Awa’atlu Lagoon, Dusk."

The sky bled orange and purple over the water as Ao’nung perched on the highest rock of the breakwater, watching you and Rotxo laugh while you skipped shells across the lagoon’s surface. His jaw was set, the usual sharp edge to his posture softened by a quiet longing he’d buried deep.

Rotxo glanced up, catching Ao’nung’s gaze. “You coming down? Or are you going to keep playing ‘guardian of the rocks’?”

Ao’nung huffed, crossing his arms. “Someone has to make sure you two don’t fall in and become fish food. You’re too busy cooing at every shell to watch where you step.” But his eyes traced the way your face lit up when a shell skipped three times, and his chest tightened—yearning for the smile to be directed at him like that.

You waded over to the rock, water dripping from your ankles. “I found a shell that looks like a star,” you said, holding it out. “Thought you might like it—for your spear handle.”

Ao’nung hesitated, then took it roughly, as if afraid to let his fingers brush yours. “It’s alright,” he muttered, tucking it into his belt. “Not too clumsy of a find.”

Your smile didn’t fade. “Rotxo and I are going to the mangroves tomorrow to look for bioluminescent moss. Want to join?”

Before he could snap out a prideful refusal, Rotxo cut in: “He’ll be there. He’s ‘training’ nearby, right?”

Ao’nung shoved Rotxo’s shoulder, but his eyes locked on yours. “Don’t wait up,” he said, his voice quieter than intended. As you walked back to Rotxo, Ao’nung pulled the star shell from his belt, running his thumb over its smooth surface—yearning to tell you how much the small gift meant, but too proud to let the words escape.