Archive of Our Own ^beta

The late May sun slanted through the hallway windows of Awa'atlu High, painting golden stripes across scuffed linoleum floors. The air hung thick and humid, carrying the faint scent of chalk dust and the promise of summer freedom just days away. Students moved in lazy clusters, their voices echoing off metal lockers as they counted down the hours until the final bell.

Aonung shifted his backpack higher on his shoulder, weaving through the crowded hallway with practiced ease. His dark hair fell across his forehead, slightly damp from the humidity that made everything stick to skin. The school always felt suffocating this time of year—too hot, too cramped, too eager to be anywhere else. He rounded the corner toward the exit, already thinking about the beach and cold water, when movement outside caught his eye.

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the track, someone was running.

Not the usual half-hearted jog of students trying to scrape by in gym class, but real running—controlled, measured, powerful. Aonung slowed despite himself, his blue eyes tracking the figure as they rounded the curve. Dark skin gleamed with sweat under the afternoon sun, and even from this distance, Aonung could see the perfect form, the economical grace of each stride.

He recognized him vaguely. Neteyam Sully. One of those responsible types who actually showed up to class on time and turned homework in early. They'd never spoken, moved in completely different circles, but Aonung found himself pausing by the window, watching as Neteyam pushed through another lap.

There was something almost hypnotic about it—the rhythm, the focus, the way his muscles moved with practiced efficiency. Aonung felt an odd flutter in his chest, something between admiration and annoyance. Of course someone like that would be out here perfecting their form when everyone else was already mentally checked out for summer.

Neteyam's golden eyes were fixed forward, completely absorbed in the run, and for a moment Aonung wondered what it would be like to have that kind of singular focus. To care that much about something.

He shook his head, forcing himself to look away. Weird. He was being weird.

"Aonung!"

The shout came from behind him, and Aonung turned to see Roxto jogging down the hall, his messy dark hair flopping into his eyes. His best friend wore his trademark grin, the one that usually meant he had gossip or was about to suggest something stupid.

"You coming to the beach after this?" Roxto asked, falling into step beside him. "Grandma wants to know if you're staying for dinner."

"Probably," Aonung said, already moving again. "Just gotta—"

He didn't finish the sentence because someone slammed into him from the side.

The impact wasn't hard, but it was unexpected enough to make him stumble. Papers exploded into the air like startled birds, fluttering down around them in a chaotic swirl of white and color. Aonung caught himself against the lockers, blinking in surprise.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!"

The voice was feminine, slightly breathless, and when Aonung looked down he found himself staring at a girl with wild ginger hair and the greenest eyes he'd ever seen. She was already on her knees, scrambling to gather the scattered papers with quick, graceful movements.

"It's fine," Aonung said automatically, crouching down to help. His fingers brushed against hers as they both reached for the same paper—some kind of art project covered in intricate sketches of plants and flowers.

"I wasn't looking where I was going," she continued, tucking hair behind her ear. "I was arguing with my brother and—ugh, Loak is such an idiot sometimes—" She paused, finally looking up at him properly. "Wait, you're Aonung, right? Tsireya's brother?"

Something clicked in his mind. The ginger hair, the paint stains on her fingers, the Sully that everyone knew because she was always winning art competitions or getting in trouble for climbing on the roof during lunch.

"Kiri," he said, and it wasn't a question.

She grinned, bright and a little mischievous. "The one and only." She grabbed the last few papers and stood, Aonung rising with her. "Sorry again about the collision. I've been told I have the spatial awareness of a concussed bird."

Despite himself, Aonung laughed. "That's... specific."

"My sister's words, not mine." Kiri shifted the papers in her arms, glancing past him down the hallway. "But yeah, you're definitely Aonung. Reya talks about you sometimes."

His eyebrows rose. "Does she?"

"Don't let it go to your head," Kiri said, already backing away with that same impish grin. "Most of it's complaining about how you hog the bathroom." She gave a little wave, nearly dropping her papers again in the process. "See you around!"

And then she was gone, disappearing into the crowd like she'd never been there at all.

Roxto let out a low whistle. "The Sullys are something else, man."

"Yeah," Aonung murmured, still watching where she'd vanished. He'd heard about them, of course—the big, chaotic family that had moved to town a few years ago. Loak was in some of his classes, always flirting with Tsireya in that obvious, puppyish way that made Aonung want to roll his eyes. But he'd never really paid attention to the rest of them.

Until now, apparently.

"Come on," Roxto said, tugging on his sleeve. "Let's get out of here before they assign us summer reading or something equally horrible."

Neteyam slowed to a walk as he finished his final lap, chest heaving with exertion. Sweat rolled down his temples, his tank top clinging to his skin, but the burn in his muscles felt good. Productive. He'd shaved another three seconds off his time.

The track was mostly empty now, just a few stragglers from the lacrosse team packing up their gear on the far end of the field. Neteyam grabbed his water bottle from the bench, tilting his head back to drink deeply. The cool liquid was a relief against the humid air.

Through the chain-link fence that bordered the track, he could see the school building. Students were streaming out of the exits now, ready to start their summer break early. His siblings were probably already waiting at the car, wondering what was taking him so long.

Movement in one of the hallway windows caught his attention. Someone was standing there, silhouetted against the light. Even from this distance, Neteyam could tell they were tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair that looked perpetually windswept.

He didn't know why he noticed. Didn't know why his gaze lingered for just a moment too long before the figure turned away and disappeared from view.

Neteyam shook his head, grabbing his towel to wipe his face. He was probably just dehydrated. Or tired. Definitely tired.

"NETEYAM!"

The shriek was unmistakable. Neteyam turned just in time to see Tuk come barreling across the parking lot, her short braids bouncing with each step. At eight years old, his youngest sister had two speeds: asleep and chaos.

"Tuk, careful—" he started, but she was already launching herself at him.

He caught her easily, years of practice making it second nature, even as she nearly knocked the water bottle out of his hand. She wrapped her arms around his neck, grinning up at him with that gap-toothed smile that could get away with murder.

"You took forever!" she announced. "Kiri said you were being a show-off and Loak said you were probably trying to impress someone and I said you were just being boring like always—"

"Thanks, Tuk," Neteyam said dryly, setting her down. "Really feeling the love."

"I love you!" she chirped, already spinning away to chase after something—a butterfly, maybe, or just the wind. With Tuk it was hard to tell.

Neteyam gathered his things and headed toward the parking lot, where their mom's SUV was waiting. Neytiri stood beside it, elegant even in casual clothes, talking on the phone. She gave him a warm smile and a little wave as he approached.

Kiri was sitting on the hood of the car, sketching something in her ever-present notebook. Loak leaned against the passenger door, scrolling through his phone with a grin that Neteyam recognized immediately.

"Let me guess," Neteyam said, dropping his bag by the trunk. "Tsireya?"

Loak's head snapped up, and for a second he looked guilty before schooling his expression into something more casual. "What? No. I mean—yeah, but like, we're just talking—"

"You're such a terrible liar," Kiri said without looking up from her sketch.

"Nobody asked you," Loak shot back, but his ears were red.

Neteyam couldn't help but smile. His brother had been crushing on Tsireya Tonowari for months now, ever since she'd transferred to their school. It was painfully obvious to everyone except maybe Tsireya herself, though Neteyam suspected she knew and was just enjoying watching Loak squirm.

"Mom's gonna invite them over for dinner," Kiri said conversationally. "The whole family. I heard her talking to Dad about it this morning."

Loak perked up immediately. "Really?"

"Don't get too excited," Neteyam warned. "You know how family dinners go."

He meant it as a joke, but something stirred uneasily in his chest at the thought. The Tonowaris. He knew Tsireya from school—everyone did, she was impossible not to like—but he'd never really interacted with the rest of her family. There was a brother, he thought. Older, or maybe the same age.

The image of the figure in the window flashed through his mind again, unbidden.

"Earth to Neteyam," Kiri said, waving a hand in front of his face. "You good? You look weird."

"I'm fine," he said quickly, too quickly. "Just tired."

Neytiri finished her call and turned to them with that smile that meant she was about to organize something. "Alright, my loves. Home. Your father is making his famous chili tonight."

"Is it actually famous or does he just call it that?" Tuk asked, climbing into her booster seat.

"Both," Kiri said solemnly.

The drive home was filled with the usual chaos—Tuk singing off-key, Loak texting frantically, Kiri pointing out interesting clouds. Neteyam sat in the back, watching the beach roll by through the window, and tried not to think about why his heart had done that strange flutter when he'd caught someone watching him run.

It didn't mean anything. It was just the heat.

Just the heat, and the end of the school year, and the promise of summer stretching out ahead like an unwritten story.

He leaned his head against the window and watched the palm trees blur past, golden eyes distant and thoughtful.

Behind them, in another car heading in the opposite direction, Aonung sat in the passenger seat of his mother's sedan and tried very hard not to look back at the school as it disappeared behind them.

He failed.

Just once, he glanced in the side mirror, catching a glimpse of the track field, empty now in the late afternoon sun.

His chest did something strange. Something he didn't have a name for.

"You're quiet today," Ronal observed, her eyes on the road.

"Just thinking about summer," Aonung said, and it wasn't exactly a lie.

His mother hummed, a small smile playing at her lips. "The Sullys are coming for dinner tomorrow night. The family Tsireya has been talking about."

Aonung's heart skipped. "Oh. Cool."

"You'll be on your best behavior," Ronal said, and it wasn't a question.

"Always am," Aonung replied, grinning despite himself.

The ocean stretched out beside them, endless and blue, and somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled. Summer was coming.

And with it, something Aonung couldn't quite name but felt building in his chest like a storm gathering strength just beyond the horizon.

The Tonowari house sat perched on a gentle rise overlooking the ocean, all clean lines and whitewashed walls that seemed to glow in the golden hour light. Large windows reflected the sunset, and the sound of waves rolling against the private beach below created a constant, soothing rhythm. The air smelled of salt and tropical flowers, jasmine and plumeria mixing with the ever-present ocean breeze.

Aonung stood on the deck, hands shoved in his pockets, watching his mother arrange cushions on the outdoor furniture for the third time. Ronal had been quietly anxious all afternoon, though she'd never admit it. She'd changed her dress twice, rearranged the living room, and had personally inspected every place setting at the dining table.

"Mom," Aonung said gently. "It's just dinner."

Ronal shot him a look that was equal parts exasperated and fond. "It's not just dinner. The Sullys are important to your sister."

As if summoned by the mention of her name, Tsireya appeared in the doorway, practically vibrating with excitement. Her long dark hair was freshly braided, and she'd changed into a sundress that their father had already commented on three times.

"Are they here yet?" she asked, peering past Aonung toward the driveway.

"Reya, you checked literally two minutes ago," Aonung said, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice.

His sister stuck her tongue out at him, but her bright blue eyes were already scanning the road again. "Loak said they were leaving ten minutes ago, which means they should be here any second, and I just want everything to be—"

"Perfect?" Aonung supplied. "Because you're not at all obvious about this?"

Tsireya's cheeks flushed pink, but before she could respond, the sound of car doors slamming echoed from the front of the house. Her entire face lit up.

"They're here!"

She was gone before Aonung could tease her further, practically sprinting through the house. He heard his father's deep laugh from inside, followed by Tonowari's calm voice welcoming their guests.

Aonung took a breath, suddenly aware of his heartbeat. Which was stupid. It was just dinner. Just another family. Just—

"Aonung!" his father called. "Come say hello!"

Right. Showtime.

The Tonowari house was beautiful in that effortless way that made Neteyam slightly self-conscious about his own family's more chaotic energy. Everything was clean and modern and somehow still warm, like it had been designed specifically to make people feel welcome without trying too hard.

Tonowari himself was tall and broad-shouldered, with an easy smile that immediately put Neteyam at ease. He clasped Jake's hand in greeting, then turned to Neytiri with a respectful nod that made her smile.

"Thank you for having us," Neytiri said, her accent soft and musical. She held a dish covered in foil—her famous plantain casserole—and Neteyam knew from experience it would disappear before the night was over.

"Of course, of course," Tonowari said warmly. "We've been looking forward to this."

Ronal appeared from deeper in the house, and Neteyam noticed the way his mother's face brightened immediately. The two women had met a few times at school events, and there was clearly a friendship forming between them.

"Neytiri," Ronal said, and her voice was softer than Neteyam had expected. Reserved, but genuine. "You look lovely."

"As do you," Neytiri replied, and the two of them immediately fell into comfortable conversation.

Neteyam felt Tuk grab his hand, squeezing tight. His youngest sister was unusually quiet, her golden eyes wide as she took in the house. New places always made her a little shy at first, though Neteyam knew it wouldn't last long.

"Come in, come in," Tonowari was saying, ushering them inside. "Tsireya's been counting down the minutes."

"Has not!" came an indignant voice from the hallway, followed by Tsireya herself appearing around the corner. Her eyes immediately found Loak, and Neteyam watched his brother's entire face transform.

"Hey," Loak said, trying for casual and missing by a mile.

"Hey yourself," Tsireya replied, grinning.

Kiri made a gagging sound that she didn't bother to hide, and Neteyam elbowed her gently. This was going to be a long night.

They moved through the house in a loose group, Tonowari pointing out various features while Neytiri and Ronal walked arm-in-arm like old friends. The space opened up into a massive living area with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the ocean, the sunset painting everything in shades of gold and amber.

And that's when Neteyam saw him.

Standing near the windows, silhouetted against the dying light, was the boy from the hallway. The one who'd been watching him run. Up close, Neteyam could see the details he'd missed from a distance—the sharp line of his jaw, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead, the startling blue of his eyes that seemed to catch the sunset and hold it.

Aonung.

Their eyes met for just a second, and Neteyam felt something electric zip down his spine. Then Aonung looked away, jaw tightening slightly, and Neteyam realized he'd been staring.

"Everyone, this is our son, Aonung," Tonowari said, gesturing proudly.

Aonung stepped forward with an easy confidence that Neteyam found himself noting despite his best efforts. He shook Jake's hand first, then gave Neytiri a small, respectful nod.

"Nice to meet you," Aonung said, and his voice was lower than Neteyam had expected. Rougher around the edges.

"You too," Jake replied warmly. "Tsireya's told us a lot about you."

"Has she?" Aonung shot his sister a look that was pure sibling exasperation. "All good things, I'm sure."

"Mostly," Tsireya said sweetly.

The adults laughed, and in the commotion of introductions, Neteyam found himself standing awkwardly to the side. Kiri had already wandered off to inspect a large piece of driftwood art on the wall. Loak and Tsireya had gravitated toward each other like magnets. Tuk was hiding behind their mother's legs.

Which left Neteyam and Aonung in a bubble of uncomfortable silence.

"So," Aonung said after a moment, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You're Neteyam."

"Yeah." Neteyam felt his palms sweat. Why were his palms sweating? "And you're Aonung."

"That's me."

Silence stretched between them, broken only by Tuk's sudden squeal as Tonowari picked her up and spun her around, making her giggle. The adults were already moving toward the deck, Ronal gesturing animatedly while Neytiri nodded along.

"Your sister seems nice," Neteyam tried, desperate to fill the quiet.

"She's alright," Aonung said, lips quirking into something almost like a smile. "When she's not being annoying about boys."

Neteyam huffed a quiet laugh. "Yeah, I know the feeling. Loak's been impossible for weeks."

"Tsireya too," Aonung admitted. "I thought she was going to wear a hole in the floor from pacing this afternoon."

The smile that passed between them was small but real, and Neteyam felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders. Maybe this wouldn't be so terrible after all.

Dinner was chaos in the best possible way.

The table was large enough to fit all of them, but just barely. Tonowari had insisted on setting up on the deck so they could watch the last of the sunset, and now they were all crammed around the long wooden table with the ocean as their backdrop. String lights had flickered on as the sky darkened, casting everything in warm, honeyed light.

And somehow—somehow—Aonung had ended up sitting directly next to Neteyam.

He wasn't sure how it had happened. There'd been a flurry of movement, Tuk demanding to sit next to her mom, Jake pulling out a chair for Neytiri, Loak and Tsireya immediately claiming spots next to each other. When the dust settled, Aonung found himself sliding into the seat beside Neteyam, close enough that their shoulders almost touched.

"Sorry," Neteyam murmured, shifting slightly to give him more room.

"It's fine," Aonung said quickly. Too quickly. "We're good."

Across the table, Kiri was watching them with an expression that Aonung couldn't quite read. Knowing what he did about her from their hallway collision, it was probably nothing good.

The food started making its way around the table—Neytiri's plantain casserole, Ronal's grilled fish, Jake's infamous chili that he insisted on explaining the entire recipe for, much to everyone's amusement. Dishes passed from hand to hand, and more than once Aonung found his fingers brushing against Neteyam's as they both reached for the same serving spoon or bowl.

Each touch sent a small jolt through him that he tried very hard to ignore.

"So, Aonung," Jake said, loading his plate with a truly impressive amount of chili. "Tsireya tells us you're into surfing?"

"Yeah," Aonung said, grateful for the distraction. "Been doing it since I was a kid. My dad taught me."

"He's being modest," Tonowari said proudly. "He's won three local competitions."

Aonung felt his ears heat. "Dad—"

"That's impressive," Neytiri said warmly. "Neteyam does track. He's very fast."

Now it was Neteyam's turn to look uncomfortable, and Aonung bit back a smile at the way his jaw tightened slightly.

"Mom," Neteyam said quietly.

"What? You are," Neytiri insisted, eyes twinkling.

"I saw you running yesterday," Aonung found himself saying before he could think better of it. "At school. You looked... good. I mean, your form looked good. Technically."

Neteyam turned to look at him, golden eyes catching the string lights, and Aonung suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe properly.

"Thanks," Neteyam said, and was that a hint of a smile? "You were in the hallway."

"Yeah."

"I saw you too."

The words hung between them, weighted with something Aonung couldn't name. Around them, conversation continued—Loak was telling some story about Spider that involved a skateboard and a very angry cat, Tuk was giggling so hard she nearly knocked over her water, Kiri was drawing patterns in her mashed potatoes with her fork.

But in their little bubble, Aonung and Neteyam just looked at each other.

"Can you pass the bread?" Neteyam asked finally, voice slightly rough.

"Yeah. Sure." Aonung reached for the basket, and as he handed it over their fingers touched again. This time, neither of them pulled away immediately.

The contact lasted maybe two seconds. Maybe less. But Aonung felt it all the way down to his toes.

Neteyam was going to combust.

That was the only explanation. Spontaneous human combustion, right here at the dinner table, because his entire body felt like it was running at about a thousand degrees.

It wasn't even anything dramatic. Just small touches, accidental brushes of hands and arms, the occasional bump of knees under the table. But each one made his heart stutter in his chest, made him hyperaware of every breath Aonung took beside him.

He'd never felt like this before. Not once. And it was terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure.

"—and then the cat literally climbed Spider's face," Loak was saying, gesturing wildly. "He had scratches for a week."

"That's what he gets for trying to pet a stray," Kiri said primly.

"Where is Spider tonight?" Tsireya asked, leaning her chin on her hand.

"Beach party," Loak said with a shrug. "I told him about dinner but he said he didn't want to intrude."

"He wouldn't have been intruding," Neytiri assured him.

The conversation flowed on, easy and warm, and Neteyam found himself relaxing despite the constant awareness of Aonung beside him. His family was on their best behavior—or what passed for it, anyway. Even Tuk was being relatively calm, only interrupting Tonowari's story about learning to surf twice.

"Neteyam," Ronal said suddenly, and he looked up to find her watching him with those keen blue eyes. "Your mother tells me you're interested in the summer program at the community center?"

His heart sank. The summer program. Right. The one his parents had signed him up for without really asking if he wanted to spend his summer vacation doing community service.

"Uh, yeah," he said, trying to sound enthusiastic. "It sounds... good. Helpful."

Beside him, Aonung made a sound that might have been a laugh. "That's one word for it."

"You're doing it too?" Neteyam asked, turning to look at him.

"Didn't have much choice," Aonung admitted. "Mom and Dad thought it would be 'character building.'" He made air quotes with his fingers, and Neteyam couldn't help but smile.

"Same," he said. "Apparently I need to 'engage with the community' more."

"Well, you'll be working together, then," Tonowari said cheerfully. "The coordinator mentioned pairing up kids from families who know each other. Team building and all that."

Neteyam's stomach did a complicated flip. "Oh."

"Oh," Aonung echoed, and their eyes met again.

This time, neither of them looked away quite as quickly.

Across the table, Kiri was definitely smirking now. Neteyam made a mental note to destroy whatever leverage she thought she had.

"That'll be nice," Neytiri said warmly. "You boys can look out for each other."

"Can't wait," Aonung said, but his voice had a strange edge to it. Not unfriendly, exactly. More like... uncertain.

Neteyam knew exactly how he felt.

The night wound down slowly, the way good evenings always did. The adults migrated to the living room with coffee and wine, their laughter drifting out onto the deck. Loak and Tsireya disappeared somewhere, probably the beach. Tuk had fallen asleep curled up on one of the couches, and Kiri was helping Ronal clean up in the kitchen despite multiple protests that she didn't need to.

Which left Aonung and Neteyam on the deck, supposedly clearing the last of the dishes but mostly just standing there in comfortable silence.

The ocean was dark now, just the white foam of waves visible in the moonlight. The string lights cast everything in warm gold, and the air had finally cooled to something bearable.

"Your family's nice," Aonung said finally, stacking plates carefully.

"So's yours," Neteyam replied. He hesitated, then added, "Your mom seemed kind of nervous at first, but she's really cool."

"Yeah, she just... takes a while to warm up to people." Aonung grabbed a handful of silverware. "But she really likes your mom. They were planning, like, three more dinners before you guys even left the living room."

Neteyam laughed, and the sound made something warm bloom in Aonung's chest. "That sounds about right. My mom collects people like Kiri collects art supplies."

"Is that why your house always smells like cinnamon and chaos?"

"You've never been to my house."

"I'm making an educated guess."

They grinned at each other, and for a moment everything felt easy. Natural. Like they'd known each other longer than a few hours.

Then Kiri stuck her head out the door. "Neteyam! Mom says it's time to go!"

The spell broke, and they both stepped back instinctively.

"Right," Neteyam said. "I should... yeah."

"See you at the program, I guess," Aonung said.

"Yeah. See you."

Neteyam headed inside, and Aonung watched him go, watched the way he stopped to ruffle Tuk's hair as she stirred awake, the way he smiled at something his father said.

And when Neteyam reached the doorway, he turned back.

Their eyes met one last time across the deck, across the golden light and the sound of waves and the lingering warmth of the evening.

Aonung's heart stuttered.

Then Neteyam was gone, disappearing into the house with his family's voices swelling around him.

Aonung stood alone on the deck, one hand braced against the railing, and tried to understand why his chest felt too tight and too full all at once.

Inside, he could hear Kiri's laugh—bright and knowing—followed by Neteyam's exasperated "Shut up, Kiri."

Aonung smiled despite himself.

Summer was definitely going to be interesting.