Chapter Text
Neteyam had been floating in the water, limbs splayed out, when a shadow falling over his face made him snap his eyes open. He was met with the upside-down view of the Metkayinan heir, who was looking at him with a puzzled frown on his face.
“What are you doing?” asked Ao’nung.
“Floating.” Neteyam closed his eyes again.
“I can see that,” Ao’nung rolled his eyes. “ Why didn’t you come to the lessons today?”
Neteyam sighed and sank under the water, bubbles blowing past his face and fizzing at the surface where his head had just been. He hadn’t felt like going to the lessons that day. He didn’t want to admit that he felt embarrassed by the slow progress he was making. Even Tuk could hold her breath longer than him.
In the forest he had been the best hunter and warrior, quick to master any skill and stepping into his role as future Olo’eyektan with grace. Although Awa’atlu was beautiful, he hated how wrong-footed he felt here, always slightly off-balance. And since his future title had been stripped from him, he no longer felt he had to keep up appearances quite as much as before. Of course, he was still Toruk Makto’s son, and his father expected a lot from him, but here he was just an ordinary member of the clan, not even a warrior yet. So, he had decided to skip the lessons.
Ao’nung frowned at the ripples left by Neteyam’s departure. He didn’t know whether he should go after him or not. The two had formed a tentative friendship since Ao’nung had apologised profusely for leaving Lo’ak beyond the reef. He still felt shame burning through him whenever he thought of his idiotic behaviour, and was immensely relieved that the family had forgiven him for his actions.
Neteyam had been the most difficult to convince. After many failed attempts, Ao’nung had finally cornered him alone in his family’s marui. Neteyam had refused to talk to him since the incident, and after an awkward stuttered apology which was met by silence, the words had begun to pour out of Ao’nung. He admitted that he had felt threatened by the newcomers, especially the sons of the great Toruk Makto, who were already seen as warriors in their clan. He said that he had often felt inadequate, unsuited to becoming the future Olo’eyektan, a failure in his father’s eyes. He felt dismissed by his father when he had been appointed to the training of the newcomers, essentially teaching babies, instead of preparing for his future responsibilities. He confessed that he cared too much about what people thought of him, so when the other boys in the village had challenged him to pick on Kiri and abandon Lo’ak, he had agreed. They were not even his friends, but he did not want to appear weak in front of them.
He knew now that he had taken things too far, and that he had to change, to improve himself and become worthy of his future title. He promised he would never, ever do anything like it again if Neteyam would just talk to him, even look at him. Neteyam’s eyes had flicked to his then and he let out a soft ‘okay’. Ao’nung’s shoulders had slumped in relief at the simple word, his knees almost buckling beneath him. He felt an immense weight being lifted off of him as he quietly thanked Neteyam and exited the marui, head bowed.
It had been several weeks since then, and the two boys had grown closer. For some reason Ao’nung didn’t feel the need to put on his usual tough front when he was with the Omatikayan, and found himself admitting things that he would normally keep hidden deep within his heart. For the first time in his life, he allowed himself to be vulnerable. Although one thing that he vowed never to reveal to anyone, was the attraction he had begun to feel for the lean, darker-skinned Na’vi. He felt an undeniable spark between them, a spark that had no doubt been hidden by his jealousy and resentment before.
He was hyper-aware of every movement he made around Neteyam, carefully controlling every touch and glance to seem casual, when all he wanted was to run his hands over the smooth cerulean skin and gaze into his beautiful eyes of molten gold. He was pretty sure that to an outsider their friendship seemed casual and light. Even their respective siblings didn’t notice much of a difference, apart from the fact that they could now speak to each other without it coming to blows, and sometimes teased the other playfully.
Ao’nung knew that he had been lucky to be granted Neteyam’s forgiveness, never mind an actual friendship. He knew it would be foolish of him to ask for more. He was sure that had he been in Neteyam’s position, he wouldn’t have been so forgiving. So, he made do with furtive glances, breath hitching every time the other boy smiled at him, carefully tucking each memory away in his heart like a precious treasure.
To say that Neteyam was shocked by the change in Ao’nung’s behaviour was an understatement. He had never thought that the older boy could have such a sensitive, caring, and even mischievous side to him. He could not deny that he felt pulled in by his words, often catching himself gazing at his strong hands as he gripped his spear or weaved nets, stomach erupting in butterflies each time he teased him and goosebumps breaking out on his skin whenever their limbs brushed.
In the forest he had been too focused on his duties to indulge in such emotions, and even though he no longer held such responsibilities, he felt himself hesitate. He knew that both of them being male posed no issue, however Ao’nung was responsible for continuing his family’s bloodline and producing a future heir. Add in the fact that Neteyam was an outsider with demon blood , who didn’t hold any significant rank within the clan, and it was clear that he had no chance. He knew that traditions weren’t as strict as before, but matings such as that of his parents were still an exception, and not the rule.
Most of their time together was spent with their siblings and Rotxo, aside from the times when both boys would slip out of their maruis after eclipse to walk along the beach or explore the glowing reefs. Neither of them was sure how this had started, or why they continued this way. It would certainly seem suspicious if they were to be caught, and after all, why should they hide a ‘normal’ friendship? But they could also not deny that this was their favourite time together, their favourite time of each day, and they did not want anyone else intruding and interrupting the careful balance that had formed between them.
Ao’nung shook his head, breaking out of his train of thoughts, which followed the now common topic of Neteyam , and ducked under the water.
Neteyam had already swam quite a distance, his speed and endurance having improved greatly since his arrival, but still it was easy for Ao’nung to catch up, his powerful tail swishing behind him.
He dove underneath Neteyam and looped upwards, twisting his body halfway so that he came face-to-face to the other boy. Neteyam started, and a few small bubbles escaped his lips. He rolled his eyes and curved to the side, heading for a large, flat rock and clambering upon it. The water from his body pattered onto the stone, turning it a darker shade of grey. He flopped onto his back and flung his arm over his face to block out the remaining light of the day, which was fading slowly.
Soon after, he heard the soft pad of feet approaching him. Ao’nung had not even made a sound when exiting the water. He sat down and bent his legs, leaning his forearms on his knees, eyeing the darker boy. It was unlike him to act this way. Usually he never complained, always putting on a brave and positive face for those around him.
The pair sat without speaking for several minutes, tension in their chests. Finally, Ao’nung broke the silence.
“Teyam,” Ao’nung began softly. Neteyam’s stomach clenched at the sound of the nickname coming out of the older boy’s mouth. “Are you alright?”
Neteyam took a few moments to respond. “I’m fine,” was all he said.
Ao’nung’s ears lowered at his short response.
“Did I do something to make you mad?” he asked timidly.
His words made Neteyam sit up quickly, golden eyes fixing on blue.
“No , Ao’nung, I swear- you didn’t do anything. I’m not mad at you,” he rushed out.
Ao’nung felt relieved for a moment.
“But then what’s wrong?” he asked, eyes searching the other boy’s gaze.
Neteyam sighed, letting his head fall into his hands.
“I just didn’t feel like coming to the lessons today, okay? I’m sick of always failing.”
Ao’nung’s lips parted in surprise. He had no idea the forest Na’vi felt that way, he was always so determined during their lessons, repeating each exercise endlessly without complaint.
“Neteyam,” he breathed, “why didn’t you tell me you feel this way? And you’re not failing, you have improved so much since you arrived. I know I call you forest boy, but you’re one of the Metkayina now.”
Neteyam felt even worse after Ao’nung’s kind words. He pulled his legs up to his chest and buried his face in his knees.
“Yeah, well even Tuk is better than me. She can hold her breath for longer and her lungs are literally half the size of mine! And I can kind of ride an ilu, but I fall off as soon as I try to go faster. It’s just so frustrating.” his voice was muffled.
“But Tuk has had much more practice than you,” Ao’nung countered. “She dives all day with the other kids, while you have duties to tend to within the village too. You are too hard on yourself, Neteyam. You don’t have to be perfect all the time.”
The older boy had no idea the impact his words held. Neteyam felt like his heart was simultaneously splitting apart and being stitched back together. All his life he tried to prove himself worthy of the title he was destined to hold one day, to live up to his father’s name. The great Toruk Makto , he thought with contempt. But no matter how hard he tried to be a good son, a good brother, he got nothing but grief in return. He was never good enough . He blinked fiercely, looking at the smooth surface of the rock between his feet, trying to hold back his tears. He was weak . But as soon as he felt a finned hand gently rest on the back of his neck, the dam broke. His shoulders heaved with silent sobs that he had held back since he was a child, when he had scraped his knee, and for the first time, instead of comforting him, his dad had told him to man up.
Ao’nung looked absolutely crestfallen at the sight in front of him. Despite the appearances he tried to maintain, he couldn’t help but shift closer to the shaking boy, pressing his face into the curve between Neteyam’s neck and shoulder and wrapping his arms around his back, squeezing tightly.
Ao’nung held on for a long time, until the sobs gradually subsided. He squeezed Neteyam’s shoulders once more before shifting back to give him some space.
Neteyam still had his face bowed, arms gripping his knees tightly. He hadn’t been comforted, held, in such a long time and it felt so good . Although it felt like the weight on his shoulders had been eased slightly, he was afraid to look at Ao’nung, shame coursing through him hotly at the weakness he had shown.
“‘Teyam,” Ao’nung whispered, as though afraid to startle him, “it’s getting dark. We must head back soon.”
Finally, Neteyam raised his head and uncurled himself. He turned hesitantly to glance at Ao’nung, before lowering his gaze. Ao’nung’s breath hitched. Neteyam’s eyes were swollen and red, but all Ao’nung could see was how the gold of his irises stood out even more. Before he could stop himself he reached out and wiped a stray tear from Neteyam’s cheek, his hand hovering awkwardly in the air for a moment afterwards, before dropping back down into his lap. Neteyam glanced up at him shyly through his eyelashes, head still bowed.
“I don’t want to go back,” he said quietly, “my father will know that I have been crying, and he will see it as a sign of weakness. And my siblings will ask what happened and I- I just can’t take it right now.” His shoulders slumped.
Ao’nung hesitantly reached out to take Neteyam’s hand, marvelling at their contrasting skin tones.
“It is a great strength, not a weakness, to express one’s emotions. But I understand if you must stay a while longer. I will wait with you.” he said firmly.
“Ao’nung no, you will get in trouble because of me-”
“Hush,” Ao’nung interrupted. He lay back on the rock and tugged Neteyam with him, allowing him to use his outstretched arm to rest his head upon. By Eywa, he hoped Neteyam could not hear his heart hammering from over there. He forced himself to breathe slowly.
Unbeknownst to him, Neteyam was having his own internal freakout. He had never been this close to Ao’nung before, and it felt like a mass of Tsurak were writhing in his stomach. He hoped he wasn’t breathing too heavily, or that his head wasn’t uncomfortable on Ao’nungs muscular arm. He gazed up at the rapidly darkening sky.
“You know, one of the first things that I noticed when I arrived was the sky. In the forest you must climb the tallest tree to have an unobstructed view of the sky. But here, it is everywhere, stretching on infinitely. But the stars, they are different.” Neteyam spoke softly, as if afraid to disturb the peaceful noise of the sea surrounding them.
Ao’nung tilted his head as the boy next to him had begun to speak. He was looking up at the sky, and Ao’nung stared unabashedly at him, the slope of his nose, the patterns on his skin, and the freckles that glowed brighter than any star ever could. Suddenly, Neteyam turned his head and Ao’nung was trapped in his golden gaze.
“Tell me about the forest.” he matched Neteyams gentle tone, not breaking eye contact.
Neteyam told him about the trees that stretched so high you could barely see the tops of them. He described the creatures, from terrifying Palulukan to colourful Kenten, small lizards which opened their brightly coloured fans and spun away when startled. The mossy ground which lit up with every step at night, and the blessed aktorina, seeds of the sacred Vitraya Ramunong, the Tree of Souls.
Ao’nung listened with rapt attention, wide eyes reflecting the sky above them. Neteyam spoke with a deep reverence, clearly excited to share his love for the forest with him. Ao’nung was mesmerised. He had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.
Ao’nung felt his eyelids grow heavy, and the next thing he knew, he was waking up to the first rays of light caressing his face.