselves. “Just not the most popular band in school, unfortunately.”
Neteyam raised an eyebrow, curiosity sparking at the idea that there might be other bands.
“So who is?”
The three boys exchanged a look. Zor’kash was the first to answer, his tone noticeably irritated.
“The Ocean’s Outcasts, Aonung’s band.”
“Aonung?” Neteyam repeated, frowning.
Tarsem scoffed and idly strummed a chord on his guitar.
“Basically the king of the school, I guess,” he said, rolling his eyes. “He’s the lead singer and guitarist. They’ve been playing together since first year, and they’re basically at every major event. And since his dad is the school director, they always get priority for rehearsals and the best equipment.”
“They’re good, I’ll give them that.” Tsu’vayi added with a shrug. “Aonung’s got a really strong voice, I won’t lie about that. But they’re total egomaniacs, they act like they own the place, especially him. Hopefully you don’t run into him.”
Neteyam sat down on the edge of the stage next to Tarsem, trying to process everything he had just heard. A faint pressure settled in his chest. He had barely arrived, and somehow he was already being told about a musical rivalry with the so-called “popular” band. A group that, apparently, everyone here knew. He wasn’t sure he wanted to get involved in any of it, but it already felt like it was too late.
“So… you’re trying to catch up to them?”
“Yeah, but we’re always missing a decent vocalist. The ones we’ve had either get bored, leave for other bands, or just aren’t good enough. Without a lead singer, we’re nothing.”
A brief silence followed. Tarsem glanced at Neteyam from the side, a teasing smile slowly forming on his face.
“What about you? Do you sing?”
Neteyam’s eyes widened and he let out a nervous laugh, leaning back slightly.
“Me? No. I mean… I sing in the shower, or when I’m alone at home, but nothing serious. I’m not a singer.”
Tsu’vayi walked closer and stopped beside him.
“Come on, it’s just for fun. Pick a song and we’ll play it with you.”
“No way, I can’t even sing properly! You guys are crazy.”
“Just do it, man.” Zor’kash called from behind the drums. “There’s no one here, It’s just us.”
Tarsem was still looking at him with that expectant expression that made it hard to say no. Neteyam felt heat creeping up his neck under all their attention. Part of him wanted to run, but another part (quieter, curious, and strangely hungry for something new) hesitated.
“Alright…” he finally gave in, dragging a hand down his face. “But just a small part, and don’t laugh or I swear I’ll kill you.”
He stepped closer and showed Tarsem his phone screen, where a familiar song was open on Spotify: “I Don’t Love You” by My Chemical Romance. With a bit of awkward hesitation, he climbed onto the stage as Tarsem started the first chords.
Neteyam closed his eyes for a second, trying to steady his nerves. When he finally opened his mouth, his voice came out low, but clear.
“Well, when you go… don’t ever think I’ll make you try to stay…”
Neteyam sank into that familiar bubble he always entered when he sang his favorite songs. Gradually, the nerves faded, replaced by something steadier, more assured, as his voice grew stronger and carried through the empty auditorium, weaving seamlessly with the sound of his friends instruments behind him.
“And maybe when you get back… I’ll be off to find another way…”
When he reached the chorus, his voice rose with greater power and emotion.
“I don’t love you… like I did… yesterday…”
When the chorus ended, silence echoed through the auditorium. Neteyam opened his eyes, startled. The three boys were staring at him with their mouths slightly open.
“Holy shit…” Tsu’vayi muttered, clearly impressed.
Zor’kash dropped his drumsticks and stood up abruptly.
“Bro! And you said you couldn’t sing?”
Tarsem set his guitar aside, walked straight up to Neteyam, and without warning grabbed him by the arm. Tsu’vayi and Zor’kash joined in, and the three of them lifted him off the ground, laughing and cheering.
“Our new vocalist!”
Neteyam let out a laugh, half nervous, half exhilarated, wriggling weakly as they lifted him.
“Hey, hey! I didn’t say yes yet- put me down!”
They lowered him, but didn’t let go. Tarsem gave him a hard pat on the back, grinning from ear to ear.
“Neteyam… please. Join us, seriously. You’d be doing us a huge favor, and… your voice is beautiful.”
Neteyam looked between the three of them, still breathless, his heart racing. He felt excited and terrified all at once.
He ran a hand through his braids and let out an incredulous laugh.
“… Alright.” he said at last. “I’ll sing with you. But if this goes wrong, it’s on you for pushing me.”
The three of them burst into a triumphant cheer that rang through the entire auditorium.
And for the first time, Neteyam felt like he might actually belong in this new city.