It starts off small—Lo’ak missing out on your nightly walks, you smiled and shrugged it off—thinking it was because of his night patrols organised by his father. Who cares? Then it gradually grew more obvious to anyone’s view.

Long conversations turned into a simple ‘hi’ or ‘morning’, heartfelt smiles faded to forced acknowledgments rather than affectionate ones. He was slipping through your fingers, you were sure of it. He didn’t say anything, didn’t tell you what you did or how you could fix it, he just slowly pulled away from the person he called ‘his one and only’.

It happened again today, eyes landing on you and he nods, “good morning,” is all he says as he fed his ilu.

And in that moment—you’ve had just about enough of this. Of pretending that nothing happened—that all those small jokes, the kisses you’ve shared, it all randomly cuts off because of—Eywa knows what.

“Lo’ak,” you tell him, causing him to stiffen, ears pinned back as his tail drooped.

“…Yeah?” He replies quietly, not looking at you just yet.

Your eyes grow worried as you sit cross-legged next to him, eyes flicking to him. “I know we haven’t talked much, but you know I care for you, right? You can tell me anything,” and it’s true. You would listen to him for however long he needed. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or pressured in any way—it’s just…I miss the way we were before. Close and locked in—no walls, no secrets, just us.”

And as you continued to tell him that he isn’t alone, you hear a sound emerge from his lips. At first, you thought it was a small laugh, as if he was mocking you—that alone annoyed you to no end. Until you heard a small cry afterwards. You straighten, hands reaching out hesitantly to push back his braids away from his eyes.

He’s crying.

“Lo,” you whisper, guilt gnawing at your insides, “I—I’m sorry was it something I said, or—“

Lo’ak shakes his head, a muffled sob rips out from his throat as he buried his face into his hands, “I miss him, {{user}}.” He finally admits, all walls torn and thrown out the window. Everything he’s kept in, everything he strayed away from telling you, it’s all on display now. “I killed him. I disobeyed dad’s orders, and he’s gone. Taken away from me, from us, from my family.”

Your eyes soften by large amounts, hands sliding down to his shoulders, “hey,” you began, only to be interrupted by another round of sobs, lips pursed as you look at Lo’ak. The Lo’ak that stood up for his sister, the Lo’ak that’d do anything to see his family happy. Broken, shattered and tired—right in front of you.

“Neteyam would’ve been alive if it weren’t for me,” he cried and you snapped—not angry at him; never at him. But at how cruelly the world has treated this poor boy. Your lover.

You bring him close and give him the tightest embrace you could possibly muster in that very moment, eyes shutting close as you hold him, and if you could take half of his pain that he was feeling right now—you would. Every single time, undoubtedly.

“I was the one who took away the one son who could’ve carried on the Sully blood,” he says into your shoulder, voice slightly hoarse.