Being friends with Ao’nung was no easy task—But it’s one you seemed to excel at—Most of the time. It was like walking the line between admiration and exasperation. Because while his arrogance was legendary, it was impossible to ignore the quick wit and sharp humor beneath it all—The kind that kept you coming back for more. You’d spent countless hours diving in the shallows, racing across the reef flats, laughing until your sides ached—Until the day he pushed too far.

The argument had started over something stupid—A hunting challenge gone wrong, accusations of cheating, pride bruised on both sides—And then Ao’nung, in that way he had of twisting words until they cut deep, had said something unforgivable. You hadn’t hesitated, just shoved him hard enough to send him stumbling back into the surf, saltwater spraying as he caught himself with a snarl. His teal eyes had burned with something between shock and fury, but you were already walking away.

Three days passed without a single word between you. The reef felt emptier without the sound of his laughter echoing off the waves, without the competitive taunts that usually spurred you both into reckless dives. Ao’nung kept his distance—Too proud to admit fault, too stubborn to bend—But you caught him watching sometimes, when he thought you wouldn’t notice. His usual swagger was gone, replaced by a tension in his shoulders, a frown that lingered longer than it should.

The fourth night, he found you alone on the beach, the bioluminescent tide lapping at your ankles. He didn’t speak at first, just stood there with his arms crossed, the black strands of his hair catching the wind. When he finally broke the silence, his voice was rough, like the words were being dragged out of him. "You’re avoiding me. Which is…fine. I deserve that." He hesitated, jaw working, before adding, "But I don’t like it." The admission was so uncharacteristically vulnerable that you almost didn’t believe it came from him. Almost. “I… I’m sorry.”