✨angsty af - tissues needed✨

I feel like I should put some TW's in this purely bc it's raw: it's coming from somebody who has actually lost their best friend in horrific circumstances. So: with that said, the following TW's apply: depression, panic attacks, anxiety, vomiting, blood, and night terrors.

~

Lo'ak is struggling more than he lets on
~

Lo'ak leaned against his knees, not having the energy to do anything other than. He was aware that other Metkayina was milling about and trying to speak to him, but no words registered. "Go home, Lo'ak."

Home. What was home anymore? Home was Neteyam: how his smile would light up a room, brighten even the saddest souls. Home was the hammock they shared, despite having one each. Home was hissing at each other when one annoyed the other, or sitting shoulder to shoulder after a tough day.

Home was Neteyam.

He'd been released from the healing hut after a week with bruised ribs, a sprained ankle, a bullet scrape on his leg and a slight concussion. It wasn't enough to warrant anything specific treatment-wise, but after a week of the ribs healing, Ronal & Tsireya deemed him ok to go home. Lo'ak had numbly accepted the green paste as he hobbled out.

His first stop was his family's hut.

It was...empty. Cold. Lonely.

Lo'ak pulled the curtain to the side, blinking owlishly. He dropped the paste on the floor next to his bedroll and collapsed onto it. His ribs pounded painfully, but it was fine. He deserved the pain. It was his punishment.

He knuckled his eyes, pushing the tears back into their ducts.

Now wasn't the time for crying.

~

Lo'ak couldn't sleep.
Every time he shut his eyes, even blinking, he was back on the rock, fighting the life force from leaving his brother's body. He was there, shouting for Neteyam to hold on.

Then he was drowning.

He was sinking towards the bottom of the ocean. He flailed his arms, trying to swim upwards, silently gagging from no air.

He was floating.

He drifted on the surface as limp as Neteyam laid.

The frigid waters made his muscles seize up. He gasped sharply as he swam. "Neteyam!" He called. He swam as fast as he could, yet he wouldn't get any closer.

Then he would wake in a sweaty panting mess and rush out of the hut as silently as the tears ran down his face.
It would still be night.
And he wouldn't sleep again.

~

His family tried to adjust after the gaping hole his brother left behind. His mom and dad would try their luck with the Ilu's and Skimwings, Kiri would loiter around Rotxo near the reef and Tuk would run around with the other young children of the village.

Lo'ak would sit on the rock near where he fought Ao'nung on only the third day and stay there until dusk when he would move to avoid his family. On occasion, Tsireya would sit with him silently for a few hours.

Lo'ak didn't eat: not as much as he should. He'd either be out on the rock before breakfast was served or pretend to sleep through it, unwilling to face anybody.

Why should he live, with nobody who cared, while Neteyam died, leaving his family behind?

~

Lo'ak was staring at the wall of the hut when a note was slipped under.
"Hey, Lo'ak. It's Tsireya... I'm just checking to see if you're ok... never mind, of course, you're not ok, and that IS ok. My mom said your ribs are healing ok and that you need to eat the green paste and rub the yellow one on the ribs. Also, Payakan misses you as well, so, please come see me... I miss you,"

Lo'ak let the note fall as he hugged his knees. I'll go tomorrow, he thought. It's not like he could swim with his ribs at the moment anyway.

Lo'ak didn't go tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after.
The nightmares didn't stop.

Lo'ak had dozed off, finally having a good night, no pain, no nightmares, when his stomach decided enough was enough. He scrambled to get out of his family's hut, white-knuckling the wooden rail as he heaved painfully. He hadn't eaten anything of worth either, so nothing was coming up.

Yet, his stomach continued heaving.

His head pounded endlessly, his vision swam dangerously. He leant over to retch up nothing again when blood splattered against the wooden floor.

Oh well. He thought. It's not like I don't deserve it.

Neteyam bled from his chest.

~

Lo'ak finally hauled his ass to see Payakan, nine days after...it.

His ribs ached, and his head pounded, but he plastered a smile on for his friend. "Hello friend," He sighed, sitting on his fin. What is the matter, brother? You look unwell. Payakan clicked and hummed. "I'm ok buddy," Lo'ak looked to the sky. I do not believe you. You are thin and not as blue. Payakan grumbled. Lo'ak snorted. "I didn't know tulkun's could see colour,"

Payakan blew water from his blowhole. "Bro!" Lo'ak exclaimed, flicking it off. You act as if nothing is wrong, brother. I can feel in our bond that something is bothering you.

Lo'ak frowned. "Our bond? You can feel everything I feel?" He asked. Indeed. That is why I know you are unwell and grieving. You forget: I lost somebody dear to me as well. I understand grief well. Lo'ak looked at the sea creature. "Can... can you actually feel what's going on? Like, when I hurt my ribs, could you feel that pain?"

Lo'ak felt his heart sink when Payakan whistled a despondent yes.

"Oh buddy, I'm sorry. I didn't realise I was hurting you," Lo'ak hugged his knees close. "That's all I seem to be good at,"

~

"What is that?" Tuk asked as Lo'ak applied some paste gel to his ribs. He winced, inhaling sharply through his teeth. "Just some paste, Tuk. It's ok," He smiled. Kiri ushered Tuk away to play with the Ilu's while she applied it to his back.

Lo'ak felt her eyes on his face. "You're not eating a lot," She said nonchalantly, rubbing the paste in. "Not hungry," Lo'ak said quietly. He flinched as Kiri's fingers brushed along a still-sensitive rib. "You still need to eat, brother. Your body will not heal if it doesn't have sustenance," Lo'ak shut his eyes as a wave of pain rushed over him. "Kiri, leave it, please. I do eat." He could tell Kiri pulled a face. "Neteyam would be appalled at the lack of self-care," She snapped.

A lone tear ran down his face.

Neteyam is dead though, so it doesn't matter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tsireya.

Tsireya bid goodbye to her spirit sister, Rana*, and swam back to shore... or tried to. "Payakan?" She called, confused by the tulkun's erratic behaviour. It is Lo'ak. He is in trouble. Payakan whistled. Tsireya grabbed onto his fin and allowed him to swim her over. Tsireya's mind was thinking of many things. Was he injured? Was he dying? Was he dead?

She'd watched him over a few nights across the week from her hut. Tsireya debated telling her parents, so they could tell his parents. But a bitter, childish part of her refused. If they cannot see the pain their son is suffering from, then there would be no merit in telling them.

She would catch him on the walk, gripping the wooden rail so tightly, that his knuckles were white. His eyes would be red, his shoulders would be quaking and tears would be running down his cheeks.

She knew he tried to put on a front for the world, injury-wise. She held a small smile when he showed Tuk the scar on his leg from the bullet, which the eight-year-old found very cool, but he would wince or clutch his ribs when he walked.

But Tsireya didn't realise how bad his mental state was.

Not until she found him on the rock where Neteyam had bled out. The sea had washed away the blood, but not the trauma.

"Lo'ak!" She exclaimed, dropping to her knees. The Navi grasped at his throat, wheezing. "I can't- I can't-"

Tsireya scanned him over with wide, terrified eyes. Whilst her mom was Tsahìk and dealt with physical issues, she also helped with mental issues: such as this. She knew the mind had trapped Lo'ak within and wouldn't allow him to grasp a breath.

"Ok, Lo'ak, you're having a panic attack. I need you to follow my breathing?" She dramatically breathed in and out. "Come on, follow my breaths. In...... out...... in...... out....." When he failed to calm down, now borderline hysterical, Tsireya grabbed his hand and place it on her chest. "See? Feel my heart beating? Just follow my chest,"

Slowly, Lo'ak's breathing calmed back down to a slower rhythm. Tsireya exclaimed when he listed to the side, barely catching himself with his arms. "I thought I was gonna die..." He mumbled. "Panic attacks do that," She mumbled back. He panted on the floor. "Come on, I'll help you home."

"No!" He clawed at her arm with wide eyes. "Ok. Ok, we can stay here for a while,"

~

Hey little bro.
If you're reading this, well, I'm at peace with Eywa.

I know we had our differences and arguments and falling-outs... but I love you. You're my brother in any life, now or with Eywa. I'm sorry for everything. For not believing you about Payakan, for not protecting you more... and for leaving you. I need you to know if the sky people ever return, or whatever the hell takes my life, it wasn't your fault: I'm a grown man and I make my own decisions: if those decisions lead to my death, then it was an honourable death.

Mom and dad act tough on you, but that's only because they love you. They see too much innocence in you and worry it'll hinder your mind and hurt you. They're too tough: I know, I've tried telling them to ease up, that the more they push, the more you push back.

Take care of the others. Especially Kiri. She thinks she's a "freak" because of her connection to Eywa, let alone the avatar features she inherited from her mom.

I'm sorry I died left.
I'll see you on the other side when you're old and wrinkled and a grandfather.
No sooner, or I'll have to kick you back to life.

Take care.
Nete.

~

"Bro, why do you have to make everything so difficult?"

Lo'ak shoved Neteyam's hand off, chest heaving with anger. "He's outcast, there's nobody to warn him but me," Lo'ak snapped. He glared at his older brother. "He's my brother. I'm going," He seethed. Neteyam took a breath. "Oh, he's your brother?" Neteyam snapped. "No, I'm your brother," Lo'ak huffed angrily, desperately trying to keep his anger in check.

He shoved Neteyam's hand off his shoulder, glaring. Neither brother said anything: both fueled by rage and worry for what they would say if rage took control.

Lo'ak's lip curled into a sneer as he looked his brother up and down.

"Go be the perfect son, it's what you're good at,"

Lo'ak knew, he damn well knew, it was a low blow. A blow low enough to warrant a slap. Christ knows Lo'ak would've slapped Neteyam straight if the roles were reversed. But he just shuddered quietly and looked away. The whole point of the argument wasn't even Payakan.

But Lo'ak wanted him to hurt. He wanted him to feel rage like nothing else in his life. But he didn't. He just... stood silently. And that was somehow worse.

At the time, Lo'ak was glad he'd stormed off, anger fuelling his every decision. If Lo'ak had stayed any longer, he would've broken down and apologised for what he said. The guilt was overwhelming to the point of sitting down or falling down. So he was glad he left.

But now?

Now, Lo'ak would give anything, anything at all, to have him back.

~

A few more days passed by, though Lo'ak wasn't sure how many exactly. They all blurred in a single, rise of sun, sun stays, sun sets. His family had begun to notice the bowls of full food every morning and evening and started to question him on it. Lo'ak would grit his teeth and mutter: "I just don't feel very well, I'm gonna lay down,"

His mom had sat near him on a few occasions, her tail wrapped around his ankle in silence. She would talk with his dad, assuming Lo'ak was asleep.

"I am worried about him, ma Jake... he is wasting away,"
"He will be fine. He's a Sully: we're tougher than shit on shoes,"
"I will never understand your sky-person words, but he is not fine, Jake. I can count how many ribs he has. I shouldn't be able to do that,"
"Well, as much as I wanna help, we can't help somebody who doesn't want to be helped, Neytiri,"
"He is our son. It is our job to help him, whether he wants us to or not,"
"I didn't mean it like that: a person who doesn't want help won't accept it: you're fighting a losing battle. You'll have to wait until he's ready,"
"Then tell me why he is killing himself. He never eats, he never sleeps, and he barely speaks to Tsireya anymore, the poor girl. Never mind that tulkun of his, more than once I've seen him in the shallows, making sounds for our son,"

Having heard enough and wanting them to stop, Lo'ak would shift in his "sleep" and silence his parents. His mom would fall asleep shortly before his dad, and Lo'ak would sneak out and watch the ocean until sunrise, where he would sneak back in undetected. Until one morning, his parents stood outside their hut, waiting for him.

Lo'ak froze in his steps, his heart pounding wildly.
escape, escape, Escape, Escape, ESCAPE

"Lo'ak," his mom began. He took a step back, swallowing bile. "Son, please. Just.. just hear us out," The bile had begun to burn his throat as he stood stiff, waiting for a moment to bolt. "Lo'ak-" He ran. He sprinted through the trees, tears obscuring his vision as he relied on muscle memory to pull him through the dense mangrove forest. "Lo'ak!" His parents shouted, running after him. He panted fearfully and began to scurry up a tree when some arms grabbed his waist. He kicked and screamed. "NO! Let me GO!" He became feral, snarling and snapping at the arms. He was pulled to the ground and forced to sit. His chest heaved and the tears dried up. His body thought he was under attack from a predator and you don't show fear.

"What the hell was that?" His dad snapped. Lo'ak's ears pinned back as he glared at the ground. "If you didn't realise, I don't wanna talk," He snapped. His mom's hand touched his knee, but he jerked out of reflex. "I don't care," His dad snapped. Lo'ak continued to glare at the ground, swallowing the thick lump in his throat. "Please, maitan, you- you're killing yourself," His mom spoke. Lo'ak turned his angry glare to his rumbling stomach. "I don't care," He mumbled. "What do you mean, you don't care? Neteyam died for you to-"

"Exactly, he died. End of story," Lo'ak blinked harshly, fighting back the tears. "Oh, maitan, is that what this is about?" Lo'ak felt betrayed as his eyes let loose the tears. He sniffled, burying his face in his hands. An ugly sob broke through as more tears poured. "Oh, maitan," HIs mom's arms were around his curled-up body, followed by his dad. Lo'ak finally let himself fall apart in his parent's arms, sobbing and screaming for his brother's gaping absence. His throat grew horse as his cheeks grew puffy.

"I'm so sorry we didn't check on you, maitan, we were- we were so caught up in our own grief, we didn't think about what you must be feeling," His mom whispered. Lo'ak clutched desperately at her arm, trying to gain some kind of control over his quaking body and raging emotions. "Buddy, you're allowed to grieve and be upset," his dad said. Lo'ak let his head fall against his mom's shoulder, emotionally exhausted. "But what isn't ok is this. Starving yourself, not sleeping, hurting yourself. That, that isn't ok." Lo'ak's mouth suddenly felt very heavy like he was about to be sick again.

He pushed his body away to retch into the dirt, nothing but bile coming up. A hand, a large hand, rubbed his back while his moms still held his own. "Like this. Son, this is your body warning you. You need sleep and food and general care." Lo'ak shuddered as his stomach tried to abandon him as well. He fought against the sick feeling. "I can't, dad. Every time I sleep, I- he's dying, all over again. Except, I'm in the ocean- able to help, but I can't swim quick enough. Or, every time I eat, I throw it back up again minutes later." He finally met his dad's amber eyes. "I want to eat, I want to sleep. But I can't," he spat into the dirt and sighed shakily trying to calm his heart.

"Well, how about this. Until you're ready, we will watch over you while you sleep. We'll stop the nightmares before they start," his mom rubbed his knee, frowning at the bone protruding. "And if you're sick after food, ok. We'll get some water in ya and try again when your stomach's settled," his dad added. "And we'll keep doing that until you're ready. Ok?"

Lo'ak threw himself into their embrace once more, silently. "Ok." He whispered.