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It’s been a week since the Sully family had lost their eldest son. A week since Lo’ak had watched his brother go impossibly still in the middle of the battlefield. A week since Lo’ak had looked down at his blood-stained hands and knew he would never forgive himself for killing Neteyam.
Most of the time, the loss of his older brother consumes his every thought. But on the rare occasion when Lo’ak is able to fall into a fitful sleep, there is a moment right as he wakes where he is blissfully unaware of the tragedy his family has suffered. Where, for just a split second, he lives in a world where he will always have Neteyam there to protect him. Before the memories return and suddenly he’s drowning again in grief, and anger, and pain, and guilt. So much guilt that he can hardly believe that his chest hasn’t split open from the weight of it. The reminder that he’s still here when his brother isn’t feels a little bit like losing him all over again.
Lo’ak doesn't sleep much these days.
Instead he lies awake, eyes burning, as he stares at the woven walls of his mauri. He listens as Kiri comforts Tuk until her sobs slowly quiet into sleep. As Kiri cries quietly, all hitching breaths and slow-rolling tears, in an attempt not to wake Tuk who isn’t sleeping nearly enough. She always slept best curled up next to Neteyam where she felt safe. Sometimes Lo’ak sits with Kiri. The two of them side-by-side, hands clasped together while she cries. They never talk about it but he knows she wonders why he doesn’t. He can’t bring himself to tell her that he doesn’t think he deserves to mourn the brother he killed. She would only try to make him feel better and that thought makes him feel worse.
Other nights, his sisters fall asleep quickly, tired from mourning and he is left in silence. Silence that always feels a little too heavy. Sometimes lying in that silence he can hear his mother begging Eywa and see her clutching Neteyam’s body as if through willpower alone she can keep him alive. Lo’ak doesn’t ever think he’ll be able to forget the sounds of her screams. Especially not when everyday he hears her raspy voice checking in on her surviving children. It’s always filled with so much comfort even if it sounds like she never stopped screaming.
His dad is holding it together. Trying to be strong for his family. It makes Lo’ak think of Neteyam and the way he always tried to protect them. The thought hurts so he tries not to pay too close attention to him. But when his dad thinks no one is looking, Lo’ak watches his mask slip and he is reminded of the exhausted look on his face when he was ready to let himself be taken by the ocean.
But little by little everyone is adjusting to this new normal. Where the sun still shines and the waves hit the shore, and his brother’s heart no longer beats. It helps that everyday his family is at the spirit tree to visit. The first time they went as a family and Lo’ak just froze, so sick at the thought of facing Neteyam. Of seeing the brother he killed. But then he watched as his father broke the news to Kiri that they couldn’t risk her having another seizure under the water. That she wouldn’t be able to see her brother.
His heart broke for his sister but mostly he felt relief at having an excuse not to go. He tells himself and his family that he wants to wait with Kiri so she isn’t alone and everyone believes him. Kiri gives him a slightly questioning look that he ignores. And she drops it, too overwhelmed with this secondary loss of her brother to question him.
The two siblings wait together above water, an odd sort of silence between them.
“You don’t have to stay for me.”
“What?” She lets out a little irritated huff and it’s so achingly normal that tears threaten to spill out over his cheeks.
“I think you need to go see him. Maybe more than any of us.”
Lo’ak panics. She’s too close to hitting right on that open, festering wound he tries to keep hidden. He falls right back into that annoying little brother mode, pushing her away as a defense.
“Maybe you should stop pretending to be the oldest now and stop telling me what to do.”
He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. She stares at him, eyes wide with shock and glistening with unshed tears. She turns away from him and keeps quiet but he can see her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. His heart beats fast, a steady thrum in his chest as he realizes that each moment he stays silent, the gap between him and his sister is widening in a way he might not be able to bridge. He scoots closer to her and pulls on one of the small braids framing her face like he used to when they were small and had gotten into a fight.
“I’m sorry.” He feels her shifting around a little but she keeps her back to him. “I didn’t mean it Kiri. I’m sorry. I just miss him and I’m so tired I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m not sleeping very well anymore.”
The silence stretches between. For a moment he thinks that now he’s lost two of his siblings because of his own stupidity but then she speaks.
“I know.” She turns to face him and the look in her eyes still holds a trace of anger but there's a timidness too that he never sees her have. “I know that you aren't sleeping.”
“How do you know?”
She shrugs. “I know I’ll never be Neteyam,” He winces at her words knowing that he hurt her with his. “But someone’s gotta keep an eye on you now that he’s gone.” She goes quiet for a moment before she continues, voice a mere whisper. “Besides I already lost one brother, I’m not letting anything happen to you too.”
He hugs her then, grabbing on tight like he never wants to let go and she wraps him up in her arms just as fiercely. They sit that way for a few moments before they relax into a gentler embrace before letting go completely. Kiri wipes at her eyes and Lo’ak apologizes again for making her upset. She just smiles at him and grabs his hand in response. The two sit in comfortable silence until the rest of their family resurfaces, eyes shiny with tears but looking a little lighter than before.
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The first week goes by and then the second. By the end of the second week everyone has gone to see him at the tree multiple times except Lo’ak. Even Kiri who can’t connect with the tree but will go sit by the tree to remember her brother and tell him about her day. At the end of the third week his dad comes to sit next to him at the edge of the ocean where he's been breaking apart hard pieces of shells and coral until it’s ripping at the skin of his fingers.
His motions still at the arrival of his dad and he lets his hands rest in the water so his dad won’t see all his raw, bleeding fingertips. The salt water stings in the cuts but he welcomes the distraction of what he is sure is going to be some sort of scolding, but nothing comes.
He watches his dad out of the corner of his eye and watches the struggle on his face, looking for a way to bridge the gap between the two of them. The air between them is tense. They’ve hardly spoken since Neteyam’s funeral, mostly at Loak’s own decision. He’s been avoiding his dad, knowing that he must blame him for the loss of his favorite son.
Ready to end the torturous silence, Lo’ak opens his mouth to say something, anything, that might cut through the tension. But his dad beats him to it.
Voice rough with emotion he starts, “Did I ever tell you about my brother?”
Lo’ak can only stare at him. Brother? He hadn’t known his dad had a brother. Then again he doesn’t know much about his dad’s life before Pandora. He’d always kept his stories to a minimum saying his “real life had begun the minute he started falling in love with their mother”.
He realizes he’s just been staring so he forces out a no. A hastily added sir thrown in at the end.
He watches his dad grimace at his words, pain etched in every crevice of his face. He lets out a dry laugh, more discomfort than anything else.
“Not sir Lo’ak. Not anymore. I know recently I’ve been more drill sergeant than father. I wish I’d realized before…” he trails off but Lo’ak can hear the unspoken words. Before Neteyam died.
He clears his throat before continuing. “So not sir. Not from you.”
Loak can only stare at his father. Without meaning too, he can feel tears pooling in his eyes at the words he’s wanted to hear for years. He looks down at the water and studies the way it laps at the sand as he composes himself. His dad lets the space between them lapse into silence but all the tension is missing. After a few moments he turns back to his dad.
“You had a brother?” Aside from little comforts to his sisters and Tsireya, it’s one of the few things he’s said since Neteyam has died.
His dad nods. A quick jerk of his head that looks a little painful.
“Tommy. He was my twin. Older by 5 minutes and he never let me forget it.” He laughs to himself. “He always called me his baby brother and I always hated it.”
“Why haven’t you told us about him before?”
“Because it hurts. And I’m a coward and damned fool who runs away from my problems instead of facing them.” Another harsh laugh. “I ran all the way to another planet to escape him.”
Lo’ak just stares at him in confusion, shocked by his outburst. His dad sighs.
“I had gotten hurt fighting in a war. Once I got out I-I couldn’t walk.”
Lo’ak can’t even imagine being stuck in your own body like that. And the thought of his dad like that. His dad who’s always moving around full of energy. It’s such a terrible thought so he forces it from his mind
“It’s kind of a long story but when I shipped back home I was angry. I was angry and felt like my life was over. I drank and got in fights and practically threw my life away. And my brother, he was just the perfect son. PhD, scientist and I was just the knucklehead kid in way over his head that decided to go fight in a war that didn’t need to be fought.” A wry laugh at that. And Lo’ak feels connected with his dad in a way that he never has before.
“And then one day, these two guys come and find me after I got my ass thrown out of some bar and they tell me- they tell me that Tommy was dead. That my genius brother who wanted to make a difference was killed by some idiot with a knife.” His throat bobs as he drags in a ragged breath. The strain in his voice grows the more he talks but he pushes on. “They took me to see his body and I’d never felt more alone than in that moment. And when they asked me if I wanted to take his place on a mission to Pandora to drive his avatar I told them yes.”
He gestures down at his body. “This was Tommy’s avatar. The first time I saw it all I could see was my dead brother and I felt like the most inadequate person in the world trying to step into his shoes.”
His dad shrugs, a little brokenly if Lo’ak is being completely honest, and then it’s like he starts to fracture. A single tear runs down his face. Then another until his dad is crying for the first time that Lo’ak knows of since Neteyam’s death. And all he can think is how much he and his dad are the same.
His dad sniffles and the tears start to slow before he turns back to Lo’ak. “For a long time, even after we won the war, I couldn’t look at my reflection without seeing him staring back at me. And now when I look at you I see myself staring back and you’ve had to experience so many things that I promised myself my kids would never have to. And I’m so sorry for that son. I’m so sorry”.
He hangs his head low and Lo’ak scrambles for anything to say to keep him talking. To keep them connecting in a way they never had.
“It’s not your fault dad.” His father just looks at him. Lo’ak continues, tripping over his words in an attempt to get them out quicker. To ease his father’s pain. He doesn’t know how Neteyam comforted all of them over the years with so much ease. It’s hard and the words are thick in his mouth but he forces them out. “Tommy wasn’t your fault and neither was Neteyam. It’s not your fault it’s mine. I’m the reason we were even out there. I’m the reason he was on the boat. I’m the reason he’s dead.”
Lo’ak pauses and he realizes that his hands are shaking. It’s the first time he’s said the words that his big brother is dead.
“It’s my-“ His voice wavers. A broken whisper is all that comes out. “It’s my fault dad. It’s all my fault.
His breath is coming fast now and his heart is pounding like it wants to run out of his chest. Like it wants to run all the way to the yellow roots of the spirit tree where they laid his brother down for his final rest. Lo’ak realizes with a start that his vision has blurred and the tears stream down his face. It’s the first time he’s cried since the funeral.
“I’m so sorry dad. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. It should’ve been me instead. It should’ve been me.”
Broken sobs tear their way out of his chest. And he wraps his arms around himself trying to ease the pain. But everything just hurts so damn much and it won’t stop.
There’s a gentle touch in his shoulder and he remembers, horrified, that he’s here with his dad. His dad just watched him break down. He scrambled to compose himself.
“Sorry, sorry. I’m fine. I’m okay.”
His dad is cupping his face now trying to meet his eyes but Lo’ak can’t bear the thought of looking at him and seeing the disappointment. He closes them begging to anyone who will listen to get him out of here.
“Hey. Hey Lo’ak. Son just look at me. Please.” Lo’ak can barely remember a time his dad ever sounded so gentle.
He opens his eyes and looks into his dad’s, surprised to see the same pain reflected back at him.
“Neteyam is not your fault.”
The words shock him. He’a untethered right now, like if his dad let go he’d just float away or fade into some darkness where he’d never have to deal with this life again.
“Don’t you think for a second that this is your fault. This grudge is older than you older than your brother and sister. This-this is all me.” Lo’ak can feel his hand shaking where it holds his face. “I’m sorry if we- if I made you feel like it was. But this is not your fault Lo’ak. No one here blames you. I don’t blame you.”
The words sink in and Lo’ak sobs. His dad pulls him in, holding him the way he used to before the RDA came back. Back when every skinned knee was the end of the world and his dad’s arms were one of the safest places in the world. He buries his head in his dad’s chest and lets himself feel everything he's been avoiding the past weeks.
He feels his grief and his anger and so much pain it feels like it could kill him if he just let it. But then he hears his dad murmuring quiet words above his head and he can feel the rumbling of his chest under his cheek. And then his dad cups the back of his head and the movement is so achingly Neteyam that Lo’ak fractures all over again.
For a long while they sit there. Holding each other as their grief threatens to swallow them whole. Until suddenly Lo’ak feels like he’s able to breathe for the first time since he realized his brother was shot. He leans away from his dad and he lets him go but keeps him within arms reach.
His dad speaks voice thick with all the emotions. “Lo’ak I think you should go see your brother.”
The tears well up again but this time they don’t fall. He shakes his head. “I can’t. Not yet.”
His ears droop a little in what Lo’ak imagines is disappointment but not at him, at the fact that he feels this way. He nods accepting the answer and reaches out to grab his son’s head. The move makes Lo’ak’s heart ache but he also finds a small measure of comfort in it. Like maybe, even if he’s gone, Neteyam will still be here with him.
“Come on son. Let’s go home.” Lo’ak lets himself be led back to their little mauri. They walk in comfortable silence until they’re nearing the walkway that takes them right to their pod. His dad’s steps slow and Lo’ak’s slow with him until they are just standing outside. He watches his dad in confusion but waits patiently for whatever he wants to do.
“I’m proud of you son.” The weight of the words hit him slowly and then he throws himself at his dad with so much force he stumbles back and almost crashes to the floor. Lo’ak clings to him tightly like he child he had started to forget that he was.
“I love you dad.” At that, his dad’s arms tighten around him, almost to the point of pain, but he relishes in the feeling. When they break apart and go inside, he’s greeted by a warm hug from his mother, a smile from Kiri, and a very enthusiastic hug from Tuk.
That night he falls asleep feeling better than he has in weeks.
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Slowly things start to feel like it might be okay again. When he smiles at his mother it feels a little less forced. It hurts a little less each time he turns to say something to Neteyam before remembering that he’s gone. He lets himself have fun when he goes out to dive with Tsireya and Tuk. But he still hasn’t visited the spirit tree to see his brother. Just the thought has guilt rising in his chest so thick it’s like he’s drowning and every bit of his life that has started to look up is quickly forgotten.
So he hasn’t gone to see him. Not once. He considers it everytime he sees his mother's bright smile after she returns. Everytime his dad comes back and the weight on his shoulders seems a little lighter. Everytime he burns so badly with the need to tell Neteyam about his day, about the simple mundane activities that Neteyam would always listen to without complaint. But even as he now knows his family doesn’t blame him and he believes it. He still blames himself. They all urge him to go, to speak with him but they can’t understand the guilt he feels. The way he still wakes up in the middle of the night and swears he can feel Neteyam’s blood covering his hands. And he doesn’t know that it’ll ever go away.
Surprisingly, it’s Tuk of all people who finally convinces him to go. He’s always had trouble connecting with his youngest sister, struggling to bridge that age gap between them. He couldn’t do it as easily as Neteyam, who took one look at Tuk moments after she was born and was gone. Always making sure he had time for her in his busy schedule, whether it was playing games, teaching her something new, or cuddles to soothe the sting of something Lo’ak had said that hurt her feelings.
But now Lo’ak makes time for her in a way that he hasn’t before. Making sure he spends lots of one-on-one time with her to help ease the loss of their older brother. He only had 14 years with Neteyam and she had even less. So if he gets roped into lots of silly games that make her giggle he will gladly do it.
Right now, she’s seated behind him, hands in his hair as she practices her braiding skills. When she came to him that morning and asked if he’d let her, his heart had just about stopped clean in his chest. He unconsciously reached up to touch the braids that were last done by Neteyam, the day before they lost him. Lo’ak had been climbing the walls and ready to pick a fight with both his mother and father when Neteyam, sensing the tension, announced that him and Lo’ak were going out so he could “fix his skxawng baby brother’s braids bc they were looking like a mess from all the trouble he’s gotten into.'' Everyone had laughed, the tension had been effortlessly diffused, and the two brothers had gone and sat on a rock on the water, where Neteyam rebraided his hair and teased him about Tsireya until Lo’ak was swatting at him. It was a good day, one of the best. And the last one he had with his brother.
His mother had shot him a panicked look that mirrored exactly how he felt. She’d been offering for weeks to redo them but he’d refused everytime not wanting to let go of the last braids Neteyam had done for him. But before she could step in to get Tuk on another topic he agreed, making a joke about how his were getting a little loose.
She had cheered and ran off to get her little basket of beads and ties and his mother had just looked at him, tears shining in her eyes.
“Lo’ak, you know you don’t have to. I can get her to do something else.” But he’d shrugged and told her that he thought maybe it was time. And that he’d be happy if it was his little sister that did it.
At that, she’d grabbed him in a fierce hug and he could feel her tears on his shoulder. Then Tuk came barreling back in the room with her little supply pouch and grabbed his hand to pull him out to her favorite spot. He shot one last look over his shoulder at his mom and saw her watching them with a small smile, hands clasped together up over her heart. For a moment, Lo’ak thought he understood his older brother just a little bit better.
Now he’s sitting silently on a little sandbar covered in flowers and shells he’s never seen before, wincing a little as Tuk pulls his hair into braids that he can tell are slightly lopsided. Tuk keeps up a steady stream of chatter as she works. Once she does about half the braids she grows quiet and the pulls on his hair get a little harder. Her hands still in his hair and he turns to ask her what’s wrong but she pulls even harder. He hisses in pain but keeps his head facing straight as she works through her thoughts behind him.
“Neteyam helped me find this spot.”
His heart clenches at the mention of his brother but he pushes past the feeling. He lets out a little hum of acknowledgement but decides to let her come to him with her thoughts instead of pushing.
“It’s our braiding spot. Mine and his. He has a different spot with mom.” Lo’ak lets out a little confused noise that Tuk must pick up on because she elaborates. “Mom always does Neteyam’s hair for him. He says it’s how they get to spend time together, so they have their braiding spot. But Neteyam does my braids for me and he lets me practice on him so we had to have our own braiding spot. He says that he does it with mom because he’s a mama’s boy but that I get to do it with him because I’m his favorite girl. And these are only our spots, no one else is allowed. But I saw mom at their braiding spot with Kiri so I wanted to share mine with you.”
Lo’ak’s vision is blurry with tears as he tries to keep himself composed enough to keep listening to his sister. And Lo’ak hadn’t known that. Hadn’t known that the braiding was something his mother had passed down to Neteyam, who was then passing it onto Tuk. But knowing that she wanted to share this secret place with him, rather than her sister or their mom, has a few tears rolling down his face. She stays quiet for a moment and he thinks that maybe she’s finished but then she pipes up again.
“I asked Neteyam if he thought you would let me braid your hair and he said he thought you would like it.” She giggles for a second. “But he said I had to be gentle because your head is sensitive when it gets braided.
And that causal knowledge of him, that his brother had cataloged without Lo’ak ever knowing has the damn holding his tears back breaking. He’d always preferred his brother's braids to anyone else because it didn’t hurt. He’d never told anyone not wanting to seem like a baby but Neteyam had known. He’d known and he’d made sure that he was always available to help so Lo’ak didn’t have to suffer through pain to get the nice tight braids he liked.
Lo’ak reaches back to place a hand on Tuk’s. And he can feel her trembling slightly under his touch like she’s worried he’ll be angry with her. He knows his voice is shaking but he doesn’t ever want Tuk to think it’s a bad thing to feel so he pushes through.
“That’s very sweet of you Tuk. Thank you.”
She relaxes at his words and continues on with her braiding. It quiet for a few more minutes before she’s slowing down again.
“Do you miss him?” she asks.
The question shocks him. Of course he misses Neteyam, even if things are slowly starting to feel better again. There is a hole in his heart where his brother was and he feels it every day.
“Of course I miss him, Tuk. I miss him everyday.” She pulls his braid tightly and it feels a little like a punishment.
“Then how come you never visit him?” He scrambles for an answer to give her but there's nothing he could say to her that would explain the guilt that claws up his throat and threatens to choke him and even if he could he doesn’t want to give her that burden. She makes a noise in her throat, a mix between anger and triumph at being right. He can hear the tears in her voice when she speaks.
“See, you don’t miss him. If you did you would visit him.” Suddenly the tears turn to anger and it reminds him of the way his mother’s grief can swing wildly between tears and vengeance. She drops his half finished braid and hisses at him. “He misses you, you know. I know he doesn’t really know why because he doesn’t know he’s gone. But when I visited last time, we were in the memory of when Dad took you to go visit a different part of the forest. And we both missed you so much and he was worried about you being so far away. So he misses you, I can tell by the memories we get to see. But he can’t come to see you and you don't go to see him. It’s not fair.” And just like that the tears are back.
“I do miss him, Tuk. I swear. I miss him so much I can’t breathe sometimes. And it hurts because I see him everyday." The tears are coming now hot and fast but he lets them slide down his face. “I see him laughing at me when Kiri and Roxto tease me about Tsireya. I see him smiling in the sky when I visit the ikrans. I see him whenever I look at mom. I see him in the way dad protects us the best he can. And I see him so much in you Tuk, in everything you do, it reminds me of him. And it just hurts so much”
He smiles through the pain and finally turns to look at his little sister. She looks back at him, tears shining in her eyes and still a little anger.
“Then why don’t you just go see him?” she questions. “If it hurts no matter what, then you should see him. He always knows how to make us feel better but he can’t help you if you don’t go see him.”
And Lo’ak doesn’t have an answer. He cries then. He cries for all the years he had with his brother and for all the years he won’t. And Tuk drops herself in his lap the way she used to with Neteyam. Curling into herself so she’s small enough to stay tucked up under his chin. The move only makes him cry harder and he can feel his chest grow wet with his sister’s tears. Lo’ak rocks the two of them as they sit together and miss their brother. Slowly the tears stop and he picks Tuk up slightly so he can set her in front of him. His voice is hoarse but he reaches out and grabs his sister's head, the same move that Neteyam always did for him that made him feel safe and loved.
“I’ll go see him Tuk. I promise.”
She gives him a watery but satisfied smile. “He can’t wait to see you.”
They sit for a few moments longer before she hops up to finish off Lo’ak’s braids. They mostly sit in silence as she concentrates to make the braids as neat as possible and she’s also surprisingly gentle as she works with his hair. When she gets to the last two braids that frame his face, she makes him close his eyes while she finishes them.
He rolls his eyes but does as she asks. He peeks a little, just enough to see her tongue poked put in concentration which makes his chest feel lighter than it has all day. Then he closes his eyes again and for just a moment pretends that it’s Neteyam’s gentle touch twisting beads into his braids. All too soon he’s back in reality when Tuk makes a triumphant noise and is shoving at his arm to get him to look at his reflection in the water.
He grumbles a little but smiles to himself when she can no longer see his face. He leans over the edge of the sandbar and all he can do is stare at the reflection looking back at him.
“Do you like them?” she asks quietly from behind him.
Lo’ak thought he was all cried out, but as he looks past the semi-lopsided braids to reach up and grab the familiar purple, orange, teal, and red bead pattern, he feels them welling in his eyes again. His heart almost bursts at the thought that Tuk, who has gone through too much so young, has given him a piece of his brother to carry with him always.
His voice is hoarse as he answers, “I love it Tuk.”
She throws herself into his arms and he squeezes her back just as tightly. His eyes are rough, her nails are digging into his arms, there’s a crick in his neck from her pulling at his hair, and he can feel the uneven braids pulling at his scalp but in this moment he couldn’t possibly care less as he holds his sister in his arms and thanks Eywa for the gift his sister has given him. Both the beads in his hair and the courage to finally see his brother.
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It’s finally time. After 3 months of making excuses about why he couldn’t visit his brother, Lo’ak is going to the spirit tree. His family can tell that there’s something different about him today. Shooting him odd looks when they think he isn’t looking, but he ignores them. Only Tuk knows why and keeps beaming when she sees his leg bouncing around from the nervous energy building up inside of him. It’s the only thing keeping him planted on the ground instead of running away.
He can hardly sit still long enough to have breakfast with his family. But Tuk, seemingly aware of this problem, sits herself next to him and chatters on about the shells she collected with Tsireya. Her stories make him smile and it calms him just enough to get through the morning. The moment he’s able to, he jumps up ready to go, mumbling out some excuse about having somewhere to be he rushes out of their pod.
Before he gets very far a gentle hand pulls him back.
“Lo’ak,” His mother’s soft voice soothes some of the tension that’s winding in his chest. “Is everything alright my son?”
He keeps his back to her as he answers. “Everything’s fine mom, just busy.”
She turns him to look at her and searches his face for reassurance that he is telling her the truth. Her eyes catch on the beads decorating his braids and her eyes fill tears. Among the glimmering in her eyes, Lo’ak sees understanding. His eyes fall to the neckpiece that she has worn everyday since the funeral. The one that belonged to Neteyam.
“Oh my beautiful boy.” Her voice is thick with tears but there’s also so much happiness that Lo’ak feels like his chest just might burst. “Go. He’s waiting for you. “
He nods and turns to leave, then hesitates. He turns and throws himself into his mother’s arms for a quick squeeze. He feels her breath hitch for a moment before she wraps him up in a tight hug. Her hand grazes his braids, lingering on the ones Tuk decorated. His forehead presses into her neckpiece and for a second it almost feels like he’s hugging Neteyam.
Slowly, she lets him go and when she looks at him, the pride in her eyes blows him away. She looks content in a way he hasn’t seen since his brother died. They don’t need any words. His mother smiles at him, eyes a little watery, before she nods.
He understands it for what it is and smiles at his mom. Then he continues on to his ilu, urging her to take him to his brother.
His heart pounds the closer he gets to the spirit tree and breathing becomes a little harder. He brings his ilu to the surface of the water and makes his way to the tree, trying desperately to slow down his breathing. The giant tree is suddenly looming up in front of him, breaking his efforts of breathing normally.
Stomach churning and heart threatening to beat right of his chest. Lo’ak can feel the panic fluttering around in his chest but he slides off his ilu, giving her a little pat to send her off. Nobody needs to be here for this.
And Lo’ak tries. He does. He dives down but his heart is pounding and he can only make it a few feet before he’s swimming up and gasping for air the moment he breaks the surface. He thinks of Tsireya’s words and her gentle smile as he tries to calm his heart. He thinks of the way he watched his parents smiling together, more than a little broken but healing. He thinks of his sisters. Of the way, Kiri is letting herself appreciate the beauty of the ocean again. And the way that Tuk is sleeping soundly at night curled up tightly next to him.
His heart is still racing but his breathing has slowed some. He swims to a small rock jutting out from the surface of the water and takes a moment to sit. To breathe.
And then he lets himself think about Neteyam. To remember his brother.
He remembers his laugh and the way he always told Lo’ak stupid jokes to make him feel better. He remembers his hugs and the comfort they brought him. He thinks of the time he failed to bond with an ikran and Neteyam took him flying everyday until he had his own. He thinks of the way his brother followed all the rules but would sometimes wake Lo’ak up in the dead of night so they could explore the forest together. And the memories hurt, but little by little the pain is replaced by a happiness he hasn’t allowed himself to feel since that moment on the rock.
There are tears falling down his face and he can taste the salt on his lips. But his heart is calm and his breathing slow. The memories are colored with pain but this time there is a happiness there too that he didn’t ever think he would feel again.
Lo’ak looks out towards the ocean, at the sky purpling in anticipation of nightfall. He blinks in surprise. All day he’s been here sitting, remembering his brother, and trying to feel ready to face him. Lo’ak doesn’t ever think he’ll ever really be ready but he feels settled now in a way he never really has. And this time when takes a deep breath and dives, his lungs stay full of air and his heart pounds but stays steady.
For a moment, he just stares at the tree in front of him. Enveloped in the warm waters and doubting if it’s really the time for this. But his heart aches at the thought of being so close to his brother and turning away so he brings his braid to his front and connects with the tree.
His eyes fall closed and lights are flashing in his mind, before they fade into the familiar picture of the forest. Of their home. Lo’ak is sitting on a branch, high up in a tree, and he must’ve been picking at the bark because his hands are bleeding.
And he…remembers this. Not the reason why he was so upset or why he ran away. But that, when he ran and hid, Neteyam had found him. His heart stops at the realization in the same moment that he feels a hand on his shoulder.
“There you are, baby brother.”
And the words, so simple, that he’s heard a thousand times before are what do him in. The tears come hot and fast. Lo’ak buries his face in his hands and he can’t even look at his brother.
“Lo’ak it’s okay. Dad’s not mad at you. Not really.”
He doesn’t say anything, too afraid to look up. He feels Neteyam scooting closer to him on the branch and then he feels himself being wrapped up in his big brother’s arms. He curls in on himself, making himself small like Tuk, and weeps into his brother's chest. All the while Neteyam rocks them back and forth.
He strokes Lo’ak’s hair and whispers little comforts to him until he slowly starts to cry himself out. Neteyam eases him out of his arms but Lo’ak keeps his eyes firmly shut, not ready to see his brother's concerned eyes.
“Lo’ak I know dad is pretty hard on you but it’s just because he loves you. He worries and he doesn’t always handle it well. But you guys will figure it out” He places a hand on Lo’ak’s head, “Besides, until then you’ll always have me.”
His eyes fly open at that, already welling with tears. But through his blurry vision, he sees his brother a few years younger, before his face was always creased with concern. He’d almost forgotten what Neteyam looked like before he had the cummerbund and visor that marked him both as a man and warrior. Some hints of childhood still cling to his face and he beams when Lo’ak finally meets his eyes.
But Lo’ak’s eyes catch on some still bloody scrapes on his brother’s chest and, suddenly horrified, he remembers exactly why he ran away. His father had been yelling at him, telling him he needed to be more careful because Neteyam had gotten hurt. Because of him.
All he can do is stare at the little bits of blood trickling down his chest, before his breaths are coming faster and faster. The guilt claws his way up his throat and he’s certain that it’s going to choke him.
“I’m sorry Teyam. I’m so sorry.” The words are jumbled and his voice is shaking but Lo’ak presses on like it’s his last chance. “I’m so, so sorry. It’s all my fault that you got hurt. It’s all my fault that you're…” Dead, buried, never coming back. “bleeding.”
The apologies keep tumbling from his lips and he can’t stop them. Neteyam looks at him with concerned eyes before he grabs his head like always.
“Lo’ak it’s not your fault. I promise you it’s not your fault. I don’t blame you for this. I could never blame you. I love you. You’re my baby brother, I just want to make sure you’re safe.”
All of a sudden the Neteyam before him morphs into the Neteyam he lost just a few months ago. Taller, older, and more than a few healed over wounds.
“See, all healed. It just takes a little time.”
And the guilt still sits there heavy in his chest but it isn’t choking him anymore.
“And I know you’re sad right now, but it won’t hurt as much after a little bit.” Neteyam knocks their shoulders together, “And you can always come talk to me. I’ll be here waiting for you.”
There’s a lightness in Lo’ak’s chest that almost brings him to tears again. But he keeps a tight grip on his emotions so he can turn and face his brother.
Lo’ak grips his hand, relishing is the simple point of contact.
“I love you bro.” Neteyam grins at the sentiment.
“I know you do.” There’s mischief in his eyes that Lo’ak hasn’t seen in years. Not since he had to step up as the older brother and keep the rest of them, Lo’ak in particular, in line.
“Come on baby brother,” Lo’ak lets put a little halfhearted hiss at that, which just makes Neteyam laugh. “I want to go home. Race you!”
Before he can blink, Neteyam is taking off swinging down through the branches whooping as he goes. And Lo’ak just watches for a moment, memorizing his brother’s movements. Seeing him so at peace. So at home. The shattered pieces of his heart, the ones he always thought would be a broken mass in his chest, feel a little like they’re mending.
Lo’ak grins and laughs. A bright happy sound that he hasn’t made in a long time. “Wait for me Neteyam.”
“Hurry up skxawng!” He calls back but his movements slow, just enough for Lo’ak to catch up. And so he does, laughing as he goes. The two brothers run along the branches. All the while, playfully pulling on each other’s tails and throwing bits of foliage in each other's paths.
It feels good. And Lo’ak knows the moment won’t last forever. That tomorrow or the next day, or even next year he might wake up and ache for his brother like the day he lost him. But he knows that Neteyam will always be right here for him. For any of the good or bad days in the future. So for now he lets himself hold onto that happiness just a little bit longer.