Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1 – Stuck Here

The sun was blinding him. Neteyam put the visor down, but it didn't help much; the bright light came from a tricky angle. Jake was behind the steering wheel, drumming his thumbs to the beat of the song playing on the radio.

They haven't talked much since the three hours they've been on the road; why would they. His dad wasn't a man of many words – conversations had never been his forte. And Neteyam preferred to look out the window anyway. He opened it a smidge, the air grazed his skin and messed with his hair.

This was the last, warm summer day he got to enjoy for a while, so he might as well. Port Angeles was going to be anything but that.

The radio started irritating him. Neteyam turned it off. Much to his dad's dismay, who now had to sit in silence.

“Are you excited?”, he asked. Said silence got to him eventually.

Jake tried filling it with what he'd usually consider nonsense, if asked. Neteyam knew why he was doing it. He felt guilty.

“Your aunt said she's happy to have you. When was the last time you visited her? Over three years ago?”

He didn't respond.

“You know, I think this will be good for you. Some time away.”

Neteyam shrugged.

“Sure.”, he murmured absently.

They left the highway and it felt like a death penalty. From here on out, the car was headed into nothingness. The sun, the heat – even the familiar landscape would soon disappear. And replaced with fog, constant rain, and pine trees. Honestly, a pretty bad trade.

Why his aunt chose to live in Port Angeles instead of moving closer to them, he had no idea.

“You know what's funny?”

“Hm?”

“I recently found out an old friend of mine lives there. I talked to him on the phone. Seems to be doing well for himself. He's a surgeon.”

The more Jake talked, the higher his level of discomfort usually was.

“He's got kids around your age. Maybe you could make friends with them.”

It was the last thing he was interested in. But when his dad suggested things like that, it wasn't meant as friendly advice; it was basically an order.

“I'll write their address down for you.”

“Okay.”

Neteyam immediately forgot about what he just said. He closed his eyes and said goodbye to Seattle in his mind. When he opened them again, his surroundings had changed. It was cold in the car, Jake must've closed the window at some point. The forest they were driving though was lush and green, the road ahead full of potholes, missing most of the white stripes separating traffic.

For the last time, the sun broke through the now grayish sky; a futile try, predestined to fail. Then, the clouds swallowed the last rays of light. They reached Port Angeles.

Of course, it was raining. The trees had protected the car before, but now the windshield started to get wet. Neteyam still remembered the Welcome! sign painted in red and blue, with white letters.

Jake hit the brakes at a red light and glanced around the small town. He was most excited about all this. Probably glad to be rid of his oldest son, who'd been stuck in a depressive episode for the past four months. His words. Neteyam pressed his legs close and wrapped both arms around his knees.

He had no clue what the big deal was, anyways. In those months, his grades had been pristine. Straight A's, no exceptions. His attendance was spotless, too, he never missed a day of school. But apparently, it wasn't enough.

Apparently, he'd been creeping his family out by not speaking and staying holed up in his room. Sitting in front of the window like a marble statue. That's when his parents took matters into their own hands and decided to surprise him with...this.

Everything still looked the same. Dark and depressing, just like his mood. The old-fashioned buildings made of red bricks and pine wood. The so-called shopping center with, like, three stores and a gas station. The constant rain. He already knew this summer break was going to bore him to death.

“There it is.” Jake announced it more to himself.

They left the city center and reached his final destination. His aunt's house. With the unkept front yard, white picket fence and wooden wall paneling, colored light blue. Neteyam glanced at the upper floor when he got out of the car; that's where the guestroom was. Correction, his room. He hated everything about it already.

Jake ordered to get his bags from the trunk while he rang the doorbell. He heard Sylwanin's high-pitched, lilting voice before he saw her.

“Jake! Oh, my goodness, you guys are finally here! It's so good to see you!”

Neteyam threw his backpack over one shoulder and reluctantly dragged his suitcase across the wet asphalt. The rain had let up, but the air was humid, immediately seeping through his thin clothes. He forgot how cold Port Angeles was. He shivered in his sweater.

One wheel from his suitcase got stuck and he struggled to reach the front porch. His aunt beamed at him – she was also still the same. The bright, child-like smile, the basic clothes that screamed comfort over style, the many colorful beads in her very long, braided hair.

Her golden bracelets around both wrists jingled as she hurried to give him a thrilled, long hug.

She smelled like vanilla, like she always did. It was strangely sentimental, and made Neteyam feel even more depressed. He shouldn't be here right now. He wanted to get back in the passenger seat and go home.

Jake left as quickly as he arrived – he exchanged a few words with Sylwanin before returning to the car. She stayed put while Neteyam followed him to say goodbye.

“Here's the address. I'll let them know you'll be there.”

He had written it down with a ballpoint pen on a scrap of paper. Neteyam wordlessly shoved it in his jeans and nodded.

“Alright. Take care. And stay out of trouble. Don't make your aunt regret this.”

If he wanted to make anyone regret this, it was Jake. And Neytiri, too. But both were convinced this was a good idea.

“Mhm. Bye, dad.”

“Have fun.”

The frosted charcoal BMW pulled out the driveway and disappeared behind the next curve. Neteyam followed it with his eyes. Then he turned around, facing the inevitable. His aunt was grinning from ear to ear.

“Well. That was quick.”, she said, nodding towards the empty space where the car was just parked. Typical for Jake. He had the emotional bandwidth of a brick.

“Oh, well. Let's forget about him for now. Come on in!”

She opened the wobbly front door. It had white curtains covering the glass window on the inside, they swayed when it fell shut again. Immediately, Neteyam smelled something burned.

“Oh. I guess that might be my fault.”, Sylwanin winced when she noticed his alert.

She brought him into the kitchen. There was something indefinable burned to coals on the sticky, dirty stove. It seemed like the smoke detector had gone off, he saw the round device on the counter with its batteries taken out. The window was open to let the bad air out, it was freezing.

“You know I'm not a very good cook.”, she jokingly said with an apologetic look.

“I wanted to make you a casserole. But then I also had to shower and I left it in the hot oven for over three hours. Sorry.”

The kitchen was a complete mess – like usually. He wasn't really surprised by that. Everywhere his aunt went, she left a bunch of chaos behind. She'd always been like that.

“It's okay.”, Neteyam murmured, “I'm not hungry.”

“Do you like pizza?”, Sylwanin asked hopefully, “All kids like pizza, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay!”

She looked more happy now, less embarrassed. She hugged him again.

“Go ahead, you can go upstairs. I'll make the order. Do you need help with your bags?”

Neteyam felt awkward. He quickly declined and returned to the corridor, where his belongings waited for him at the foot of the stairs. They had no carpet, and looked pretty roughed up; the broken wheel on his suitcase was definitely going to add to that.

He left everything in front of the closed door and went to the bathroom to wash his face and calm down.

His aunt was already in the guest room when he returned. She stretched her arms out and looked at him expectantly.

“Do you like it?”

She had tried to make his temporary living space more 'hip', and put some random band and movie posters up. The closet had a broken hinge and one door was open. A desk, painted in forest green, laid unfinished in a corner. Almost everything was made from pine, he could tell by the faint scent.

Even here, the old floor was scratched up and made protesting sounds when walked across. Above the bed, his aunt had added string lights. She lit them up with one click on the small battery compartment.

“You like blue, right?”, she asked, pointing at his bed sheets.

“Yeah. It's fine, Sylwanin, don't worry.”

“Okay. Oh, do you still know the wifi password? Because I don't. I think I have it written down somewhere, but...”

She hurried downstairs and rummaged through random counters and shelves, cursing under her breath. By the time she returned, she forgot was she was doing before; saw him standing there like a pole, remembered, disappeared again.

“The guest bathroom doesn't have a bathtub! I hope showering is okay!”, she randomly yelled from somewhere in the house.

“You can get settled until the delivery guy is here!”

Music to his ears. He hated music now, but still. He hated everything, really. Neteyam shrugged his jacket off and tossed it on the chair next to the unfinished desk, beneath the window. A bunch of instructions laid there as well, on top of a thick layer of dust.

Looked like Sylwanin wanted to built up the desk by herself, but failed. It was sad to think that at least, it gave him something to do over the next twelve weeks.

Three months. Stuck here.

He closed the door and sat down on the bed. He wasn't sure if Jake was already on his way back home – he wanted to visit that old friend of his, who lived in Port Angeles, too. But knowing him, it was just going to be a Hi and Bye. It was unfair. He wanted to go home, too.

Neteyam reached for his phone. He looked at the dark screen, bit his lip and tossed it on the – by the way very creaky – bed. Downstairs, Sylwanin was still making noise. He wondered what she was randomly destroying now, but refrained from checking. Instead, he returned to his normal state.

Feeling nothing but his numb, hollow chest. Frozen up like a statue. It was surprising how his arms and legs didn't turn into marble. He looked out the window with a small sigh. There was nothing to see but the forest. And endless ocean of trees. And the gray, snowy mountains, far away.

It started to rain again. Typical for Port Angeles; on, off, on, off. It created a soft drumming sound on the roof above him.

At some point, it got dark. He came back to his senses when his aunt called his name. He realized he'd been sitting on the edge of the bed for hours without a single thought. Not much different than in Seattle. If every day simply went like that, maybe he'd be able to survive summer break somehow.

“Okay, baby, please don't be mad.”, Sylwanin said when he came into the living room.

The blue sofa was still there, covered with random blankets and pillows. He wondered if the TV was broken, like last time he'd been here with Lo'ak and Kiri. Worst case scenario, he had the giant book shelf to read through.

“I kinda got distracted and forgot to place the order.” She waved her phone around.

“I don't understand anything about this thing! I don't know how to use it. Anyways, I finally figured it out. Food's coming. Sorry. You're probably very hungry now.”

“It's okay.”

What else was he supposed to say? Neteyam watched his aunt run around and look for her purse. She found it, then realized her wallet wasn't in there, and had to start at square one. He helped her look for it, but they weren't quick enough, and the delivery guy arrived.

Neteyam ended up paying, he didn't mind. His parents gave him some cash to spend. A surprisingly high amount – probably because they felt bad for sending him here, even though he didn't want to.

“Here you go!”, Sylwanin chirped, placing their plates on the dinner table. The last two clean ones.

The pizza was already cold, and super greasy; nothing less expected from the worst and only pizza place in town. His aunt sat across from him with a happy smile regardless and they started eating.

“Have you unpacked your bags yet?”, she asked curiously.

“A little bit.”, Neteyam murmured.

“The guest room is kind of a mess. Nobody's been staying with me for a while, you know. It's nice you're here! I've missed you.”

“Mhm. I missed you, too.”

Sylwanin didn't know him as the curt and disinterested type. Her searching, worried look made him pull the hood of his sweater deeper into his face. He tried and failed to hide away from her.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Does the pizza taste good? You don't have to lie, I know it's bad, really.”

“...Could be worse.” He chewed absently.

His aunt put both elbows on the table and ran her fingers over her many bracelets.

“Your mom said you've been pretty down recently. She thinks spending time here will make you feel better. Is any of that true? Or did she lie so she could go on a couple's vacation with your dad?”

She laughed.

“I know Lo'ak's at summer camp and Kiri is visiting her pen pal. Tuk's at grandma's house. You didn't have any plans?”

Neteyam swallowed hard. A piece of pizza crust got stuck in his throat and he washed it down with some flat coke. Sylwanin didn't have anything else in the fridge. He made a mental note to go grocery shopping for her tomorrow.

“Um...”

He wasn't sure which question to answer first and didn't feel like eating anymore. He lethargically pushed some crumbs around on his plate.

“I guess I didn't have anything better to do.”, he muttered – and immediately regretted it. That made it sound like he hated her. He didn't, he just hated Port Angeles. The rain, the fog, the wet streets and shitty cold.

“Well, anyways.”

His aunt reached out to squeeze his hand with a sweet smile.

“I'm really happy you're staying with me. This house gets lonely sometimes.”

At least one of them was happy. He did the dishes for her because Sylwanin was a klutz and broke a plate. He wanted to unpack his things afterwards, maybe cry, or silently sit in the darkness of the early night. But Sylwanin followed him around.

They found the wifi password, and Neteyam tossed the burned casserole into the overflowing trash. Another thing he could take care of tomorrow.

Tomorrow. Only the second day out of too many days.

Finally, he was left to his own demises. His aunt kissed him goodnight on the forehead like he was five years old and it was more embarrassing than comforting.

“Oh, by the way!”

She was almost out the door. Neteyam was about to exhale a sigh of relief and busy himself with unpacking. Or crying, finally. Maybe both.

Sylwanin rummaged through the broken closet. When she turned around, she had a box wrapped in colorful gift paper in her hands. The number eighteen was written all over it. She grinned cheekily.

“Happy belated birthday! Here you go!”

Neteyam raised his brows in mild surprise. Right. His birthday. It was last week. He completely forgot already. Just another normal day for him – he hadn't felt like celebrating.

“Oh. Um, thanks. You shouldn't have.”, he murmured, embarrassed again. He begrudgingly unwrapped it while his aunt took a picture on her phone. That was one of the few things she could actually do without help.

Neteyam slowly opened the box. It was a pair of boots. Vintage Doc Martens. Limited Edition. Completely black, leather, with a thick sole. Oh, god. Those definitely cost a fortune. And she definitely put that on her already overdrawn credit card.

“Holy shi- Sylwanin, I-...where did you get those?”, he hesitantly asked.

Sylwanin squealed.

“Do you like them? Yes? No? Do you like them a lot? You do? I'm so glad!”

She plopped down on the bed and gave him a tight hug. He argued with her and asked her to return them, but she refused.

“It's alright!”, she said, giggling, more like a teenager would.

“Keep them. It's your gift, okay? But I hope they're your size, I wasn't sure. I figured you probably don't have proper footwear for Port Angeles. They're water proof, so you won't have to worry about your socks getting wet and everything.”

“Thank you.”, Neteyam pressed out sheepishly. Now he felt bad for being so distant towards her – the boots were great. Exactly his taste. And they fit almost perfectly when he tried them on, too. Maybe a tad too big. He took a couple steps. They were comfortable.

“Look at you. All grown up.”

His aunt sighed. She walked over to him and stroked his hair.

“I don't know what's going on with you.”, she softly said, “But I'm so happy you're staying with me for a while.”

She was repeating herself. It wasn't surprising that Sylwanin was lonely – she didn't have a husband, boyfriend, not even a pet. The only thing she had was her bookstore, down in the city center, hidden between a record store and a law firm. Last time he was here with his family, him and Kiri got to help her out. Well, sort of had to help her out.

Even though she was just a few years younger than Neytiri, she often seemed so helpless.

Neteyam was glad she left him alone afterwards. He put the shoes away, back into the closet, and unpacked his suitcase. Well. The few things he brought. It didn't take long. And Sylwanin's intuition had been right – he wasn't prepared for the weather here at all.

He weighed the useless T-shirts in his hands and figured he had to go clothes shopping at some point if he didn't want to freeze to death in the cold.

After he was done, he lamely kicked the suitcase under the bed and threw his backpack in a random corner. Then he sat down and glanced at his phone, still lying where he threw it last.

The screen was black. No notification light. His guts churned, and the hole in his chest started aching unbearably.

He brushed his teeth, then pulled the covers over his head. Sleep came only slowly; like a guest who didn't want to make it to a party.

It was foggy in the morning. He couldn't recall if he slept or not. He hadn't expected himself to cry as much, but the pillow was wet when he lifted his head. A headache was approaching aggressively, his eyes felt swollen. Neteyam threw the blanket over his legs and snuck into the bathroom to wash his face, hoping Sylwanin wouldn't see him.

He checked the time afterwards; it was eight. That meant she was already at work.

It gave him a sense of relief. At least, without her, he didn't have to watch his mood and make sure to be nice. Neteyam got dressed, struggling to find something appropriate for the crushingly low temperatures. He grabbed the hoodie from yesterday off the floor, got ready for the slow, dreadful day ahead of him and went downstairs.

Breakfast was unappealing – and impossible. He checked the pantry, it was almost completely empty. Like the fridge. Well, it did have some rotten vegetables in it. Maybe it was a good thing that his aunt burned the casserole. He still wondered how she survived by herself.

The mess from yesterday was still there; the shards from the broken plate on the floor, random open packages and food scraps from her cooking. Neteyam got to work. He owed it to her after that big present yesterday, he didn't want to come off as ungrateful.

They forgot the leftovers from the pizza on the counter – definitely gone bad by now. It went straight into the trash.

Sylwanin had tilted the windows to let some fresh air in while she was gone. Good intentions, but now the house was freezing cold. Neteyam quickly shut them, shivering. His body refused to get acclimated to the weather. As if every fiber of his being was rejecting Port Angeles with a burning passion.

He couldn't find any cleaning utensils, let alone a wet sponge rag to clean the counters with. The trash bag ripped open and spilled its insides in the corridor when he went to bring it out. It was exactly how he expected the day to start.

Sylwanin's home was in true disarray. Neteyam cleaned up the mess, vacuumed and freed the guest room from the dust. He wanted to clean the floors, too, but she didn't have a bucket nor a mop.

As much as it annoyed him, it was actually a good distraction. His mind would start wandering otherwise. Not a good idea.

He checked if the TV was working; it wasn't. What a surprise. Either his aunt didn't get around to fixing it in the past three years – which he sort of expected – or it broke again at some point. Any way, she probably needed a new one.

It meant not even getting to watch the sports channel or some random nonsense. His thoughts started itching in the dark corners of his mind. At least there was the bookshelf, which he could look through later.

It had always been his favorite thing to do. Back when he still had hobbies and interests, and his heart didn't feel like someone had punched a hole through it.

He sighed and finished tidying the house. Outside, the fog stubbornly clung to the trees and buildings. As if it had its own will. The town was quiet, aside from the rain falling on the roofs. Neteyam took a shower, tried to dry his hair but couldn't find Sylwanin's hair dryer. Shouldn't have relied on that. He hadn't brought his own.

So he tied his wet braids in the back and pulled the hood of his sweater over his head.

He wanted to go grocery shopping, but the bookshelf kept calling his name. He left the pencil and empty piece of paper on the coffee table. That could be done later. He tilted his head and looked at the different names and covers, running his fingers over the varying textures.

There was one book in particular that stood out to him; he carefully pulled it out. It was a pocket version of Romeo and Juliet. Totally worn out and bent from being read so many times over the years. Sylwanin had introduced him and Kiri to it. While Neteyam found it a bit over-dramatic, Kiri absolutely fell in love with the story.

They used to read it to each other, page after page, while Lo'ak kept grunting and complaining that he was bored. Reading wasn't really his brother's thing. Neteyam liked it, though. It was the only thing that gave him mild joy. Everything else had become disappointingly flat and boring.

But reading, yeah, that was alright. Maybe he could read some Shakespeare while he was here. Better than staring at a broken TV all day, for sure.

He put the book inside his jacket, wrote a detailed grocery list and went out after the rain stopped. Sylwanin didn't leave him any money, so he'd have to use his own.

The fog entangled itself in his clothes, and he shivered again. The spare key for the house was still hidden under a withered, potted plant. He pulled the door shut and started walking.

The next supermarket was further away. Maybe it was a stupid idea to go there by foot. But he didn't have a car here, not even a bicycle; and he desperately needed something to do.

The forest surrounding the town would actually look beautiful if it wasn't for the constant rain and lack of sunshine. Humans were sort of a rarity, unlike in Seattle; Port Angeles used to be a simple fishing village, many hundred years ago. Still mostly inhabited by Na'vi. Reef People.

It made him feel even more out of place.

His skin was a much deeper shade of cobalt blue, completely different from the pale turquoise of the locals. Him and Sylwanin were the only ones who had tails. His face was spotted with small, dark freckles, also unusual, a trait he inherited from Jake. Lo'ak and Kiri received the eyebrows and five fingers. Tuk resembled their mother most when it came to being a real native.

It was hard imagining Jake as formerly human. Neteyam only saw a picture once. His dad never shared much about it; about the Avatar project, how he used to be bound to a wheelchair when he lived on earth. It seemed to tear up some deep, old wound. A thing his family rarely talked about.

He didn't meet anyone while walking down the street. He spotted the high school from afar, as well as the city hall. About halfway, the pine trees on his left made way for the beach down below. The murky, gray clouds made the nice view appear ugly.

The ocean waves rushed to shore, breaking with white foam against the high cliffs. Sharp, black rocks were poking out of the sandy ground. He spotted a bunch of kids with their surfboards. Again, it made him sentimental for some reason. He checked his phone, then shoved it away when there was nothing new to see.

The grocery store was half empty. Not many people in the mood for buying necessities, it seemed. There weren't many residents living in Port Angeles generally – only about a few thousand, he absently guessed while the cashier scanned his things. Maybe less.

Neteyam walked home and started doing meal prep for dinner after filling up the pantry and fridge. He found some porridge in a plastic packet and figured it was what kept Sylwanin alive most of the time. Precooking some spaghetti and serving it with pesto and some chicken later seemed like the easiest option.

When everything was done, he succeeded in repairing the TV. He was watching the sports channel when Sylwanin returned from work.

“What's that smell? You cooked something for yourself?”, she asked with a smile, and leaned down to kiss the top of his head.

“For us both, actually.”, Neteyam murmured, failing to smile back.

“And, um, I cleaned the house, too. I hope that's okay.”

“You did what? Oh, honey, you didn't have to!”

She glanced around, noticing the pristine kitchen and pile of random documents, neatly sorted. She had arrived just in time; dinner was almost done.

Just when Neteyam slowly started to warm up to his current situation, his aunt said something that made him want to disappear completely. Not just, like, back to Seattle. Simply disappear.

“So, what's that about you being all bummed out, hm?”, she asked after taking a couple bites. Probably the first real meal she had in a while.

“I asked your mom, but she said you're old enough to talk about those things yourself. What happened?”

Neteyam immediately lost his appetite. He put the fork down and avoided her eyes.

“Nothing.”, he murmured, looking at the spaghetti with mild disgust. He overcooked it.

“Are you sure you don't wanna talk? Maybe I can help you. You've been so quiet. Doesn't seem like you.”

He shrugged.

“I'm alright. Nothing happened.”

“Well, you know I'm nosy, so I'm gonna find out sooner or later anyway.”

She was right. She was nosy. If he wouldn't tell her, she'd pry it out of Neytiri or Jake.

“I'm fine. Just me and my ex broke up a while ago.”, he quietly explained.

Sylwanin pouted and squeezed his hand.

“Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry. Is that why you've been down?”

“I'm not down or anything. It's whatever, really.”

He didn't want to talk about it. The thought alone made his skin crawl. They finished eating, Sylwanin was happy he got the TV working and offered to join her on the sofa. But he retreated to his room. He didn't want to sit there, dangerously close to getting asked why his relationship had failed in the first place.

When his aunt inquired, he refused to share. He didn't need to be reminded that it was all his fault.

He read Romeo and Juliet until the string lights didn't provide enough light anymore. The sun set, the sky turned dark, he lost interest in continuing the book. Maybe later. He got his laptop out to do some schoolwork on the bed – but couldn't concentrate. Not when his email file was right there. Not when he felt so numb he wanted to cry.

Neteyam opened the last message he sent. It hadn't been marked as read yet. None of them had. So he wrote another. Was it desperate? Yeah. Did he care? No.

Tarsem,

I wish you'd talk to me. I'm in Port Angeles right now, over summer break. And I still miss you. Everything is so horrible since you moved away. Sometimes I feel like the walls are crashing in. I hope you're doing well.

Love,

• N.

He clicked send and waited. Still hoping for a reply over half an hour later. Neteyam checked his phone; no messages, aside from his family. Tarsem's number was still pinned on top. He tried calling him – it went straight to voice mail. It always did.

He closed his laptop and pulled the covers over his head.

Day three. Excruciatingly long and awful. Sylwanin left for work early in the morning. She came into his room, briefly, to check on him; hopefully she didn't hear his embarrassing sobbing. He felt a kiss on his forehead, then the door fell shut.

He stayed in bed longer than he should, until his body grew tired and groggy again. After brushing his teeth, he tried to unravel his messy hair and pulled some strands out in the process, wincing in pain.

Port Angeles wasn't as cold today; even the sun came through from time to time. No rain, at least for now.

Neteyam brought the rest of the house in order, and mopped the floors since he had bought a bucket and a mop yesterday, as well as some other cleaning utensils.

His phone was silent when he checked. His laptop, too. He grabbed Romeo and Juliet and went for a walk.

A soft breeze went down at the beach. The air smelled like salt, the ocean was gray, producing threatening, wild waves. Seagulls were flying over his head. Not too far away, two guys were messing around with their surfboards.

Neteyam walked along the shore, some pebbles crackled underneath his new shoes. He already came to greatly appreciate them.

He sat down on some driftwood to read. It was propped up against a sandy hill covered with grass. Occasionally, a car passed by.

He opened the tattered page from yesterday and started reading. Every once in a while, he was distracted by the two voices traveling over to him, cheering and laughing. Both guys rode the waves like it was nothing, wearing those black full body suits. The plum colored van in the parking lot apparently belonged to them.

Loud music was playing on the radio. Neteyam felt the urge to turn it off, but couldn't, obviously.

He tried to focus on the book again, and jumped when one of them started yelling louder.

“Yo, Ao'nung! Check this out!”

It was the shorter of the two. He skillfully maneuvered over the rushing water, fist rising into the sky victoriously, and returned back to shore. They laughed and ran to the car.

The music annoyed him. He closed the book and watched the seagulls search for food in between the small rocks. A pretty emotional view, with the ocean and pearly sky. Neteyam felt nothing.

Eventually, the two guys started playing soccer. Now in normal clothes, they kicked the ball around. A bunch of rocks represented each respective goal, they kept grunting and aggressively shoving each other.

Neteyam didn't know what to do with himself. He watched them for a while, but they were too far away to be interesting enough. He didn't want to go home, either. He pulled the book out and tried to go back to his reading.

Suddenly, he heard a loud shout.

“Watch out!”

The soccer ball hit him with full force. Bounced off and rolled around the ground. It wasn't a strike to his head, but his right shoulder; he dropped the book and it fell straight on the wet sand. Pages first.

The guys hurried over – the short one grabbed the ball and looked at Neteyam in utter shock.

“Oh, my god! Dude, we're so sorry!”

He waved his arms around, gesticulating frantically.

“We thought you were too far away and- anyways, sorry, again. Damn.”

“It's fine. I'm okay.”, Neteyam grunted as he got up from the driftwood. So much for not feeling anything. The hit of that soccer ball hurt like hell. He dusted the dirt and sand from his jacket, the short guy helped.

He spotted his poor book, soaking up moisture, and hurriedly went to pick it up. But the other guy beat him to it. He was much taller than his friend, taller than Neteyam. Dressed in worn-out jeans and a brown leather jacket. A small shark tooth necklace hung around his neck.

The mess of short, black hair was tied in the back, too wet to hold up its usually curly texture. His eyes were pale blue; kind.

He weighed the book in his hand with a seriously concerned look.

“Are you alright?”, he asked.

His voice was surprisingly soft and calm, but carried regret. He delicately wiped his fingers over the cover in an attempt to clean it.

“Here you go.”

Neteyam strangely felt like a deer in headlights underneath his glance. He nodded and awkwardly grabbed the book. Their fingers touched for a split second – he flinched back. It felt like an electric shock. Tall guy silently shoved his hands in his pockets, turning his head to the water. Seemed like he didn't notice a thing.

“Oh, shit. Sorry about your book. It wasn't on purpose, we swear.”, the other one said, rubbing his neck.

Well. Another ruined day. Neteyam shrugged and walked past them without a word. If he got home on time, there was still a chance to dry and save the pages, hopefully. He stumbled up the hill and left. About half-way however, something made him stop. It felt like a gravitational pull – but much stronger. Yet gentle.

Like the moon, and its irrefutable rule over the tides. Waves washing over the shore, only to return to the mighty sea.

Neteyam turned around – and realized the mysterious, tall guy was looking at him. But he couldn't read his facial expression anymore, he was too far away already. He did seem a bit confused, however. Briefly, a foreign warmth surged through his body. Another car passed by, finally snapping him out of it. The entire way home, he couldn't stop looking back.

Sylwanin was still at work; it was only early afternoon. Time wouldn't pass. No matter how much he pleaded and begged for it. He tiredly threw the book on the coffee table. So many memories were attached to it – and to top it off, it wasn't even his. He took the book without asking his aunt. Thankfully, it didn't look completely ruined.

Neteyam shrugged his dirty jacket off and carefully placed the open pages on top of the old radiator. The fact it still worked was definitely a sign of fate. He prepared dinner, and did some of Sylwanin's laundry. A few towels, sweaters and blankets. He filled the washing machine up, added detergent and pressed start.

He told her what happened in the evening and showed her the ruined book, ashamed. Some chapters took a lot of water damage, and were even more tattered than before. Some grains of sand kept falling out here and there.

Despite him stuttering his lame apology, she waved her hand and shook her head. She owned a book store; she could simply order a new issue if she wanted to. Neteyam felt like crap about it regardless.

“What did you do today?”, she cheerfully asked during dinner. They were having rice and broccoli tonight.

“Um, well, I was at the beach.”, he murmured with a shrug.

“Yeah, but what else?”

“Nothing much.”

“What about those two kids? Did you make friends with them?”

“...No.”

“No? Why? They seem nice, sort of. At least they apologized. You could've joined them playing soccer.”

“I wanted to get home quick so I could dry the book.”

“Hm.”

Sylwanin gave him a supposedly stern look, but she's never been good at being strict. She rested her arms on the messy kitchen table and toyed with her braids. Obviously, she didn't like it that he'd been keeping to himself so much. To her, it was a completely new phenomenon; him being so out of character.

“What?”, Neteyam grunted, listlessly moving his spoon through his food. He bit his tongue for being so snappy. But her concern made him want to run away.

He figured she'd want to talk about Tarsem again, and already had a firm decline locked and loaded. But it was something completely different.

“Hey, listen.”, she began, nervously biting her lip.

“It's okay if you say no, but do you want to work part-time at my store?”

He lifted his head.

“I know it's summer break. You don't have to, but my hired help just quit.”

She huffed, frankly annoyed.

“Now I'm all alone again. Could you help me out while I find a new one? Would that be okay? I can pay you, too.”

Neteyam quickly shook his head. Of course he'd help her out; but he didn't need the money. The allowance from his parents was enough. And maybe, that way, time would pass quicker. Because right now, it went agonizingly slow. Dragged out infinitely, like gum stuck to a shoe.

He opened his laptop later that evening. Tarsem didn't read his last email. He was used to that, but it still broke his heart. The pain in his hollow chest flared up – then everything went numb. Like it always did. Neteyam sat cross-legged on the bed, staring at the screen. His body felt weak. He started typing out another message before going to sleep.

Tarsem,

How are you? How are you spending summer break? I miss you. I can't stop thinking about the sound of your voice. I know you probably don't want to hear that. But it's true.

Could you maybe unblock me in your messenger, at least? I just have a bunch of things I'd like to say to you, if that's okay.

It's cold in Port Angeles. I went to the beach today and some random guys accidentally kicked their soccer ball at me. I know you would've laughed at me, that's why I'm telling you.

It reminded me of when we went on vacation with your parents last year. I thought everything was fine between us back then. I loved you so much, I still do. But you called me boring. You said you couldn't stand looking at my face anymore. And then you moved on.

It hurt, but I'm sure I deserved it somehow. I'm still yours, if you'd ask. I'd try to change for you, I would. I swear. I miss you.

Love,

• N.

The next day was sunny once again. A rare thing for Port Angeles. No wonder everyone was out and about. The city center was surprisingly busy when him and Sylwanin arrived at the bookstore early in the morning. His aunt was grateful for his help, hugged him tightly in front of random passengers and unlocked the front door.

Her store hadn't changed much in those three years. She still had the same decorations hung up the shopping window. Wind chimes, fairy lights, and at the bottom, the newest best-sellers proudly displayed. It smelled like vanilla from her candles by the register.

Sylwanin flipped the sign to open and asked him to do some work in the back. She didn't have to explain much; Neteyam remembered everything like he'd just been here yesterday. He was done quick, and his aunt went to grab them a coffee from the bakery across the street.

He didn't know what to do with his free hour while he was on break. The beach was close by, he threw some rocks into the ocean. Romeo and Juliet wasn't ruined completely, he tried to pass the time by reading. But every single second hung hurting in his heart.

When he returned, Sylwanin went on break as well. It was a slow business day, like usual. Only a few customers came by. Neteyam cashed them out, forced himself to smile and wished them a nice day.

He was busy with rearranging the books, some were put in the completely wrong genre – when he heard a motorcycle approach. A black Honda with some faded red stripes, a bit old and outdated, but with a lot of charm. Its engine roared loud enough to be heard from inside the store. The owner parked and jumped off.

Neteyam didn't think much of it at first, and went to check his phone. Nothing but disappointment waited for him. He turned the screen off with a broken sigh when another customer arrived. The bell chimed, a soft breeze came in through the open door.

Neteyam quickly turned away after muttering a brief greeting. The magazines behind the counter needed sorting; and he didn't want some random shopper to see the tears in his eyes.

He cleared his throat and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants when he felt the register being approached behind him.

Neteyam turned around and stopped in his tracks. Said customer had a helmet in one hand – he was the owner of the motorcycle. And also the tall guy from the beach. He recognized him right away.

He wore the familiar, dark-brown leather jacket like last time. It was was a bit roughed up and baggy, probably vintage. But all those years didn't hurt the smooth leather, quite the contrary. Underneath, a red shirt was stuffed behind the belt of some washed-out blue jeans.

Tall guy looked dirty and messy, and smelled like metal and motor oil; his fingers were almost black from dust and grime. There was even something on his face.

A somehow captivating face. Neteyam hadn't really noticed before. Sharp contours, but a rather slim jawline, and a small mole above his upper lip. The shark tooth necklace was dangling around his neck.

Seeing those kind, pale blue eyes again caught him off-guard. Neteyam felt awkward when neither of them said a word. They just stared at each other.

“Um...hi. Can I help you?”, he hesitantly asked.

“Oh. Hey. Uh, yeah, I need a book.”

Mystery guy scratched his head, glancing around. He seemed uncomfortable.

“Sure. This is a book store.”

“Right...”

Which one?”

“I don't have a specific title in mind. I need something about car repairs.”

Neteyam looked it up on the computer, while his customer rubbed his converse sneakers against the carpet. He didn't understand why his hands got shaky all of a sudden. Why his skin grew warm, even though he'd been shivering earlier, despite the hot coffee.

His heart was beating fast, too – for the longest time, he'd forgotten it was even there. It used to be nothing but a black hole. A blank space. Hollow, empty. But excruciatingly painful. He always figured he was still alive merely out of spite, or a cruel joke from the universe.

Now it was Neteyam who felt uncomfortable. He escaped, took his time to grab some books from different sections and returned. His legs felt like pudding.

“Is that something you're looking for?”

Surprising how he didn't stumble over his words. Mystery guy carefully flipped through them with a concentrated look. At the end, he only picked one. A pretty thick book, specifically focused on trucks.

“This one. Please.”, he pressed out, with his head turned to the window. Strange. Maybe he didn't like direct eye contact or something. Or maybe he simply didn't like him.

Neteyam rang it up and named the price. Mystery guy pulled out a credit card, paid and left. He watched him put the helmet on, get on the Honda, and leave. Only when he was completely out of sight, hidden by an 18-wheeler passing by the store, he managed to tear his eyes away. There it was again – that gravitational pull.

Neteyam couldn't stop thinking about their second encounter for the rest of the day. Even late at night, when the moonlight fell through the window, pouring its cold light over his bed. Usually, he'd be thinking about Tarsem now. Crying. Wallowing in guilt and self-pity.

But there was something about mystery guy that completely enraptured his mind. When he finally fell asleep, it was way past midnight.

He woke up the next day groggy and tired. During breakfast with Sylwanin, he couldn't help but trying to remember his name. That short friend of his called it out once at the beach.

What was it again...? Something with an A.

But it probably didn't matter anyway. They'd never see each other again.

A couple days later, his dad called. He wanted to know how he's been. It was cold and rainy, Neteyam couldn't do anything but sit around and read, or watch TV. Sylwanin was at work, and had given him the day off. He was alone. So of course, he felt like shit.

But he couldn't tell Jake that. Neteyam propped his phone between shoulder and ear while doing the dishes.

“I'm okay, dad. Are you guys okay, too? How's the resort?”

“We're having a great time. But your mother misses you. You should call her later, okay?”

“Mhm.”

“How's Port Angeles? Are you having fun with your aunt?”

He briefly told him about the past couple days, that he went to the beach, got Sylwanin's book ruined, and that he was working at her store now.

“Sounds good. More or less.”

Jake didn't sound satisfied with his answers.

“Yeah.”

“And...what else?”

Neteyam furrowed his brows and suppressed a sigh.

“Dad, I'm doing fine.”, he grunted.

“Well, for the past four months, that hasn't really been the case, has it?”

“But-”

“Alright. I'm sorry. You- you go and enjoy yourself. You're young. Let loose. Well, not too loose. Meet some new people. I'm sure there's a bunch of kids you can hang out with.”

“Okay. Will do.”

“Oh, and while I have you, did you visit Tonowari yet?”

Neteyam dropped the sponge into the sink. He completely forgot about that.

“Who-? I mean, uh, yeah, uh...right. No, I haven't. I didn't have the time yet.”, he meekly stuttered.

“Make sure you do, alright? I gave you the address, remember?”

“Mhm.”

“Good. Say hi from me. And maybe try to befriend his kids. His wife and daughter are on a trip right now, though. So you won't meet them. But you'd probably get along better with the boys anyway.”

“Okay. Bye, dad.”

Neteyam bolted to his room to search for his jeans. They were in the hamper, dirty from the incident at the beach. He dug through the pockets and found the crumpled piece of paper. Thank, god. He wanted to do his laundry today. The address would've gotten ruined in the water, and then he'd be in some deep shit. Jake hated it when he was irresponsible and unreliable.

There was a phone number attached at the end, scribbled in his dad's messy handwriting. Neteyam checked the time. It was around ten in the morning; probably too early to call. So he did his laundry, made his bed, and changed the cover on his pillow. It was all messed up from his constant sobbing.

He cleaned the kitchen, vacuumed, and fix some stuff around the house. For example that wobbly front door that's been driving him crazy. Good thing he bought tools at the hardware store on sale a few days ago. Now he could fix the desk in his room, too. If he'd find a quiet moment.

Which he had plenty of.

Neteyam made the call in the afternoon, and asked if he should drop by. Maybe better to announce himself rather than just randomly show up at the doorstep. Tonowari sounded nice. Almost like a happier, healed version of Jake.

He was immediately invited over for tomorrow, a Saturday. Neteyam let Sylwanin know when she came back from work, they had dinner while watching a random soap on the TV.

Later, mystery guy briefly crossed his mind again. He pushed it away, and opened his emails instead. Tarsem didn't message him back.

Neteyam sat on the bed and stared out the window until he couldn't hold his head up anymore.

Port Angeles was murky and gray. As usual. Sylwanin offered to drive him to Tonowari's house, but Neteyam actually preferred walking. The rain was just a light drizzle. And he hoped the cold would make his hands and nose hurt – at least he'd feel something that way.

After waking up, he sat on his bed, staring at his phone. It wasn't until Sylwanin called him for breakfast that he managed to get moving.

Today was a bad day. He couldn't stop thinking about Tarsem. He tried calling him, like so many times before, but it went to voicemail. Neteyam took a detour through the forest so his eyes would be dry by the time he reached his destination.

Him and Kiri used to go on long walks together, following the most commonly used hike trails. Still it took him a while to figure out which route to choose. Tall pine trees surrounded him, hiding the pearly sky with their green, heavy branches.

Tonowari's house was further away from the city center, in a secluded area. Private property. It was quiet, peaceful. A long, curvy asphalt street lead all the way up to a beautifully landscaped driveway. The modern, two-story family home looked nothing like the rest of Port Angeles, which leaned more on the traditional side.

It had four garages – one of them had a fat, black SUV parked in front. Neteyam also briefly spotted a motorcycle, partially hidden behind another fancy car. He wondered how Tonowari could afford to live like this; then remembered that Jake told him he was the head surgeon for the local hospital. Apparently, he gave lectures at colleges, too.

Neteyam slowly walked up the wooden stairs leading to the porch. His boots made a dull sound against the wet wood.

The front yard was decorated by round hedges, most likely shaved into form by a professional gardener. Even the front door looked more expensive than Sylwanin's entire house.

He nervously pushed the button, a flat buzzing sound occurred. Loud footsteps rumbled inside a few moments later, someone heavy and bulky was approaching. A tall man opened the door with a bright grin. He had long, graying hair and wrinkles on his old face – that was definitely his dad's friend.

“Ah! Neteyam!”

Tonowari's voice was deep and raspy, almost sounding like he had a cough. Judging by the fancy house and his profession, Neteyam had expected him to wear a suit and tie. Honestly, he wouldn't have been surprised to be greeted by a butler.

But all he wore was a red flannel with a gray T-shirt underneath, as well as some khaki pants. The gold tooth, scarred chin and tattooed arms reminded him more of a homeless person rather than some rich dude with a degree.

“Please, come on in! Keep your shoes on.”, he said with a lazy gesture of his hand, stepping aside. Neteyam meticulously made sure his boots were clean before entering. Shouldn't have taken that detour after all.

“Did your aunt drop you off?”

He already knew he was staying with Sylwanin. Jake probably told him.

“Oh, um, no. I came here myself.”, Neteyam lamely explained.

“I figured I'd walk since it's not raining as much today.”

Tonowari laughed while taking his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack.

“I know, the weather here is horrible. But you'll get used to it, don't worry. Go ahead, the living room's right over there. Make yourself at home. Do you want anything to drink?”

He had a very relaxed and easygoing attitude about him – Neteyam feared he'd be overly pushy, nosy or super annoying. But apparently, this was just some chill old guy.

He didn't want to come off as disrespectful and asked for some water before heading into the living room.

It was a bright, open space with large windows, contrary to the dark corridor. There was a fireplace propped up against the brick wall, with a flashy TV above. The furniture was horrendously expensive; so much it made him avoid sitting on the bronze colored leather sofas.

It was warm, and smelled like wood, coffee and fire. The ceiling lamp hung low, and since Tonowari was so tall, it made him wonder if he hit his head against it occasionally.

One the left was a vintage style shelf with medical books and magazines. The remaining walls had diplomas and family pictures on them. Neteyam felt completely out of place – he stood there, by himself, careful not to put his dirty shoes on the white, patterned carpet. He didn't dare to look around, either, mostly because Tonowari returned before he got the chance.

He was handed some sparkling water and gingerly wrapped both hands around the cool glass.

“Here you go. Oh, right, you should meet my boys! They'll be down in a minute, just you wait.”

Tonowari briefly turned around, facing the stairs heading to the first floor.

“Rotxo! Ao'nung! Our guest is here!”

The name made him stop in his tracks. Ao'nung. Neteyam furrowed his brows. His hollow heart weakly skipped a beat. Didn't he hear that name somewhere before...?

He didn't have time to dwell on it. Because two familiar looking figures jogged down the stairs right away, and he almost dropped his glass of water. Dread pooled in his stomach. It was the two guys from the beach. Shit. No wonder that motorcycle had looked familiar earlier.

They both stared at him, perplexed – then, the short one grinned brightly.

“Hey! It's you!”, he exclaimed excitedly, and gave him a friendly slap against the upper arm.

Tonowari glanced between them in surprise.

“Rotxo, you three already know each other? “

“Yeah, dad! We met at the beach a couple days ago.”

“You did? Oh, that's great then. No need for awkward introductions, right?”

So the short one was called Rotxo. He was loud and cheery, had a messy mop of black curls on his head and a tunnel piercing in his left ear. Even though his skin complexion had the same turquoise hue, he didn't look like his father at all. The patterns on his face were completely different, too.

Tonowari roughly patted his back and Neteyam struggled not to fall over.

“I'll grab you kids some snacks and sodas. You stay back and chat, alright?”

He panicked. He didn't want to be alone with them. Rotxo gave him a friendly smile, took his glass and put it on the coffee table.

“You don't have to keep holding on to that.”, he joked.

“Oh. Right. Thanks.”

He was offered to take a seat and it almost felt like a crime.

“Uh, your name was Neteyam, right? You're from Seattle?”

“Mhm.”

“That's so cool!”

“...It is?”

“Duh. You got sunshine all year where you live. Port Angeles is nothing compared to that.”

Rotxo seemed nice and easily excitable. He reminded him of Lo'ak.

“I guess.”, Neteyam murmured.

“So you're gonna be staying with your aunt all summer break?”

“Pretty much.”

“If you ever wanna hang out, I can introduce you to my friends! Don't worry, they're all pretty cool. Except for this one.”

Rotxo gave his brother a punch against the shoulder. Ao'nung didn't react. Ao'nung – now he had a name for mystery guy. Neteyam caught himself searching his glance; but his head was turned to the window. His elbows were propped on his thighs, he seemed like he wasn't interested in looking at him, let alone talk to him, at all.

His initial assumption had been right. Ao'nung harbored some kind of disdain towards him. Neteyam looked at the floor, hoping to feel less uncomfortable. He didn't want to be inside a house he wasn't welcome in.

“Dude! Say something!”, Rotxo urged. Ao'nung huffed.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Neteyam chewed his lip, fidgeting with his braids for a moment. He figured that was going to be all they had to say to each other – but suddenly, Ao'nung smiled. Softly and kindly; like his eyes. They did not match his avoidant demeanor, even in the slightest. Despite him acting distant, it felt like they were giving him away. Showing his true personality.

“Nice to meet you. Again. For the third time.”, he murmured, now facing him directly.

Neteyam felt like a deer in headlights once more. There was something about mystery guy – Ao'nung – that completely threw him off each time their glances met. Each time they were close. His strange, gravitational pull was inexplicable. It was somewhat scary; the sudden need to switch seats and sit down next to him. Maybe he was just so depressed that he was starting to imagine things and go completely crazy.

“Huh? What do you mean, for the third time?”, Rotxo asked, puzzled.

“His aunt owns the bookstore.”

“Oh, right! I completely forgot about that. Sorry. No offense to her or anything. I'm just not a big reader.”

“It's okay.”

“Speaking of books, is yours okay? Or did it get ruined? We can pay for it if you want to. Again, we're really sorry.”

Neteyam shook his head again. The only motion that made sense in that moment. He was too occupied with Ao'nung now staring at him to form a proper answer. His face felt warm, and he hated the fact that he was most definitely blushing. He took a sip from his water to distract himself. Ao'nung seemingly noticed his discomfort, and turned his head away.

Tonowari brought a bunch of foods and drinks on a tray. He asked questions about his life, his family, and Neteyam remembered to tell him hi from his dad. Throughout the entire, slightly awkward conversation, he felt Ao'nung's eyes on him. He was mustering him subtly, like he was trying to figure him out. Or maybe read his mind.

But he didn't talk much. Stayed quiet most of the time. Tonowari waved his hand when his son briskly got up at some point, grabbed the now messy tray and brought it back to the kitchen. As if he was glad to finally escape.

“Just ignore him.”, he said.

“Yeah. Sorry about my brother.”

Rotxo gave him an apologetic look.

“He's not an asshole or anything, I swear. He's just weird.”

Neteyam shrugged, hoping to look unbothered. It did bother him, though; more than it should. Rotxo was ordered to show him around their home afterwards.

“Uh, yeah...that's me!”

He was brought up to the first floor, into his room. It was much bigger than Neteyam's guest room; even his room back in Seattle. Messy, with a bunch of pricey gadgets. A broad flatscreen TV, an impressive computer set up with a shelf full of the newest video games. He recognized some of them from his brother's collection.

In addition to that, he also had a projector for watching movies and a playstation.

“You wanna play a round?”, Rotxo offered, weighing the controller in his hand.

“Yo! Ao'nung! Come here, we're gonna play some video games!”

There was no reply. Neteyam quickly stopped him.

“No, it's alright.”

“Are you sure? It's cool, you can stay and hang out. We seriously don't mind.”

“Mhm.”

Rotxo was confused. He obviously didn't know what was going on inside him – his empty, hollow chest. His dead heart. The numbness in his body, and general disinterest in anything. Neteyam didn't want to play video games. He wanted to go home.

“Okay...uh...”

He glanced around, rubbing his neck.

“You wanna check out my movies? I got a huge collection. I love movies! Which one is your favorite?”

Rotxo handed him a few. But Neteyam didn't get the opportunity to look through them – Ao'nung walked past the open door, and it completely threw him off all over again. He almost dropped the DVD cases on the ground.

“Dude! Hey, where are you going? Ugh.”, his brother called, scoffing.

Ao'nung obviously wasn't thrilled to have a stranger in his house.

“Maybe I should go.”, Neteyam murmured.

He gave the movies back and bit his lip.

“Sorry about him. He's-”

“It's alright. I guess I don't like everyone, either.”

Rotxo shook his head.

“It's not that he doesn't like you or anything. Don't take it personally. He's just quiet. Likes to keep to himself. He's kinda antisocial. Me and Tsireya, our sister, we barely notice it anymore. He's always been like that. He generally doesn't like people very much.”

“Oh.”

Ao'nung returned a few moments later; this time, with different clothes, his dirty jeans and leather jacket he wore at the bookstore. He had his helmet in one hand, his keys in the other. He jogged down the stairs and the front door fell shut shortly after.

Neteyam wondered where he was headed, and felt stupid for doing so. He should actually be glad Ao'nung was so cold and distant – one less person to socialize with. Even though he figured Tonowari's family was actually okay. Could be worse.

Rotxo had a surf board propped against the wall, and when Neteyam noticed, he offered to come surfing with him and his friends some time.

“But I gotta warn you, Ao'nung's gonna be there, too. He loves the beach. Just try to ignore him when he's acting like a dick. Most of the time, he's not even aware of it.”

“Okay.”

Rotxo grew uneasy when faced with his short, curt responses and his decline to any fun activities. He didn't want him to feel weird and ruin his mood, so he pretended he had to go home and help his aunt with some chores. It wasn't even a lie, honestly.

Rotxo sent him off at the door, they exchanged phone numbers and he promised to keep in touch regarding the beach. Tonowari waved from the living room, and said he was welcome to come back anytime.

Neteyam pulled the hood of his jacket over his head, shoved his hands in his pockets and slowly walked down the driveway. The rain had stopped, but the trees were still dripping with water. He turned around when he heard some noise coming from the garage.

It was Ao'nung. He came outside, carrying a heavy orange toolbox. He shoved it in the small trunk of his Honda and was about to put his helmet on when their eyes met. He stopped. Mustered him, then glanced around. Immediately, Neteyam felt uneasy. His legs moved on their own – but not away from Ao'nung. Towards him. That strange force was suddenly back, and he couldn't fight it.

He dragged his feet over the asphalt, expecting mystery guy to simply get on his motorcycle and leave. He didn't.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

Ao'nung put his helmet on one thigh and propped his arm on top.

“What's up?”, he asked curiously. He was all kind and friendly all of a sudden, with a crooked half-smile on his face.

Neteyam nodded at the Honda.

“Where are you headed?”

“Oh. I just got some stuff to take care of.”

“Repairs?”

“How do you know?”

“The toolbox.”

Ao'nung briefly turned his head back and shrugged.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

This was so stupid. He should've just kept walking. They stood in silence, with the raindrops falling on the ground.

“Um, sorry. I gotta go now. Good luck.”, Neteyam pressed out. He took a few steps back and watched the engine roar to life. Ao'nung smiled at him. His pale blue eyes disappeared behind the black visor of his helmet. He curtly raised his hand for goodbye, then drove the Honda down the street – Neteyam felt strangely alone after he was gone.