Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Neteyam laughed, a melodic sound to Ao'nung's ears. Neteyam's lips curled upwards, exposing his bunny teeth and baby fangs. Ao'nung tenderly slid a thornless red rose speckled with white spots between his braids. It was a traditional fling Ao'nung did perpetually, asserting that it reminded him of Neteyam's vitiligo patches. Neteyam's traitorous face, much like Ao'nung's, blushed furiously.

"Oh? What's this for?" Neteyam teased lightly, his golden brown eyes leering at his boyfriend's light blue ones. The rose barely weighed, and Neteyam quickly forgot about its presence. 

Both boys could smell the honey-like fragrance of the flower. The sweet aroma clouds their brains like a blissful drug. They seemed far from sober, high on anticipation and thrilling passion. Reality would say the scent wasn't strong and only amplified by young love.

"Just a simple gift," Ao'nung hummed. His large hand softly cupped Neteyam's cheek. Neteyam's erratic heart pounded in his chest. What has he done to get favored by Eywa? 

"Simple gift from a simple guy?" Neteyam inquired,  eyes half-lidded with excitement bubbling in his chest. Ao'nung leaned closer, holding Neteyam's waist and pulling him in with his other hand. 

Neteyam dreamily reminisced about their first kiss; it had taken place in the afternoon on a beach near a calm forest. The sky had been partly cloudy, the waves lazily reached for their feet, and the wind softly brushed their features. He distinctly remembered the taste of pine and sea salt in the air and how the mix pricked against his skin in the best way possible. Sure, their lips had been chapped, and their noses bumped awkwardly, but it had been perfect. 

"Oh, I'm very complex, Forest Boy," Ao'nung whispered, his breath hot against Neteyam's face. He effortlessly captivated Neteyam and allured him back to reality. Neteyam's hand rested comfortably on the taller's shoulder. Gone were the times the height difference vexed Neteyam. 

Electricity sparked in the air. 

"You're going to have to prove it to me, then," Neteyam challenged. He twisted one of Ao'nung's curls in his fingers. He still had yet to find out which conditioner his boyfriend used. 

The moonlight danced gracefully across their bodies, twinkling in their sappy eyes. 

As they were about to kiss, Neteyam's phone blared a jolting ringtone. It began to buzz and jitter demonically in Neteyam's coat pocket. 

Both the boys jerked back in surprise. Neteyam's breath caught, causing him to start choking. Sudden saliva clung to the back of his throat as unshed tears made his eyes shine.

Ao'nung whumped him on his back a good few times before Neteyam felt better. The latter meekly gave a thumbs up as his thanks before picking up the phone. 

"Hello?" Neteyam rasped, causing both boys and Jake, who was on the line, to cringe. Slobber dribbled on the edges of his lips. Neteyam swiftly used the sleeve of his ebony black coat to wipe it away. So much for keeping it clean.

"Where the hell are you, boy!?" Neteyam's father, Jake Sully, demanded. Neteyam frowned momentarily before checking the time on the top of the screen, causing him to double-take. 

"Shoot! Sorry, Sir," Neteyam apologized hastily, tightening his grip on his hard phone case. Tuk, his youngest sister, had unintentionally taken the role of his official phone breaker, having to have dropped it numerous times. Hence, forcing Neteyam to buy the ridiculously expensive and hard-as-stone phone case.

"Get your ass home. Now." 

That was all the ex-military soldier had to say before ending the call. Jake knew his eldest son would return faster than an excited dog. 

Neteyam cursed under his breath, a small pout forming on his lips. He felt crushed, having their sweet night together abruptly ending, as all stories did. 

Neteyam fumbled with his phone briefly, double-checking that the call had been cut before slipping it back into its reserved spot in his coat pocket. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. The mixed boy spared a glance at his disappointed and flustered boyfriend. 

It was in Neteyam's knowledge that his father meant well and that he cared. The war against the RDA had scarred everyone in some way or another. He didn't want to end up being another burden or worry for Jake to carry, so Neteyam prided himself in doing whatever he could to ensure satisfaction. Lo'ak, his younger brother, would spit the words "golden boy" in his face whenever they got into a heated argument. Still, during times like these, Neteyam couldn't always manage to stop the feeling of annoyance from seeping into the walls he spent his life building.  

They were quiet for a few moments. Only the ripples of the pond, faraway car noises, occasional creaks of the sturdy bridge they were on, and the chirps of lively crickets filled the awkward silence. His younger, adopted, and autistic sister, Kiri, would probably be able to tell him exactly what kind of cricket was singing, along with a complete analysis of their behaviors. She would always be ecstatic when she found an iridescent beetle or vibrant caterpillar. He knew she would love to be in this secluded spot. Neteyam had plans to show her the place in the future.

Ao'nung had decided to take Neteyam out to the bridge in the evening to feed the ducks, watch the sunset, and stargaze. (Neteyam ended up doing most of the stargazing; Ao'nung was too busy fixating on him. In Ao'nung's defense, Neteyam's light freckles prettily looked like stars. Sometimes, Ao'nung liked to brush his fingers over them and pretend to connect the dots. He could feel the subtle ridge on Neteyam's nose). 

Where Ao'nung had plucked the rose, Neteyam had no idea. Oblivion was bliss.

Ao'nung cleared his throat. "I guess I should drop you home, then." 

"Yeah," Neteyam agreed, swallowing thickly as his head dipped slightly. He did feel a bit annoyed that their moment was ruined, but also guilty since he had disobeyed direct orders from his father. He had promised to be home by eleven-thirty, and it was already one-twenty-eight in the morning of the next day. These sorts of things were to be expected by Lo'ak. Not him.  

"Duty calls for the Forest Boy," Ao'nung chaffed, mimicking a sergeant. 

Neteyam smiled helplessly at his boyfriend. Ao'nung offered a small, affectionate smile back and began venturing to the car. Ao'nung had complained in the past about how incessant Jake was and how Neteyam seemed to be his "little soldier," which then led to some heated arguments. Some vocal cords were tested, and tears broke free. Ultimately, they made up with Neteyam promising he'd try to do better and stand up against his father. So far, though, he still needs to fulfill that promise, and Ao'nung was well aware. It wasn't something Neteyam was particularly proud about. 

The Polynesian boy exhaled deeply, already knowing what to and not to expect. He pushed down any negative thoughts and flickered his gaze onto Neteyam, who held up a calm demeanor that Ao'nung could see right through. The latter was sure Neteyam felt guilty about something he couldn't control. He tried to think of something to distract him. Ao'nung smirked when he saw Neteyam's empty hands carelessly by his sides. He didn't miss a chance to hold Neteyam's hand. 

"You're such a dork. You know that?" Neteyam bantered, feeling the warmth of Ao'nung's hand as his own was held. It always surprised him how Ao'nung managed to stay warm, even on the coldest of nights. Here, Neteyam was in his long coat, baggy jeans, and shirt with long sleeves (which was agony whenever it rolled up as he wore the coat), while his boyfriend was out here rocking a plain pale green T-shirt with barely any sleeves. At least he wore long sweatpants. The taller's tan skin showed no signs of goosebumps.

Ao'nung offered a lopsided and mischievous grin that Neteyam had grown to fawn over. The butterflies failed to have left the pit of Neteyam's stomach yet, fluttering around and entranced by all the flowers in his heart. 

"You know you love it,"

Now it was Neteyam's turn to act like the dork. That smooth idiot. Neteyam cast his attention towards the pond, drinking the scenery one last time before he had to depart.

The crescent moon hung lazily on the top of the slightly clouded dark sky. It's a disoriented reflection in the body of water, partly caused by the pair throwing pebbles into it and disturbing the peacefulness it once was. Neteyam had thrown out a few facetious and uncalled-for lines about jumping, which Ao'nung did not let slide. Neteyam's retribution was a smack on his arm, followed by a forced apology to no one in particular.

Neteyam remembered the time they both were at the adolescent age of twelve. Neteyam had only recently moved to the island, completely traumatized by the war that surrounded him. His wounds, both internal and external, were still fresh and raw. The stinging salt of the sea air didn't help ease his palpable tension.

Ao'nung had been his first friend (after a few fights, that is. Ao'nung was a somewhat abrasive and loud-mouthed child) here after the loss of many others back home. Neteyam's nightmares gradually decreased, and his panic attacks became more tolerable. 

The native helped Neteyam heal in a way many others couldn't. Neteyam ended up slowly accepting the islands as his new home and that not everyone was out to hunt him or his family down.

The younger boys had found delight in this spot. They carved their names on hard tree trunks, skipped flat rocks against the water, fished, and talked to each other regarding random things that happened in life as they gnawed on Neteyam's fruit snacks for hours on end. If Neteyam strained his ears, he could faintly hear the childish laughter echo through his mind and the phantom splashes of stones. 

Neteyam smiled nostalgically, knowing the bridge deeply cherished the innocent moments and acted as a safe vessel to store them. 

This spot became 'their place' as the stars shifted above. It was serene. Neteyam especially loved to write his poems by the tree roots, letting his imagination fly free as he typed his thoughts on a helpful little writing app. Ao'nung loved reading them beside the shore, even before they became an item. 

Ao'nung snapped Neteyam out of his spaced-out zone by yanking him forward quickly. Neteyam released a startled gasp, looking up at his boyfriend with a mixture of confusion and amusement. Ao'nung chuckled and pressed a sly kiss on Neteyam's head, near where his white patch contrasted with his deep brown skin. His soft lips against his cold skin sent chills up his spine. 

Neteyam's face flushed red for a moment. The butterflies fluttered furiously as his heart bloomed more sweet flowers. He leaned forward and pecked the rounded tip of Ao'nung's soft and broad nose. Eywa, they both were down bad. They continued walking forward in comforting silence. 

Their shadows frolicked behind them, making them appear as one in the faint moon rays.

Within a short few minutes (dappled with complaints from Neteyam about his shoes getting soggy, which were then followed by snickers from Ao'nung), the couple managed to locate Ao'nung's (borrowed, mind you) silver Ford Ranger. 

The poor car suffered quite a bit of damage when Ao'nung and his older sister, Tsireya, first used it to learn how to drive. The right car door had been scratched when Ao'nung bumped into someone else's car on the way to the grocery store. Tsireya had managed to shatter the tail light after driving straight into the garage door before realizing it hadn't opened. Tonowari, Ao'nung's and Tsireya's towering father, had reluctantly paid for the broken light.  

Of course, the car occasionally acquired mystery bumps, indents, and ridges, but Ao'nung retorted that it gave it character. Tsireya had just heavily sighed, tossed back her long, curly hair over her shoulder, and rolled her eyes, even if the sides of her mouth would quirk upwards, making her already prominent dimples more pronounced. The car was authentic; there was nothing fake about it. 

Neteyam opened the car door and sat next to the driver's seat in the front. Immediately, he reached out to connect his phone to the car speaker before Ao'nung could. By slapping Ao'nung's hand away, Neteyam was victorious. Ao'nung groaned in defeat and closed his door as he sat comfortably in the driver's seat. Neteyam silently hoped his boyfriend didn't feel frustrated that their time on the bridge had been cut short. Neteyam swallowed this thought, unintentionally conjuring up more apologies he could give tomorrow. For now, he focused on moving forward with the night and somehow surviving his father's scoldings. 

"Your music taste is so weird, Teyam," Ao'nung complained as he revved the engine. Neteyam stuck his tongue out playfully in response. The automobile roared to life. 

As Neteyam scrolled through his playlist, he said, "I hope no cop thinks you're underaged and driving again." 

Ao'nung chuckles and prays that their drive will be uninterrupted tonight. 

They both wished they wouldn't get pulled over like they had gotten in the past. Ao'nung was freshly seventeen with a driver's license but had been mistaken for a fifteen or fourteen-year-old due to how childish his resting face appeared.

Neteyam would sometimes snort, thinking about how he'd be dating a minor as an adult in a month due to him almost reaching eighteen, the age of adulthood and freedom. (Ao'nung had told Neteyam that he should never repeat that line and said it sounded wrong. Neteyam had blinked in oblivion for a moment before realizing how concerning he resonated).  

"This one is good," Neteyam stated as he selected a song with his thumb. Ao'nung rolled his eyes. "It better be."

Neteyam lightly swatted his boyfriend's shoulder before slumping comfortably against the seat and staring out the window. 

A few stubborn, unskippable ads decided to play before allowing the song to be heard. Neteyam and Ao'nung giggled boyishly when the ad questioned their car insurance. 

There wasn't much to see out, judging by the fact that it was definitely past one thirty in the morning.  The sky was a deep blue, the pollution and light clouds hiding most of the stars. Even at this time of day, countless people drove by. The red and white lights of cars looked like fallen stars drifting on the roads. The ad finally came to an end with an artificial and enthusiastic "Shop online today!"

"The evil, it spread like a fever ahead"

Ao'nung audibly groaned at the quiet melody. "Not your emo song!" 

Neteyam grinned smugly and shushed Ao'nung. Ao'nung pretended to feel hurt, holding one hand to his chest with the other still safely holding the wheel. That earned him a quick scolding from his worried boyfriend. 

The comically large and hanging fluffy twin dice swayed as Ao'nung took a sharp turn left. 

"It was night, when you died, my firefly"

"Careful, Ao'n," Neteyam mumbled, feeling drowsy. Fatigue was slowly settling in his aching bones. He enjoyed their time on the bridge. The buckle cut mercilessly against his neck. 

"That's it," Ao'nung grabbed Neteyam's phone as they reached a red light. 

"My Eywa, we could die in a car crash because of your unhappiness with my song choices," Neteyam complained. He reluctantly let Ao'nung scroll through his playlists, to which he received many huffs of annoyance. 

"What could I have said to raise you from the dead?"

"If we were to die in a car crash, it would be because of some lunatic on the road, not my amazing driving skills failing me or my displeasure with your songs," Ao'nung countered, fully confident in himself. Neteyam rolled his eyes, a habit he picked up from Kiri over the years. She was the queen and icon of rolling her eyes. Neteyam was honestly astounded that they hadn't popped out of her sockets yet. 

The lightbox flashed to a vibrant shade of green. Ao'nung plopped Neteyam's phone into the latter's lap, unable to choose a different song in time, before directing his attention back to the road ahead. The slow and poetic lyrics mixed with the soft piano lulled Neteyam, relaxing his racing heart. The butterflies, though still entranced, decided to take a rest. 

"Oh, could I be the sky on the Fourth of July?" 

Ao'nung grumbled something about Neteyam not even liking the fireworks on the holiday, which was true. Neteyam would shut the windows down tight and bury himself under the covers of his bed. The loud firecrackers would still manage to haunt Neteyam for the rest of the night, evidently keeping him awake. Each burst sounded like an explosion or a bullet shot by a rifle. 

The seats leather did little to mimic the comfort of Neteyam's bed, but he didn't mind. The earlier tension dissipated and was reduced to tranquility. Neteyam pushed away thoughts about how his father might react and sank deeper into the chair. Ao'nung spared glances at him while checking the road. 

"Well, you do enough talk, my little hawk. Why do you cry?"

Just as Neteyam was about to surrender and fall into a blissful abyss, his eyes were assaulted by a blinding car light. Ao'nung's eyebrows shot up as he desperately tried to swerve the car—loud honks emitted from both vehicles. The sudden change was jarring, confusing Neteyam's demeanor completely.

"Tell me what did you learn from the Tillamook burn?"

There was a pungent and acrid smell of burning rubber, oil, and alcohol, all intertwined as one. It brutally attacked Neteyam's nose. The roses in his heart wilted inside as the butterflies grew weak.

Everything was changing too fast.

Ao'nung screamed something, but it was unintelligible to Neteyam's ears, who had decided to act as an opera singer then. All he heard was a high-pitched wail, the muffled sounds of metal colliding with metal, and the echo of screeching tires. His butterflies shriveled up and dropped dead as his heart leaped to his throat. 

"Or the Fourth of July?"

Time seemed to stretch out for eternity, like an elastic band about to break. 

The impact reverberated through the car. 

Glass rained upon them like bullets as the windows shattered. 

Neteyam and Ao'nung both jolted forward, their buckles suddenly tightening and holding the pair in place. 

Neteyam let out a stifled shriek. His thoughts were panicked and messed up; none of them had enough time to form all the way through. 

His head brutally slammed against the deck as his neck snapped back. An excruciatingly acute pain blossomed in his side. His fingers curled up in distress. 

The car acquired more than a few harmless dents as it careened out of control and slammed against the concrete multiple times while somersaulting. Each impact callously jostled the boys like rag dolls. The ordeal felt like a rollercoaster that flew off its tracks, and Neteyam wanted to get off this ride.

"We're all gonna die"

The lyrics of the song glitched for a moment, disorienting the music. The speaker sounded like a mourning songbird with a snapped neck. 

The air bags came out too late, providing little to no solace, much like the angels of Eywa above. Sometime in between, Neteyam fell into unconsciousness, followed by Ao'nung. This time, the fall was unintentional and quick. Pain and shock held the reins. 

❣✧☾✧❣

Ao'nung opened his bleary eyes. His head spun and hurt. He found himself hanging upside down, and the only thing keeping him up against gravity was the straining seatbelt. His skin was uncomfortably sticky, especially in the folds of his eyelids, as the blood dried. His curly black hair was matted to the sides of his bewildered and cut face.

Ao'nung's head throbbed as his heart pounded loudly in his chest, echoing in his ears. He was sure he had procured a concussion.

Besides his head pulsing like crazy, his legs seemed to have something going on as well; It felt like a million hot needles were persistently being stabbed into them. If he tried to shift, his thighs would twitch and spasm.

The foul stench and a new metallic odor were still present, quickly attacking his senses. The muffled sounds of his ragged breathing, distressed car noises, and discord song lyrics filled the suffocating atmosphere. Light paintbrushes slowly colored the shapes before him, taking time to pronounce the details. It took the boy a few moments to recollect the events that unfolded. 

"Now where am I? My fading supply"

The memories suddenly hit him harder than the car had. Everything had been going smoothly. Sure, Ao'nung had been worried about how Neteyam's father, Jake, would react to them coming back so late. Though, it wasn't unusual. 

It was when another car abundantly drove in front of them that everything turned haywire. Ao'nung had tried to get the car out of the way, but it was too late. 

He had heard a scream. 

No, scratch that; many screams. 

Ao'nung choked on a sob, his head pounding from both the memories and the excessive amount of blood.

His dazed and pain-filled thoughts trailed over to Neteyam. 

The conscious boy's stiff neck creaked as it snapped to the side, causing burning pain to course through his body. Small black spots began to dot his vision. The paintbrushes must've spilled some ink.

"Where everything was fiction, future, and prediction"

His harsh breaths and cries hitched. His lungs failed to obtain enough oxygen.

Neteyam and all of his fallen glory hung next to him, drenched in crimson blood. He stared ahead, only allowing Ao'nung to see half of his face. His usually bright hazel eyes were dim and glazed over. His mouth, the same one Ao'nung had unabashedly pressed his lips onto so many times before, was parted open and gaping widely, revealing to be blood-filled with stained teeth. 

"Sitting at the bed with a halo at your head"

His heartstrings were tugged on by the puppeteer named Denial. 

Ao'nung's half-lidded gaze trailed over to the rest of his body. He instantly regretted it. 

Neteyam's left arm dangled limply, looking deformed. There was a noticeable gap and contour at the joint, along with an alarming amount of bruises, glass shards, and swelling. Ao'nung assumed that it had been dislocated. It looked like a doll's arm that had been severed and hanging by its last thread. 

Ripped tendons and sinew messily adhered to the mangled corpse and sprayed around like long confetti streamers. Celebrating their freedom, he presumed?  

The nauseating feeling of vomiting overwhelmed him as bile coerced at the back of his parched throat. It took everything in his weak power not to spill out his guts. His chest stung painfully. 

Neteyam's abdomen had been brutally sliced open; Squished intestines, along with other ruined organs, threatened to slip out insecurely. Carnage barely managed to stay clung to his still body. The tender and lacerated flesh was shredded entirely and torn on the edges, like paper that had messily been torn in two and drowned in red ink. 

"And I'm sorry I left, but it was for the best"

Ao'nung screamed. A raw, guttural, and strained scream that was full of anguish. Neteyam stared blankly back at him with dilated pupils, vacant and unmoving. Ao'nung kept shrieking like a baby ilu until his throat felt like he had swallowed gallons of seawater. His own screams started to scare him at one point, having a stark contrast and cutting roughly against the otherwise silence.

"My little hawk, why do you cry?"

He was unable to look away in morbid fascination; Never in his ephemeral lifetime had he witnessed something so gruesome. 

Ao'nung first thought he understood gruesomeness when he was six. He had been mingling around too close to the sharp rocks as he surfed and ended up with a deep gash that ran down his left thigh. The salt of the sea caused the burning sensation to intensify. He had cried loudly as his father carried him back home.

His second time was when he was nine; Ronal, his confident mother, had come home one night, clutching her stomach with a distant gaze and horror written all over her face. She had just come back from the ER, her body lighter as it lost something that was meant to thrive. She was rushed to the hospital earlier due to blood that unexpectedly began to trail down her legs. It had taken him a while to piece together what had happened, but seeing his mother look so distraught was heart-wrenching for him.

The third time, when he was eleven, he had foolishly succumbed to peer pressure and decided to leave Lo'ak a few miles away from the shore, shrouding his real intentions with the lie that fibbed of fishing. All because of an argument that escalated too quickly. It wasn't that that had stung Ao'nung; it was Neteyam's reaction, full of betrayal and dismay, causing whatever satisfaction Ao'nung had gained from the ordeal to turn sour. It had taken him a while to regain the boy's trust and, eventually, love. 

But this? The sheer amount of hot blood that spilled from both bodies was like wax from a burning candle. The missing chunks of flesh. The exposed muscles and their grainy-like texture. Neteyam's slightly exposed shattered spine and fragmented bone pieces, hidden mainly by slimy guts. The life that had once promised to stay with him wherever they went.

"Did you find it all right, my dragonfly?"

 The rose in Neteyam's tangled hair was crushed and discarded somewhere in the wreckage. Only one of the downy twin dice somehow managed to stay hanging. Just like the blossom, the first one was lost. 

His voice was long gone, and his vocal cords seemed to have splintered, leaving it hoarse and raspy. Maybe, just maybe, Neteyam would call back to him. He wanted to hear the silly nicknames Neteyam had gifted him.

The present never came. 

"Was it all a disguise, like junior high?"

Ao'nung's fuddled brain could still comprehend that the lyrics weren't in order. The piano, even though subtle and soft, constantly changed tunes. 

That stupid, stupid song Neteyam would repeatedly blare. Ao'nung would endlessly hark to the tune if it meant he would reconcile with Neteyam. 

The strings controlling his heart snapped as Denial gave up and left. 

"Such a funny thought to wrap you up in cloth"

Everything was ethereal. Ao'nung's heart twisted painfully in his glass-riddled chest. Electric pulses of agony rolled up and down his spine. The grotesque image of his fallen beloved had been etched into his mind. Ao'nung couldn't gloss over the fact that he was suffering through fatal injuries as well. 

"Before I say goodbye, my star in the sky"

Huh. Star. Neteyam loved stars. He had written a poem about them before. Was it...? Something along the lines of "sonder stars" and "quixotic serendipity of sacrifices." Ao'nung had searched for the definitions later that night. 

Ao'nung seemed to go numb. The panicking world around him slowly drifted away, like lost bark in the vast ocean. The distant artificial wails that were getting closer and closer were reduced to the soft caws of seagulls. He was back on the beach for a blissful moment, holding Neteyam's warm hands in his own. The trees rustle, and the torrents' ripple radiates an authentic aura, mirroring the tangible heaven within reach. 

The remaining fluffy die's string grew weary and snapped off. It landed down with a soft thump.

"We're all gonna die"

The haunting harmony seemed to reach out and carry Ao'nung. Finding solace for the first time, Ao'nung closed his dulling blue eyes. He allowed himself to be whisked away by the same angels that retrieved Neteyam. The mourning songbirds proudly flew beside him with purpose, holding red with white patched roses in their broken beaks. The necks of the birds remained snapped, inadequate to grant their woodnote hymns.

"We're all gonna die"

"We're all gonna die"

"We're all gonna die"

"We're all gonna die"

Chapter Text

To say Jake Sully was angry was an understatement. He was beyond furious. Disappointed, even. Neteyam, his eldest son, is about to be an adult in about a month (or is it two? Jake always gets mixed up with his children's birthdays). Neteyam should know better and get home on time. Heck, Jake would expect this from Lo'ak or even Kiri before deeming it to be Neteyam. It was just so out of character.

His kids are growing up, and he's getting too old to be chasing their impetuous asses whenever they wouldn't listen. Jake didn't want them to discover the harsh realities the world had to offer the hard way. 

Jake sat on a chair on the front porch. He held his third warm cup of coffee in his right hand. The man refused to go to bed until Neteyam finally showed up, not wishing to waste a second. His blood sugar was probably through the roof. 

The time turned from one-thirty to two to two-fifteen before worry laced with annoyance settled in the pit of his stomach. He had called Neteyam and obtained silence in return. That kid was going to get chewed when he arrived. 

Two-fifteen to two-twenty to two-thirty. Jake's eyelids shortly fluttered shut. He posed straighter, feeling satisfied as his back popped (a sound gradually becoming typical).  

Jake mentally wandered through the fields of apprehension, only stopping to sniff the nostalgic flowers. 

His phone buzzed in the pocket of his puffy jacket. Jake prayed that it was Neteyam. To his dismay, it wasn't. It was his irksome coworker, Steve, instead. Jake's thin lips curled downwards. Didn't Steve know that Jake had clocked out hours before, reaching home at his standard time? Should he respond and possibly endure hours of Steve's stupid rants, or should he pretend not to notice the call and lie to him on Monday?  

The American sighed, deciding to suck it up and deal with it. Sitting outside was getting cold and dull. Reluctantly, Jake clicked the green answer button and held the frigid phone to his ear. Goosebumps erupted over his skin as he involuntarily shivered.  

"Yes, Steve?" Jake demanded. "What is it you so desperately need to tell me?"

"There's a car crash on 180th Street; me and the rest of the team are on our way. That’s close to where you live, right?" Steve reported. "Bystanders think there’s one survivor, but there could be more," 

Jake soughed heavily, expelling a puff of cold smoke. "Are you sure you can't handle this without me?"

"...Yeah." 

Jake exhaled again, regretting the decision to pick up the phone. He concluded the call promptly before Steve could get the chance to prattle. Steve would've just bothered someone else instead. He slowly got up, his knees and ankles cracking loudly as he steered inside. Jake lazily slid his wallet into his jacket pocket and fastened his police badge. Even in the dark, its golden and pristine glimmer shone, courtesy of Jake's wont to keep it unstained. 

The man entered the room where his wife, Neytiri, was fast asleep. She was negligibly stricter than Jake was with the kids and determined she would have a heart-to-heart conversation with Neteyam the subsequent day. Jake bent down and lightly kissed Neytiri's soft, dark cheek. 

"I need to head out for work. I'll be back soon," Jake whispered. Neytiri groggily mumbled, "Okay, darling," and shifted in her half-conscious state. Even after eighteen years together, their love still went strong. 

Jake strolled out of their room, through the messy living room (perhaps Neteyam's punishment would be tending to it, along with the bathrooms. Oh, the horror, since Tuktiery recently had a science project for her second-grade class. Many tears were shed during the experiment, along with putrid smells that Jake preferred not to get into details about. He would never look at Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereals the same way again, that's for sure), and made outside from the front door. He smiled presently when he saw a sticker on the car door boasting, “My child made it into an IVY League college!” 

Jake begrudgingly plopped into the driver's seat and angled the car mirror. It creaked. The car was falling apart, but its memories were too precious to let go. They had brought all the children home from the hospital after their arrival into the world. 

The car ride was slow, as it usually was at this hour. Jake turned down the radio, feeling a headache begin to creep inside. In a few minutes, he pulled up. 

That was fast, Jake thought, slightly worried about just how close the incident had occurred near his house. The world is a small place, after all.

"Alright. I'm here," Jake announced his presence while slamming the car door loudly. Red and blue flashing lights illuminated the darkness, as the sun hadn't even initiated the process of reaching its zenith.  

He was met with a gruesome scene; two cars appeared to have brutally collided. Shattered glass and metal parts were everywhere—a hazard. Jake's eyes narrowed as he stared at the silver Ford momentarily, feeling familiarity overtaking him. The car plate was too damaged to inspect. The roads have already been closed off with the assistance of neon orange traffic cones and police cars. 

"Jesus, what happened?" Jake questioned brusquely. His fellow police officers shifted on their feet, no one looking him directly in the eye. Had something else ensued before he arrived? He didn't get paid enough.

"What?" Jake hissed at his coworkers.  

Anahera, a broad and burly woman who had always treated Jake respectfully, ambled forward, looking anxious and...tragic? 

" Mr. Sully," she formally greeted. Jake nodded in response, feeling impatient. "Let me show you the people."

The pair ventured forward through the wreckage. They went to the first car, which was a once-sleek-looking black Dodge. Crushed bottles of alcohol scattered around the bloodied man, who was currently being pulled out by a few other officers. His chest faintly rose up and down, barely noticeable. Upon further inspection, Jake realized this man was one of his old coworkers back from when he used to work for the RDA military. The man's name was...Larry? No, wait. Lyle. Yeah, that was the guy. His shiny, bald head (though looking cracked; Jake was pretty sure he saw something pink) only added to the conclusion.  

Lyle was never a team player and never knew when to stop. He was like a maniac in the bar and a killing machine put on the battlefield. Honestly, Jake thought he had died a long time ago. Hadn't he gotten crushed under a bulldozer or something? 

Jake grimaced at the sight and scrunched his nose. "Drunk driving?" he asked with displeasure, already knowing the answer. Anahera nodded solemnly as she led him to the other car. 

"We weren't sure if you knew these people," Anahera pursed her lips, taking a deep breath. "You showed us some pictures of them a few times."

Jake looked at her in confusion. Why was she so cryptic? People he knew? Jake was already so done with today and wanted to return home as soon as possible. He assumed Anahera was just as fatigued as he was. 

Slowly, they moved the broken door away to expose not one but two bodies hanging upside down. Jake's heart hammered in curiosity. Anahera averted her gaze.

Jake gasped. 

Tonowari's sole son, Ao'nung, hung dead. His tan skin was swathed in red, and the corners of his mouth were dripping with vomit. His eyes were half-lidded, pupils large, and the outer layer covered in a thin white mask, fogging up what had once been a vibrant shade of light blue. Blood trickled from the side of his crushed skull. His lengthy ringlets were choppy and dry, an uncommon sight since the Polynesian boy was known for maintaining his hair in perfect condition. Jake sometimes overhears Neteyam questioning his boyfriend on his hair products, only to be let down playfully with no information. 

It was safe to say his legs were ruined. Jake swallowed thickly, closing his eyes, recalling his past and how he was stuck in a wheelchair due to a spinal injury that led to paralysis from the waist down. Even almost two decades later, Jake would have nightmares that he would never walk again. A small part of him was alleviated that Ao'nung wouldn't have to experience that. 

Ao'nung was supposed to bring Neteyam home...

"No." Jake's breath hitched as his eyes snapped open. He staggered to the other flank of the car and tugged at the broken handle. The glass window was too cloudy with cracks to figure out the figure inside. 

"No, no, no, no, Eywa, please," Jake whispered repeatedly under his strained breath. His heart began to beat faster and echo in his ears.

"GODDAMMIT OPEN! " Jake screamed at the door. Anahera and another officer rushed to his side and pulled. After a few minutes, the metal creaked and snapped as the group flung the door off its hinges.

" No! " Jake howled. In front of him was his eldest son, whom he had just been reprimanding over the phone only a few mere hours before. Jake gagged at the decaying stench but lunged toward the hanging corpse, nevertheless without taking in the details first.

His body seemed to act faster than his mind.

The man cradled Neteyam's head as he unbuckled the seatbelt, causing the mangled corpse to crash down with the harsh reality of gravity. Jake's eyes darted at the boy's whole body, his hands cupping Neteyam's cold cheeks. Jake had seen enough mangled bodies in past wars not instantly to gag and heave. 

His sight blurred, merging the dark hues together as one.

 Oh.

He was crying. 

His throat felt raw and itchy, and his eyes burned.  It felt wrong to allow tears to cascade down his face. Just like everyone else, Anahera was not used to seeing Jake cry. She put a hand on his shoulder and dipped her head down solemnly as if she were already at his son's funeral, bearing her respects. 

…Dead?

His bleary sight cleared up. Jake's hand on Neteyam's left cheek instantly recoiled as he realized he was touching bare facial muscles. The left side of his face was utterly militated and disfigured, letting all the facial muscles and tissues inside—usually responsible for the expressions Neteyam would never make again—get a fresh breath of air. The blood in his hair was matted down, leaving the boy's skull out in the open in multiple areas. 

Jake laid his eldest son to the ground and began chest compressions 1...2...3...4... Jake continued, not caring that slimy organs were forcefully being pushed out and escaping with wet plops. Ribs cracked under the extra pressure applied, but the cage refused to revive the heart trapped inside. There was no more passion left within. 

Jake held up Neteyam's torso. He buried his face in the crook of Neteyam's neck, staining his bloodied shirt with salty tears. His cries were suppressed and quiet, ultimately dying down after only a few minutes. His breath was hot against the cold body. Neteyam was never this cold; he always had a naturally higher warm skin temperature that had always annoyed Lo’ak beyond the end. Neteyam’s dull skin rubbed against him in all the wrong ways. 

His beautiful, beautiful boy, the one who had given him the title of being a father, who had made him a dad, had left without a goodbye. A death so sudden not even the spiritual guides could have predicted it. 

The same boy whom he would once carry around and mimic airplanes with, the same boy who 

would run around his feet, the same boy who was forced to grow up too early and still managed to make Jake so proud every single day. Perhaps he should've said that more, reminding Neteyam that he was outstanding. Neteyam had been more mature in the span of his short life than Jake ever was. Maybe if Jake had told them to come home sooner, or even not at all...

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Two ambulances finally arrived; what was the point if everyone was dead? Everyone except…

“You bastard! ” Jake scrambled away from the corpse he was holding up and pounced on Lyle. The medics shouted something, but Jake couldn't hear them behind the static in his brain as it short-circuited. His fist collided with the already-ruined face of the drunkard. 

He punched the man in the face, again, again, again—

Crimson red stained his knuckles as they delivered retribution. Jake wasn't sure whose bones cracked the most; Anahera attempted to pull Jake back but was roughly shrugged away. 

"Mr. Sully! Calm down before I have to restrain you!"

Jake snarled something unintelligible and persisted in throwing harmful punches. Lyle groaned in pain, further fueling Jake’s fury and giving him the satisfaction that the latter was hurting. How much pain was Neteyam in, huh? How would it feel to have half of your face pulverized? Your skin ripped open like a zipper? To have your organs squished and shredded? That sort of pain was incomparable to the strikes Jake was bestowing. 

His throat hurt, and he wasn’t sure whether he had uttered those words audibly. He didn’t care. 

Jake’s upper back muscles unanticipatedly spasmed. His breath seized in his throat, and his shoulders tensed up. Anahera forcefully yanked Jake back. Dazed, Jake realized he'd been tased. His tongue felt hot and heavy in his mouth. 

The electrical shock left him disoriented, and he desperately tried to regain his senses. Anahera’s firm grip on him prevented any more spontaneous outbursts. A few paramedics attended to Lyle’s sprawled figure, whose face now bore new injuries. It took Jake a few deep breaths and some moments to realize he was violently trembling, and it wasn't just from the taser.

He faintly witnessed the corpse of his fallen son get picked up by a few medics. He wanted to reach out, but invisible and melancholic chains held him down. 

Jake wanted to go home.

❣✧☾✧❣

What makes a house a home? The pillows that were found on sale only stated their resting places on couches and armchairs as home. Wine bottle’s packaging would say relaxation was home and casually beguile whomever thirsted for a stained reality. A considerable and fancy box of smooth chocolate pieces would call home in the mouth of anybody it lay in moments before being gulped down like an opiate. 

They were gifted all those diverse items during their housewarming, but which one really conveyed the truth?

Their new place to stay is on the islands far away. Though there was a lack of their usual canopy of trees, the surrounding waters did well in washing away phantom, heart-wrenching pleas. 

Jake only wanted the best for his family. Running away wasn't exactly ideal, but perhaps the change in scenery would do them good. A battlefield wasn't safe for an eleven-year-old older brother prone to act as a third parent. The battlefield wasn't a safe place to raise an autistic ten-year-old girl whose heart was entranced by nature and destroyed by the demolition. The battlefield definitely wasn't a place for a nine-year-old (“Nine and a half!” Lo’ak would retort in his squeaky voice) boy who was so, so curious and stubborn with what the cruel world has to offer. The battlefield wasn't even a place a two-year-old girl should be near, her innocence too pure with a whole life ahead. 

New wooden floors under small, bare feet. Enchanted and large golden eyes. His hands were sore and pruned; in them, he held a pierced, dead fish. 

“Dad! Mom took me fishing!” Eleven-year-old Neteyam exclaimed cheerfully. Jake put his rusted screwdriver on the nearest shelf (he had been attempting to install a few failed shelves) and crouched down. 

“Wow. That's a big one,” Jake whispered in an exaggerated awe. Neteyam's thin lips quirked upwards as he emitted a giggle. Neteyam was what they called a “late bloomer" since his front two teeth were non-existent, having to have fallen only after he bit an apple (Neteyam loved drinking through straws. All too many times, he had almost choked). 

“It was by the rocks! Right where you said they’d be,” Neteyam held up the fish closer to Jake's face—much closer than he preferred—for him to distinctly see the arrow cleanly cut through the body. The smell was pungent, but the aroma of happiness stayed strong. Jake gingerly grabbed the fish with one hand and the arrow with another. He pulled the two apart, careful not to snap the arrow. 

Jake handed the arrow back. ‘’There you go, bud,”

“Why're you crying?” Neteyam asked worriedly as he took the arrow. 

Huh?

Jake put a hand to his eyes and quickly wiped the tears away. Nostalgia tinged his healing soul, tantalizing it with tranquility and confusion. His eyes were a little wet, that's all. 

“I guess I'm just really happy to see you, boy,” Jake chuckled, ruffling his son's braids. Neteyam grinned.

“I'm happy to see you, too.”

❣✧☾✧❣

The coroner's van was quiet. The blares outside were muffled by the metal white walls adorned with body bags, first aid supplies, and documentation items. Neteyam's body had been securely strapped against a rack to ensure safe transportation. Jake wasn't supposed to be here, but exceptions were made. Jake drank all the details of Neteyam that he could, not wanting to forget anything . 

(What did Neteyam sound like again?) 

The man brought out his phone (which had received new cracks and dents after Jake had thrown it across the road in fury and distress) and held it to his ear. 

“Neytiri? Yeah, it's me, Jake,” the man began. 

“Neteyam's not home yet?” He parroted, already knowing the reason. For a moment, he glanced at the corpse. It jostled ever so slightly with every swerve and speed bump. His empty stomach churned—he had vomited a while ago.  

“Neteyam’s not coming home tonight.”

❣✧☾✧❣

Everyone wore red and white; one would think it was a celebration of Valentine's Day or even Christmas—woe to their innocent souls. 

Lo'ak was broken. His last conversation with Neteyam had been about how his friend Payakan was more of a brother than Neteyam was. He would never forget how Neteyam's face fell. 

“He's my brother! I'm going,” Lo'ak spat. Neteyam's hand recoiled from his younger brother's head. His braids swung dramatically as he frustratedly contemplated his emotions. 

“Oh, he's your brother?” Neteyam grabbed Lo'ak's arm and jabbed a finger at himself. “No. I'm your brother.” 

Lo'ak took it back.

He acted as if Neteyam was titanium, where, in cruel reality, he was nothing more than a human. Just like everyone else, except for now, he's dead and gone. He really didn't have a brother anymore. 

Tsireya's eyes were red and brimmed with tears. She mourned for both her brother and best friend. No one liked it when she was sad. She's such an angel, but she kind of wished she were dead. 

Kiri's fingers traced over a silver jeweled brooch of a beetle that Neteyam had gifted her a few years prior. Her eyes were glassy, but no tears trickled down. Like a numb little bug. She clutched onto Miles’—Spider’s—arm, and he held onto her tight. 

Tuk held hands with her mother and father. She was confused, but deep down, she knew that she would never get to climb trees with her eldest brother. In her hair were a few red and white beads. Neytiri had dolefully put them in this morning, telling Tuk that they were extras. (Before Neteyam left to be with Ao'nung, he had requested that his braids be redone since they were growing out. Neytiri had cleverly snuck in a few red and white beads as she teased him of young love).

Ronal and Tonowari timidly stood by, eyes glued to the floor. Ronal's hands were adorned with bandages. Tonowari had said that she threw a glass vase at a wall. Their hearts bled with the reopened wound of losing another child.

They buried Neteyam and Ao'nung under a large oak tree, knowing they'd be happy to nurture something even after dying. The faint carved letters N and A were permanently etched by the two lovers who had thought they had a lifetime ahead of them. 

“Make the most of your life, while it is rife. While it is light”