❊basically just a lot Of Random Shit❊

“You are so infuriating!” He hisses, ignoring your words. “What the hell were you thinking? Dragging Lo'ak to the mountain top like that? You two could’ve died jumping off of there.” 

“Well, we didn’t, okay?” You snap back, narrowing your eyes, tail swishing angrily behind you. 

“Barely,” Neteyam seethes. You could practically see the steam coming from his ears, flatten against his head in rage. “You are so fkxaranga (stressful),” he lectures. “Had I hadn’t gotten there in time—” 

“Okay!” You push Neteyam away from you. “I get it!” 

His sharp words don’t roll easily off your chest as they have always done in the past. The gravity of the situation was clear to you, and the typical routine you and Neteyam went through was taking a detour. Your tough exterior begins to crumble. “I didn’t realize—” Against your will your voice cracks at the end, eyes welling up with hot tears. 

The sight makes Neteyam’s face fall, anger melting away to tip of his fingers and a new feeling settling in his chest instead. 

You let out a shaky exhale. Your eyes are aimed at the ground as you actively avoid Neteyam’s eyes, fearful of the disappointment that was no doubt swimming in them. With a clenched jaw, you try to swallow the lump in your throat before admitting, “I didn’t realize, okay?” Your voice is low. “I’m sorry.” 

The genuine apology has Neteyam shell-shocked, guilt flooding him. It was unlike you to ever apologize, gritting your teeth whenever the words passed your lips in the past, for your stubborn character made you prideful. Now, Neteyam was unsure of what to do.

The vulnerability you were forced to expose given the situation at hand made your knees weak, causing you wrap your arms around yourself, praying it’ll be enough to keep you together. But once the tears started, they couldn’t stop. You turn your back to him, hand over your mouth as you did your best to muffle the sobs that suddenly came out. 

It was then that you feel his arms wrap around your body. At your now adolescent age, Neteyam is bigger, and the warmth that radiated off of him as he engulfs you into the expanse of his chest only made you break down harder. 

“Lo'ak will be okay,” Neteyam whispers. “Everything will be okay.” 

-

Lo'ak did, in fact, end up being more than fine. Healthy as a direhorse, actually, proven by the way he spent his entire recovery complaining about your newfound friendship with his brother. 

“I get injured for one night and you immediately betray me?” Lo'ak groans. 

“You are being dramatic,” you continue to spread the yarnabark onto Lo'ak’s stomach, who lays there waving his arms animatedly. 

“I had to hear from Tuk that you weren’t here when I woke up because you were with Neteyam?” He emphasizes his siblings name, the first with exasperation and the later with disgusted. “He came in here earlier and you guys smiled at each other. Smiled! I mean, come on,” Lo'ak drags. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for his ‘perfect son’ act, too…” 

It took Lo'ak a long time to get over his jealousy, given that you were the first person in the clan who ever chose him over Neteyam. He hated that suddenly that was no longer true, but eventually, he grew bored of fighting over you with his brother. When he finally realized that things had changed between you and Neteyam permanently, he simply made you pinky promise him (Lo'ak taught you what that was) that he’ll always be your favorite Sully. 

It was enough to appease him, even though it became obvious over the next two years that it was less than true. 

“Neteyam’s in the back,” Lo'ak announces at the first sight of you as you enter their home, even before you managed to greet him. He tosses you the rest of the fruit he was munching on before walking out. “Heading to the river with Spider, meet us there later!” He shouts before running off. You barely manage to shout back a “will do!” before he’s out of your sights. 

You know that there are moments where Lo’ak misses you, misses the way things were before they changed. There are times where you feel the same. Childhood innocence one day turned into teenage complication, and sometimes you miss the simplicity of it all. Sometimes you feel guilty for changing. You stare at the spot where Lo’ak was moments prior, letting yourself reminisce for a bit before shaking it off with a sigh.

True to Lo'ak’s words, Neteyam is standing behind their home, bow and arrow in hand. His face is stoic, deep in concentration. He aims. Releasing his arrow with a whoosh, neither of you are surprised when he hits the target right in the center. You notify him of your presence with a loud applause. His stone expression immediately melts away, turning into a wide grin as turns around and sees you. 

Meeting you halfway, he stops a bit too close. For anyone from the outside looking in, it would come off as intimate…and strange, but close was a newfound pillar of your odd friendship. 

“What are you doing here?”

You shrug. “I’m just stopping by to say hello.” 

The confession only makes Neteyam’s grin grow wider. 

You rock back and forth on your feet. Despite the two years that have past since the two of you reached an unspoken understanding, you and Neteyam still had ten years of history that was difficult to forget. There were times where you weren’t sure what the nature of your relationship was, or how to act around him. 

Neteyam was more than your friend, the term simply falling too short to describe what the two of you had, but Neteyam was also sure not your lover, the label bearing too much weight for your fragile balance to handle. 

So you settled for this odd, nameless limbo. 

“Do you want to…” you trail off, thumb pointed behind you as you let your actions speak for the rest of your sentence. 

“Yes,” Netyam responds quickly, “Yes, of course.” 

The two of you did this a lot. The seemingly hidden trail that the two of you stumbled upon one early morning sort of became a beacon of your relationship. It was on these walk that the two of you opened up to one another: slowly, but surely, overtime. The same effort it takes to walk along the winding path. 

“So, what did you do today?” Neteyam inquires, hand resting on the small of your back as he guides the two of you forward. 

“Oh, you know. Just the usual…” 

Your hands move animately as you talk, going over the details of your typical day, yet Neteyam hangs onto every word. His eyes are only trained on you as you look ahead in the path. 

Unbeknownst to you both, it was the last moments of peace the two shared. The unnamed relationship is soon to be confronted, an expectation that, perhaps, neither of you are ready to face.

-

Jake avoided eye contact with Neteyam for as long as he could. From polishing already sparkling weapons, to moving random items a smidge to the left, and even brushing imaginary dust off the table, Jake could only shuffle awkwardly around his eldest until he felt ready to say what was on his mind. 

Neteyam, well aware of his fathers presence but made no commentary on it after his dad told him to “keep doing what you’re doing, son,” when he first entered Neteyam’s room, was beginning to grow frustrated with the constant movement. The clearing of his dad’s throat to the little trinkets clinking against his wardrobe caused Neteyam’s ears twitch in irritation, his tail flicking back and forth on the floor despite his attempt to concentrate on the map laid out in front of him. 

When Jake manages to knock over a bowl full of beads that Neteyam was using for a project, Neteyam finally lets out a loud groan. 

“Oh shit,” Jake cusses instinctively, looking at the floor in panic as he watched the small pieces roll all over the place. “Uh, let me just—” 

“Dad,” Neteyam turns to his father. Jake, left with no other choice, finally looks at his son. “What is it?” Neteyam finally addresses. 

Jake winces. He should’ve tried a little harder to get Neytiri to do this. “Alright,” he exhales. “Here goes nothing,” Jake tilts his head to the side, mentally preparing himself. Taking a step towards his eldest, Jake tries to recall all of the previous military training that he’s done to force himself to complete the mission at hand. “Son, as we all know, you’re nearing the end of your preparation for Olo’eyktan.” 

“Yes, sir.” Neteyam nods, standing upon his father’s topic of conversation, face serious. 

Jake can only wince. “And you’ve seen first hand that a leader is only as strong as the Tsahik who chooses to stand by his side.” Neteyam nods. “And you’re finally getting to an age where, well…” Jake clears his throat again, confidence quickly deteriorating. “Where you need to find a compatible mate of,” Jake coughs, “of your own.” 

Neteyam flinches a bit, tail stilling when he suddenly understands what his dad was hinting at. His cheeks turned a deep shade of purple, but he clears his throat nonetheless. “Yes, sir.” 

It was not as though Neteyam was cluleless nor ignorant regarding the topic, but still, it didn’t make the next twenty minute conversation with his father any easier. Neytiri could only shake her head in disappointment at the utter disaster that was called Jake’s Fatherly Mating Talk. 

An awkward silence fell upon the dinner table that night. 

“Why’s everyone so quiet?” Lo’ak loudly asks, only to be met with Neteyam letting out a groan, turning purple once more. Kiri smacked Lo’ak right upside the head in response, tired of her idiot brother not being able to read the room. Neytiri could only roll her eyes with a ‘tsk’ when Jake sinks deeper into his seat. 

-

“Y/n,” Neteyam’s voice reverberates throughout your home, accompanied by a knock against the wood. “Are you home?” 

Ears perking at the familiar voice, you quickly stand, giving your top and hair a quick pat down to ensure everything is in place before rushing towards the door, the map Lo’ak snuck to you earlier in the day suddenly abandoned on your family dining table. 

“Teyem, hi,” the new nickname falls from your lips without much thought, but Neteyam notices it nonetheless, and he can’t prevent the color that dusts his cheeks. 

“Would you like to join me for a walk?” He asks, voice strong and unwavering as though he were unfazed by what just transpired. 

You nod, and within the next few minutes you two began to follow the same path you have so many times before. It was quiet for a while, the two of you basking in the beautiful Pandorian nature. Despite the trail being secluded, sunlight managed to casted charmingly through the tree tops. 

Neteyam is the first to break the peaceful ambiance with a clear of his throat. “I have news,” he announces. 

“Oh?” you inquire. “What has Lo’ak done this time?” you can’t help the quip from passing your lips, mind wandering to the possibility that perhaps the eldest was declaring that his troubled sibling has messed up again and was grounded once more, preventing you from seeing him. That would certainly be worth telling. 

Neteyam cannot help but feel annoyance bubble in his chest, suppressing an eye roll at the mention of his younger brother. It’s ridiculous, he knows, you were Lo’ak’s friend much earlier than you were his, but still, envy fills his veins. The topic of conversation he wants to engage in has no room for his brother’s name. 

“It has nothing to do with that skxawng (moron),” Neteyam insults to appease his displeasure. “It is actually about me.” 

This piques your interest much more than Lo’ak, your tail swinging behind you expressing so. 

Neteyam looks forward, standing taller suddenly. “It is about my Olo’eyktan training.” He sneaks a glance at you from his peripheral, and he has to hide the grin on his face at your interested eyes trained on his face. Feeling brave, Neteyam stops and places his hands on your shoulders, turning so the two of you are chest to chest. His touch is gentle as he slides his palms down your arms. Your breathe hitches in your throat and you have to actively fight the shiver that was tickling your spine. 

Neteyam lets out a breathe of air when his fingers find yours, the touch causing a zap of electricity to shoot up both your arms. I could touch her forever, he thought. But he shakes away the invasive thought as quick as it comes, surprised by its blatancy. When he finally meets your eye, Neteyam proudly declares. “I am looking for Tsahik.” 

A pause lingers in the air. 

“What?” the word suddenly rushes out, a laugh expelling your lips at the declaration. 

“Someone strong. Someone capable.” Neteyam describes, reiterating the words of his father. Though he does his best not to show it, he is treading the waters with you. The balance of your relationship was fragile, and the unspoken words between the two of you served as the tightrope, bringing you closer and closer to one another. Afraid that this would be all too much, all too soon for you, Neteyam is choosing his words carefully. 

The intimacy suddenly became too much for him, and he pulls away from you with a sharp inhale. Like the coward he is around you, Neteyam begins walking again while you are stunned into place. 

“My dad and I spoke of it, the other day,” Neteyam begins to fill the silence with details, his previous confidence is wavering at your lack of response, and the warrior in him felt the need to damage control. “It came as a surprise to me, too. I hadn’t given it much thought, if I am being honest.” The crunching leaves under his feet feel awfully loud, the silence on your end too apparent. 

Shaking it off, you run to catch up to Neteyam. 

“But, my dad is right. I should start looking.” Neteyam continues, doing his best to ignore the pounding in his chest as he hears your rapid footsteps approaching him. “I have to start courting,” his ears twitch. 

“Neteyam.” Voice firm, you grab Neteyam’s shoulders. He feels as though his body was bursting into flames. Your touch makes him shiver, and parts of him yearns for more. He turns to you, eyes gazing piercingly into yours. The look makes you hesitant, the previous strength you possessed suddenly gone, and your hand falls from his shoulder. Instead, it meets your other hand as they wring nervously in front of you. “What are you trying to say?” 

When the older boy shows no signs of speaking, you continue. “Are you…” your ears twitch with hesitation. “Are you asking me to be your Tsahik?” Eyes wide and curious, your heart thumps rapidly in your chest, though it is not with anticipation as one may believe. 

“Uh—” Neteyam hesitates, completely flustered at your direct question. “No.” His eyes widen at his own words. “I mean, not ‘no’ because I do not want you to be. I do! But, no because,” Neteyam chokes on his words, eyes flickering around at the greenery. “That’s not really how it works. I cannot just…ask you to be my Tsahik.” He continues to stutter, “There’s a process. Of courting. And so, I guess, maybe that is what I am ask—” 

“Neteyam…” you call out, voice trailing off. You may have been younger than Neteyam, but that did not make you naive, and the circumstances of the conversation were telling. Despite Neteyam’s fumbling, the topic at hand was serious — too serious for the dynamic you and him share. The sudden realization of responsibility, of leadership is becomes transparent when the title of “Tsahik” hangs in the air. Subconsciously, you take a step back from him. 

The movement draws his attention, and his nervous babbling comes to a stop. When his gaze falls upon your face, the look of conflict that greets him makes him lose his breath. 

“Oh…” was all he could muster, for all the words that fell from his lips moments before are suddenly gone, dissipated into thin air and try as he might he cannot speak. 

“I—” there is a lump in your throat. The delicate thread that your relationship hung by felt as though it was seconds away from breaking, your next words determining it’s final state. You're tugged between mind and heart. You don’t want things to change with Neteyam, not at all. A part of you craves him, to be near him, to be with him. But the thought of being someone that must be a role model…to be someone you’re not outweighs that want. “I can’t.” 

Snap. 

A sudden breeze of cold brushes over the two of you, the previously bright sun suddenly shielded by a cloud. A new tension falls over the two of you. This change in your relationship has come unexpected, the discussion you’re sharing is going much further than any territory the two of you have ever charted. That is apparent to you both. 

Neteyam, fearful that he may have chosen his words wrong, is suddenly desperate to grasp at the quickly fading cord that was what you two were. “I didn’t,” he stutters, “I do not mean to scare you.” He makes a weak attempt at reassurance. His composed nature was cracking, and what was previously nervous fluster was rapidly turning to panic at the direction things were heading. 

He starts again, before he truly knows what he wants to say. “Y/n.” Neteyam takes a deep breathe. He calculates the possibilities in his head, weighing the pros and cons of backtracking versus being honest. The warrior in Neteyam knew the prior was a poor option and he must strive forward, be resilient, but the coward in him is afraid. 

Voice low, he gathers himself and begins to say the words you’re dreading to hear. “I know we’ve never talked…about us.” 

“Neteyam.” It was now your turn to panic, and you find yourself in a position where you want nothing more than for him to stop. You don’t want things to change. You're happy the way things are. You’re too young for this. Overwhelming thoughts plague you.  

Ignoring you, he continues, “But I think it is time we do. Because I must look for a Tsahik. I want—” 

“Then look, Neteyam,” you cut in with a firm tone. Your mouth moved faster than your mind, so the words came out harsher than you intended, but it was the truth of how you feel nonetheless. 

Frustrated with your constant interruptions, Neteyam cannot help but huff. Must you be so stubborn? The determination in your eyes should be hint enough, but Neteyam is just as hard-headed, and he had to make it clear that he wants you, whatever that means for the two of you. He was willing to figure it out. As long as you were by his side it would be okay, because the truth was Neteyam cannot imagine it being anyone else. 

Before he has the chance to continue, though, you speak. “There are many skillful women in this clan—” 

“I am not interested in any other women in this clan,” Neteyam hisses, only for you to silence him with a glare. 

“You cannot ask this of me.” You respond firmly. “I do not want this, Neteyam.” 

Your words strike him where it hurts, but Neteyam refuses to accept that there is truth to them. “You have not given this a chance.” 

“I do not want—” you insist. 

“You do not know what you want,” Neteyam can only shout back. “How can you reject this, reject me before I have even proven myself to you? Before I even have the chance the ask you?” He cannot fathom it, unable to bear the rejection, because he knows he has not imagined this. The two of you are more than just friends. 

Just when he thinks he has gotten through to you, you take another step back from him with a shake of your head. “We are not lovers, Neteyam.” You meet his eyes, lips set in a firm line as you state, “I decline your courtship.” 

-

“What happened?” Lo’ak asks, having to chase behind you to keep up as you scale the jagged rocks. The waterfall alongside you as you clim is crashing loudly, and Lo’ak must yell for you to hear him. 

“Nothing,” you shout back, looking down at him. 

With a heavy breath, Lo’ak climbs over to the ledge where you now stood. He places his hands on his hips for a moment to catch his breath before he opens his arms wide. “Come on, since when do we lie to each other?”

You only scoff in response, brows in the same furrowed position it has been in since the two of you met up, hours ago. 

“What is it?” Lo’ak continues to poke further. “Your parents?” 

You peak over the edge, eyeing the drop. Adrenaline is rushing in your veins and you try to channel all your anger and grief as of late into bravery to jump. The sight would make any Na’vi, warrior or not, queasy, but you feel quite fearless. The thought of the thrill makes you let out a excited laugh, temporarily forgetting all of your conflict. 

You pull out the map that Lo’ak give you in procrastination, needing another moment to hype yourself into doing it. “We’re here,” you tell him, finger tracing the marks on the paper, confirming that you have made it to the right location.

“Is it your training? I know working with Norm isn’t easy, but you’re doing a great job.” Lo’ak attempts once more. The question reminds you of your foul emotions, and when you ignore him with another huff, shoving the map back into the cloth purse on your hip, he knows he is not correct. 

You take a deep breathe again and survey your surroundings, you can practically see above the forest from where you’re standing. The sight is beautiful. 

You’re ready. 

“I jump first, then when you see me emerge from the water, you go, okay?” Without waiting for his response, you step back and gear up to run off the cliff and into the water. “See you down there!” you shout before taking off running. 

“Wait, I’ve got it!” Lo’ak continues to persist, not realizing you were already going for it as he looks around, with his back to you. “It’s Neteyam, isn’t it?” He turns to you with a triumphant smile on his face. 

The name reaches your ears right when you toe the edge of the cliff, causing you to momentarily panic as your mind comes to a halt. The question of what Lo’ak knows makes you lose focus, and your body pauses. The momentum of your run slams into your body, though, and your lapse in concentration met with the force of your acceleration was a unsuspecting combo that collides into each other within a second’s notice. “Wait, what?” The question tumbles off your tongue, just as you tumble off of the ledge. 

The panic did not allow you to brace you for the fall, and all the previous preparation you did to ready yourself for this has slipped out of your fingers. Adrenaline is pumping through your body, but not in the intoxicating-enducing bliss you were seeking. The scream you let out was penetrating, and fear punches Lo’ak in the chest as he scrambles to the cliff edge. 

“Y/n!” he screams, fingers gripping the soil of the ledge as he looks down to where you are descending. With a loud whistle, he calls to his Ikran who was sitting, waiting for Lo’ak’s return just below you. 

The water was getting closer and closer, and with your stomach lurching from the freefall, you were rendered helpless, unable to do anything to aid yourself for the impending impact. You can only pray to Eywa that it won’t hurt too bad. 

“Catch Y/n, now!” Lo’ak commands his Ikran, knowing that he will not make it in time if he were to mount his Ikran and swoop down to you. As high as the waterfall is, you’re falling too fast and you are bound to hit the water soon.

You continue screaming the whole way down, unable to stop yourself. Even the loud crashing of the waterfall could not drown out the sound of pure terror coming from you. You're scared out of your mind, and the rocks that were glistening under the waters’ surface were all you could look at. Just a few feet away from the river, you close your eyes, accepting your fate and the pure idiocy of your plan. 

You’re so close to the water, you swear you could feel it on your face, when all of a sudden your stomach flips again. Where it was previously lurching up, against your spine, it unexpectedly switched direction as it seemed to now press against your stomach. The change has you gasping, and your hand reaches out to grab whatever it was that now has you soaring through the sky once more. 

Feeling the skin of Ikran, you let out a slight breathe of relief, but your heart continues to pound rapidly in your chest and the fear you were experiencing was not gone by any means. It would not until you’re safely touching the ground once more. 

“Oh, thank Eywa!” is the first thing you hear when the Ikran lands, aside from the animal’s slight screech. 

You feel Lo’ak before you see him, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he presses you into his chest. “You scared me to death!” There is a slight tremble in his voice, and the uncharacteristic behavior from him only worsens your fear. It reinstates how bad the situation truly was. 

The momentary comfort you were experiencing with Lo’ak did not last long though, and you can only let out a gasp as you are ripped from his chest and pulled into what seems to be another. 

This body was shaking, and their grip in your hair can only be described as distraught, as if you would disappear if they let go. “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” a choked voice breathes into your ear. 

“Neteyam…?” Shocked, you bring up a confused hand to feel him. When your hands meet the strong, unmistakeable expanse of Toruk Makto’s eldest’s back, he lets out a huge exhale, pulling you in tighter. 

When you attempt to pull away, Neteyam’s grip does not losen, instead he places his head into the crook of your neck. “No,” he trails off. “Please,” Neteyam whispers. 

Guilt begins to eat you up inside, and the only thing you can do is embrace Neteyam back. 

-

The ride back was silent, Neteyam forcing you onto his Ikran without a word as the two of you flew back to the village. Lo’ak, gliding besides you, continuously spared glances at you throughout the trip, but Neteyam did not reciprocate, keeping his head straight and arm wrapped firmly around your stomach. 

It is in your dimly lit room where Neteyam speaks what is truly on his mind. 

“What was that stunt?” is the first sentence to break through the suffocating tension. 

“Neteyam, I don’t think now is the best—” Lo’ak jumps to your defense, arms raised in peace as he glances at your exhausted figure. 

“Be quiet, brother.” His tone is sharp enough to make Lo’ak wince. Neteyam’s words were directed at Lo’ak but his eyes never left you. As many times as Neteyam has reprimanded him in the past, his stature and pinched expression this time has Lo’aks typical rebellious nature fading, understanding that in this situation, it will cause more harm than usual. 

“This is not like you,” Neteyam hisses. 

It makes you wince. “You’re wrong,” you argue. 

“This is not you,” he insists. 

“You’re wrong!” You shout, finally meeting Neteyam’s eyes. Both of your gazes burn with anger, but for different reasons. “This is me, Neteyam!” Your hands ball into fist, tail flailing and hitting the wall with a thump. “This is exactly who I am,” you shout. 

Lo’ak can only watch as the scene unfolds in front of him. The argument between the two of you seems private. The younger brother can do nothing but shrink back on himself, ears dropping in guilt as the two of you fought in a way that seems to go deeper than the accident that has just occurred. The unspoken words and double meanings behind the words you throw at one another does not go unnoticed by Lo’ak.

Part of Neteyam knows you are right. It was not unlike you and Lo’ak to do such wildly, stupid things. He had witnessed it firsthand all of his life. So why was he so much angrier this time? 

Neteyam’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach once more when his mind replays the scene. 

This time, you almost got hurt. 

He feels himself lose all his breathe. 

This time, you almost got hurt. 

Neteyam knows it is illogical to be so frustrated, so angry in the moment, but part of him was tired, too — of being so vulnerable with you, of putting his heart in your hands just for you to throw it away, uncaring for him and how he feels. How can you so fearlessly put the one thing he cares about most in this world in such blatant harms way? So his concern masks itself, taken over by misplaced resentment instead. Ears flat against his head, he shouts. “You need to grow up.” Neteyam’s delivery is lethal, his cold tone takes you aback. 

The potential outcome of the situation that just occurred alongside the pain you caused him at your rejection days ago made the next words fall off his tongue more brutal, driven by something bigger than him. 

Your brows furrow, confused by the change in direction of the conversation. Taken over by shock, you can only mutter, “Excuse me?” 

“You heard me, Y/n. Grow. Up.” 

You let out a disbelief laugh, “Who do you think you’re talking to—” 

“You cannot just run off like that, seeking a thrill to ease your feelings when the slightest situation troubles you!” Neteyam shouts, projecting his concerns of your well being onto you. 

“I always have,” you seethe, exhausted by Neteyam’s argument. It is as if he didn’t know you at all. It’s as if he wanted you to be someone you’re not.

“You cannot do this for the rest of your life,” Neteyam continues pushing back, tail swinging behind him rapidly. 

“You mean Olo’eyktan’s Tsahik cannot do so.” 

A silence falls upon the room.

Lo’ak wishes to leave, but stepping between the two of you and to the exit seems to be a lot more catastrophic than huddling in the corner, trying to make himself disappear. 

“Really?” Neteyam lets out a humorless laugh, livid at you throwing back something that was so personal back in his face. It aggravates him, just how right you are, just how little you care for the one thing he craves so deeply. 

Out of pure, unbrittled anger all he can do is manage to bare his teeth at you. “I do not want you as my Tsahik, Y/n.” Neteyam hisses, his frustration with you beyond any emotion he’s ever experienced. “Only Eywa knows why I even bothered asking. I do not think I can even stand having you as a simple mate, much less one to lead a clan with.” Lies after lies tumble from his lips. Neteyam knows it, but he cannot stop. “I do not think any eligible, self-respecting Na’vi with an eltu (brain) would! You are immature, you are reckless.” 

He takes a deep breathe, voice calm, “I would be better off with anyone but you.” 

At his final declaration, Neteyam brushes past you and Lo’ak, pushing your curtain out of the way with a loud whip.

“Bro…” Lo’ak calls out, voice small, but Neteyam was already gone. 

-

“Why did you reject him, Y/n?” 

It seems as though, these days, you and Lo’ak were finding solace in once another like you did before, when you were young. It’s the aftermath of what happened nights ago, you suppose. No shenannigans, no adrenaline seeking, no trouble-seeking. Just you and Lo’ak. 

The steady stream of the river is loud, drowning out the whispers of your voices as the two of you sat side by side, feet dipped in the water. 

It was a question that Lo’ak has had on his mind for days, you know it, and parts of you are surprised he’s managed to hold it in for so long. 

“What was I meant to do, Lo’ak? Accept his proposal?” you answer him with your own question, swaying your feet gently in the waters and watching as it ripples. 

“What if you did?” Lo’ak peers at you, curiously. At the sight of your eye roll, he continues, finally asking the larger question, “What stopped you?”

The topic at hand was picking at a wound that has yet to heal over. Neteyam’s words caused you great heartache, and though it were the same thoughts you had in your own head, hearing him say them outloud was much worse. Knowing that Neteyam views you the same way you view yourself hurts much worse. 

But he was right. 

It was why you turned him down. 

“I am unfit for Toruk Makto’s son.” You look at your oldest friend, gaze honest and defeated.

The heartfelt confession was more than Lo’ak expected, and he could only soften in response. “He didn’t mean what he said.” 

You turn away from Lo’ak. Neither of you know what to say in response to one another. Neither of you believed what the other has to say. You fall silent. 

“You know, at some point in my life, I thought it would be me,” Lo’ak whispers, but his words are clear as day, and your ears twitch in reaction. 

You let out a small laugh, “What?” 

His tail draws patterns in the soil beneath him, and he kicks his feet gently, disturbing the ripples of water. “You never thought that? That maybe one day,” Lo’ak shrugs, “I don’t know, I would be the one to court you.” 

You take a moment to process his words, dumbfounded, but when your eyes meet Lo’aks and you’re met with the sight of humor and a deep sense of admiration, one that you can only share with someone you know is destined to be your best friend, you understood. There was no resentment. Just love. The kind that only two, platonic soulmates share. 

You can’t help the teasing smile that creeps on your face, “Yeah, I guess I did, too.” 

It was a nod to your childhood, an acknowledgement of just how young and naive you used to be. The nostalgia fills you with warmth, just the slightest bit, before your chest grows tight once more. 

You pulled your knees to your chest, chin resting on them as your wrap your arms around your legs. “When did things get so hard, Lo’ak?” you ask him, but your eyes are unfocused as you look ahead. 

The Na’vi purses his lips at the question, genuinely contemplating a response to your question. His words fail him, though, as they typically do and he can only offer a mere, “We got older.” 

“Yeah,” you let out a humorless chuckle. “I guess we did.” 

A beat of quiet passes before Lo’ak lets out a sigh, his large palm meeting the crown of your head as he pulls you towards him. And in that moment, when his lips meet your forehead in affection, that you realize: you’ll always be okay. 

With that, despite your aching heart, you let out a relieved sigh as your head drops onto Lo’aks shoulders, where he welcomes you.

You’ll always have Lo’ak. 

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