Chapter Text
The maruis was empty, the rest of Lo'aks’ family at that idiotic meeting. He was so mad. So mad at everybody for not doing anything about the exile of Payakan. How could they? How could his family and friends just sit and watch as someone so important to him was cast out?
How could his Dad want that to happen? How could his Dad say that to him?
Lo’ak had already known that everybody probably thought Neteyams’ death was his fault. He knew it was his fault. But for his father to verbalise it and say it to him in that tone, it broke Lo’ak. It really did.
To hear his Dad spit those words at him in anger, it made Lo’ak wish he was a completely different person. A person whose father actually liked him. A person who people were proud of, and looked up to. A person whose brother was still alive.
Eywa, how Lo’ak wished his brother was still alive. Everyday he woke up and felt his heart just as wounded as it was the day before, nothing ever making it better. He wished he had Neteyam to talk to. Especially right now. Right now when it felt like nobody else liked him enough to be there for him. In his mind, Neteyam was sitting with him right now, patting him on the back comfortingly, telling him how much of an asshole their Dad was being. How what he said wasn’t true.
He did that a lot in his daily life, constantly pretending Neteyam was by his side. The spirit world wasn’t enough. He imagined him when he was hanging out with his friends, he imagined him when he was gliding through the air on his ikran, and when he was swimming through the sea with Payakan. No matter what he was doing, Neteyam followed.
But now he sat here alone in his familys’ home, which would never truly be their home, as they were so frequently reminded. Lo’ak craved to go back to the forest and try to shake this feeling off by running through the trees, or flying through Ayram alusìn, or swimming in the beautiful rivers. But he couldn’t, so he wallowed in his thoughts as his legs shook and breathing felt suffocating and his heart felt tight.
An onlooker would have thought he was a child, the way he was scrunched up into a ball in the corner, crying if you listened hard enough. He held his head tightly in his hands, as if doing so would squash the thoughts that were consuming him, wrestling to overtake his being.
There was one thought that followed him the most, like it always lingered in the pit of his body, coming out to properly engross him in moments like these. He had tried to push it out so many times, but recently it had been coming closer to his ear and whispering these thoughts more and more since his brother had died.
It told him horrible things. Things he knew were true, but were too scared to fully admit. Told him how much better off everybody would be without him. Told him how little he deserved. Told him that the unfair world around him would never get better.
Lo'ak wanted to scream. He wanted to scream at his father for always making him so aware of how much of an absolute disgrace he was. He wanted to scream at Tonowari for casting out Payakan, his spirit brother. He wanted to scream at his mother for always failing to hide the way she looked at his demon hands. He wanted to scream at Neteyam, for getting shot. And most of all, he wanted to scream at himself. For never being enough for anybody. For always ruining things. For never doing what he was told. For letting the people he loved most get hurt. Get cast-out. Get killed.
Lo’ak yelped, and threw the first thing he could reach, an old water pot, on the ground near him. It was only then, when the shattered clay sliced his leg and he hissed, sweeping up the fragments and tossing them out, that he felt a calm settle over him. He knew what he had to do for all this misery to stop.
A tear of acceptance dripped down his cheek as he searched the pod like a ravenous animal scouring for its prey hiding in the bushes. After a few seconds, he found it. He uncovered a basket his mother had woven that had a heap of random shit inside. But most importantly, had Jake's gun hidden under the pile of junk. His slim fingers stroked the metal of the barrel, and the thought of using this weapon to remove himself from the burden of life sent a ripple of relief throughout his noisy, hurting mind.
The world blurred around him, and he only saw the gun in his hands, and the voice was back, congratulating him, twisting his heart in a way that felt right. Lo’ak knew what he was about to do, and his mind kept flashing forwards; to the feeling of the metal against his chin, the utter peace he would feel when dying, and his parents not being able to hate him anymore, because who could be cruel enough to hate their dead child? In that moment, Lo’ak was drawn to these thoughts, it still hurt, and his face still wobbled and his tears still spilled, but he knew that in the end the good would outweigh the bad.
The walk over there was quiet. Lo'ak had chosen the furthest stretch of shore from the rest of the island to complete his final task. His cries were quiet now, each hiccup and sniff drowned out against the noises of the sea. The sand stuck to his wet blue feet, and he revelled in the grainy feeling of it. He savoured the salty sea air that lay resting on his tongue. He let the cool ocean breeze embrace him. Eywas' final blessings to him carrying in the winds. He found it somewhat easier to enjoy these things now, now he knew what little future awaits him.
Lo’ak felt a detachment from his body as his knees gave out and he collapsed onto the ground, gun resting in his lap. He swept his fingers over the firearm and imagined his father finding him. And seeing him. And it hurt his heart but he craved to witness it, no matter how wicked he felt that thought was.
In his head Lo'ak apologised to his mother for never finishing fixing her bow, and causing her more grief that she doesn't deserve. He apologised to Tuk for not waiting longer to do this so that she has more memories to remember him by. He apologised to Spider for taking away his last brother. He apologised to Kiri for being so selfish as to make her the eldest child, as it would barely take a month for her to become older than him and Neteyam. He apologised to Tsireya for loving her and letting her love him just for him to leave so early. He apologised to Payakan for not doing more to stop his exile, and to never be able to swim with him again. He apologised to Tonowari and Ronal for being such a menace after they graciously let his family into their village. He apologised to Aonung and Rotxo for killing their friend twice. He apologised to Neteyam for joining him so early, and that it was him that had to leave first and not Lo'ak. And he apologised to his Dad for being so terrible when he was here, and hopes he finds peace in a world without his son.
He examined the weapon again. The people say that when you touch steel, its poison seeps into your heart.
With a shudder of breath, Loak turned the gun vertical, pointing right under his shaking chin, where it belonged. He muffled out tears, and his brain was telling him to stop even though his heart had been yearning for this moment. He just needed to pull the trigger, then the pain he felt so deeply in his bones could stop. He would die like a coward, but that was enough for him. It’s better than dying stupidly and recklessly, the way his parents probably envisioned his fate.
He could feel his face wobbling, splotchy tears painted his face, but he focused on the horizon. He stared at the ocean and wondered where his brother was waiting for him. And he imagined his brother's hug. And his cries. And his forgiveness.
…..…..…..…..…..
Kiri and Tsireya sprinted towards him with all their might, and even though Kiri was begging Eywa to save her brother, she knew they were too late. She knew it the moment that gunshot rattled the air. She trod on a sharp seashell, and felt warm blood smear across the bottom of her foot, but the pain barely registered in her panicked state. All she knew is that she had to run faster.
As she got closer she let out a pained gasp at her brothers’ still body, blood dripping out of his skull and staining the sand below. Her legs buckled, and she abruptly fell onto her knees in front of Lo’ak. He looked so wrong, like this. And time felt both rapid and infinite as she stared into his glossed unmoving eyes. She couldn’t help but think how similar these eyes look to Neteyams’, when he was lying dead on that rock months ago.
Her heart shattered more and more with every second that passed and she wished that the ocean behind her would sweep her up.
Kiri held her brothers’ face in her sweaty hands. The bullet really messed his face up. His jaw was soft and loose in a way that made Kiri nauseous. He shouldn’t look like this. It’s not right. He was too cold. She ran one of her hands down his arm and to his wrist, where she felt no pulse. That’s when she began crying. Full body sobs and shrieks filled the air as she struggled to grasp onto the fact that this was her reality. That this was not a dream.
She hadn't even noticed Tsireya next to her, who was running her hands through Lo’aks’ hair, whispering his name through pouring tears and heaving breaths as if that would somehow bring him back. Kiri could not blame her for trying.
Kiris’ eyes flicked to the gun in Lo’aks’ other hand and she wanted to chuck it into the ocean. She wished she had done that earlier, so her brother would never have gotten the chance to do this to himself.
How could he do this to himself? Kiri wondered. And the selfish part of her wondered how he could do this to her. She wanted to slap herself for not doing anything about his hurt, even though she had noticed it. Maybe then, if he felt more seen, more loved, maybe then he wouldn’t be lying here with little parts of his skull and brain painted against the beach.
She heard visceral cries from somewhere behind her, her mothers, she thought, but she couldn’t pull her eyes away from her brother. At that moment, she didn’t think anything in the world could pull her gaze off of him.
That was until her mother had fallen to the sand and pulled her baby boy into her lap, out of Kiris’ direct line of sight, howling out to the great mother to bring back her son. Neytiri had cried, and cried, and cried, screaming out Lo’aks’ name, not letting her daughter or Tsireya touch him. Her mothers screams had made Kiri even more panicked than she was before. They were horrible. They were so desperate, and angry, and so full of pain that Kiri didn’t think she could ever scrub the sound out of her mind.
With her brother in her mothers embrace, Kiri had turned her attention to the waves. She had grown to love the ocean during their time in the Metkayina village, she had felt at peace in these waters. But knowing that the blue shimmering waves were the last thing her brother had seen before doing something like that, she didn’t know if she could ever view the sea the same way. Its’ beauty had not saved her brother.
On a rock surrounded by the ocean her eldest brother had died. And on the shore of an island surrounded by the same sea, Lo’ak died too.
Suddenly Kiri felt the deep urge to go home. To turn back time to when everything was alright, and her and her siblings were healthy and happy and running around the forest, as they were born to do. She reminisced on these moments with her two brothers, and she already missed them so very much. She wanted to go home, with them, safe,
so,
very,
much.
But she couldn’t. She was sitting next to Lo’aks’ dead body. And her tears ran faster down her face and the shattered pieces of her heart sunk deeper into her stomach. She didn’t hear trees rustling in the wind, and the laughs of her siblings, she heard the cracks of waves against rock and her mothers agonising sobs.
Spider came next, holding Tuks’ hand as they approached. He stayed back a minute, hands pressed tightly to his mouth as Tuk ran to her family. Kiris’ baby sister had run to her mum, shaking her and crying and asking what was wrong with Lo’ak, her beloved brother. Neytiri hadn't responded to her, or anyone.
Tuks’ cries broke Kiri, and when her younger sister had realised the broad outline of what had happened, she ran into her arms. Kiri held Tuk tight, and she thought to herself that she would never let her go. The two sisters cried onto each other, one weeping mess.
Spider came closer then, Kiri knew because she could hear his sniffling. He sat on the sand next to them in silence. No words needed to be said.
Her dad was so quiet she hadn’t even noticed his arrival. He had just stood there. Staring at the scene in front of him. Staring at his family who was riddled with hysteria. Staring at his gun, whose bullet was lodged into the head of his dead son.
Words could not say what Jake was feeling. He felt mixed up inside, like everything in his body was wrong. His brain wasn’t working right. His lungs felt like they didn’t fit into his chest. His body leaked of guilt. His heart cried of grief.
It felt like somebody was unforgivingly beating his head in with a hammer, the way his head pounded.
He had tried to sit next to his wife and hold onto Lo’ak, but Neytiri had hissed at him, and pulled Lo’ak closer. Dejectedly, he took a few steps back. Weeping quietly to himself. He knew that that was what he deserved though. He knew it very well.