Chapter Text
Aonung begrudgingly walked off the bus with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a grumpy expression on his face. The air around him was sweltering; it was the beginning of June when the humidity was ruthless and slowly growing to its peak. He'd underestimated just how harsh Midwestern weather was. Not even a simple breeze could cool a person off during these times, and sweat was practically a second layer of skin the minute you walked outside.
The boy wiped away the droplets already building above his top lip as he waited for the Sully's, or whatever name his parents said, to come pick him up.
“Have a good one,” the bus driver said politely, to which Aonung blatantly ignored.
He took a look around. Nothing but field and grass and the smell of shit laid ahead. Wonderful. He ground his teeth together in annoyance at his situation.
Aonung was a problem child in his family. He would always skip class, fail his tests, get into fights at school— he wouldn't listen to anyone, not even his own parents. So, to fix this, Aonung's parents sent him away for the summer to the Sully's strawberry farm without his precious phone and the familiar confines of the big city in hopes of whipping him back into shape with some hard manual labor.
They apparently had it all planned out before summer even came. They hadn't even told him about their bizarre plan until last night when he came back home late from the skatepark; a suitcase filled with his clothes waited by the door along with two very angry and very tired looking parents.
“What's this.” Aonung deadpanned.
“Your clothes,” his stepmother stated with crossed arms. To her right, his father wrapped a protective hand around her waist. “Shorts, tee-shirts, underwear, socks—”
Aonung's scoff cut her off. “It sounds like I'm being kicked out.”
There was a heavy silence that fell over the house, and that's when it slowly dawned on him: he was being kicked out.
He suddenly laughed dryly and stared at them in utter disbelief. “You're kidding, right? Are you being serious?”
“We are,” his dad said plainly, almost like it didn't bother him at all. The man squeezed his wife's hip when she exhaled shakily, rubbing away at her chilled arms. “You're staying with an old friend of mine for the summer. He's got a small farm and says he could use some extra help. Your mother already bought the plane ticket and everything.”
“And you guys didn't even bother asking me first?” Aonung's voice was steadily rising with his pounding heart. “Is this 'cause of the whole lunch thing at school? I told you I wouldn't do it again!”
“Aonung, you don't listen to us—”
“I do! Swear to God, I haven't done it since. I promise,” he pleaded.
“No. We tell you things and you don't listen. What time did we tell you to be home by?”
“Eleven?”
“And what time is it now?”
Shit.
Aonung was breathing erratically now, eyes darting between the two. There was no way this was happening. He couldn't go to a shitty farm for the whole summer— he'd already planned so many things with his friends: rock concert on the twelfth, a rave in a couple weeks, one of his buddies snagged some pills they were going to pop tomorrow night. But with the way his parents looked, it seemed like they were dead set.
“Two.”
“It's two. And you come home smelling like weed again.”
Aonung swallowed hard. He couldn't even find the words to speak.
“Give me your phone.”
“You're fucking with me,” he backed away, hysterical. “There's no way. There's no fuckin' way.”
“Give me your phone, Aonung.”
“Listen to your father for once.”
The nerve this woman had, talking to him like she was his mother. Aonung's nose flared and he clenched his jaw hard, but eventually he had to give in.
“Fuck you guys.”
Aonung was yanked out of the memory when a beat-up rootbeer colored truck pulled up on the dirt side of the road.
“You O'nung?” Asked a gravelly voice. The face that popped out of the beat thing matched that voice to a T: wrinkled smile lines, a stern and furrowed brow, light blue eyes, and milky skin that looked flushed with the heat of the sun.
“It's Aonung,” he squinted, eyeing the man. “Who are you?”
“Jake Sully. Heard you'd be staying with us for a while.”
The subtle southern drawl stuck out like a sore thumb. It already ticked him off and the guy had only spoken two full sentences. With an arrogant upturned chin, Aonung ignored the outstretched hand from his window to give him a blank stare.
“Hop on in. There should be enough room in the backseat for ya.” The man rolled down the window for him. It squeaked in protest. “Bit messy though,” he added as an afterthought.
With a huff, Aonung adjusted the large strap on his shoulder before climbing in. The truck was just as nasty looking on the inside as it was out. Candy wrappers and beer cans littered the floor, stains colored both the seat and the car door, and the whole thing smelled like melted licorice.
A little messy. It was very messy.
The corners of Aonung's lips curled down in disgust. “Why can't I just sit in the front?” He muttered.
“Front seat's for the grown-ups, boy. Gotta be at least a few inches taller before you get them privileges.” And then he hacked out a laugh like it was the funniest thing in the world.
It took a few turns of the key and a muttered “C'mon, girl” from Jake before they were finally tooting down the road. The constant cough of the exhaust was only half of Aonung's worries. The other half was how long this dirt road seemed to stretch on with absolutely no sight of human life whatsoever.
Where in God's name did his parents fly him out to?
The drive back took way too long. So long, in fact, that Aonung accidentally fell asleep somewhere along the way, and when the nasty sound of the exhaust finally cut off, Aonung blinked his sleepy eyes awake to make out his surroundings.
An old rustic Victorian house sat in front of them: the paint looked visibly chipped despite them being a good distance away, the porch adorned with cream colored etched pillars connected by a short fence with a lining of long grass in front of it. The shingles on top were a faded green, and next to the sage wooden door stuck out a tattered but proud American flag that waved softly in the breeze.
A sudden high-pitched squeal jolted him, echoing from outside the car, and Aonung turned to see a little girl in a ruffle tutu come barreling towards the old man who barely managed to shut the door in time before being smothered in a hug. Her hair was held back with vibrant colored snap clips, and her horse shirt glittered in the setting sunlight. If he had to guess, he'd say the little girl was around eight years old.
“Hi, babydoll.” Jake swung the girl around before settling her on his hip. She wrapped her small arms around his neck, giggling as he gave her a big wet kiss on the cheek.
“Hi, daddy!”
Aonung stayed put in the back, unsure if he should just walk into the house or wait. Poor boy looked completely out of his element with his metal band tee and shredded shorts. Like a fish out of water.
“You been rolling around in flour or somethin'?”
The girl giggled again, her button nose all scrunched up as the man licked his thumb and rubbed away at her cheek.
“Me and momma made cinnamon rolls for dessert.” There was a cute lisp to her words; her front tooth was missing.
“Sounds yummy. Supper ready then?”
“Mhm! It's chili.”
“Well, I'm just in time then, aren't I? Go grab your sister for me, darlin'. Daddy's hungry.” Jake then let the little girl loose before jerking his head towards the house. “C'mon in, boy. I'll give you a lil tour of the place after we eat.”
When the two walked in the house, it was like Aonung had entered a completely different world.
The kitchen was like an antique collector's wet dream: a big country-style open kitchen stretched ahead with wooden floors to match the scratchy wooden cabinets. A decorated tile backsplash sat behind a tractor green, four door AGA oven that looked decades old. Wall shelves lined the whole of it with all kinds of herbs hanging in thick bundles next to their battered pots and pans, blending the already spicy chili smelling air with their earthy scents.
The dining room was a little out of the way from the kitchen, the table just as banged up as everything else wooden in the house, but it looked worn with love: a couple pink paint stains splattered near the corner, implying they'd done crafts on it, and there were laminated placemats that looked like they'd been homemade by the kids scattered haphazardly on top of it.
Everything was colorful. There were no plain whites and jet blacks. It was all creams, beiges, scratchy wooden tops, and pastel faded counters. Cozy, homey in a way Aonung would've never thought he'd experience before. Nothing like what he was used to with the modern sleek whites and grays back home.
Just then, a woman walked up to them, a frilly cooking apron tied snuggly around her small waist and a pair of big oven mittens tucked between her hip and arm.
She was the breathing definition of old-school beauty: slim yet curvy, with rich, brown skin and soft wrinkles around her gentle black eyes. Her hair was braided tight and sat in a thick bun on the top of her head, and her full lips were coated with a sheen of gloss that lit up her already glowing face.
Jake, who seemed already drunk off her presence alone, pulled her in close by the waist to press a quick kiss to her temple, to which she hummed and lovingly caressed the scruff of his jaw.
“Dinner smells amazing, honey.” He was practically drooling.
“Hi,” she said to Aonung in a sugary tone, paying no mind to all of Jake's little kisses, and instead stretched a delicate hand towards the awkwardly standing boy. A pear-shaped diamond winked when he went to shake her hand. “You must be Aonung.”
The boy could only nod in response, tongue tied. The woman was beautifully intimidating.
“I'm Neytiri. It's nice to meet you.” Neytiri then shifted her attention to her hubby and shooed him off like he was a big puppy. “Go. Be useful and call the boys for supper. I'll get the table set.”
With one last peck, Jake went up the creaky stairs to round up the others.
“Aonung, be a dear and help out, would you?”
With a cooed request like that, Aonung couldn't help but nod again. “Yeah. Okay.”
He'd only stepped two feet into the house and he was already being put to work, but he surprisingly didn't mind. Neytiri was very charming. With the right words, she could probably make Aonung do just about anything.
He helped set the porcelain on the dining table while the woman snagged a pitcher of lemonade from the fridge and filled some glasses. A small plate of garlic bread was also added to go along with the chili and cinnamon rolls they'd be having.
As they worked, the rest of the family began to slowly filter into the dining room. The little squealing girl he'd seen before came bounding in with a tall, lanky girl in tow with auburn frizzy hair and a face full of freckles. Her droopy hazel eyes met Aonung's with indifference, like she couldn't care less if there was a whole stranger standing in the middle of her house. Behind, a shorter boy, white as can be and curly blonde hair that stuck to his sweaty forehead bounded in tight on her heels. He also didn't seem to care too much about Aonung—or maybe he just didn't see him seeing as he was too caught up in getting a surprise noogie by yet another kid. This one had braided hair that was tied up in a pony with an ugly side shave.
How many kids are in this damn house?
It almost seemed like a never-ending stream of teenagers, and they all looked around Aonung's age too which was even worse.
He swallowed hard. It felt like his stomach was suddenly cinched tight in nervous knots—it felt like he was going to puke.
“Ew, who invited the rat?” Ponytail poked playfully before being suddenly cut off with a smack to the head from Ms. Lanky.
“Me. At least he doesn't smell like horse shit, unlike you.” She plopped herself down next to the little girl who had both her hands slapped over her mouth to quiet her giggles.
“Kiri said shit,” the little girl whispered.
“Wha— I don't even smell bad. Spider smells, like, ten times worse.”
“Yeah, you're dead, bro,” the short boy, now known as Spider, made a grab at him and yanked down hard at the collar of his tee. “Sleep with one eye open,” Spider strained out, locking Ponytail in a headlock.
It went from peaceful one moment to absolute chaos the next.
“Who do you think smells worse?” Kiri leaned close to the girl. They were both giggling. “The rat? Or Horse Shit?”
“Hey,” a voice boomed out from the top of the stairs. It was Jake Sully walking down with a raised eyebrow. “Let's watch our language around our guest here.”
Immediately, the chaos that was the dining room fell quiet, and all eyes turned to Aonung who was standing in the corner of the room clutching the strap of his bag for dear life.
Now it was dead quiet.
Aonung wanted to bury himself underneath the floorboards.
“Everyone, this is Aonung. He'll be staying with us for the summer like we told you.” Neytiri, the angel who saved Aonung from embarrassment, served the last person their bowl of chili. “Why don't you all go around and introduce yourselves?”
The response was only more silence.
With all eyes on him, he let his own fall to his shoes. It was humiliating being put on the spot like this.
“I'm Tuk,” the little tutu girl from earlier spoke after an encouraging nudge from her mother.
“Hi.” Aonung replied pathetically.
Next was Ms. Lanky. Her name was Kiri. She still looked bored out of her mind when they met eyes, but she had a strange chill aura to her. She seemed cool, what with her patchwork puffy pants and tiny tee. Aonung dipped his head with another little “hi”.
Then Spider with his blotchy red cheeks that popped in contrast to his milky skin, his hair frizzy and scattered with random braids. He gave a two finger salute, and Aonung nodded back.
They were about to move onto Side Shave when suddenly a pair of frantic thumping feet came rumbling down the stairs.
“Sorry. Had to shower quick. Did you guys already start?”
“Teyam!” Tuk smiled big. “Me and momma made cinnamon rolls!”
“I know, I could smell it through my door,” he chuckled, ruffling her hair. Then his face turned up to Aonung from across the room, and Aonung snapped his eyes straight to the ground the second they met.
He was definitely his momma's boy. A direct copy but firm with an obvious toned build beneath that white tank and blue denim jeans. But that wasn't what caught Aonung's tongue. It was his eyes. Intense was the first word that popped into his head when he saw them; sharp and intense as they gauged Aonung with a brown so lovely it looked like a honeypot of syrup.
“Hi,” the boy finally said, and Aonung could've sworn he turned to butter on the floor with how smooth it sounded.
Aonung could only nod his head in greeting.
“Aonung, this is Neteyam, my oldest, and Lo'ak, my middle. You'll be working with these two the most in the fields, so it's best you boys get along.” He pointed that last bit towards Lo'ak who was currently giving Aonung the stink eye. “Got it?”
“Yes sir,” Lo'ak murmured. Spider snickered and elbowed him to which he swatted at his shoulder.
“Good. Now—” he held out both his hands palms up on the table. The entire table followed suit while Aonung sat there like an idiot. “Kiri, why don't you say grace tonight.”
Hearing that struck him as odd, though, he should've expected this house to be the religious kind with that big cross that greeted him at the door.
Aonung had never been the religious type; his dad gave up on all that after his mother left and never turned back since, so anything to do with religion was a no-no back home. Despite this, Aonung mumbled a soft “amen” when the mealtime prayer ended.
Now that they'd gotten introductions out of the way along with the prayer, it was time to chow down. The chaos that had died down was now back in full blast with Tuk squealing about what she and Kiri found in the garden, and Spider and Lo'ak bickering about who knows what. They all seemed to ignore the newcomer, screaming and chatting amongst themselves while they ate.
Sweet Neytiri was the one who finally acknowledged Aonung, giving him a sympathetic smile.
“So Aonung, have you ever worked on a farm before?”
Before Aonung could answer, Lo’ak cut him off with a mumbled sarcastic, “Nah, obviously not. Look at him.”
Soft hands, smooth skin, no scars—not a single testimony to hard work.
“Lo'ak,” Jake said in warning, giving him a stern look. The boy in return snickered, as did his buddy, Spider. “Knock it off.”
“No,” Aonung replied and ground his teeth together, but didn't bite back like he wanted to. “But I'm willing to learn.” He hoped that sounded respectful enough.
“Well, you got a lot to learn then, city boy,” Spider teased quietly, more giggles coming from the two boys. “Jake here'll work you to the bone.”
“Boys, be nice,” Neytiri squinted at them. “It's not bad. Don't let them scare you.”
He said nothing and instead shoved a spoonful of searing hot food in his mouth to keep him from saying something not-so-nice to the little shits in the corner.
Supper was over, thank God. It seemed like it took years. All the kids dutifully took their dishes, rinsed them out, then popped them in the dishwasher before dispersing like bees. Kiri and little Tuk bounded over to the living room hand in hand while Lo'ak and Spider headed towards the door before they got abruptly stopped by Jake.
“Boys. I want you both back before sundown and not a minute later. Got it?”
The two nodded with shared grins. “Yes sir.”
Then off they went.
“Neteyam, show this one around the house.”
“Yes sir,” Neteyam replied. “C'mon. I'll show you the living room first.”
It looked about like the kitchen, tattered with love and stained carpets, coloring books all heaped up in a pile near the corner. The little girl from before was plopped in the center of it, big eyes glued to the television that played a crackly old movie off a VHS tape. She seemed too engaged with the show to notice the two boys, so Neteyam moved onto the parlor.
The house was charming in a way Aonung wasn't used to. Sure, a little banged up with peeling wallpaper, but still charming.
Seemingly reading his mind, Neteyam piped up as he led him up the stairs. “This place probably looks like a podunk compared to what you're used to.”
“Podunk?” Aonung asked dumbly.
“Podunk,” the boy repeated and simply brushed past him.
Upstairs were the bedrooms. They skipped Lo'ak's room for privacy, but Neteyam led him into his.
“You'll be roomin' with me for the summer. Put your stuff wherever, I don't mind.” Neteyam gestured vaguely around the room. He let him meander around the place.
It had no theme to it, just a bunch of trinkets and knick knacks to clutter the place, some carved wooden figures on his dresser, a line of old pictures pinned to the wall with tacks. Aonung's eyes were then pulled down to the pathetic air mattress next to Neteyam's nice bed, and he stared blankly.
His grand bed for the summer, it seemed. Wonderful.
He moved on.
“Your room is... interesting,” he said, a cheeky side smile on his lips.
Neteyam huffed out a laugh with his own smirk. “That a compliment or an insult?”
“Just a neutral observation,” he shrugged. “You play guitar?”
Neteyam's eyes followed Aonung's to see the mounted guitar with posters haphazardly taped around it. A couple were torn.
“Nah, I just keep that there for decoration.” Obvious sarcasm laced his tone.
Aonung scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Okay, smart-ass.”
“Watch your language.” Neteyam said suddenly. The firmness in his low tone had Aonung's snide smirk dropping, and if he had ears, they'd be lowered flat in an instant. “And take those out.”
“Why should I do that?”
“My dad doesn't like piercings.”
Neteyam took a couple steps closer now. He didn't like how he was being looked at right then, it felt like he was being cornered. Despite this, he straightened his shoulders out and cocked his head to the side.
“Well, it's a good thing he's your dad and not mine.”
“Yeah, well, he's gonna treat you like one of his own for as long as you're here,” Neteyam breathed out, close enough now to smell the subtle cologne. It was clearly to intimidate him, and it was slowly working. He didn't meet his golden eyes; he simply looked past Neteyam's shoulder. “So, if you wanna stay on his good side—” he lightly flicked Aonung's pierced earlobe, “suggest you take those out.”
And then, just like that, the boy was out of the room, leaving a slightly dazed and a little flustered Aonung alone to process what had happened.
———— ⸙‧₊˚
The rest of the night wasn't eventful, which Aonung was grateful for. He'd already felt drained, and he hadn't even had his first day of farm work yet. Aonung unpacked his belongings, laying his clothes out in the corner along with his converse before taking a quick shower for bed, and when he entered their shared room again, Neteyam was already asleep with the lamp off.
He let out a breath of exhaustion and flopped onto the most uncomfortable mattress he'd ever laid on in his life. It was freezing cold in the room, smelled like cedar wood, and his back already began to ache laying on this damn thing. Staring at the popcorn ceiling was beginning to get boring, so Aonung let his eyes slip shut. Hopefully he'll get some sleep tonight.
It was definitely going to be a long summer.