Work Text:
When Aonung saw Neteyam’s body being carried, it looked like he was dead.
His body was limp, limbs loose to his father’s hands; his eyes were closed, skin void of constellations.
And the second Aonung witnessed Neteyam, on the brink of life and close to the breach of death, it felt like the sea had finally betrayed him.
But for some reason- a reason the Sully family won’t let him know (but he’s assuming it had something to do with the weird one, Kiri)- Neteyam’s alive. His breath is short and small, but present. The forest boy would live to see another day.
But after death, another impending doom came; one he had heard Toruk Makto talk about in the privacy of their home, away from other’s ears. An unstoppable inevitability, a selfless act, a heartbreaking gesture.
The forest boy he fell in love with is leaving.
...
Aonung and Neteyam were not the best of friends, by any means, and they didn’t have the best of starts. Not by a long shot.
After the incident with Lo’ak, Aonung really thought there was no point. They had spoken a few times before then, enjoyed a few moments together here and there, but it was all formal- he was there to teach him, Neteyam was there to learn. He didn’t need a great friendship with him, he just needed to be friendly, but somehow he couldn’t even manage that.
But it happened. After apologies and duties and punishments, Aonung had a moment to himself. He sat along the shoreline farther down, in a small cove that he could call his own. It was quiet there, and Aonung liked to come here when he was able to. It gave him time to think, away from the tribe, away from anything on his shoulders. He could be alone. He could be one with -
Footsteps trailed on the other side of the cove, the noise shaking him out of privacy, beckoning him to look on the other side. It was Neteyam; he walked close to the shoreline, nearly touching the water, before he sat down in front of the waves. The sun was turning the sky a dull orange, surrounding clouds forming deep purples and pinks- in any other situation, Aonung would think this was normal- a Na’vi admiring a gift from Eywa. But this was Neteyam. And from what he knew and observed, this wasn’t a boy meant for leisure.
Neteyam sunk his heels into the sand, spread his fingers through the grains behind him. He inhaled deeply, and Aonung couldn’t help but admire acknowledge the man- he was, and there was no other way to say it, handsome. And kind. And mature, and-
Stop it.
“Hello, Newcomer.” He started, making Neteyam flinch from the noise. He turned his head to find Aonung, giving a polite smile.
“Isn’t it time that the name ‘Newcomer” is retired?”
Aonung tilted his head. Retired? “Retired?”
Neteyam waved his hands, like flicking away something Aonung couldn’t see. “Move on, not use anymore. I’m no longer a newcomer.”
Aonung shrugged. “Maybe, but you’re still slow at riding and slow at swimming. That keeps you as a newcomer.” He commented with an amused tone, and the amused look Neteyam gave him back meant the same thing.
“Then I’m learning, not new.”
“Then what else will I call you?”
“Neteyam?” He questioned, a grin plastered to his face. He looked light, like a weight he’d been carrying was gone- he looked beautiful.
Aonung stood inches away from Neteyam, looking at the sea. “Too easy. Something else. Maybe ‘Forest Boy’?”
Neteyam huffed. “You call my brother ‘Forest Boy’.”
“That doesn’t mean that I can’t use it for you as well.” Aonung joked. “I’ll call you ‘Forest Boy’, and your brother ‘Lo’ak’ instead.”
Neteyam rolled his eyes fondly. “I’d prefer Neteyam.”
Aonung shrugs another reply. “And I’d prefer a different name. So until I find a new name you like, it’ll be ‘Forest Boy’.” He holds Neteyam’s arm as he stands up, providing balance for the other boy.
“And if you want to not be bothered, go to that cove over there.” Aonung says- it comes out of him like a confession, something he didn’t mean to say yet couldn’t help mention. Aonung, of all people, knows the reason why a man might go seek solitude. Neteyam speaks to him silently, nodding at the knowledge.
Aonung turns, and doesn’t look back to seek Neteyam, yet finds him in the cove the next day.
…
It started with small things.
Training him with ilus, working on breathing exercises, practicing sparing at sunset, spending time in the cove at night- they became almost inseparable in the upcoming weeks, a bond that grew stronger everyday.
One of those days, Neteyam handed Aonung a shell- nothing special, but the white spots along it’s exterior mimiced his own. “It reminded me of you,” Neteyam whispered, and it felt like every nerve in Aonung's body lit up. “It’s a bond.” He added, smile wide, and the sight made Aonung feel light.
And Aonung would be fine with it if it was just that, a bond between brothers. But it wasn’t.
Aonung can’t quite explain it, but he doesn’t have to. The feeling that resides within him is his own, and it can be his secret alone.
But it’s almost as if Neteyam’s heart beats the same way as his.
Aonung doesn’t get to ask if it does, not before the fight, the injury. And if he asks now, it will be for nothing but memories that already ache.
So he does not, he can not, and never will.
…
Aonung has come to visit Neteyam twice as he’s recovering. Once in the beginning, right before he overheard Toruk Makto’s conversation, and now.
The rest of the Sully family has left to do other things, leaving Neteyam alone- Aonung saw it as an opportunity, offered his help to Neteyam’s mother, and now sits beside him. Aonung hums silently, gazing at the other’s resting figure. Even in sleep, Neteyam needs to work on his breathing. It’s almost as if he can feel the pain of his wound with every breath, short and huffed out, begging to ease.
He fiddles with the shell Neteyam gave him, continuing to hum complacently. This is going to hurt, badly. He will miss the way the forest boy speaks, how he talks of his home, how he interacts with his family, how he looks at Aonung. It is almost a fate worse than death.
Poor sister, he thinks to himself. He hasn’t told another soul, won’t until the formal meeting between their father’s happen. They agreed anything would be discussed after Neteyam’s recovery, and not a moment before. Aonung reaches out to touch Neteyam’s hand, at peace with the warmth.
“He’ll recover.” Kiri says beside him, appearing from thin air. Aonung jumps at the voice, snatching his hand back towards his chest.
“I know he will.” He huffs out quickly, trying to take the invasion in stride. “Don’t doubt it.”
Kiri huffs, amused at how he’s trying to recover. For some reason Aonung can’t understand, Kiri can understand a lot of things. “You’re trying not to be obvious, but you’re failing miserably.”
“Shut up.”
“What?” She scoffs. “First it was overhearing mother’s conversation with father, then it was longing looks, and now that you’ve finally caved, you can’t get that stupid look off your face.”
Aonung looks dumbstruck, unable to respond. When had she… ?
When Kiri doesn’t receive a reply, she rolls her eyes. “I kind of feel bad for you, idiot.”
His confusion fizzles into confinement. “You shouldn’t.”
“You’re right, I shouldn’t, but I do.” Kiri says, kneeling beside her brother. She grabs his hand freely, no shame attached, and closes her eyes. She begins to hum, seemingly done with the conversation between them. Aonung observes them; their touch, their spirit, their bond. The picture the scene paints for Aonung is something he already knew; the bond the Sully’s have is so, so strong. Impenetrable, admirable.
He could never ruin that.
Aonung has to let her know; “I would never ask him to stay.”
As a creature of habit, Kiri rolls her eyes again. “I know. You have your moments.” She places Neteyam’s hand down on his stomach. “It’s also why I feel bad for you.”
Aonung’s nose twitches at the pity presented. “I would appreciate not being scrutinized.” Not for my feelings.
Kiri huffs, a smirk gathering upon her face. “If I scrutinized your feelings, I’d be scrutinizing my brother’s as well.”
At this, Aonung stands. It’s abrupt, nearly shaking the floor from the force, and Kiri looks up at him like he’s committed something forbidden. “I don’t want to hear that.” He growls out, face faltering a moment later. His voice tries the first time he opens his mouth and finds nothing, forcing a second try. “I can’t hear that, Kiri.”
Looking at his face, Kiri concedes. They stand in silence for another moment, but he can stand in silence somewhere else.
“Thank you for letting me visit.” Aonung says to break the silence. Kiri tilts her head in reply, and leaves the hut not a moment later, not a moment longer than needed. There is no amount of time that he can ask for, and there is no amount of time they have left.
Aonung knows what he has to do when Neteyam wakes up.
…
When Neteyam awakes, Aonung isn’t aware of it. He’s away from the living area most of the day, out fishing with his father. When he returns it’s almost nighttime, and he doesn’t bother going to his home, so he goes to the only place he can go alone.
And the voice rings.
“Aonung!”
Aonung looks over at the sound. It’s Neteyam, eyes open and hopeful, bright and blaring. What a picture it paints; in the cove the water is calm, the breeze light. The moonlight makes his forest boy that more alive.
It makes Aonung sick to his stomach.
“Neteyam.”
At his name, Neteyam’s features scrunch up, brittle. He begins to pace over slower, approaching carefully. “Have you given up on my nickname?” He huffs out, trying to sound amused.
Aonung doesn’t reply at first, simply nods. “Isn’t it the name you prefer?” His voice is short, curt. Neteyam pauses, almost frozen in place, unsure of where to stand. They both feel the shift in the air, Aonung knows it. Aonung also knows he’s playing dirty, but he has to in order to get the point across. To make the separation easier, for both of them.
“If your change of heart comes from my injury, I don’t want it.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Then what does it come from?” Neteyam reaches for his hand, eyes reflective in the moonlight. He has always looked beautiful like this, at night in their cove. A place away from prying eyes, from expectations, from responsibilities.
“A wake-up call.” Aonung replies, forcing his hand away from Neteyam’s grasp. He had planned his speech, knew exactly what to say for this moment; he can’t look Neteyam in the eye.
“I am the son of Tonowari, the Olo’eyktan of the Metkayina clan. I am the next-in-line, and will mate accordingly. I will mate, have children, and li-“
“And I am Neteyam, the son of Jake Sully, the Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya clan. I am the first born child, and therefore expected to do many things, including find a mate and produce children.” Neteyam reaches back out to Aonung, grabbing his shoulders and swinging Aonung’s body to face him. They’re too close, nearly face to face. “And I will beg my family to allow me to be with you.”
He can’t do this. Aonung knew what family meant to Neteyam, the golden child of the Sully group. He can’t make Neteyam do that. He doesn't know. “Neteyam-“
“Why do you call me that?” Neteyam asks, gritting his teeth, eyes narrow. “Why do you call me as if we are not acquainted?” Neteyam grabs Aonung’s chin, forcing them to make eye contact. “What happened to ‘Newcomer’? ‘Forest Boy’? We have time-“
“Because you are leaving!” Aonung cries out, shoving himself away from Neteyam’s embrace, pushing his hands against his chest. Water wells in his eyes, lips fixed in a scowl. “Your family is leaving, Neteyam. I overheard them as you recovered. You and your family will be leaving this place, and we will not meet again.”
The silence that fell upon them was stifling. Like waiting for the wave to crash, the shell to break. Aonung was not stupid enough to ask Neteyam to stay, and Neteyam was not stupid enough to pretend that he would. Aonung felt, for the first time since he could barely swim, that there was not enough air in his lungs. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t be here. The truth was laid out in front of them, and neither could deny the facts.
“The Forest Boy,” Aonung says quietly, nearly a murmur for Neteyam to hear, “is my heart. And Neteyam is my friend. I ask that you do not ask for anything more.” Not willing to give, unable to grieve over. Nothing that could hurt him any more.
After a few moments, Neteyam steps over slowly at Aonung’s confession, expression soft. “I will never leave my family.” Neteyam starts, as if Aonung didn’t know that. “I could never, would never be where they are not. They are my soul, my reason, my spirit.” Neteyam takes a step closer, “But you are also my heart, and I will leave it here if I must go.” He holds Aonung’s head between his hands, pressing their foreheads together. “I will not forget.”
Aonung shakes his head. “You have to.”
“I won’t.”
“Then I will.”
Neteyam puffs out a bit of air. “No, you won’t.” He separates them, lips inches apart. “That’s why you’re trying to.”
Ao’nung sighs, slightly annoyed, before staring down at Neteyam’s lips. His forest boy, his first love.
“I don’t know how this will work, Forest Boy.”
Neteyam’s lips twitch upwards into a grin, acknowledging his concern, before moving forward to connect with Aonung’s.
“We’ll try to figure it out, Aonung.” He says, and Aonung allows himself to mimic Neteyam’s grin.
He leans in as well.