Chapter Text
Lo’ak awakened from his usual afternoon nap, there was no reason to be asleep but the world felt heavy. He wasn’t in the mood to spend time with Tuk or hang out with Tsireya, or do foolish antics with Spider. He was tired. Lo’ak didn’t quite remember as to how, but he had been keeping to himself recently; he couldn’t even recall the last time he even interacted with another Navi.
“Skxwang! Get up, you’ve been there for about two hours now. No way that’s fun to you, it's not even six yet!”
Lo’ak was startled by the sudden voice, still sleepy he glanced up—Neteyam was staring, confused, unpredictable but seemingly sincere. Lo’ak didn’t even have time to remember what he was even dreaming.
“Kaltxì, ‘Teyam..” Lo’ak attempted to say in a sarcastic voice…it came out more grumpy and tired. “Oh, that’s new—Tìhawnu, brother..I have a question for you.” The older boy motioned to follow him to their shared bedroom.
Now in the bedroom, Lo’ak was slugging, posture abnormal, droopy eyes, all while sitting on the edge of the bed. “Spider told me you two haven’t spoken in days, Tsireya even texted me and Kiri asking as to how you got in trouble—Dad hasn’t even been home in weeks, and Mom’s too busy! Why are you ignoring your friends?” He could tell by the look of his older brother's face he hadn’t meant to raise his tone or make it sound like a lecture—but he failed…horribly.
”What is it to you? I am just tired, I'm trying to have peace with these two months.” He growled in response. He hadn’t meant to sound so mean and careless—it just came out that way, everything was happening so fast. If it weren’t for the three minutes that had passed by, he’d be dreaming.
“Zola’u nìprrte’, Lo’ak. Ke fya’o futa nga tsun.” Neteyam warned, sticking his finger out.
“Why are you telling me to watch myself? I know what I'm doing—It’s only been like a week since I saw them. I’m waiting for something—It’s their fault if they both can’t be patient.” Lo’ak’s voice would slightly raise but he watched himself— he knew better than to yell or say the wrong thing..especially with Neteyam.
“What are you waiting for then, bab-“ Lo’ak cut him off. He couldn’t bear to hear Neteyam call him that, he knew that Neteyam did not call him that to make fun, but he felt so weak whenever Neteyam or Kiri or even Spider called him that. Only mom could.
“Pänutìng! I’m waiting for Dad, damn.” Lo’ak regretted what he said at the end of his complaint real quick.
“Why?” That’s surprising, Neteyam usually would give him a light tap on his head for lightly cursing like that.. also because he spoke Navi, which Neytiri and Neteyam would always encourage him too.
“Huh?”
“Why are you waiting for Dad to come before you get up and do anything with other people?”
Oh, Lo’ak had no clue how to respond to that, you could see that on his face. He opened his mouth to speak—he closed it immediately again. He didn’t really know why…Was he paranoid? Was he scared? Did he even want to see his Dad in the first place?
“I don’t know..” Lo’ak wanted to say more but he tried to recall any reason as to why he would wait first, he didn’t wait in the past and he wondered why he was now.
“Ahh, whatever thing you’re hiding.” Neteyam clicked his tongue. “Just tell me later..uhm..just talk to spider and see Tsireya today, pls? For me? Even if it's just for an hour, it's only five, so come back at nine, please?”
Lo’ak thought to himself, turning his head to look at the door he had just gone through, he had his dad on his mind, he had a pit in his stomach, he felt paranoid..maybe nervous too? His mind is too stuck on this weird feeling that he doesn’t want to spend time not thinking about it.
Neteyam could read his thoughts, he knew his little brother wanted to listen to his advice, he also knew that he was distressed. “Lo’ak” Neteyam said softly, his voice carrying that familiar timbre of their mother’s accent.
Neteyam put a hand out—stopping at the top of his younger brother's head. The small gesture made Lo’ak look up, he didn’t know what to say, neither did Lo’ak.
Neteyam always knew what to say, even if Lo’ak didn't want to admit it. His brother would be the one to know him better than anyone, even when he couldn’t put the words together, Neteyam knew.
Silence filled the room for a bit.
Then, Lo’ak finally spoke, voice low.
“I don’t want to see him”
Neteyam gave a confused glance. “Who? Spider?”
Lo’ak sighed and glared at his brother fiercely. “No bro—Dad.”
Neteyam blinked. “What—really? Uh..wow. Why?”
Lo’ak glared harder. “He’s gonna be all grumpy when he walks in and just ruin the mood for all of us” He sighed.
“You’re scared he’s going to be mad at you—Lo’ak, stop thinking that.” Neteyam looked away to think. His brother usually would get most of the lectures, punishments, and just continuous scolding by their father.
“I’ve already predicted the future—he’s gon’ come in here and yell at me for some shi-“ Lo’ak stopped himself just in time. Yeah, he cursed a lot—but in front of family? Different story. If getting in trouble with his father wasn’t bad enough, Neteyam turning all parental on him was almost just as annoying.
Neteyam didn’t respond right away.
He leaned his back against the dresser, arms folded, eyes drifting to the half-closed blinds that filtered in late afternoon light. “He’s not gonna come in yelling,” he said quietly. “At least… not unless you give him a reason.”
Lo’ak huffed, slouching deeper into the mattress. “Right, because my breathing's not already enough of a reason.”
Neteyam didn’t laugh. “You’re not a screw-up, bro. I know it feels like he treats you that way sometimes, but… that’s not the truth.”
Lo’ak looked away. His jaw clenched. His eyes were suddenly too hot. “You don’t get it,” he mumbled.
“I do,” Neteyam said. He pushed off the dresser and stepped forward. “You think I don’t feel the pressure too? I just carry it differently.”
Lo’ak didn’t answer.
Neteyam crouched beside him, his tone soft. “I’m not telling you to forget how he makes you feel. I’m just saying… don’t let it stop you from living while he’s gone.”
A beat passed.
“I saw how you looked when Tsireya texted Kiri.” Neteyam raised an eyebrow. “You care. And Spider’s been pacing our block like a stray all week. You know he misses you.”
Lo’ak dragged a hand down his face.
Neteyam stood and gave him one last look—gentle, but firm. “One hour. That’s all I’m asking.”
Lo’ak didn’t nod. But he didn’t say no either.
A bit of time had passed but Lo’ak gave in. “I’ll text Spider today, and see Tsireya tomorrow.” Lo’ak sighed in defeat, he didn’t necessarily want to do this, but he knew it was right.
Neteyam smiled. “Quick—Spider’s dumbass is pacing around outside again.” He huffed.
Lo’ak giggled—headed towards the doorway that opened to the humid and clear air that waited behind it.
“Yo! Spider!” Lo’ak called out with a slight smile looking around.
“Hey! Where’ve you been?” He saw Spider doing a slight run to come closer to Lo’ak’s front porch. Despite the heat, the boy was wearing black fitted jeans with a contemporary black hoodie to go along with it.
The two did their usual handshake while Lo’ak closed the front door. “I’ve been in my room—basically all week..” It came out dry. To be fair, he hasn’t talked to anyone in a few days. Doomscrolling on TikTok all day to get his mind off of what may come has not been a good way to cope.
It was awkwardly quiet; maybe it was needed.
“There’s a new event that opened in the city—you in?” Spider grinned.
“Forreal? Let’s go.” Lo’ak smirked. Already ready to cause ruckus—forgetting all about anything that happened with Neteyam or his thoughts.
They went running to the nearest subway, laughing at their foolish repetition of hitting each other back and forth while heading towards the Brooklyn bridge station. When they finally arrive—Spider pulls out his phone, "Yo, you cool if Rotxo comes?”
Lo’ak looked at him, he and Rotxo got along but he forbade himself from going out with him anymore after they had a huge issue with the cops, luckily they kept his identity secret from his Dad and Mom but Neteyam knew. Neteyam already warned him that if he is seen with Rotxo again—he would snitch on him to their parents like a motherfucker.
“Oh, well I mean uhh…” He attempted to think about it—then it just came out. “..yeah, I fuck with Rotxo.”
“Cool, I just texted him,” Spider said, already typing fast as they moved down the station stairs. “He’s two
stops away, said he’ll meet us near the boardwalk food stands.”
Lo’ak stuffed his hands in his pockets. The rush of wind from the approaching train sent a warm gust through the tunnel, making his braids shift slightly. “Man, this better not turn into another thing like last time,” he muttered, half to himself.
“Relax,” Spider smirked. “Rotxo’s chill now. Ever since that cop thing, he’s been laying low.”
Lo’ak snorted. “Right, and I’m the fucking Olo’eyktan.”
The train rattled into the station and they jumped on. The ride was quick—mostly them talking trash, making dumb jokes, and filming a couple Snap videos of Spider fake pole-dancing on the train rails.
By the time they reached the boardwalk, the sky was stained that deep blue-orange of early evening. Lights from food stands and neon arcades blinked across the water.
Before heading toward Rotxo, the two slowed near a little kiosk tucked between a churro cart and a vape stand. The setup was half-legal at best—rolling papers, pre-rolls, disposable vapes, and lighters stacked in a plastic bin. A handwritten sign read:
“2 FOR $15 BLUNTS—FIRE GAS 🔥”
Spider picked one up, sniffed it with a raised eyebrow. “Yo, you jackin’ this?”
Lo’ak tilted his head and squinted at it, then shook his head. “Nah. Tsireya doesn't like the smell. Says it gives her a headache.”
Spider scoffed. “Bro. She don’t gotta smoke it.”
“Yeah, but she’s still gon’ know. Plus—” Lo’ak shrugged, “—if she kisses me and smells it on my clothes,
she’ll be on my ass.”
Spider chuckled, putting the blunt back in the bin. “Whipped.”
Lo’ak smirked. “Aight, and you wouldn’t fold if Kiri asked you to quit?”
Spider froze. “Well I’m not that addicted.”
“Sure, dude.” Lo’ak laughed, walking off.
They started heading toward the boardwalk food stands, still half-laughing and bumping shoulders. That’s when they spotted Rotxo—already leaning against a railing, bottle of iced tea in hand and a smug look on his face.
“You’re late,” he said, not moving.
“Shut up,” Lo’ak grinned, bumping his fist. Spider did the same.
They walked the boardwalk, eyes scanning everything—basketball games, dance circles, loud music, skate crews weaving between tourists. Somewhere between the fried dough carts and a group of guys freestyling badly over a bluetooth speaker, Rotxo nudged Lo’ak.
“That dude over there?” Rotxo muttered, nodding toward a tall human in a black jacket, maybe seventeen, maybe older, surrounded by two other guys. “He tried to jump my cousin last month.”
“Swear?” Spider said, brows rising.
“Deadass. Beat his ass, too. For no reason.”
Lo’ak looked the guy over. His crew was loud, throwing food on the ground, talking shit to a girl who walked by. One of them noticed the trio watching and puffed up immediately.
“You got a problem?” the guy called out.
“Nah,” Lo’ak replied casually, but he didn’t look away. That was enough.
The guy stepped forward, posture arrogant. “Then stop looking at me like you wanna be slapped.”
Rotxo laughed. “Damn, bro, calm down—no one touched you.”
The guy kept walking, now face to face with Lo’ak. He smelled like weed and cheap cologne. “You think this shit’s funny?”
“Not really,” Lo’ak said, jaw twitching. He wasn’t in the mood—not with the way his nerves were already twisted from earlier. “But you’re trying really hard to be.”
It happened fast—faster than even Lo’ak expected. The guy shoved him. Lo’ak shoved back harder. Spider shouted something, Rotxo cursed—and fists started flying. It wasn’t long before someone knocked over a trash bin, drawing attention from nearby food stand workers.
In the scuffle, Lo’ak’s phone flew from his pocket and cracked against the wooden boardwalk with a sickening crunch. The screen lit once—then went black.
A voice yelled, “Yo, cops!”
The three boys scattered.
Out of breath—they finally stopped at a tourist spot. They knew this game, the cops wouldn’t dare cause a scene in the city—or even care enough to run after them this long.
“What time is it?” Lo’ak said, trying to find his voice.
Spider quickly looked at his phone while trying to remember what was even going on—the second he turned his phone on, he tilted it for Lo’ak to see.
It read 8:46.
Loak's eyes widened. “Yo—I’m so dead.” He put his hands on his head, feet walking back.
“What’s wrong with that?” Spider questioned Lo’ak while looking around.
“I need to get my pho-“ Lo’ak panicked only to get interrupted by a tall man grabbing onto his friend.
“Miles, let's go—now!” This voice could only belong to Quaritch. Quaritch used to work for the NYPD but later on quit to join some other government agency. Due to his name being tied to the police department—he got easy custody of Spider recently. It’s surprising Quaritch wanted him—Spider got in trouble a lot.
”Wait—but sir, Lo’ak lost his—ow!” Quaritch had pulled on Spider's arm very rough but stopped to go closer to Lo’ak following the two.
“What did you lose?” He questioned—voice sincere and stern.
“I..” Loak looked down in shame. “I lost my phone” He muttered—still looking at the ground.
Quaritch didn’t want to help, he didn't care—but he did want to win Spider's trust and forgiveness. Quaritch sighed. “Come with us, we’ll find your phone and drop ya’ back off to home right after.”
Lo’ak and spider turned to look at each other in shock.
Lo’ak and Spider exchanged wide-eyed glances, unsure whether to trust the sudden shift in Quaritch’s tone.
Still, Lo’ak nodded slowly. “Uh… alright.”
They followed him in tense silence to the curb where his government-issued black SUV was double-parked, hazards blinking. Spider slid into the passenger seat without looking at his father. Lo’ak climbed into the back, still shaken.
Quaritch pulled away from the sidewalk, muttering something under his breath as he took a hard right down a side street. “You remember where you dropped it?”
Lo’ak leaned forward between the seats. “Yeah—I think near that old hot dog stand by the first arcade. It flew when that guy shoved me.”
Quaritch grunted in response.
They circled back to the boardwalk, tension so thick it could’ve been cut with a blade. The neon lights now looked harsher, more exposed. Quaritch parked in a loading zone and got out without a word, eyes scanning the area. Lo’ak and Spider followed, keeping their heads low.
“Split up,” Quaritch ordered. “Check near the rail and by that trash bin.”
It didn’t take long. Spider spotted it first—half under a bench, the screen shattered completely, the back casing slightly popped open. He winced.
“Bro… it’s done for,” he muttered, handing it over.
Lo’ak stared at the cracked screen. No lights. No buzz. Just broken. “Shit,” he mumbled under his breath, holding it like it might come back to life if he stared long enough.
“We found it?” Quaritch barked from a few steps away.
“Yeah,” Spider said, not even turning around. “But it’s broken. Like, dead.”
“Not surprised,” Quaritch muttered. “You’re lucky that’s all that got broken tonight.”
They piled into the SUV again, Lo’ak in the back seat, phone still in hand. Spider sat in the front, visibly annoyed.
A few minutes of silence passed before Spider spoke up.
“You didn’t have to embarrass me like that, you know. Grabbing me like I’m a damn toddler in public?”
Quaritch didn’t even glance at him. “I told you. Don’t run with that Rotxo kid. He’s trouble.”
“You don’t even know him!” Spider shot back.
“I know enough.”
“You think everyone who isn’t like you is trash. Admit it,” Spider said, voice sharp now.
Quaritch’s knuckles tightened around the steering wheel. “You think I’m doing this because I care who your little friends are? No—I’m doing this because if you go down, guess who they call? Me. I’ve had enough of cleaning up after you, kid.”
“Oh yeah? Like you were ever there to clean anything up before,” Spider fired back. “You’re not my damn dad, stop pretending like you get to act all fatherly now.”
Quaritch’s jaw tensed. “Watch it.”
“Or what?” Spider challenged. “You’ll dump me back in the system? Go ahead. At least the foster homes didn’t try to own me.”
Lo’ak stared down at the phone in his hands, the cracked screen now reflecting streetlights as they passed.
He wished he could disappear through the seat.
“Guys…” he muttered.
Neither of them heard.
Quaritch slammed the brakes a little harder than necessary at a red light, eyes fixed on the road.
“You think this is easy for me? You think I wanted custody of a kid who spits in my face every day?”
“Then why’d you do it?” Spider demanded. His voice cracked slightly. “You just wanted control. Just like always.”
Silence.
The light turned green. The car rolled forward slowly.
Lo’ak finally lifted his head. “You can just drop me at the corner. My brother’s probably already watching from the window.”
Quaritch didn’t answer. He pulled over near the corner of the block and stopped the car.
Lo’ak pushed the door open but hesitated.
“Thanks… for helping find the phone,” he said, voice low.
Quaritch gave him a small nod, unreadable.
Spider turned to look back at Lo’ak.
“Text me when you get a new one, dumbass,” he said in a tone trying to sound casual, but his eyes were still full of anger.
Lo’ak gave a half-smile. “Bet.”
He shut the door behind him, the sound echoing in the dark street. As he walked the last few feet toward home, he could hear Spider’s voice inside the SUV again—muffled, but angry.