Laughing Through my Tears

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Lo'ak is fourteen when he is attacked by recoms along with his siblings - except for Neteyam. He is fourteen when his human best friend is stolen from him; it leaves a gaping hole in his chest but Kiri's wretched cries burn even worse - he feels like he does not deserve to cry. This is all his fault. He should have listened to Tuk and hurried home before eclipse. Now he bares the consequence.

Lo'ak is still fourteen when he remembers all of his traumas from that night. He still feels the ghost of a fist yanking at his tswin; he can still clearly remember the recom's cruel smirk when he flipped him off, putting on a brave face, not yet realizing the extend of the danger he was in - then the man pulled his knife and suddenly the pain of his queue being pulled on is numbed by a choking fear in his throat, heart hamerring in his chest. He thinks Quaritch might stab him, kill him - he expected at least a cut, but something distracts them; he cannot remember what, that night blurs, the events mingling together and losing order.

Suddenly, he is in his father's arms, a hand on the back of his head. He barely remembers this kind of comfort. Lo'ak cannot push far enough in his memories to find the last time he was caressed by his father's hand. He enjoys it while it lasts because soon he is replaced by his sister - she needs the comfort as much as him, but his already terrified heart interprets it as an attack on him. He steps back, goosebumps along his skin as he watches his mother cling to Neteyam and Tuk. Jake's arms were full with Kiri, holding her sobbing form. There is a bruise on his knee, and he realizes that his fists are bleeding.

Lo'ak is fourteen when he overhears his mother and father's argument. Then they flee their home. 

Days later, he is mocked from being his own father's son. For a moment he think cutting off his extra fingers would bring him peace; then he realises how stupid and utterly sick that thought is and he never thinks about it again, opting to focus on the most beautiful girl he has ever laid eyes on. She giggles when he greets her and he flushes a deep indigo, unaware of his mother's knowing look and his older brother's smirk. Lo'ak completely misses the way Neteyam watches the girl's older brother, too lost in his own fluterring heart.

Lo'ak is fourteen when Ao'nung and his friends nearly get him killed; it wakes him up from the self-hating slumber he was in all along and allows his biggest fight with his father yet to begin. At the same time, the most beaitful bond is formed that night and Lo'ak is gifted a new brother of a completely different species. For a few days, he keeps it a secret before he finally boasts to his family about it — not his parents of course.

Lo'ak is seventeen when he first notices Neteyam sneaking out at night. He follows, worry twisting in his core that perhaps his perfect brother is hurting - he is protecting. Neteyam is giggly with love, a silly grin on his face that Lo'ak does not see because only his brother's retreating back is in his vision; it is too dark anyway. Lo'ak sneaks into the tropical forest after Neteyam and freezes, scurrying out of sight. Ao'nung is there, holding the most beautiful, crimson shells in his trembling hands. Lo'ak watches the Metcayina. Ao'nung has matured into a young warrior over the years - he was less cruel. Of course, they still bickered a lot, but it was only playful banter now after their shared traumas brought them together.

Lo'ak still has nightmares about that night. The deep crimson blood on his hands as his brother lay dying in front of him, a bullet lodged near his spine, dangeruously close to destroying his ability to ever walk again. Just a bit more to the side and it would have pierced his brother's chest right through. Lo'ak knows Neteyam has a chance - but only if Eywa and the boy himself fight together. Neteyam falls unconcious with his eyes still open and for a tense second - he clutches Tsireya against himself - they think Neteyam is gone. Then, his chest rises and falls slowly. Lo'ak does not dare speak, afraid to say anything. Neytiri is pressing on the bullet wound, attempting to stop the bleeding. Her former tsahik training back home helps her. In a second, Tsireya yerks away from Lo'ak, eyes wide in anxious recongotion as the young girl figures out that Neteyam is alive - alive, even if his soul is barely clinging to his physical body.

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